A few hiccuped sobs escaped him despite his attempts to swallow them down.
His hands clenched so tightly that his nails bit into his palms, drawing small beads of blood.
But he didn't loosen his grip.
The sting wasn't what he felt—it was everything beneath it.
The grief.
The rage.
The helplessness.
The sharp, suffocating ache hollowing out his chest.
His palms throbbed, but that pain was trivial.
What crushed him was the heartache pulsing in his chest, a kind of suffering that no blow could match.
Tap.
Tap.
Tap.
The sound of footsteps echoed through the empty hall, sharp and deliberate.
From the shadows, Fang Yuan appeared at the top of the stairs, his figure imposing, his presence suffocating. The air seemed to thicken around him as he descended.
Jiaying's eyes flickered anxiously toward him, her worry palpable, but she remained silent.
Her youngest son, Fang Zheng, didn't even bother to look up, his eyes dark and hollow, barely acknowledging his older brother's presence.
Fang Yuan, his expression cold as ice, met Fang Zheng's fiery glare.
The silence between them was thick with unspoken tension, but Fang Yuan was unfazed.
Without a hint of hesitation, he moved toward the table and took his seat, his posture perfect, exuding an almost unnatural calm.
Two maids entered and began serving the meal, their movements stiff and precise. The clink of silverware against porcelain filled the heavy silence.
Jiaying, wringing her hands nervously, spoke, her voice laced with concern.
"Yuan'er, you said we would be leaving… but you never said when. Or where?"
Fang Yuan, his gaze distant yet piercing, barely spared her a glance as he responded in that chilling, emotionless tone, "Mother, we'll leave in a few months."
"Most likely by next year."
His eyes then shifted toward Fang Zheng, dark and unyielding. His words cut through the air like a blade.
"As for you, I've already ordered some medicine."
"Drink it. It'll help you recover."
Fang Zheng didn't move, not a muscle. His knuckles whitened around the edge of the table, his body rigid with restraint.
His silence was deafening, but his eyes—burning with barely contained fury—said everything that needed to be said.
Fang Yuan's gaze lingered, cold and unblinking, the silence stretching just long enough to be uncomfortable. "You still haven't gotten over that servant girl, have you?"
"Pathetic."
Fang Zheng's fists tightened, his jaw clenched so hard it was a wonder his teeth didn't crack.
"Yuan'er, that's enough!"
Jiaying's voice cracked through the tension like glass under strain.
Fang Yuan paused—not out of hesitation, but as though granting her a moment of mercy.
"Alright."
Then he nodded, almost casually.
"Let's make this simple."
His chopsticks clicked softly against the table as he straightened.
"I'll give you one week."
His gaze locked onto Fang Zheng, sharp and unblinking. "If you can convince that servant girl to marry you—within then—I'll let you have her."
A long, heavy breath filled the room.
Then, colder than before, he added, "If not…"
Fang Zheng's head jerked up, eyes filled with sudden hope, confusion, disbelief—anything to cling to.
But Fang Yuan didn't soften.
"You'll marry whoever I decide," he said, voice low and merciless.
"And don't forget—there is no other option."
Jiaying's lips parted, trembling with words she didn't dare speak.
Her gaze sank to her meal, her sigh the only sign of resistance she could manage.
Fang Zheng shoved his chair back and shot to his feet.
"You said it yourself," he spat, trembling.
"Don't take it back!"
And before anyone could respond, he bolted—out the door, down the hall, disappearing into the world without a single bite of food.
Jiaying watched the doorway he vanished through, her heart heavy.
"Yuan'er… what are you doing?"
"You'll tear the two of you apart if you keep this up."
But Fang Yuan didn't flinch. His voice was steady, almost disturbingly calm.
"Mother, there's nothing to worry about."
"He must learn what the world really is—cruel, unforgiving."
"If he's truly my brother, he'll need a heart strong enough to survive it."
There was nothing left for Jiaying to say.
Another sigh slipped from her, quiet and resigned, as she stared at her untouched food.
She ate in silence.
Minutes passed.
Lunch ended.
Fang Yuan rose from his seat, smoothing his sleeves with practiced precision.
"I'm heading out."
Jiaying nodded stiffly. Though she had an idea of exactly where he was going.
....