Chapter Two: The House That Wasn't Home
1165 Words
The Li's family Mansion did not feel like home.
It felt like a fortress.
Shen jia li stood inside the iron gates, her small suitcase by her side, staring at the mansion that stretched before her. Manicured gardens lined the stone path, trimmed so precisely that they looked so unreal. The main house loomed ahead tall, imposing, it's dark windows reflecting the overcast sky.
She had never seen a place like this in her life except on television.
Her fingers curled around the handle of her suitcase.
I don't belong here, she thought.
Behind her, the car door closed softly.
“Come,” General Li Jianyu said, his voice calm but firm. “Don't be scared.”
Scared.
She almost laughed at the word.
She had buried her parents with her own hands just days ago. She had stood alone while the earth swallowed the only people who had loved her unconditionally without doubt. Compared to that, fear felt like luxury.
Still, as she followed the general into the mansion, her steps were hesitant.
Inside, the air was cool and smelled faintly of sandalwood. The marble floors gleaned beneath the crystal chandlers. Every surface screamed wealth, old wealth, powerful money.
Servants stood in a neat line as they entered, bowing respectfully.
“Welcome home, old master.”
Jia Li flinched at the word home.
General Li nodded. “This is Shen Jia Li. From today, she will live here.”
A murmur rippled through the servants.
Curious glances flicked towards her some sympathetic, others openly judgemental.
Before Jia Li can lower her head, a sharp, elegant voice cutting through the room.
“Father.”
She looked up.
A woman descended the staircase slowly, her posture straight, her silk dress perfectly ironed. Her face was beautiful in a cold, sculpted way.
Golds adorned her neck, and her gaze… when it landed on Jia Li, was assessing, dismissive.
This was Madam Li.
Yichen's mother.
“Who is this girl?” madam Li asked, even when her eyes already held the answer.
General Li answered her evenly, “she is my guest.”
“A guest?” Madam Li's brows knitted. “In our home?”
“She saved my life.”
That stopped her half- way.
Madam Li's gaze sharpened. She studied Jia Li from head to toe, her simple clothes, worn out shoes, bare face.
“So,” she said coldly, “you are the girl from the hospital.”
Jia Li bowed instinctively. “Yes ma'am.”
Madam Li did not return the gesture.
“Father,” she said after a pause, “the Li's household has rules. Taking in outsiders—”
“She is not an outsider,” General Li interrupted.
“She is under my protection.”
Silence stretched between them.
Then Madam Li smiled.
It was polite.
It did not reach her eyes.
“Of course,” she said. “If that is what you want.”
Jia Li didn't miss the way her fingers tightened around her handbag.
Later that night, Jia Li sat alone in a guest room bigger than the apartment she had lived with her parents.
The bed was too soft. The curtains too heavy. The silence too loud.
She sat on the edge of the mattress, clutching the jade pendant her mother had given her– a habit she had developed since the accident.
A knock sounded at the door.
She startled. “Y-yes?”
The door opened an Li Yichen walked inside.
He wasn't wearing a suit now just a white shirt, sleeves slightly rolled up. Somehow, that made him even more intimidating.
“I'm sorry,” he said, his voice low. “Did I scare you?”
She shook her head quickly and stood. “No. I mean–yes–no, sir.”
His lips twitched faintly.
“You don't have to call me that,” he said. “Yichen is fine.”
She nodded, though she doubted she would ever be able to say his name out loud.
“There will be people watching you here,” he continued. “My mother included.”
“She doesn't like me,” Jia Li said quietly.
Yichen didn't deny it.
“She doesn't like uncertainty,” he corrected. Or things she can't control.”
He looked around the room. “If you need anything, tell the staffs. Or tell me.”
She hesitated, then asked softly, “why are you being nice to me?”
The question surprised him.
Yichen then looked at her properly.
Her eyes were red-rimmed but dry. There was grief there–deep and restrained. Not dramatic. Not loud. The kind that sat quietly in the chest and hollowed a person out from the inside.
“I saw you at the hospital,” he said softly. “You didn't hesitate.”
She looked down. “People shouldn't hesitate when someone is dying.”
Something shifted in his expression.
That's not how most people think, he realized.
“You're staying here because my grandfather insisted,’ he said. “But you don't owe us anything.”
Jia Li swallowed.
“I owe him my life now,” she whispered.
Yichen frowned. “That's not how this works.”
She almost smiled.
Almost.
Days passed.
Jia Li settled into a routine.
She woke early, attended her classes, studied relentlessly, and returned to the mansion before nightfall. She kept her head down, her voice soft, her presence minimal.
Still, eyes followed her everywhere.
At dinner, she sat far from Yichen, closer to the servants than the family. Madam Li barely acknowledged her existence. Yichen's siblings– his younger brother and sister were polite but distant.
Only the grandfather treated her like she mattered.
“You're too thin,” he told her one evening, pushing more food onto her plate.
“You study too much,” he scolded another night.
“You belong here,” he said once, firmly, when she tried to thank him.
And Yichen watched.
He watched how she listened more than she spoke.
How she thanked servants.
How she never complained– even when his mother deliberately made things difficult for her.
One night, as he passed the study, he saw light shining from the inside.
Jia Li sat at the desk, books stacked high, notes scattered everywhere.
She looked up when he entered, she startled.
“You haven't slept,” he said.
“I will,” she replied. “After this chapter.”
“What chapter?”
“Cardiac physiology.”
He froze.
“The night my grandfather collapsed,” he said slowly, “you knew exactly what to do.”
She nodded. “I want to save people. Properly. Everytime.”
Yichen stared at her for a long moment.
For the first time, the thought crossed his mind…
Grandfather didn't bring her here out of gratitude alone.
And somewhere deep in the old man's calculating heart, a decision was already forming.
One that would change all of their lives.
- Writer
