As the crimson sun dipped behind the horizon, casting a fiery glow across the sprawling city, an elegant woman stood before the grand gates of a Suzhou-style mansion. Her silvery-white hair was swept into a neat chignon, secured with a jade hairpin. Her moss-green eyes shimmered—not with hope, but with the weight of finality. Dressed in a sleek black coat over a muted jade qipao, she exuded power and precision. Her heels clicked softly against the stone pathway.
Beside her stood a sixteen-year-old girl—thin, quiet, and wide-eyed. Her name was Meilin. Her long chestnut hair curled down her back in unruly waves, and she wore a modest white dress that no longer fit her well, paired with scuffed sneakers. Her hands clutched her aunt's coat sleeve like a lifeline.
"Auntie Lin," Meilin whispered, peering up at the towering mansion. "Why are we here?"
Aunt Lin Xue's expression faltered for a fraction of a second before she offered a tight, rehearsed smile. "Don't worry, child. Everything is going to be… better now."
But the lie hung in the air like incense smoke—sweet, cloying, and heavy with dread.
The towering gates opened with a mechanical hum. As they stepped through, Meilin's eyes widened. The driveway twisted toward a palatial estate cloaked in wealth: walls of white marble etched with dragons, a koi pond glimmering in the distance, red lanterns swaying in the breeze.
But no amount of beauty could hide the barbed wires at the top of the high walls or the cameras that silently tracked every move.
Inside, the mansion was even more intimidating. The air was cool and fragrant with sandalwood. A grand staircase curled upwards like a dragon's spine. Gold-lined vases stood guard in corners. The silence pressed on Meilin's chest.
Suddenly, footsteps echoed from above.
A man appeared on the balcony, half-shrouded in shadows. His presence was a storm in a room full of still water.
He was devastatingly handsome. Sharp cheekbones, piercing black eyes, and a mouth that almost smirked. His black hair fell messily over his forehead. Dressed in an obsidian suit with a jade pin on his lapel, he looked every inch the predator this place warned her about.
Meilin instinctively hid behind her aunt.
His eyes narrowed. "Who are you?" he asked, voice low and commanding.
Lin Xue straightened, her voice tight. "Mr. Long Shen, I brought my niece. As agreed."
Meilin gasped, gripping her aunt's hand. "Auntie… what's happening?"
Lin Xue hesitated only a moment before her voice hardened. "This is the deal. You'll be taken care of here."
Long Shen raised a hand. A subordinate stepped forward with a brown envelope, heavy with cash. He tossed it to Lin Xue.
"Payment complete," he said coolly. "She's mine now."
"No!" Meilin cried, her voice cracking. "Auntie, please, don't leave me here!"
Lin Xue jerked her arm away. Her eyes were sharp and cold now. "Your parents left you with me and disappeared without a trace. I lost everything because of you. My business, my freedom... You were a burden I never asked for."
Tears poured down Meilin's face. "I'll be good. I promise! Please don't leave me here!"
But Lin Xue was unmoved. "This is your new home. He will feed you, clothe you, and make you useful. More than I ever could."
She turned and walked out.
Meilin collapsed to the floor, shaking. Long Shen stepped forward, his voice like steel. "Stop crying."
She flinched.
"What's your name?" he asked.
Meilin said nothing. Her sobs muffled her voice.
"Don't make me ask again."
"…Meilin," she whispered.
Long Shen sneered. "What a useless name. From now on, you'll be called Xiao Yu."
"I don't like that name," she said through trembling lips.
"You don't have to like it," he said, eyes gleaming with threat. "You belong to me now. If your aunt doesn't return with the second half of the payment before you turn eighteen—" he paused, his voice dropping lower, "—you'll repay the debt with your life."
He turned and walked away.
Meilin curled into herself, clutching the last pieces of her stolen name, whispering, "I'm not Xiao Yu… I'm Meilin."
Years passed like falling plum blossoms—quiet, slow, and impossible to gather once lost.
Li Meilin, now seventeen going on eighteen, lived a life surrounded by gold and shackles.
Her new "home"—a sprawling mansion hidden in the misty outskirts of Hangzhou—was a palace of luxury, but it was also her prison. Long Shen, the ruthless hei shehui (黑社会) boss who bought her at sixteen, was rarely present, but his orders were absolute.
He sent gifts, assigned tutors, and ensured that she was dressed like a jade doll and educated like a noble's daughter. But outside her private rooms and the rose garden, guards watched her every move. She was not allowed to step foot beyond the outer courtyard.
They said she was being "protected." But Meilin knew better.
She was being caged.
Even in the privacy of her own room, security cameras blinked from the corners. She stopped crying openly long ago. Tears, she had learned, solved nothing in Long Shen's world.
Her only solace was the moonlit garden behind the east wing. There, beneath a blooming plum tree, she watered the flowers herself—yulan magnolia, jasmine, and white peonies—the only living things that didn't fear her.
The gardener had once tried to stop her, warning that "the Master might not like his flowers touched."
But when Long Shen found out, he had simply said with that cold smirk, "Let her. Even prisoners need illusions."
---
On the night before her eighteenth birthday, Meilin curled on her silk-covered kang bed, listening to the rain tap the lattice windows. Her heart was heavy, her breath shallow.
"Yímā... please come back," she whispered.
Her aunt, Lin Xue, who had once smiled and promised she'd return, had left her on Long Shen's doorstep like unwanted baggage. She hadn't written. Not once. And now, Meilin no longer believed she ever would.
Tears rolled silently down her cheeks as she heard a soft creak outside her door.
Long Shen, dressed in a charcoal-grey Tang suit, stood still, listening to her muffled sobs. His face revealed nothing—neither pity nor regret.
Then, he walked away into the shadows.
---
The next morning, Meilin emerged from her room, dressed in a pale blue hanfu her maid had laid out. Her face was composed, but her heart pounded beneath her ribs.
The long table in the dining hall was adorned with a full birthday spread—dumplings, longevity noodles, red bean buns, and tea brewed in an antique Yixing teapot. And on the side table, wrapped in red silk, were neatly stacked birthday gifts.
"生日快乐,小宋小姐!" the servants chorused with bright smiles.
Meilin frowned. "My name is Li Meilin."
The room froze.
A voice echoed from above. Cold. Sharp. Dangerous.
> "Shuí shuō de?"
("Says who?")
Long Shen descended the staircase like a king returning to his throne. Dressed in a midnight black Zhongshan suit, a golden dragon cufflink glinted at his wrist—a subtle nod to his real power in the underworld.
"Your name is Song Xiaoyu now," he said, stopping in front of her. "You'll forget 'Li Meilin' ever existed."
"I won't," Meilin replied, her voice trembling but firm.
His expression didn't change. "You will."
He waved his hand. The staff bowed and retreated, leaving her alone with him in that vast hall of marble and silence.
Meilin stared at the gifts. "Whose are these?"
"Yours, of course," Long Shen said, sipping his tea with irritating ease. "You're legal now."
Her eyes narrowed. "I don't want them."
He smirked. "Too bad."
Then his tone darkened. "Your aunt didn't return. Not even a message. Our agreement expired last night."
He stood and approached her slowly. "You know what that means."
Meilin backed away. "She'll come. I know she will. She promised me!"
"You keep telling yourself that," he said, brushing a lock of her hair aside. "But from now on, you belong to me. In every sense."
Her fists clenched. "I'm not yours. And I never will be."
She turned to leave, but in a flash, he grabbed her wrist and yanked her back, slamming her down into the chair. She gasped, eyes wide.
"You don't turn your back when I'm speaking," he growled. "Not in my house."
Tears pooled in her eyes, but she refused to let them fall.
"I'm sorry… I won't disobey again."
"Good girl," he said, voice icy. "Now, eat."
She looked down at the food. "I've lost my appetite."
"I didn't ask," he snapped.
She ate mechanically, each bite a silent rebellion.
---
That night, Meilin stood at her window, staring into the darkness.
Earlier, Long Shen had whispered something that chilled her to the core:
> "Get ready. Tonight begins your real purpose."
She couldn't sleep.
So, she crept to the kitchen where the maids were quietly folding napkins.
"Um… can I ask something?" she said softly.
One of the older maids looked up. "What is it, Miss… Xiaoyu?"
Meilin winced. "Just… What does it mean if someone says, 'Get ready for tonight'?"
The staff froze.
A younger maid bit her lip. "Did the Master say that?"
Meilin nodded.
Silence fell like a stone in water.
Then one of the maids, eyes filled with sympathy, leaned forward and whispered the truth in her ear.
Meilin's hand flew to her mouth.
"No… not with him…"
The others looked away in pity.
Just then, a guard appeared in the kitchen entrance.
"Master Long requests her presence. Now."
The staff stepped aside in silence.
Meilin's heart dropped.
No more illusions. No more waiting.
Tonight, she would learn what it truly meant to belong to the mafia.