CHAPTER 3

A House Without Warmth

The west bedroom was larger than the apartment Song Yuxin had left behind.

The bed alone could fit his entire old room.

He stood at the doorway for a long time before stepping inside, afraid his shoes might dirty the spotless floor.

“Your clothes have been prepared,” Uncle Wen said, opening the wardrobe.

Rows of neatly arranged outfits.

All new.

All his size.

Yuxin didn’t touch them.

“Thank you,” he said politely, placing his small suitcase in the corner instead.

A quiet line drawn.

This is yours.

That is mine.

When the door closed, the silence returned.

The room was beautiful — but it had no life.

Grey curtains.

Black furniture.

White walls.

Like a luxury hotel no one had ever truly lived in.

He sat on the edge of the bed and exhaled slowly.

Just work.

Just endure.

An hour later, thirst drove him out of the room.

The corridor lights turned on automatically as he walked.

Everything was dark-toned.

Black marble floors.

Grey walls.

Cold white lights.

Even the paintings were abstract and emotionless.

This house… doesn’t breathe.

He finally found the kitchen, poured himself a glass of water, and turned—

—and almost bumped into a small figure.

Both of them froze.

The child from the photo on the office desk.

Big round eyes. Soft hair. Dinosaur pajamas.

They stared at each other.

“You’re the one Uncle brought home,” the little boy said first.

Yuxin crouched instinctively, his voice gentle.

“And you must be Li Chen.”

Chenchen walked closer, curious, then stopped right in front of him.

“You look poor,” he said honestly.

Yuxin blinked — and then laughed.

Not offended.

Not embarrassed.

Just warm.

“Yes,” he admitted, “very poor.”

Chenchen tilted his head.

“But you smell nice.”

Yuxin’s heart skipped.

He quickly touched the suppressant at his neck.

The child leaned closer anyway and whispered:

“Warmer than Uncle.”

That single sentence broke something inside Yuxin.

Because this five-year-old—

knew.

Knew this house was cold.

“Are you thirsty too?” Yuxin asked softly.

Chenchen nodded.

Yuxin lifted him onto the chair, helped him hold the cup, and wiped the water from the corner of his lips with his sleeve.

No servant had ever done that.

Chenchen watched him like he had discovered treasure.

“Come,” the child suddenly said, grabbing his hand.

He pulled Yuxin through the endless monochrome corridors and pushed open a door.

Color exploded into the darkness.

A small bed shaped like a car.

Star-patterned curtains.

Plush toys everywhere.

Crayon drawings taped to the wall.

In the middle of that cold mansion —

this was the only place that looked alive.

“My room,” Chenchen said proudly.

Yuxin stepped inside slowly, eyes soft.

“So beautiful…”

“Uncle doesn’t come here much,” Chenchen added, quieter now.

“He’s busy.”

Yuxin knelt and straightened a crooked drawing on the wall.

A tall figure holding a smaller one.

And beside them—

a third person drawn with a bright smiling face.

“Who is this?” Yuxin asked.

Chenchen answered without hesitation.

“You.”

Yuxin froze.

“I… we just met.”

“But you feel like family,” the child said simply.

And for the first time since signing the contract—

Song Yuxin had to look away to hide the tears in his eyes.

“Li Chen.”

The deep voice came from the doorway.

The air changed.

Li Tingxiao stood there, still in his black suit, presence overwhelming even without anger.

Chenchen ran to him.

“Uncle! Gege helped me drink water!”

Tingxiao’s gaze moved past the child—

to Song Yuxin.

He was kneeling on the colorful carpet, surrounded by toys, holding a small plush dinosaur in his hand.

So out of place in this black-and-grey world.

Yet…

that was the first time Tingxiao had seen that room look warm.

“Come out,” Tingxiao said.

Not harsh.

But not gentle.

Chenchen looked between them.

“Gege will eat with us?”

A pause.

“Yes,” Tingxiao replied.

The servants outside the dining room almost dropped their trays.

For five years—

Li Tingxiao had always eaten alone.

At the table, Yuxin sat stiffly, unsure which utensil to use.

Tingxiao noticed.

Without a word, he moved the simpler set of chopsticks closer to him.

A small action.

But deliberate.

“Your duties begin tomorrow,” Tingxiao said calmly.

“Chenchen’s meals. His school schedule. Accompany him in the evenings.”

“Yes, President Li.”

“Here,” Tingxiao added after a moment,

“you may call me Sir.”

Not family.

Not equal.

A boundary.

Yuxin nodded.

“Yes, Sir.”

The word sounded obedient.

But his eyes did not.

Later that night, as Tingxiao walked past the west bedroom—

he stopped.

The door was slightly open.

Inside, Song Yuxin had fallen asleep while sitting against the bed, still wearing his old clothes, one hand holding the photo of a woman.

The new wardrobe remained untouched.

Tingxiao stood there for a long time.

That faint scent of rain and jasmine drifted into the corridor again.

Warm.

Alive.

Dangerous.

For the first time in years—

Li Tingxiao did not return immediately to his own room.

***Download NovelToon to enjoy a better reading experience!***