The iron gates of Li Manor creaked open under the cold twilight sky.
Feng Yuxi stepped out of the luxury car, her suitcase in hand, as the estate's sprawling grandeur unfolded before her. It looked less like a home and more like a fortress—monolithic, cold, with towering pillars that reached into the dusk like stone sentinels.
She was impressed.
Not by its wealth—she had grown up surrounded by even more—but by how little warmth it exuded.
Just like its master.
Before she could ascend the steps, the heavy doors opened with mechanical precision. Li Zeyan stood at the threshold, coat draped over one arm, gaze locked on her.
"You're late again," he said coolly.
Her smile was slight, teasing. "You'll find I rarely arrive when expected."
He stepped aside without a word, allowing her in.
Inside, the manor was pristine—too pristine. White marble floors, minimalist furnishings, and an atmosphere so sterile it could've been a museum. No family portraits. No trace of life.
"Third floor. Guest wing," he said, leading her through a corridor lit by recessed lighting.
"A guest room for a wife?" she asked, voice light but laced with mockery.
"I don't mix business with pleasure."
Yuxi's heels echoed behind him, her smirk growing. "Then you should've picked a less attractive business partner."
He stopped at the stairs and looked over his shoulder. "You're not my type."
She leaned in slightly, her voice barely a whisper. "Good. It'll make it easier not to fall in love."
His jaw ticked. "Don't get clever, Miss Feng."
Her smile didn't falter. "Mrs. Li, actually."
That night, in the silence of her room, Feng Yuxi stared at the moonlight spilling over the floor like silver threads. Her fingers traced the edge of a hidden photograph tucked in her wallet—a picture of a newborn swaddled in a blanket, his tiny hands curled into fists.
Li Fenghao.
Her son. Her everything.
He was safe for now—hidden, watched over by trusted allies abroad.
But she knew that peace wouldn't last. The wolves were stirring. The Feng family would soon catch wind of her return, and the ones who had buried her six years ago wouldn't welcome her resurrection.
She reached into her coat and retrieved a flash drive—a piece of the puzzle. Inside were names, dates, bank accounts… fragments of the truth behind her "accidental death."
The game had begun.
Meanwhile, in a locked office on the other side of the manor, Li Zeyan poured himself a glass of bourbon and stood before a wall-sized monitor displaying profiles, news headlines, and confidential surveillance.
At the center of the screen: Xia Zhi, alias of unknown origin. Real identity: Under investigation.
He hadn't believed for a second that she was just a simple actress.
Beautiful women were never just beautiful. They were dangerous.
Still… something about her haunted him. The eyes. The poise. The way she walked into his life like she belonged in it.
Was she after his fortune? His name?
Or… something else entirely?
He downed the drink and muttered to himself.
"Just what are you hiding, Mrs. Li?"
At that exact moment, in a heavily encrypted network halfway around the world, a boy with a bowl of mango pudding at his side tapped furiously on his tablet.
Fenghao's eyes narrowed as he scanned Li International's private servers.
"Seriously, Mommy? This guy's tighter than a safe."
But just as he was about to give up, a biometric camera feed flashed across the screen. A live image of Li Zeyan, drinking alone in his study, filled the tablet.
The boy blinked.
"…Why does he look like me?"