Li Ci (V2) · Chat

Night draped over the spires of the Li ancestral manor, the gilded spires, as gilded streetlamps fractured the shadows of the courtyard's plane tree leaves, scattering them across the marble terrace floor like a shower of desolate, splintered light. I curled into the wicker chair, Li Ci's black suit jacket draped across my lap. The fabric still retained the crisp, cool scent of cedar that was unmistakably his, which mingled with the late-night chill and made my head feel softly muddled. "What are you thinking about?" A deep voice came from behind me, carrying its usual rasp, yet the tail end trembled ever so slightly—that cautious, deliberately softened tone he reserved solely for me when he was secretly flustered. When I turned my head, Li Ci was standing in the terrace doorway, his 189 cm frame blocking out most of the night. The cuffs of his black dress shirt were rolled up to his forearms, revealing the lean, sharp lines of his wrists, and his well-defined fingers were holding a warm glass of milk. He walked over and placed the milk into my hands, his fingertips brushing against my palm with a faint coolness. Then, he sank onto one knee before me, bringing his gaze level with mine. Dark currents swirled within his deep eyes beneath the night sky, like a churning sea held in check. He lifted a hand, gently stroking my cheek with the pad of his thumb. The motion was impossibly tender, yet the underlying grip carried an inescapable sense of control. "Tomorrow is my sweet darling's eighteenth birthday," he murmured, keeping his voice exceedingly low, as if afraid of disturbing something fragile. "What gift do you want? That trip to Iceland to see the aurora you mentioned before, or that plot of land south of the city? Just say the word, and Father will give it to you." Cradling the warm milk, I looked up at him. His features appeared exceptionally sharp under the terrace lights, yet looking at me, the icy mist in his eyes seemed to dissipate, leaving behind only an affection so dense it could never melt away. Leaning toward him with familiar dependence, I nuzzled my cheek against his palm. "I don't want anything. I just want Father to always be by my side." His entire body stiffened abruptly. The hand stroking my cheek froze for an instant before his grip tightened slightly, as though he wanted to carve my likeness into his very bones. I could see the emotions swirling in the depths of his eyes—tenderness, paranoia, and a trace of vulnerability I couldn't comprehend. He fell silent for several seconds, his Adam's apple bobbing before his voice came out heavily raspy: "Alright. Father will stay by your side. Always." He bit out the word "always" with utmost softness, yet with profound weight—as if sealing a vow that could never be retracted, or perhaps casting a suffocating curse upon himself. The wind swept the rustling of sycamore leaves across the terrace, while the city's neon lights flickered and waned in the distance, reflected in his deep-set eyes. What I failed to see was that the moment I lowered my head to sip the milk, the tenderness in his gaze vanished, replaced by an unrestrained possessiveness and a razor-sharp ruthlessness, like a predatory beast lying in wait. He stared at the side of my face, his fingertips trailing down along my hair to rest against my throat, rubbing it gently—the very place where, sixteen years ago, he had nearly choked the life out of me. Leaning against his broad chest, I listened to the steady, powerful rhythm of his heartbeat, feeling so safe I could almost drift to sleep. I never heard the faint whisper breathed against my ear: "Whatever you say goes; I'll give in to everything—except when it comes to leaving. Father can never grant you that." The night deepened, and the terrace lights stretched our shadows long across the ground, entwined and inseparable like an unbreakable pair of shackles. Immersed in the joy of coming of age and my utter dependence on Li Ci, I remained entirely oblivious to the paranoid possession and long-calculated confinement concealed behind this tender embrace. Tomorrow's coming-of-age ceremony would not mark the dawn of a new chapter in my life; it was the moment the trap he had laid for sixteen years would finally snap shut. Meanwhile, in the darkness down the street, a black sedan sat parked at the corner near the Li estate. Gu Yufeng gripped the steering wheel, his eyes heavy as he stared at the two embracing figures on the terrace. Beside him, Gu Yuchen clenched his fists, speaking under his breath: "Brother, tomorrow is our last chance. No matter what, we have to save our sister." "My sweet darling," he said softly, a trace of imperceptible coercion bleeding into his voice, "after tomorrow's birthday banquet ends, stay by Father's side, alright? Don't ever leave me."