Vân Hải — the Special Economic Zone, a privatized financial island set between Hong Kong and Shenzhen — shimmered beneath the sunset like a diamond polished by power and secrets. A place where yachts dock beside skyscrapers, where financial figures are spoken in the whispering tone of luxury watches.
People called Vân Hải a dominion where power and money could purchase almost anything — except conscience.
This was the territory of the Vũ family.
An empire operating beyond ordinary law.
A city granted national-level economic autonomy, where shadow conglomerates established their headquarters, where every covert transaction bore the imprint of Vũ Holdings.
Vũ Holdings did not merely dominate Vân Hải — it dictated the financial pulse of the entire South China Sea region.
The Vũ conglomerate resembled an impregnable fortress — its name alone was enough to command deference.
One slanting afternoon, the sea breeze carried a faint trace of salt deep through the trees bordering the Vũ estate.
The residence stood upon a hillside overlooking the harbor — architecture both modern and enduring. Glass walls mirrored the blue water below, while the gardens were meticulously arranged, a koi pond stretching like a sculpted stream shaped by the hands of immense wealth.
Within the grounds, toy robots rattled noisily along stone pathways — modern amusements for the children of a powerful dynasty.
At the central courtyard, platinum-white stone reflected the arrival of a procession of black vehicles. From the first car, a twelve-year-old boy stepped out.
He stood straight, every movement composed to a degree unnatural for a child. A crisp white shirt rested upon his firm frame, buttons fastened with exact precision. Tall, poised — his very presence seemed measured, calculated.
His eyes were calm, the gaze of someone already familiar with solemn boardrooms.
There was not the slightest trace of panic from a child who had just lost his mother.
He appeared instead like a young successor descending from a car to assume a fragment of an empire's destiny.
The man guiding him forward was Vũ Chính Thành — chairman of Vũ Holdings — a figure regarded as one of the pillars of Vân Hải. A name that compelled the entire city to step back three paces.
His voice carried both warmth and authority, the kind that instinctively commanded obedience.
"From today onward, the Vũ family is your home. I will raise you."
Ngạo Thiên did not respond.
He merely inclined his head slightly — a gesture so impeccably courteous that several stewards nearby felt an involuntary chill.
This child… is not like other children.
His gaze drifted across the courtyard before settling on the koi pond, where another boy sat assembling a robot from gleaming parts.
Three years younger.
Soft smile.
A presence utterly opposite to his own cold restraint.
Vũ Ngạo Thần, nine years old.
When Ngạo Thần looked up, his bright, unguarded eyes paused upon the stranger before he ran forward.
"Father, who is he?"
Vũ Chính Thành smiled gently, resting a hand atop his younger son's head.
"This is your brother."
Then, turning toward the silent boy, he declared with quiet finality:
"From this day, you bear the Vũ name. You are Vũ Ngạo Thiên."
A simple sentence — yet it stirred something unfamiliar within the younger child.
Ngạo Thần's eyes widened with delight.
"So I have an older brother now? That's wonderful!"
That innocent joy awakened a strange sensation within Ngạo Thiên — a warmth spreading faintly through his chest. A blurred impression of familial completeness he had never known.
Watching this scene, Triệu Ái Huệ — matriarch of the Vũ family — approached.
She was known throughout Vân Hải as the embodiment of grace and refinement. Aristocratic, poised, her gaze soft as silk.
When she looked upon Ngạo Thiên, her eyes overflowed with tenderness.
She placed a hand upon his shoulder as though welcoming a child long held within her heart.
"Come inside, Ngạo Thiên. From now on, this is your home."
Ngạo Thiên bowed slightly.
"Greetings, Aunt."
"You may call me Mother — if you wish."
He looked up.
And for the first time, the boy whose heart had long resembled cold metal felt something tremble.
Not pity.
But warmth.
Not the fragile kindness of strangers, but something deeper, steadier — something capable of dissolving the frost within him.
From that moment forward, in the dark current of Ngạo Thiên's life, only two lights remained:
Triệu Ái Huệ — who sheltered him like her own son.
And Vũ Ngạo Thần — the younger brother who followed him everywhere, seeing him as his entire world.
Ngạo Thần became the boundary of Ngạo Thiên's humanity — a sacred line no one was permitted to cross, not even Ngạo Thiên himself.
Everything else could be weighed, traded, sacrificed.
Only his brother stood beyond calculation.
/The Banquet That Marked a Fatal Alliance/
A month passed like a drawn breath.
The Vũ estate hosted a grand reception to formally introduce the elder heir, Ngạo Thiên, to Vân Hải's elite.
Under opulent crystal chandeliers, the great families arrived.
Among them stood Tống Hành — chairman of the Tống dynasty — another formidable presence within Vân Hải's hierarchy of power.
At his side walked a young girl in a white dress patterned with lilies, eyes bright as stars.
Tống Dĩ Yến.
The sole heir of the Tống empire.
Tống Hành sought alliance with Vũ Holdings.
In their world, such gestures were signals of intent — marriages, handshakes, mergers — all measured by advantage.
He did not realize that this very appearance would one day shatter his daughter's fate.
Dĩ Yến moved through the banquet like a pristine blossom of camellia.
Not dazzling like a rose, yet possessing an effortless elegance born from lineage and instinct.
When she entered, eyes turned.
Ngạo Thiên's gaze lingered upon her — not with childish curiosity, but with the focused assessment of a strategist surveying terrain.
He approached.
"You are Chairman Tống's daughter?"
Dĩ Yến nodded, smiling softly — a smile unshadowed by doubt.
In that instant, the chessboard of destiny shifted into place.
Within Ngạo Thiên's mind, possibilities assembled with chilling clarity.
An innocent heir.
A premium piece capable of occupying any position he required.
Yet elsewhere, another gaze followed Dĩ Yến.
Ngạo Thần.
The nine-year-old understood nothing of power or schemes.
But the way he looked at her held pure, unfiltered affection — the fragile sincerity of a child discovering admiration for the first time.
None of the three children knew:
From the moment they met, fate had bound them irrevocably.
⸻
/The Child Who Planted Seeds of the Future/
In the days that followed, the children grew close.
Ngạo Thần remained carefree, orbiting them with natural devotion.
Ngạo Thiên observed.
And soon perceived something extraordinary:
Dĩ Yến possessed an instinctive sensitivity to color, texture, form.
An innate aesthetic gift.
At twelve years old, Ngạo Thiên understood precisely what to do.
He began to plant.
/Three Threads of Fate Entwined Forever/
Afternoons unfolded beneath the trees of the Vũ gardens.
Dĩ Yến sketched dress silhouettes upon the sand.
Ngạo Thần lay upon the grass, watching.
Ngạo Thiên did not play like other children.
Each word, each gesture, bore intention hidden beneath gentleness.
When Dĩ Yến touched a fragment of blue lace without comprehension, he guided her hand.
"This shade brightens your complexion. Use it — people will remember."
His voice was light.
But its effect immediate.
Praise struck exactly where emotion awakened.
He offered her silk, color palettes, drawing tools.
"Try. I believe this suits you."
"I don't know how."
"I will teach you."
What appeared kindness was, in truth, design.
Ngạo Thiên was embedding a future vocation within her subconscious — transforming fashion into her earliest source of joy.
No ordinary child could have conceived such foresight.
Only Vũ Ngạo Thiên.
Ngạo Thần, meanwhile, saw only admiration.
"Brother Thiên is amazing. He even teaches Yến to draw."
He never glimpsed the deeper architecture unfolding:
The foundation of ÉCLAT.
The brand Dĩ Yến would one day command.
Time advanced.
Small gestures accumulated into invisible structures.
Beyond the veranda, waves struck the shore like distant drums — heralding a far greater game.
Three children laughed beneath Vân Hải's sky, unaware they were setting the first irreversible moves of a vast chessboard.
A seemingly ordinary scene.
Yet it marked the moment destiny began its silent operation.
One child planting seeds.
One child loving quietly.
One girl becoming the axis of two future titans.
Behind them loomed empires, secrets, debts of blood, and wars from which none could retreat.
Message of Chapter 1
From the smallest gestures, from praise delivered at the precise moment, destinies are shaped.
A chessboard requires no war drums.
It advances through silent movements.
And childhood may be the ground where both love and schemes first take root.