The thin, dusty volume from the hospital library felt like a lead weight in Lin Wanwan's hands. The words on the page—"unresolved disputes and debts," "the prominent Jiang trading family," "dispersal of many clan members"—were not just dry historical facts; they were the ghost of an explanation, a terrifying key that threatened to unlock the truth behind her gilded cage.
Her journey back to the mansion that evening was a silent, tormented affair. The city lights blurred past the limousine's window, but she saw none of them. Her mind was a maelstrom, replaying every interaction with Ye Tingjue, every cryptic comment, and filtering it through this new, horrifying lens.
His fascination with her heritage was not a whim. His pointed questions about the Jiang family were not idle curiosity. The plum blossom necklace was not a simple gift; it was a brand, a symbol of a long-festering wound, a debt he believed was owed. Her family's downfall, their "dispersal," was somehow entangled with his own history. The realization was sickening. She was not a random girl he had chosen to rescue out of a strange sense of charity; she was a target, selected with cold, deliberate precision. Her "错撩"—that desperate, mistaken seduction—had merely been the final, anticipated step that delivered her directly into his hands.
Back in the oppressive luxury of her suite, Wanwan felt a surge of cold fury that momentarily eclipsed her fear. She was not just a companion or a mistress; she was a living effigy for a historical grievance. He was using her, a descendant of the "Lin Clan of Suzhou," as a pawn in a generational game of retribution or restitution. The sheer, calculated arrogance of it took her breath away.
She had to confront him. The fragile truce, her quiet endurance—it was all predicated on a lie. She could not continue to play the part of the grateful, submissive companion while knowing that her very identity was the reason for her captivity.
With the historical text clutched in her hand like a weapon, she left her suite and went in search of him. She found him where she expected to: in the vast, silent library, nursing a glass of dark liquor, a book open but unread on the table beside him. He looked up as she entered, his dark eyes instantly assessing her rigid posture, the storm brewing in her expression.
"Miss Lin," he said, his voice a low, calm rumble. "You seem… agitated."
"I was at the hospital library today," she began, her voice trembling slightly, but with anger rather than fear. She walked forward and placed the open book on the polished surface of the table between them, her finger pointing directly at the damning paragraph. "Unresolved disputes and debts. The Jiang trading family. Is this it, Mr. Ye? Is this why you chose me?"
Ye Tingjue's gaze flickered down to the book, then back up to her face. He showed no surprise, no flicker of guilt or alarm. His composure was absolute, almost inhuman. It was the calm of a master strategist whose opponent had just, finally, stumbled upon a piece of the game he had laid out from the very beginning.
"History is full of… unfortunate transactions, Miss Lin," he said, his voice smooth as silk. "Some debts are financial. Others are paid in less tangible currencies—reputation, honor, and legacy."
"So you admit it," she breathed, her heart pounding. "This is about some old family feud? You found me, the last descendant you could trace, and decided to… settle the score? To take your payment out on me?"
He leaned back in his chair, swirling the liquor in his glass. "Your understanding of the situation is… simplistic. But not entirely inaccurate." He paused, his eyes holding hers, a chilling intensity in their depths. "You asked me once if my family knew the Jiangs. A better question would have been to ask my connection to them."
Wanwan waited, her breath held tight in her chest.
"My mother's maiden name," he said, the words dropping into the silent room like stones into a deep well, "was Jiang."
The confession landed with the force of a physical blow. Wanwan stumbled back a step, her mind reeling. His mother. The prominent Jiang trading family. So the debt, the dispute, was not against his family, the Yes, but against his mother's. This wasn't just business; it was blood.
"Your… your mother?" she stammered.
"She was the youngest daughter of the Jiang family," he said, his voice flat, devoid of emotion, yet Wanwan sensed a deep, cold current of something powerful beneath the surface. "She was a woman who valued honor above all else. And she believed the Lins of Suzhou, for all their artistry, were a family who broke a sacred trust, a failure that had… far-reaching consequences for her own family."
He stood up, walking over to the window that overlooked the dark, manicured gardens. "She passed away many years ago, but she never forgot the slight. She spoke of it often. A promise broken, a debt left unpaid, a shadow that fell over her family's fortunes."
"And you decided to become her avenger?" Wanwan asked, her voice laced with bitter sarcasm. "By finding me, by buying me, by keeping me here as your… prisoner?"
He turned to face her, a dangerous glint in his eyes. "Prisoner is a strong word, Miss Lin. You have the finest clothes, food, and shelter. Your brother is receiving the best medical care money can buy. A prison is a place one cannot leave. You could, theoretically, walk out that door right now."
"Could I?" she challenged, her voice rising. "And what would happen to Xiaoyu? You would cut off his funding, wouldn't you? You would let him die to punish me. That isn't a choice, Mr. Ye; it's a threat. It's the most effective prison of all."
A slow, cold smile touched his lips. "As I said. I am not an unreasonable man. I simply ensure that all parties have a clear understanding of the consequences of their actions." He walked back towards her, stopping so close she could feel the cold aura of his power. "You have been digging into a past you do not understand, Miss Lin. It is… unwise. I am the only one who knows the full story, the complete truth of what transpired between our families. And I will share it with you when I deem the time is right."
His arrogance was absolute. He was the sole arbiter of a truth that had shaped her life, her family's fate, and now her own captivity.
"So what now?" she asked, her voice hollow. "Do I just continue to be your… living collateral? A symbol of a debt my ancestors supposedly incurred?"
"You will continue to be my companion," he corrected her, his voice softening into a silken, menacing purr. "You will accompany me to Europe next week, as planned. You will learn the skills I provide you. And perhaps, in time, you will come to understand that this is not about simple revenge." He reached out, his finger lightly tracing the delicate plum blossom pendant at her throat. "This is about restoration. About setting an old, unbalanced account right. And you, Miss Lin, are the key to that equation."
With that, he turned and left the library, leaving Wanwan trembling in the vast, silent room, the dusty history book lying on the table like an open wound. The confrontation had given her an answer, but it was an answer that only deepened the horror, that only confirmed her role as a pawn in his generational endgame.
The preparations for the Europe trip accelerated. The day after her confrontation with Ye Tingjue, Kai presented her with a new, deep blue passport. Her photo, taken on the day of her fitting for the gala gown, stared back at her, a polished, unfamiliar version of herself. All the necessary visas for their multi-country trip were already stamped within.
"Mr. Ye had your documents expedited," Kai explained, his face impassive.
Wanwan took the passport. It felt alien in her hand. This wasn't just a travel document; it was a new identity, forged by him for his purposes. A set of custom-made luggage, in a matching shade of deep blue, arrived that afternoon. It was beautiful, elegant, and felt like the trappings of a very luxurious prison sentence.
Her last visit to Xiaoyu before the trip was agonizing. He was bright and cheerful, sitting up in bed, already looking forward to starting physical therapy.
"Are you going on that business trip now, Jie?" he asked, his eyes shining. "Don't worry about me. I'll be fine. Just… bring me back something cool, okay?"
Wanwan hugged him tightly, fighting back tears. "I will, Xiaoyu. I promise. You just focus on getting strong."
Leaving him felt like severing her last tie to reality. She was stepping fully into Ye Tingjue's world now, a world of private jets, international business, and simmering historical vendettas.
The day of departure arrived. Wanwan, dressed in a simple but elegant traveling outfit he had provided, was driven not to the main airport but to a private airfield. A sleek, white private jet stood waiting on the tarmac, its engines humming softly, a symbol of a level of wealth and power she still found difficult to comprehend.
Ye Tingjue was waiting for her at the base of the aircraft's steps. He was dressed in a perfectly tailored travel suit, looking every inch the global emperor. He watched her approach, his expression unreadable.
"Ready for a change of scenery, Miss Lin?" he asked, his voice a low murmur against the thrum of the engines. "Sometimes, one must gain distance to see the past more clearly."
He extended a hand to her. It was not a question but a command. She looked from his outstretched hand to his dark, intense eyes. There was no escape. Her path was now inextricably bound to his, a journey into the heart of a mystery that had begun generations before she was born.
Taking a deep breath, Lin Wanwan placed her hand in his. His grip was firm, inescapable. Together, they ascended the steps and entered the luxurious cabin, leaving her old life and the ghosts of Suzhou waiting on the tarmac below. The aircraft door sealed shut, and as the jet began its powerful ascent, Wanwan knew she was flying directly into the center of the emperor's web.