CHAPTER 2

The Contract

The word chosen did not sound like mercy.

It sounded like a sentence.

Song Yuxin stood in front of the desk, the contract lying between him and Li Tingxiao like a blade that had already fallen — he just hadn’t felt the pain yet.

His fingers trembled once.

Only once.

“May I ask…” Yuxin said, forcing his voice to remain steady, “what exactly does President Li want from me?”

No pleading.

No tears.

Just dignity.

Zhou Kairui glanced at his boss.

In all the years he had handled debt settlements, no one had ever asked that question while standing so straight.

Li Tingxiao leaned back in his chair, eyes dark and unreadable.

“You will move into my residence,” he said.

“You will take care of my nephew.”

“That’s all?”

“That is all.”

Yuxin didn’t believe him.

No one paid three million yuan for something so simple.

“In return,” Tingxiao continued, “your father’s debt will be cleared. Completely.”

The room fell silent again.

Yuxin looked at the contract.

The paper was heavy.

The ink was sharp.

His name was already printed there.

So this had been decided before I walked in.

A faint, bitter smile appeared on his lips.

“Do I have the right to refuse?”

Zhou Kairui’s grip on the folder tightened.

Li Tingxiao answered without hesitation.

“Yes.”

Yuxin looked up, startled.

Tingxiao’s gaze did not soften.

“If you refuse, the debt will be processed through legal channels. Your father will be imprisoned. The apartment will be seized.”

Each word landed with precise cruelty.

Not because Tingxiao wanted to hurt him.

But because this was the truth.

And Li Tingxiao never lied.

Yuxin closed his eyes for a moment.

He saw:

his father kneeling on the floor

the broken glass

the ten years of survival

his mother’s photo on the table

When he opened his eyes again—

the brightness in them had not disappeared.

“Give me the pen.”

Zhou Kairui froze.

For a second, even Li Tingxiao’s expression changed.

Not submission.

Not defeat.

It felt like a decision.

Song Yuxin signed his name carefully, every stroke neat and beautiful.

As if he were signing a job application.

Not selling his freedom.

He placed the pen down.

“I will move in today,” he said.

Professional.

Calm.

Distant.

That distance — for the first time — made Li Tingxiao feel something unfamiliar.

Irritation.

Outside the building, the winter wind was sharp.

Yuxin walked alone to the bus stop.

No driver.

No escort.

The new “owner” of his life had not even looked at him when he left.

Good, he told himself.

That’s good.

This is just a transaction.

His phone rang.

“Yuxin… you signed it, didn’t you?” his father’s shaking voice came from the other side.

The warmth in Yuxin’s eyes finally cracked.

“The debt is cleared,” he said softly.

“You’re free now.”

“I—”

“Live properly,” Yuxin added, and hung up before his voice could break.

He stood there for a long time, breathing into the cold air, repeating in his heart:

This is work.

Just work.

Nothing more.

In the top-floor office —

Zhou Kairui spoke carefully.

“President Li… was this really necessary?”

Silence.

Li Tingxiao was looking at the contract.

At the elegant signature.

Song. Yu. Xin.

A name that somehow didn’t match the stubborn light in those eyes.

“Investigate his living conditions,” Tingxiao said.

Zhou Kairui blinked.

That… was not part of the agreement.

“And,” Tingxiao added after a pause,

“prepare the west bedroom.”

That evening, a black car stopped in front of a narrow street.

Yuxin stepped out, holding his small suitcase.

The driver didn’t speak.

Didn’t look at him.

The car — the street — the neighbors’ stares — all of it felt like a line being drawn between his old life and his new one.

He turned back once.

The apartment window was dark.

No one came out.

No one watched him leave.

He bowed slightly toward the building.

A silent goodbye.

Then he entered the car.

As the Li residence gates opened slowly before him—

Song Yuxin finally understood.

From this moment on,

his life

belonged

to Li Tingxiao.

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