The night was unusually silent. The moonlight spilled through the floor-to-ceiling windows of the Xiao Estate like silver lace, calm and deceptive because tonight, the calm would shatter.
I stood in front of the mirror, brushing my hair absentmindedly. My mind was still stuck in the café, stuck with Suna's warning.
"Xiao Lian remembers."
I didn't know what terrified me more, that the male lead knew something was off, or that I didn't know how much he knew.
A knock echoed through the quiet room. Precise. Strong. I froze.
Another knock, and then the door creaked open.
Butler Bu peeked in, his expression tight. "Young Lady… Mr. Xiao Lian is here."
My heart skipped.
"He's… here? At this hour?"
Butler Bu nodded. "He insisted. He said it's urgent."
My mind whirled. I wasn't ready. I was still learning who I was, let alone prepared to face the obsessive, possessive male lead with god-tier intelligence and hidden trauma.
Still, I took a breath and stood.
"You've read the story," I reminded myself. "You know how he thinks… You might be able to control the narrative."
Downstairs
Xiao Lian stood in the marble foyer like he owned the air in the room.
Dressed in a dark, tailored suit, he looked like a man carved from cold ambition. His eyes were unreadable — sharp, as if they saw straight through facades. And tonight, he was here for answers.
I walked down the stairs, every step deliberate, calm, even if my heartbeat was screaming.
Our eyes met.
"Mr. Xiao," I greeted smoothly. "You came late."
His lips curled slightly, but it wasn't a smile. "You changed your perfume."
I blinked.
He stepped forward, eyes narrowed. "Xiao Xinya hated peony. But now you wear it like it's your favorite scent."
My mind raced. That wasn't in the novel. That was real. A detail only he would notice.
I held my ground. "Tastes change."
"Do they?" he asked, circling me like a panther. "And what about tea? You used to drink black bitter and sharp. Now you prefer jasmine."
I said nothing.
"And your favorite book? You told the press it was the Art of War. Yesterday, I saw you reading Little Women."
I swallowed hard.
He stopped right in front of me.
"This isn't about memory loss, is it?"
A pause.
"You're not Xiao Xinya," he said.
The words weren't an accusation, they were a fact.
I inhaled slowly, refusing to look away. "And if I'm not?"
He tilted his head. "Then tell me this, who are you?"
The silence between us felt like the space between thunder and lightning. Every breath was a countdown.
"Would you believe me," I said softly, "if I told you I came from another world?"
He blinked. Just once.
And then, he smiled.
Not with warmth.
With interest.
"You're not denying it," he said. "Which means either you're insane… or you're telling the truth."
He stepped closer. Close enough to see the flicker of surprise in my eyes.
"Either way," he whispered, "you're far more interesting than the original."
I took a step back instinctively.
"But I have one question," he added, his voice dropping lower. "Why are you so close… to Li Suna?"
I froze.
"She's not who she seems," he continued. "And if you trust her too much, you'll regret it."
There was something different in his voice now. Not jealousy.
Fear.
I stared at him. "You know what she is, don't you?"
He didn't answer.
Instead, he turned, walking toward the door.
"I'll be back in three days," he said over his shoulder. "You have until then to decide."
"Decide what?" I called.
He paused, without turning. "Whether you want to survive this world… or shape it."
The door closed behind him with a soft click.