CHAPTER 23
Night settled over the city like a velvet curtain dotted with distant lights, but Shi Yunxi's apartment felt anything but calm.
She sat on the edge of her small sofa, knees drawn close, staring at her silent phone as though expecting it to detonate.
It hadn't rung.
Not yet.
But the promise of it—
"Expect my call"—
echoed in her skull like a slow, descending verdict.
Lin Meixi paced the living room, hands flying everywhere in panic.
"Yunxi, listen to me. Men like Mu Lingchen don't 'call.' They summon. They command. They drag people into boardrooms and sign contracts with their eyes. He's probably—no, definitely—planning something terrifying."
Yunxi rested her forehead against her knees.
"I didn't do anything wrong."
"That doesn't matter!" Meixi wailed. "You breathed in his vicinity! You let his son call you 'Mama'! Yunxi, that's practically a death sentence in CEO language!"
Yunxi rubbed her temples.
"I just comforted a scared child."
"Yes," Meixi said, sitting beside her. "Except the child you comforted belongs to the Mu Lingchen. You don't just comfort his kid. You don't even accidentally stand beside him without consequences."
Yunxi wanted to argue, but a faint tremor in her chest betrayed her.
Because she could still see him—
the way he looked at her from across the hall,
cold but not dismissive,
sharp yet unnervingly attentive.
He didn't know her.
He wasn't supposed to know her.
There was no past between them.
So why…
why did it feel like his gaze held onto her longer than it should?
Meixi poked her arm. "What if he thinks you're suspicious?"
"I'm not."
"He doesn't care about reality! He cares about control!" Meixi groaned dramatically. "He looked at you like you were a mystery he didn't authorize."
Yunxi swallowed.
That… was exactly what she feared.
Before she could dwell on it, a vibration buzzed across the table.
Both women froze.
The phone.
Yunxi's heart plummeted.
Slowly—too slowly—she reached for it.
The screen read:
Unknown Number
Meixi slapped a hand over her mouth to muffle her scream.
Yunxi exhaled shakily and accepted the call.
"…Hello?"
There was a quiet pause.
Then a voice—
deep, smooth, and absolute—
filled her ear.
"Miss Shi."
Her breath hitched.
Mu Lingchen.
"I trust," he continued calmly, "that you understand why I'm calling."
Yunxi forced herself to sit upright. "If this is about Mu Rui—"
"It is."
Silence tightened around her.
His next words were clipped, precise.
"I want you at my office tomorrow morning. Nine o'clock."
Her pulse jumped.
"Your—office?"
"Yes."
A pause.
"Skyline Tower. Top floor."
The headquarters of his empire.
Yunxi's fingers curled around the phone. "Mr. Mu, I don't think—"
"This isn't a discussion."
Her breath caught.
He continued, tone smooth as ice:
"You were involved with my son today. I need to understand exactly what happened. And I need to understand why he has formed an attachment to you."
Yunxi closed her eyes.
Of course.
Of course it came down to control.
To precision.
To eliminating unknowns from his world.
"I see," she whispered.
"Good."
The finality in his voice left no room for negotiation.
But just before she expected him to end the call—
His voice softened.
Not warm.
Not gentle.
But curious.
"Miss Shi."
"…Yes?"
"What exactly are you to my son?"
Her heart stopped.
"I—I'm nothing to him. I just helped him."
Another pause.
This one longer.
He didn't believe her.
She could feel it through the line.
"I'll determine that tomorrow," he said quietly.
Then the call ended.
Yunxi lowered the phone, her hand trembling despite her best attempt to control it.
Meixi crouched beside her slowly.
"So…" she whispered. "How alive are you? On a scale from 1 to—"
"I have to go to Skyline Tower tomorrow," Yunxi murmured, dazed.
Meixi let out a dramatic sob. "That's a zero, then."
Yunxi leaned back against the couch, staring at the ceiling.
Tomorrow, she would walk into the lion's den.
And she had no idea—
No idea at all—
that the lion had already started taking an interest in her.
Not because he remembered her.
Not because he believed her.
But because a man like Mu Lingchen never ignored a storm—
especially one that began with his son whispering,
"Mama."