CHAPTER 32 — Tension in Silk and Shadow
The fitting room was bright, full of mirrors and harsh white lights, the kind that revealed every flaw—yet somehow only made Shi Yunxi look softer.
Stylists bustled around her, adjusting the flowing white costume she would wear as Sheng Ruiyin. Light chiffon layered over her shoulders, drifting down like morning mist. Her hair was half-pinned, half-loose, long strands falling beside her cheek.
She looked ethereal.
But she felt anything but calm.
Because the air shifted…
And Mu Lingchen walked in.
His presence didn't need announcement—sharp, controlled, quietly powerful. He didn't look at anyone else. His eyes found Yunxi immediately, dark as ink and twice as deep.
But his expression was unreadable.
No warmth.
No anger.
Just quiet observation, cool and assessing, like he was peeling away layers she didn't know she had.
"President Mu? You're… personally supervising the fitting?" the director stammered.
Mu Lingchen didn't answer. He stepped closer to Yunxi instead.
Every stylist in the room froze.
Yunxi's fingers tightened slightly on the fabric at her waist. "President Mu… is something wrong?"
He didn't respond for a moment.
His gaze traveled—slowly—from the delicate hairpins in her hair to the soft drape of her sleeves, then finally to her eyes.
"You suit the role," he said quietly.
The words were neither praise nor compliment. They were an observation—calm, factual, but carrying a weight that pressed against her ribs anyway.
Yunxi lowered her gaze. "Thank you."
She stepped back a little, intending to give him space.
But Mu Lingchen's eyes narrowed almost imperceptibly.
He noticed.
He noticed everything.
"Miss Shi," he said, voice cool, "why are you avoiding my questions?"
A faint tremor passed through her fingers. "I'm not avoiding—"
"You are."
He stepped close enough that she could feel the faint warmth radiating from him, though his expression remained cold.
The stylists were practically holding their breath, pretending not to stare.
Mu Lingchen leaned in slightly—not enough to touch her, but enough that his voice brushed her ear like a low whisper.
"Three years ago…"
his tone didn't waver,
"…are you certain you remember nothing?"
Yunxi's breath caught.
Her heart thudded violently.
Not this again.
Not here.
Not in front of people.
She kept her voice steady. "I've already answered you, President Mu."
"People forget insignificant things," he continued, eyes fixed on her. "But they don't forget things that change their life."
Her throat tightened.
He was pushing.
Quietly.
Coldly.
Relentlessly.
And deep down, something inside her—something buried, locked, frozen—flickered.
But she couldn't let it show.
"I don't know what you're implying," she said softly, lifting her chin with as much calm as she could summon.
Mu Lingchen stared at her.
Long.
Silent.
Searching.
The silence stretched until even the director began sweating nervously.
Finally, he straightened, mask of composure snapping perfectly back into place. "Very well."
He turned away from her… but the clench of his jaw betrayed the storm beneath.
"Proceed with the fitting," he said coldly.
And he walked out.
Only after the door closed did Yunxi realize she had been holding her breath.
Her knees nearly gave out as the stylists rushed in again, pretending the world hadn't just tilted on its axis.
Because Mu Lingchen…
He didn't believe her denials.
He wasn't going to stop.
And something told her—
He was getting closer.