Chapter 12
Chapter 12
CHENG’S PRIVATE VILLA — COURTYARD, LATE AFTERNOON
Lian sat curled up in one of the ivy-covered corners of the courtyard, knees pulled close, sketchbook in his lap. He hadn’t drawn in days — the pencil hovered above the paper, uncommitted. It was hard to be creative when you felt like a caged songbird… with clipped wings.
The fountain trickled behind him, masking footsteps. But he felt someone approaching.
“Miss Mei.”
Lian tensed at the name, looking up slowly.
Jin stood in the courtyard entrance, as rigid and unreadable as always, but his tone wasn’t as cold. Not today.
“You’re getting good at sneaking up on me,” Lian murmured, returning his gaze to the page.
“I wasn’t trying to sneak.”
“Then what do you want?”
Jin didn’t move closer. Just stood there, hands clasped behind his back. “Master gave me a message. For you.”
Lian looked up again — brows lifted. “A message? What, he finally remembered I exist?”
A flicker of something crossed Jin’s face — pity, maybe. Annoyance. It passed too fast to read.
“He said… you’re allowed to resume college,” Jin said simply. “Full approval. Your classes start next week.”
The pencil slipped from Lian’s fingers.
He blinked, unsure he heard right. “What?”
“You heard me.”
“I can go back? To campus? Like—like before?”
Jin gave a short nod. “He already spoke to the registrar. You’re enrolled under Mei Fu not Wilson anymore. Your transcript’s been cleared. Security will follow you, of course. But you’ll be… out.”
Lian stood slowly, sketchbook forgotten.
He didn’t smile. Not yet. The weight of disbelief still clung to his chest.
“Why would he let me go back to college?” Lian asked, cautious. “After locking me in this damn house like a prisoner?”
Jin’s eyes finally met his. “Maybe he realized you were suffocating.”
Lian laughed, hollow. “He’s not that thoughtful.”
A pause.
“He’s trying,” Jin said, quieter now. “In his way.”
Lian looked away. The stone tiles beneath his feet suddenly looked softer, less like prison flooring.
Back to college.
Back to crowds. To freedom. To acting like things were normal again.
He should’ve been relieved. Excited, even.
But instead…
Instead, a tight ache pulled at his chest.
Because pretending to be Mei in this villa was one thing — a controlled illusion, carefully guarded behind closed doors. But doing it out in the open? Day after day? Around strangers? Professors? Peers?
It wasn’t freedom. It was exposure.
He swallowed hard.
“What if I mess up?” Lian asked, his voice low alone from him to hear. “What if someone notices something’s off?”
Jin tilted his head slightly. “Miss i can't here what you are saying.”
Lian finally sat back down on the bench, running both hands through his hair.
“Thank you,” he said after a while. “For telling me.”
Jin gave a subtle nod and turned to leave, but Lian spoke again — voice barely above a whisper.
“Jin?”
He turned back. “Yes, Miss?”
“Has he… said anything else? About me?”
Jin looked at her for a long second. Then, calmly:
“He said he hopes this makes you happy.”
Lian’s breath caught — because of all the things Cheng could’ve said, that wasn’t what he expected.
He nodded once, offering a fragile smile. “I’ll try.”
Jin gave a respectful bow and stepped away, leaving Lian alone with the weight of new choices…
He hopes this makes you happy.
Lian sank back down onto the bench, the courtyard suddenly too quiet. The sketch book and pencil lay forgotten in his lap.
Fu'S GROUP OF COMPANY
CHENG’S PRIVATE OFFICE,
Cheng sat behind his mahogany desk, swirling a glass of scotch lazily in one hand, the other resting on a thick leather file. His sleeves were rolled up to his forearms, shirt slightly unbuttoned, the collar open as if it were too tight around his throat which revealed a glimpse of the tattoo across his collarbone — old ink, dangerous meaning. The desk was littered with papers, reports, photos from the ports. Forgotten. Ignored.
He hadn’t spoken to Lian since yesterday.
Not because he didn’t want to — but because he wanted to too much.He remembered the way she looked the last time they argued — defiant, furious, trembling like a flame in wind. And still, he hadn’t been able to stop looking at her lips.
There was something about her.
Something that slipped under his skin and stayed there.
He leaned back in his chair, his gaze falling on the wedding invitation mockup lying open on the desk. Cream paper. Gold foil. Her name beside his in elegant script.
Cheng exhaled slowly through his nose, letting the silence settle.
He didn’t believe in fate. He believed in power, control, blood. But with her… sometimes, he wasn’t sure anymore.
A knock sounded at the door. Precise. Professional.
“Enter,” Cheng said smoothly.
Evan his assitant stepped in, standing at attention. “Sir.”
Cheng raised an eyebrow, tilting his glass. “Unless it’s war, I assume this interruption is worth it.”
Evan didn’t flinch. “It’s about the Miss.”
Cheng’s gaze sharpened.
“Jin says she expressed interest in resuming her university studies. I asked the security team to confirm her application to the Florence campus. Everything checks out.”
There was a pause.
Cheng set the glass down slowly. “She really does wants to leave the villa?”
Evan nodded. “Not permanently. Just classes.
Cheng’s jaw ticked — barely noticeable.
“Has everything been approved” he said.
Evan blinked. “Yes Sir?”
“But, sir,” Evan said, stiffly. “She she changed her course from theatre art to art history, sculpture, painting... classical techniques.”
Cheng turned his head sharply.
“Painting?” he echoed. “Since when?”
Evan blinked. “I reviewed her records… She was listed as a theatre major before. But she said that was her parents choice she wants her own chioce.
Cheng leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, eyes gleaming with sudden interest.
“She changed her entire future. No announcement. No reason.”
A beat of silence.
Then, he smiled.
Not a warm smile.
A sharp one.
“Interesting then so be it.”
Evan stayed quiet.
Cheng stood and walked toward the window, sipping his whiskey.
“She can go,” he said finally. “She’s not a prisoner.”
“But…?” Evan asked, wary.
Cheng turned, slow and deliberate, his voice smooth as velvet and just as dangerous.
“But I want full surveillance. Silently. She doesn't need to know. No guards. Just eyes.”
Evan nodded.
“And Evan?”
“Yes, sir.”
“If a single soul touches her hair — without my permission — bury them.”
“Understood.”
Cheng turned back to the window, lifting the glass again.
“She wants freedom?” he murmured. “Let’s see what she does with it.”
ACCADEMIA DI BELLE ARTI DI FIRENZE – CAMPUS COURTYARD, LATE MORNING
ONE WEEK LATER
The sleek black Maybach rolled up to the front of the university courtyard like it didn’t belong on the same road as the dust-stained scooters and old Fiats lined along the street.
The moment it came to a smooth stop, every conversation in the courtyard went quiet — then shifted into low, urgent murmurs.
Lian stepped out as the driver opened the door for him.
He wore tailored black trousers, a crisp ivory blouse tucked in perfectly, and a soft cashmere coat that fluttered behind him as he moved. A structured handbag hung from his shoulder, modest and expensive. Not flashy, not loud — but unmistakably elite.
Students stared. Phones came out. Some whispered. Some just gawked.
“Mei?”
“No way. That can’t be her.”
“She never dressed like that before.”
“Didn't she used to wear mini skirts, fake lashes, and knee-high boots?”
“Yeah, and chain-smoke by the sculpture hall stairs…”
“What the hell happened to her?”
The answer was whispered on every lip:
Cheng Fu.
Since the engagement was made public, rumors had spiraled through campus like wildfire. Mei — the once-wild party girl, the flirt, the girl who skipped classes and made professors sigh in frustration — was now draped in elegance, dripping in money, and wrapped around the arm of one of the richest and most dangerous men in Italy.
But no one could make sense of the change.
She was too quiet now.
Too... composed.
Lian kept walking, unbothered. His heels clicked softly on the marble path as he entered the courtyard. He didn’t look at anyone, didn’t wave or smile. His face was perfectly calm. Controlled.
But inside, his heart was thudding hard against his ribs.
This place used to belong to Mei. And the ghosts of her choices haunted every hallway.
He passed the sculpture steps and heard them before he saw them.
“Mei!”
Two girls ran up behind him — bleached blonde hair, short plaid skirts, dark eyeliner still smudged from last night’s hangover. One wore a fishnet crop top beneath a leather jacket. The other had a vape tucked behind one ear.
Lian froze.
He turned slowly.
They were smiling too wide.
“Amy. Luisa,” Lian said, voice flat, memories tugging at his brain from the two stupid bitches that Mei called friends and ofcourse they called him nerd and made jest of him saying he didn't deserves to have Mei's face. Although they do mock him without Mei knowing but Mei soon discovered it and told them to stop
“You look… insane,” Luisa said, eyes dragging over the designer outfit. “Like, in a good way. Billionaire bride glow-up or whatever.”
“You used to dress like a slut,” Amy said bluntly. “Now you look like a First Lady.”
They laughed. Lian didn’t.
“I had to grow up,” he said simply.
The girls exchanged looks.
Amy nudged him. “Well, just because you're engaged to some billionaire doesn’t mean you have to turn into a nun. We’re going to that bar on Via dei Neri tonight. You’re coming, yeah? Like old times?”
Old times.
The version of Mei they knew — all vodka shots and half-naked rooftop dancing.
Lian took a step back. “No.”
Luisa blinked. “What do you mean no?”
“I don’t do that anymore,” Lian said, tone polite but final.
Silence stretched awkwardly.
“Wow. He really did change you,” Amy muttered, the laughter gone from her voice.
“I changed myself,” Lian corrected. “And I like it better this way.”
He turned and walked off before they could respond.
Their stunned expressions burned into his back.
“what's up with that bitch?“ Amy asked.
“She acts like she the first lady to be engaged to be billionaire, what if he doesn't even marries her? Well she will come back crawling to us.“ “ just wait and see.“ luisa says.
Lian didn’t stop walking until he reached the indoor gallery, where fewer students lingered.
Only then did he exhale.
His fingers trembled slightly at his sides.
Letting go of Mei’s past — even pieces of it — was like trying to cut off a part of his own skin.
But he had to.
He wasn’t her.
Not really.
And if he wanted to survive this role, keep her secrets, keep himself safe — he couldn’t afford to fall back into her chaos.
She was reckless. Loud. Visible.
Lian? He needed to stay invisible inside her skin at all cost.