Sorin

Character / Lin Daosheng x Reader (Gender-neutral)

Genre / Mid-fic / Short series

Content Warnings below:

Sexual harassment / Sexual assault,Coercion / Intimidation,Mentioning and describing vomiting, Loss of consciousness leading to self-harm / Unconscious self-harm,Abuse of power / Exercising authority coercively,Anxiety,Abnormal thoughts / Distorted thinking

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4

_

Leaving the tag here, you can request it if you want!

@sorinbds / @yaoduriaa

_

P.S. 1. English is not my first language. This is a translation from my original language, so I apologize if it sounds a bit off.

2. I really want to read fics about the old villain Lin Daosheng, but no one writes them. I’ve only seen a few here and there, so… enjoy! ෆ

_

The messiness of life is part of what allows one to keep moving forward. It gives rise to purpose, to momentum.

You, at this moment, are trying many new things under your father’s supervision—observing company operations, testing your ability to manage businesses, starting from something small. And when familiarity settles in, only then do things gradually expand.

As the only child of the Xue family, you are, without question, the heir to the family enterprise. Even so, in the past, neither your father nor your mother truly approved of the “real Xue y/n.”

Several nights ago, an evening meeting was arranged at the Xue family mansion. What took place was a formal visit from a partner company preparing for joint investment—Food Axis Supply Chain Co., Ltd., owned by "Gu Hanchuan". The company would later become part of the agricultural supply chain and cold storage logistics for the food enterprise “Perfect Flavor House,” owned by Xue Jiacheng

The discussions were calm, mutual, and careful—contracts as steady as a raft adrift in the middle of the sea.

"Gu Yaochen", the eldest son of the Gu family, was nothing like his imposing, cold, profit-driven father. Despite having ability, he was useless in spirit—lazy, unmotivated, drifting through his days as though nothing in the world truly mattered.

The conversation that night was rather awkward, but it ended well enough. Both your parents and Gu Yaochen’s father hoped that the two of you would get along, in one way or another—an engagement.

No matter how much the tyrannical Gu Hanchuan expected the two children to reconcile, your parents always placed your willingness first. If you did not want it, there would be no engagement at all. You and Gu Yaochen would remain nothing more than business partners—bridges connecting the relationship between the two families. And honestly, that was already more than good enough.

And then there was the most troubling matter of all.

Extravagantly expensive gifts, sent every single day by Lin Daosheng—irritating beyond measure. In truth, you had avoided meeting him countless times already, using the most reasonable excuse there was: being occupied with the family business—learning it, adapting to it, trying to find your footing after losing your memory.

You had repeatedly instructed his people, who delivered the gifts to the mansion gates, that the presents were unnecessary. That there was no need to send them at all.

But you know what?

He is Lin Daosheng.

A creepy, deranged old man.

_

Today marks the third time this week that you’ve arranged to sever a group FWB relationship—with the third person.

And this one is especially ugly.

Because of this man’s obsession, his stubborn fixation on you—the “former Xue y/n”—it has long crossed the line of normal. Hundreds of messages. Dozens of phone calls. You decide it has to end. Everything the old Xue y/n left behind must be erased. All of it. Cut away the annoyance, discard it completely, so there will be no more bindings. No more obligations.

You didn’t expect him to grab you and kiss you.

After an argument that spiraled endlessly, right there in front of the café called “Cat Alley.” Eyes from every direction turned toward you.

Unfortunately—or perhaps inevitably—you had already instructed your bodyguards beforehand: if anything happened—no matter what—they were not to interfere.

This was a debt left behind by the former Xue y/n. And it all truly happened.

You, who now inhabit this body, must bear the consequences. Even if you didn’t do it—this body did.

And now, you are inside that body.

Thud!

You lift your foot and drive it hard into his lower body while he isn’t prepared. His body folds in on itself. You grab the collar of the troublesome bastard as he collapses in pain, clutching himself. Your eyes harden. The air sharpens. Your other hand clamps down on his cheek, nails digging in, grip merciless.

“Deaf and stupid isn’t enough—are you insane too, Zhang Lei?”

“W-what’s wrong with you, y/n!? And those things you said—”

Zhang Lei’s face twists, his words spilling out incoherently—only to be cut off by your voice. Like scissors slicing through layers of stacked paper. No matter how many times you cut, the blades never quite bite through everything at once.

“I’ll say this one last time. We’re done.”

The scissors must be pulled back.

“N-no—don’t—”

Then you press down on the handle, steady your grip, and push the blade into the weakening seam.

“Why won’t you leave quietly like the others? When this is something I refuse to have anymore—this FWB relationship of ours. I don’t want it.”

Cut.

“Stop it, y/n—quiet—”

Again.

“I want this to end today. After this, we have nothing to do with each other—except matters between our parents’ businesses!”

Until every stacked sheet is sliced—

“Shut up, I said!”

Snap!

Smack!

…

?

Your head turns from the impact, your right cheek buzzing sharply from Zhang Lei’s slap. He bites his lip, as if only now realizing what he’s done. Despair floods his face—pathetic—while his hands grip your shoulders tightly, crushing down with a young man’s strength. You grimace in irritation as his senseless, stubborn words spill out again, looping like a tape chewed through by ants and termites, riddled with nests.

“Come on, what did I do to upset you? Huh? You’ve been ignoring my messages since you left the hospital! My calls too! Let’s talk this through properly—”

This idiot doesn’t understand a thing. Your head throbs, like arguing with a wall. Damn it.

“Let go, you bastard.”

You pry at his hands, forcing yourself not to use your "special ability."

“y/n… y/n… It must be the amnesia! That’s why you’re like this! Don’t you remember how our bodies pressed together? You said I was the best you’d ever had. You think I’m boring now, huh…? We—we can relive those memories. Come on, let’s go back to our place. Okay?”

Zhang Lei’s eyes narrow into something unhinged as he tries to drag you toward his sedan.

Splash—!

Cold liquid explodes over him. Ice clatters across skin and pavement. When your patience finally snaps, you grab your honey lemon iced black tea from the nearby table and fling it straight at Zhang Lei—the man trying to force both your body and your mind in the most disgusting way imaginable. You’d rather sit through ten more meals with Lin Daosheng than relive memories like this. Old memories from another world surge upward.

"Human rights violation."

…

“…y/n?”

Even he freezes at your current demeanor. You find yourself wondering—what exactly was the former Xue y/n like with him? From the insane messages sent and the replies given, nothing can truly be concluded. If only this body’s owner had kept a diary.

You step forward, fist twisting into Zhang Lei’s collar, forcing his head down to whispering distance. You don’t want to use your power. You don’t want to make this messier. But the person before you has rejected your mercy again and again.

“You know how much my parents dote on me, don’t you, Zhang Lei?”

“So much that I could accuse you of attempting assault. Of trying to harm me.”

“And they would deal with you—and your once-thriving family business, built solely on connections from my mother.”

“Everything would disappear as if it never existed. That easy. You understand, don’t you? Hmm?”

Zhang Lei stiffens. His breath turns ragged. He grabs your arm like a lifeline, trembling like an animal. His eyes shake with realization. Fear stains his face—yet stubbornness lingers—as he notices the surrounding crowd, and the plainclothes bodyguards loyal to you, baring their teeth in silent threat.

He speaks.

“y/n… y—y/n, let’s talk somewhere else…”

“There are plenty of witnesses here.”

“And if you’re thinking of struggling—think carefully.”

“Between the lies of a family that had to rely on others to grow, drowning in debt—”

“And an old, respected lineage, with loyal supporters and friends of my father ready to protect their friend’s precious child. Me.”

His voice breaks.

He realizes.

He accepts.

Still, something about it displeases you. The lingering resentment of his threats hums faintly in the air.

The twisted face before you, sweat pouring down, panic swimming in his eyes and gut—it satisfies you, a little. But not in a feral way. At least, you think so.

It’s your first time wielding power like this. And you don’t want to be intoxicated by it.

“—!”

Your other hand snaps up, gripping Zhang Lei’s cheek one last time. You squeeze, dig in, then fling him aside—leaving behind traces of hatred and revulsion.

Since arriving in this world, he loses to Lin Daosheng in this regard. But oh, great villain father—don’t be sad. You’re no better. Just a different case, a different context.

“Guards.”

You pause.

“Send him home. Make sure he 'gets home.'”

No hesitation. No delay. Your loyal bodyguards move as one—predators responding to their master’s will. People who moments ago seemed like strangers suddenly rise from nearby seats. Coffee cups set down. Laptops snap shut. A man stops cleaning glass. They converge on the target.

One command.

They restrain Zhang Lei, drag him to his own car, and force him inside.

_

In a nearby restroom—

You vomit everything out. Breakfast. Snacks. The honey lemon iced black tea from moments ago.

Disgust coils in your throat—at the stench of your own pitiful remnants, at your taste buds forced to relive the act of regurgitating something repulsive. You flush, making sure it all goes down, before stepping away. You turn on the tap at the sink, scoop water up, and scrub at the lips that had been kissed.

It leaves behind the sensation of insects crawling beneath the skin of your mouth.

You do it again.

Cup water. Rub.

Cup water. Rub.

Again. And again.

Until the scent of rust seeps in—drawn out by the violent, repetitive friction.

You freeze for a few seconds.

Your face is blank as you stare at your reflection in the slightly clouded mirror.

Your face. Your eyes. Your body.

All of it is you—

but not yours.

After steadying yourself, you wash your face properly, forcing some freshness and calm back into your system. You reach out to turn off the tap, dry your hands, give them a small shake. Everything still feels blurred.

What snaps you back is the ringtone of your phone.

You slip a hand into the pocket sewn into your outfit, fumble for it as you walk out of the restroom—out of the heavy atmosphere. Seeing their master emerge, the bodyguards gesture toward the limousine. A gift from your father, bought after your first successful trial run at company work.

A beginning step.

But your head is foggy as you answer the call. There’s no name—just a strange number. And you seem to lack the capacity for judgment, as if none of this is real.

“Hello… who is this?”

You swear your voice has no weight. No shape.

Light as a feather. Exhausted. Hollow.

(From your voice, you don’t sound very well.)

And you swear again—because the you who was dizzy and loose just moments ago suddenly stiffens. Your step halts mid-stride toward the car. It feels as if an unseen, icy hand has clenched the world tight around you.

The voice on the other end is far too familiar.

Enough to make your skin crawl.

You had thought of him earlier—but only as a comparison. Just a metaphor. Because at the very least, you believed Lin Daosheng would never do that to you.

Thinking of someone worse—yet someone who wouldn’t commit something as vile as what a lesser evil had done.

A comparison.

A mental mechanism.

A mental mechanism!

( Xu y/n. )

You don’t want to talk to him. Not now. Not—

( …Hm? )

“—Ah… my apologies for the rudeness, Mr. Lin. I’m not feeling very well. I may have behaved improperly.”

You hear birds chirping faintly from his side of the line. Then a soft hum.

(So distant, huh? We’re quite familiar with each other, aren’t we?)

You have to go this far.

You feel faint, bracing a hand against a nearby tree while signaling your bodyguard to step back. He complies—but not too far, just in case you truly collapse.

The young guard clasps his hands in front of him, watching with concern. You give him a thin smile, silently assuring him that you’re fine.

“…That wouldn’t be appropriate. You’re Mr. Lin, after all. I respect you. This is proper.”

(Respect? Declining my invitations for nearly two weeks—that is how you express respect? Interesting.)

You’re at a loss.

Of course you’re not clever compared to an immortal like Lin Daosheng. No matter how much philosophy you know, you can’t match the silver tongue of someone at the top of society—where everything becomes effortless. You’re only acting, scrambling to survive however you can.

You’re tired.

“That’s—”

(If you respect me, then come see me at the Lin estate.)

Your breath catches. You nearly shout in panic.

The Lin estate?!

Your palms sweat. Is he joking?! He says it as if you’re close enough to casually visit each other’s homes. You don’t understand his logic—his mind. It feels like something already bad is about to become worse.

“Huh? Um… Mr. Lin, that’s a bit much. I don’t think—”

( y/n. )

Your attempts at reasoning are cut off coldly. His voice turns frigid—like hail and frost crashing down on you. Even though you’re far apart, it feels as if you’re standing right in front of him.

You know—right now, there is no smile on his face.

“—I—”

(Haven’t I given you enough time?)

You freeze.

…

The words at the tip of your tongue are crushed beneath several tons of steel. He’s selfish. Unfeeling. Uncompromising. Everything must go his way—or be destroyed. His tone is not a question. It’s a command.

Silence follows.

You grit your teeth in irritation—quietly, careful not to let the sound slip through the line.

You don’t want this. You don’t want to sink into the darkness of Lin Daosheng’s grotesque desires. Whether he sees you as a hamster running endlessly on a wheel, or a mouse fighting others for scraps—it makes no difference. You don’t want to exist in his gaze.

You don’t want to be anyone’s toy anymore.

Not as a friend.

Not as family.

Not even as an enemy.

It feels as though the world is prying away the shell of atmosphere that allows you to breathe.

(Hm. Are you not done enjoying the freedom I gave you?)

Why does he have to be this controlling?

“Mr. Lin, please don’t speak in such vague ways. It makes me uncomfortable.”

( … )

Clink… clink. Plop. Splash.

You hear the sound of sugar cubes being dropped into tea. He does nothing at all—and yet you understand immediately. He will not accept refusal. Only yes.

You close your eyes, steadying yourself. Your grip tightens around the phone. When you open them again, you stare at anything—anything that might help you decide, might calm the raw ache inside.

What answer should you give?

In the end, you surrender.

Too tired to resist. Out of excuses.

“…Tomorrow.”

(Tomorrow?)

You inhale deeply.

“Tomorrow I’ll come as you invited. I won’t break my word. But today has been… rather chaotic. Please have the kindness to let me settle my thoughts and circumstances first, Mr. Lin.”

( … )

Why is he silent? Is that not acceptable…? Are you finished?

(I’m generous enough. I’ll send someone to pick you up. Nine a.m. tomorrow. Be ready.)

!

“Yes… thank you. Have a good day.”

Beep—

He doesn’t even return the well-wishes.

That damned old man.

_

You return home, hole yourself up in your room in a haze of lethargy and anxiety.

Whatever this thing is between you and Lin Daosheng—it’s too much. Far too much. It’s becoming clearer in a way that makes your skin crawl. He is interested in you, without question. But in what way?

A fellow philosopher to exchange thoughts and books with?

Or prey—something to flick and toy with, like a roly-poly doll that always springs back upright?

…Or both?

You want to know.

And yet, you don’t.

Tomorrow.

.

Walking into the enemy’s nest of your own family—

by your own choice.

Xue Wanting learns what Zhang Lei did to you. She explodes in fury, immediately severing all lines of support and protection that once existed between the Zhang family and the Xu family. Clean. Fast. Decisive. Another matter settled. That man will never come to bother you again.

You toss another paper crane—folded from used paper—across the bedroom. The thirteenth one. The others lie scattered in a loose cluster at the center of the floor, their short distances from one another betraying the density of your thoughts. You let out a heavy sigh.

Because it seems that none of the former Xue y/n’s memories exist in your mind at all.

You feel a quiet resentment toward fate. Normally, when someone transmigrates, aren’t they supposed to inherit the memories of this world too? There is a silver lining—you don’t have to witness the terrible memories of someone who had everything you did in another world. But you desperately need information here. You need it to survive Lin Daosheng—that kickable old bastard.

You need the small details. The things not written in The Evil Ring manhua.

Like your own family—never mentioned even once. A completely background household. And yet, they live. They exist on their own terms. Just like the other main characters in this story. Not merely props for the backdrop, but people with desires, with personal problems.

After this long, exhausting day, you sink into your bed and fall asleep.

You never expect that the dream—one that erodes reality itself—will become the fuse that causes everything to explode. Like a Big Bang. Everything. Every meaning. Twisting, reshaping, diverging.

…

“Forever.”

Because there can never be two

Xue y/n.

_

Talk 🦜:

I confess that I've lost interest in evils rings.But sometimes there's interest. It's kind of confusing.lol

This marks my return after almost a month. My apologies to those who have been waiting for this series.

I'm trying my best to put the plot together well, and I'll be adding the next chapter soon, don't worry! I'm having so much fun writing the next chapter!! I can't wait for you all to read it :^)

Character / Lin Daosheng x Reader (Gender-neutral)

Genre / Mid-fic / Short series

Content Warnings below:

(Confusion between reality and imagination),(Forced encounters / Inescapable meetings),(Stalking / Invasion of privacy),(Metaphorical expression / Allegory),(Discomfort / Unease),(Philosophical analysis that may challenge differing beliefs or perspectives)

Part 1, Part 2

P.S. 1. English is not my first language. This is a translation from my original language, so I apologize if it sounds a bit off.

2. I really want to read fics about the old villain Lin Daosheng, but no one writes them. I’ve only seen a few here and there, so… enjoy! ෆ

_

Time has passed since that day—about two, almost three weeks.

Today the weather is especially fine. After waking up, you sit on the windowsill of the mansion, the morning breeze flowing in through the open window. You toss a grape into your mouth while watching a bird’s nest on the nearby tree. Everything feels like a movie, as if you aren’t really alive right now—just a character someone out there is reading about.

Much like the relationship between you and the manhwa “The Evil Ring.”

You admit that you’ve tried every possible way to avoid encountering Lin Daosheng—skipping every event and every activity he might attend. Of course, getting that information was easy. You get close to others easily; that’s your specialty—and you pull information out of them like drawing out intestines: long, but just enough.

Surely, it’s impossible that he doesn’t know what you’re doing. But his character… has one very clear trait: patience. You think you might’ve accidentally poked at some nerve of that old man’s—enough that he now wants to dig your brain out and see what’s inside.

Or perhaps the “Whispering Wind in the Window Groove.” you sent had already been returned by mail—faster than expected. Three days, that’s all he took. And you had the butler store it away in the unused goods room. Mr. Lin keeps his word; he sent you gifts—organic Pu’er tea, philosophical fairy tales… hardly ordinary choices, but unsurprising. There were a few other things you never opened, nor cared to.

Lin Daosheng could easily gather information about you as if he were casting a fishing line anywhere and still catching just the fish he wanted. But you would never let him know that you’re not Xue Y/n “the same one.”

Still, nothing ever goes as easily as one wishes. He must have his suspicions by now, perhaps even several theories—calculating every possible outcome, or maybe… he’s gone even further.

All of that comes with parentheses: if he’s interested in you at all. In any sense. You don’t want to flatter yourself. Perhaps he’s interested because you share similar knowledge of philosophy. Or because you’re someone Professor Xie keeps an eye on? But your instincts… never fail you. And you hate them, with all your heart.

“My little angel!”

Xue Wanting is a little scatterbrained, but she loves her child dearly. She makes sure you’re comfortable in every way—servants, meal schedules, and especially clothing. Her taste is impeccable—jaw-droppingly so. Perhaps because she’s a famous designer… a mind overflowing with creativity, predictable yet impossible to fully understand.

“Sorry for coming in uninvited, darling. The door was slightly open,”

“No need to apologize. It’s not a big deal.”

You shake your head dismissively.

Her tall, graceful figure approaches you, her smile like sunlight—warm enough to keep people living on. You step down from the windowsill, slip your feet into fur-lined slippers meant for walking indoors, and walk into your mother’s open arms.

She hugs you tightly, buries her nose in your hair, and rocks you gently like a child.

…A feeling you could never find in your previous world. A bitter ache wells up inside. This place should belong to Xu Y/n—the former one. If someone loved you this much… why did you act that way?

“You haven’t forgotten, have you? Today’s your physical therapy appointment,” your mother says. “The therapist said your recovery is almost unbelievable for someone who just woke up from a coma less than a month ago.”

Maybe it’s because of the body possession, huh?

“Are you coming along today?”

The middle-aged woman sighs, a hint of regret and sadness in her face. She cups your cheeks and kisses your forehead.

“Not today, darling. There’s a major fashion show meeting in the City of Gods—lots to discuss: themes, concepts, everything… sigh~”

You smile faintly. The difference between her public and private self is striking. Right now, she’s clingy and childlike, yet under the spotlight she’s a queen.

“It’s fine. I’ll report to you by phone like usual,”

You tilt your head slightly.

“Oh, right—Mother, didn’t Father say we’d have a guest this evening?”

“Yes, dear. A business partner, that’s all—alright now, go get ready. Will you bathe yourself, or should I call little "Xiao Hua" to help you?”

You shake your head, stand up, and close the window—glancing once more at the bird’s nest. The eggs are close to hatching… You silently count in your head.

“I’ll bathe myself today, Mother.”

_

“Mr. Lin has already made an appointment for you.”

…What?

A suited guard, face blank and emotionless. You’ve never seen this one before among Lin Daosheng’s people. How bothersome. What does it even mean—that the hideous, unpleasant old man went out of his way to book your physical therapy session for you? Is he already making his move?

You don’t do physical therapy at a state or private hospital; instead, you go to a rehabilitation clinic owned by one of your father’s acquaintances. You’ve never liked hospital atmospheres, so this place became your choice. Everything had been normal—until today.

Normally, you just walk in. You only need light rehabilitation, after all. Booking an appointment makes things faster, sure—but you didn’t ask for that. Who does he think he is? And now some suspicious man in a suit is tailing you the entire time…

No matter what you ask the man assigned to you, he doesn’t respond at all.

You suppress your scowl, take a deep breath. Everything has a reason. You tell yourself that as you walk up to the front desk when they call your name for the first appointment. You explain your situation, your condition, how you’ve been feeling—same as usual. It doesn’t take long. The staff member is kind, efficient, and easy on the eyes, which makes you rather fond of her. You’d thought that from the first day.

A pretty face really does soothe the soul—except for that one person.

The session doesn’t take an hour. After leaving the room, you roll your neck to ease the stiffness. Once you change clothes, you freeze. The same guard blocks your path and gestures toward the exit.

“Mr. Lin wishes to speak with you.”

What business! You don’t want to talk!

You don’t even bother asking questions. When the guard instructs you to tell your driver and attendants that Mr. Lin will be "taking care of you" from now on—and that they should go home—you comply without a word.

Taking care of me how? By killing me?

You obey, letting the chill of your composure cover you. Hide every trace of irritation. Smile. Stay calm. You know that refusing his summons could lead to something worse. You don’t want your new family to be threatened—or worse, killed—just because you annoyed that old freak.

“This way, please.”

In your mind, the hallway feels long and winding, though it’s only the path to a parking lot adjacent to the clinic. You’d rather stay lost in that hallway forever than face Lin Daosheng again.

The guard opens the door to what looks like a limousine. Black, not too long, but designed with a certain punk elegance—a clear mark of this world’s aesthetic. Inside sits the man who makes you want to cry.

He’s dressed in old-world white finery with red accents, ruffled sleeves, black tailored trousers, and polished boots. His blond hair slicked back as always, garnet eyes gleaming. He twirls a wine glass expertly—irritatingly—and the golden ring around his neck catches the reflection, scattering a beautiful shimmer over the glass. You avert your gaze.

Lin Daosheng tilts his glass toward the corner seat beside him—a signal. You sit down reluctantly, palms slick with sweat. Your eyes wander over the luxurious interior. Well, he is one of the Eight Great Family Heads… Rich, obviously.

The car begins to move.

“How are you today, young Xue?”

“What are you doing?”

“Hmm? I asked how you are today.”

You—

You sigh, force a bright, polite smile.

“Because of the appointment you made, everything went faster. Thank you, Mr. Lin.”

“Ha—” Lin Daosheng sets his glass down, presses the back of his gloved hand to his lips, trying—and failing—to hold back a laugh. “Ha, ha, ha!”

Go ahead, laugh. May you choke on your own saliva. You can’t tell whether he’s amused by your chameleon act or something else entirely.

“It seems young Xue Y/n didn’t like the gifts I sent, hm?”

His crimson eyes narrow slightly as he dabs at his mouth with a handkerchief. Your brain works quickly; you swallow hard.

“Not exactly. I just don’t like tea. But the fairy-tale book—brilliant choice, as expected of you, Mr. Lin.”

You rest your hands on your lap, cross your legs, trying to stabilize the air between you. You can’t tell what’s going on in his head—whether he’s after amusement, humiliation, or something worse. Either way, it’s annoying.

If luck’s bad, this might be a death flag already.

He stuffs the napkin into the wine glass; the last drops soak into the white fabric, the deep purple-red staining it like blood.

His golden hair glints as he turns his face toward you, eyes sharp and dangerous. He clasps one hand with the other and leans closer, his raised arm nearly touching his chest.

“You haven’t opened the other gifts yet, have you? Only those two. Maybe one of the others holds something you’d truly enjoy. What do you think?”

The villain smiles, mockery glimmering in the dim light.

“The king knows everything.”

He knows you’ve been avoiding him—and that you only pretended to appreciate his gifts.

“Since you already know, Mr. Lin… why keep involving yourself?”

Your eyes blink once. The moving car, the confined air—it all feels like a smoke chamber. Being alone with this deranged old man is suffocating.

Lin Daosheng shifts his posture, points a finger toward you.

“You remind me of the most disgusting thing in the world.”

Your brow twitches. What did he just say?

“Fragile, but not weak.”

He answers immediately. His voice carries a weight that could crush bones even when whispered—a tone only Lin Daosheng could have.

You remain silent, face tightening. He wipes a tear of laughter from his eye and continues, words that make your body tense like a coiled spring.

“Seems Xue Wanting truly loves her child. The moment she learned I took you, she canceled the most important meeting of her career—one that could’ve elevated her fame even further—and followed your trail instead.”

Blue light from his electronic screen reflects in his demonic crimson eyes.

“Mr. Lin.”

The gloved fingers swipe across the display, checking the incoming report.

“And Xue Jiacheng? Looks like he’s panicking too. Guess he fears losing his "new" precious child.”

“Mr. Lin.”

“Yes, young Xue?”

You stare at him wearily. It only deepens the curve of his twisted smile. He hums low in his throat, a sound that echoes.

“What do you want? I’m very tired right now, Mr. Lin. What exactly do you want?”

Lin Daosheng cups his hand over his mouth, leaning forward, eyes gleaming in quiet delight.

“A few grapes aren’t enough to fill you up. Let’s have breakfast together—and talk about what we left unfinished. How about it?”

You freeze.

Grapes. The bird’s nest. The dream.

It can’t even be called an invitation—and damn it, he knows your daily routine. You don’t bother asking how. You simply give him a sweet, practiced smile.

“I’m a picky eater.”

“You’re still growing — it’s fine.”

_

“Thank you.”

You said to the staff who pulled out the fur-cushioned leather chair for you. He nodded and left. Tianren City was a place you never thought you’d step foot in. To describe it till dusk would never be enough—the sky dancing with clouds, the wind brushing hands with falling leaves, celebrating the victor and the sun that would slowly descend until the demon in the name of dream awakens.

The table’s position was by the window in a tall building—isolated, silent, deserted.

“Ha, what an honor, Mr. Lin.”

You grinned, clasped your hands together, eyes curved under the sunlight, and you swore the candlelight on the table—which did nothing to make the scene romantic—flickered in rhythm with the faint chuckle that escaped from the old man’s throat for reasons you could not tell.

All of it happened after he heard your pretentious words and gestures.

“Heh. Refreshing. So this is the real you, y/n. Not boring at all. Completely different from what I had in mind… Fascinating—though I suspect that might not end well… for you.”

You stared at him quietly, feeling as if vines had blocked your way out. He merely narrowed his eyes, his long lashes fluttering faintly as they moved.

If what he wanted was to disturb your life, then you would make this old man so bored he’d vomit blood and flesh from "Wu yue."

…Since he already knew what the real you was like, there was no need to pay him too much mind. Just enough to hold your ground—not too much to seem arrogant. Because, after all… the person before you could destroy your new life and your family with just a word.

“This—‘The Shadow Mender.’ Read it while waiting for the course to be served, young Xue y/n.”

A thin book, wrapped in fine sandpaper, scraped against the tablecloth.

On its cover—a lone old man sitting under lamplight. Around him, the hazy reflections in mirrors: a little girl standing apart within the frame, her shadow smiling. Behind them—a chest, making both appear small. A hand emerged from the chest, rotten, nails peeled with pus, filthy. The atmosphere—gore.

Reading this while eating?

As you flipped open the story Lin Daosheng had pushed toward you, he gestured to the waiter, ordered wine. The waiter noted it down.

He turned to you.

“Wine? Ever had any?”

“Probably not. I’ll have water instead… Mr. Lin.”

The head of the Linfu family smiled for no apparent reason at your “probably not.”

“You hear that? Water ”

The waiter jotted it down.

“Take a look at the menu. What would you like to eat?”

“The most expensive one.”

You said it sarcastically—an impulse from somewhere deep inside. You didn’t know why, but you didn’t feel like taking it back; you just let the words slip out.

Maybe you wanted to die?

From that storybook, you didn’t even bother to lift your eyes to the face of the old man in a young body—the true wielder of power over the three cities. If one couldn’t grasp that much, there was nothing more to be said. Your demeanor spoke that message clearly: since he’d dragged you here to make you uncomfortable, then fine—let him pay for it a little.

Lin Daosheng’s hand paused mid-motion, brushing through his hair. His devilishly beautiful face shifted into an expression that would have terrified anyone else.

“Ha—ha ha ha ha ha!”

So he’s finally lost it, hasn’t he? You looked at him with disgust, then shook your head, fingers gently flipping the page. Your eyes sank into the story’s allure—just like the watcher, Lin Daosheng, who didn’t even need to glance at the menu before placing his order.

“In the city without a sun,

Everyone was without a shadow...

‘The Shadow Mender’—the only old man who…

The little girl… and—

‘Don’t you have a shadow, dear?’

‘I do, but he…’

The city shone for the first time in hundreds of years...

The people came out, their shadows returned to their sides…

The old man lay still, clutching the chest, beneath the girl’s shadow.”

You closed the book. The story seemed complete in itself—but within you, it seethed, pressed, kneaded—the lump of flesh to your left twitched, bile rose.

You lifted your gaze and met Lin Daosheng’s deep voice. His thin lips curved strangely; his eyes opened wider than usual. Was that… expectation?

“Heh-heh. What do you think? Share your conclusion with me.”

You handed the book back to him.

“Irony… The ‘Shadow Mender’ represents the self—attempting to reconcile with the shadow, or the Ego, so that humanity becomes a unified whole. It also reflects Taoist dualism—‘there is no yang without yin.’ True goodness must coexist with its opposite. That’s what makes one human.”

Ah, damn it. You accidentally slipped into your philosophy-knows-a-bit persona.

You blinked rapidly—forgot for a second what kind of situation you were in. Yet the bookworm instinct, the joy of analysis, filled your hollow spirit for a moment.

Then you looked up—at the philosophical demon—and froze, sweat dripping.

His hand lingered atop the book you’d returned. His gloved index finger circled slowly, his grin widened grotesquely, and his trembling eyes seemed lost in bliss. One hand rose to cover his mouth, strange sounds leaking through.

“Heh… heh… Ha—ha ha ha! If only others could understand it the way you do, young Xue y/n…”

“M–Mr. Lin…?”

You grimaced. The raw, feral feeling in your gut made you want to throw up—right there.

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Liu Jing Shan ,is SO sooo interesting 🤔 i had ideas for him tough but hehe😔