The scent of osmanthus lingered in the warm village air as the early summer sun stretched gently across the rooftops of Shanquan. The fields swayed in long green lines, and birds called lazily from the trees that stood along the eastern trail. It was a peaceful day, unmarred by news, phone calls, or the noise of engines.
Lin Yu stood at the edge of the lotus pond, hands clasped behind his back. Dahuang lay nearby, stretched out with his eyes half-shut, flicking his tail at the occasional fly. The tranquility was undisturbed — until the low hum of a black SUV rolled up along the stone path at the village's south end.
It didn't belong here. Not because of its price — Lin Yu had vehicles worth ten times more hidden away in his mountain hangar — but because of its energy. Too clean. Too polished. Like someone wearing perfume to walk through a forest.
A local village official accompanied the car, walking a few steps ahead, clearly nervous. He made no eye contact with Lin Yu and bowed awkwardly when their paths crossed.
"She asked specifically for a personal tour," the man mumbled. "Refused the municipal guide. Said she wanted to speak directly with the locals. I tried to suggest someone else, but... she insisted."
The car door opened.
The first thing Lin Yu saw was her heel — black, lacquered, stepping onto the gravel with careful elegance. Then the hem of a flowing cream-colored skirt. Then she straightened and removed her sunglasses.
She was tall — not in stature, but in presence. Around thirty-four or thirty-five, she wore her age like tailored silk. Her skin was pale, her makeup subtle. Her hair was gathered in a smooth, flawless chignon, held in place by a jade pin. She wore a fitted blouse beneath her jacket, simple pearl earrings, and a watch whose brand spoke to someone discreetly powerful.
He had seen women like her before. But rarely so calm.
"Are you Mr. Lin?" she asked, walking toward him with measured grace.
"I am," he replied, offering a light nod.
She extended her hand. He took it briefly. Her grip was cool and soft.
"Fang Yaqin," she said. "Wife of Deputy Mayor Zhou Liren."
She waited a beat.
"Unofficially visiting, of course."
"I understand."
She glanced around the courtyard. "This place has been mentioned in recent provincial reports. No publicity, no donors, no known financial backers. And yet the infrastructure is years ahead of nearby towns. Water management, local clinics, literacy programs…"
Lin Yu smiled faintly. "Just local initiative."
She studied him for a moment, then gave a small smile of her own.
"I was told you don't give interviews."
"I don't."
"But you'll give a tour?"
"If you don't record it."
"No need," she said. "I have a good memory."
He gestured for her to follow. They began walking slowly through the garden paths. The estate was quiet, the breeze threading through the bamboo leaves, soft with the scent of sandalwood and soil. She walked beside him in silence, absorbing everything — the quality of the stone tiles, the careful layering of water channels, the orderly arrangement of herb beds.
"You built this?" she asked.
"I designed it. Others built it."
"With whose money?"
"My own."
"You're very young."
"I've always been patient."
They reached the meditation deck overlooking the valley, where a handmade telescope stood beside a pair of wicker chairs. She stepped onto the deck, walked to the edge, and looked out. The view stretched in layers — green hills, stone houses, terraced fields.
"It's beautiful," she said softly. "Too beautiful to be just a hobby."
"I don't do hobbies."
"Then what is this?"
He looked at her. "Shelter."
She turned to face him fully. The late morning light framed her face in soft warmth.
"My husband is a man of logic," she said. "He serves by calculation. Compromises. Public faces. I've been beside him for twelve years. Not as a partner, but as a balance. I attend events. I handle appearances. I smile. Sometimes I sit beside him in cars, and we don't speak for the entire ride."
"You could leave."
"And become what? A politician's discarded wife?"
"You'd be something truer."
She looked at him for a long moment. Then her eyes softened.
"Truth," she said, "is a luxury."
They returned to the inner courtyard for tea. Lin Yu served her himself. She accepted the cup carefully, examining the glaze with quiet appreciation.
"Yunnan porcelain," she said. "Fired at low flame. Not for show."
He didn't reply.
They sat in silence for several minutes. She sipped her tea, gaze drifting across the garden, then returned to him.
"I'd like to stay for lunch."
"Of course."
"And the driver?"
"He'll be taken care of."
She rose and removed her jacket, folding it over the bamboo chair. Beneath, her blouse clung softly to her body, revealing the lines of a woman who took care of herself not for display — but for control.
The meal was served in the side hall — a low table set for two, with seasonal vegetables, rice, and fresh fish wrapped in lotus leaves. She ate slowly, savoring each bite, not speaking.
Halfway through the meal, she placed her chopsticks down and looked at him.
"You're a dangerous man, Lin Yu."
"How so?"
"You make women forget who they're supposed to be."
"Or remember who they are underneath."
She tilted her head.
"And which would you prefer I do?"
"I don't need to prefer," he said. "You're already here."
Her breath caught slightly at that.
After lunch, she followed him through the rear orchard, where the trees cast long, cooling shadows. At the end of the path stood the tea-drying shed, empty now, its interior filled with sunlight and the scent of dried leaves.
She stepped inside.
"I shouldn't," she said softly.
"You don't have to."
"But I want to."
She turned to him, eyes heavy, chest rising and falling more visibly now.
"I haven't been touched by someone who wanted me in years."
He stepped toward her, closing the distance. His hands didn't rush — they rested gently on her hips, then slid around her back. Her hands trembled as she reached up to undo the first buttons of her blouse.
When he kissed her, it was quiet. Intentional.
She sighed into him, mouth parting as her fingers clutched his sleeves. Her blouse slipped from her shoulders. He kissed the side of her neck, his breath warm against her skin. She moaned softly, arms winding around his back.
The heat grew slowly — not rushed, not hungry. Their rhythm was deliberate, emotional, as if both feared it would vanish if they moved too fast.
When she finally cried out, her voice was hushed — the sound of a woman breaking open inside silence.
Afterward, she leaned against his chest, arms still around his waist, their bodies cooling together in the golden air.
"You've made my world complicated," she whispered.
"No," he said. "You've just remembered it was always this way."
She smiled, eyes damp. "You're not what I expected."
"And yet, here you are."
Later, she dressed slowly, checking her lipstick, smoothing her blouse with careful hands. Her hair was slightly looser now, strands falling around her cheeks. She didn't fix it.
"You won't tell anyone," she said.
"I never do."
"I may return," she said.
"You're always welcome."
As she walked back to the car, the wind tugged gently at her skirt. At the gate, she turned once and met his gaze — not with guilt, not with sorrow, but with a kind of tired gratitude.
Then she stepped into the SUV and was gone.
That evening, Lin Yu sat on the western terrace as dusk gathered. The lanterns swayed slightly, casting long amber reflections on the pond. In the distance, a cuckoo called from the trees.
The system shimmered softly into view.
> Romance Progress: Fang Yaqin – 22%
Emotional Signature: Confined Flame
Background Influence: Deputy Mayor Office – City Level
Resource Access: Municipal Budget Oversight Loop (Limited)
Reward: Civil Authority Personnel Summon (x1)
He dismissed the interface and poured himself a glass of rice wine.
He didn't need fireworks. Just quiet ripples that reached farther than anyone imagined.
And now, another had joined the current.
---
End of Chapter 7