Chapter 1
Isabella Chen’s uncle had passed away. Late at night, Isabella sat hunched over her computer, furiously clicking away to heal her teammates in an online game. She could hear the passionate commands coming from her guild, and for a moment, she felt a rush of pride, even contemplating an all-nighter. But then, the youthful faces of the younger players flashed in her mind, snapping her back to reality—she had work in the morning. Yet— As she left her in-game character grinding gold in a wilderness map, she triggered the auto-reply feature to avoid being slaughtered by crazy players. Just as she stepped into the bathroom to wash her face, her phone rang. Usually, at this hour, it was her mother calling. She had friends, but her best friend had gone abroad, ostensibly for a cultural exchange program—but really, it was to escape heartache. Isabella didn’t have a boyfriend at twenty-six. It wasn’t exactly shocking; she was somewhat of a homebody and preferred to wait for the right person instead of forcing something that didn’t feel right. “You’ve got to come right away. Your uncle has passed,” her mother's voice, Lady Qin, came through the line. Isabella stared at the ceiling, momentarily stunned, then yawned broadly, catching a glimpse of her pink tongue in the mirror. “But I just saw him last week at the park playing chess,” she mumbled. “Not that uncle!” Lady Qin replied, her frustration evident. After a pause, she clarified, “I mean Old Man Leaf. Hurry up and get over here with Cyrus Leaf.” Cyrus Leaf. The realization hit Isabella like a lightning bolt. “Wait, that uncle is gone,” she echoed, incredulous. The connection to Old Man Leaf was complicated. Years ago, her father had dived into business, making a fortune but also abandoning his family—a meager check for a million dollars in exchange for leaving Isabella and her mother behind. He had taken a new wife and son, erasing his past. It was a bitter truth that Isabella had learned to live with, preferring to avoid the painful memories. Old Man Leaf was her mother’s brother-in-law from her remarriage. Lady Qin had a knack for captivating people, even managing to marry the youngest brother of Old Man Leaf, despite their twenty-year age gap. Isabella often found herself curious about how that happened. Due to Lady Qin’s marriage to Old Man Leaf’s brother, Old Man Leaf was technically Isabella’s uncle, raising her status in the family unexpectedly. Even Lady Qin admitted she didn’t mind calling him uncle, but Isabella sometimes felt a bit stubborn, not thinking about that connection too deeply. “Quit dawdling and get back here with Cyrus Leaf!” Lady Qin commanded succinctly, leaving no room for refusal. The call ended abruptly, as if she were dealing with an agent in a spy network. Staring at her phone, Isabella felt a strange sense of unreality wash over her. How was she supposed to return with Cyrus Leaf? She wasn’t even sure where he was, and now she had to go find him? Was her mother losing her mind from the stress? However— The next morning, her challenges surfaced. It turned out she couldn’t find a flight. “Maybe I’ll just take the train,” she mused, but sitting in front of her computer, she almost didn’t want to move. Her fingers danced across the keyboard as she posted in the family chat group about being unavailable for a few days, instantly sparking a flurry of questions from her relatives. She just replied, “I have matters to attend to,” and left it at that.
Chapter 2
Isabella Chen's phone buzzed, breaking the silence of her apartment. She picked it up with little enthusiasm, not even glancing at the screen. "Hello?" she said dully. "Come downstairs." His voice was cold and commanding, and for a moment, it felt like a weight pressing down on her chest. She hesitated, momentarily stunned, but quickly shut her laptop, disregarding her messy hair. She tied it back hastily with a scrunchie, revealing her delicate features. Looking out the window, she noted the persistent drizzle outside, sending a chill through her. Deciding to brave the weather, she grabbed her puffy Lord Commander jacket off the coat rack and slipped it on. Next went a pair of thick fleece-lined leggings she had bought from an online shop, followed by her snow boots. She wrapped a scarf tightly around her neck and was ready to step out. Before she opened the door, she remembered to put on her black beanie. Bundled up tight, she slung her oversized bag—holding her entire life—over her shoulder and exited. Living on the fifth floor, she found the hallway uneventful, but stepping outside, the misty rain hit her like a wave. She instinctively huddled, tucking her hands into her jacket pockets. Squinting through the drizzle, she spotted a sleek black car not far away. Its design was understated yet elegant, a stark contrast to the flashy license plate. “Still not here?” came the voice again. She hadn’t even reached him yet, but the car window slid down, revealing a sharply-defined man. Cyrus Leaf’s features were striking, but his gaze was icy. Dressed in a crisp military uniform that added to his untouchable aura, he scanned her with an intensity that made her stomach flutter. Something about him had a magnetic pull, compelling Isabella to step closer despite the drizzle. As she leaned into the car, she forced a smile, trying to lighten the atmosphere. “Hey there, Uncle JackJack!” The casual term of endearment didn’t sit well with Cyrus. His expression darkened, the shadows of the rain creating a contrast on his face. He seemed to study her with a piercing gaze, his smile stiff and as fake as the rain-slicked streets around them. “Do you want to repeat that?” His voice was low and measured. Isabella felt a thrill of panic, but her heart quickened with relief as she instinctively smiled back, even as it froze on her lips. Her fingers intertwined nervously. “Just a slip of the tongue—my bad!” It was a mantra she had learned since childhood: admit your mistakes, and you’ll avoid trouble. A heavy silence weighed between them. "You forgot about Young East last time." His sudden comment startled her, and she turned to face him, confusion flashing across her features. He remained composed, as if discussing the weather. What had she forgotten? Her mind raced back to the night she'd slipped out quietly, almost being caught. Thank goodness the cold air had concealed her in basic thermal layers; still, her face flushed with heat, and she shot him a wary glance. “Um, cough, cough—” she fumbled, feeling her throat tighten as she recalled the memory. “Are you sick?” he asked, his brows knitting together slightly, a flicker of concern breaking through his otherwise stoic demeanor.
Chapter 3
Isabella Chen instinctively shook her head at the question. But just as quickly, she realized her reaction wasn’t right. Covering her mouth with both hands, she took a deep breath, finally mustering a bit of courage. "You should just throw it away." Even now, thinking back to that time made her head ache—how did it all come to this? "Next time you go out, don’t dress like that, and don’t drink," Cyrus Leaf responded, though he didn’t directly answer her request. He reached toward her, attempting to rest his hand on her shoulder, but she deftly avoided him. A flash of annoyance crossed his face, and his gaze sharpened, more piercing than usual. "Is what I said wrong, auntie?" Isabella’s heart raced, as if it were a tightly wound string on the brink of snapping with just one more pluck. The way he said "auntie" held no hint of respect; instead, it was laced with sarcasm that sent a shiver down her spine, making her too afraid to meet his eyes, let alone confront his accusing look. "Don't let my mom know," she murmured, bowing her head. He wouldn’t let her call him "nephew," even in jest, but here he was mockingly addressing her as "auntie." It felt like he was allowed to wield authority while she was simply supposed to stay in her place. Cyrus’s lips quirked slightly as he studied her, who was hiding beneath her scarf. Just beneath the fabric, he could still remember the sound of her pleading from that night when he had bitten her neck. He recalled how she had clamped her thighs around his waist, and a flicker of desire stirred within him. "Is that what you’re thinking, that I’m forbidding you from lighting your lanterns?" She quickly looked up at him, surprise etched on her features, as if he could read her thoughts, catching her off guard. With her lips suddenly feeling dry, she unconsciously licked them only to find him leaning in closer, casting a shadow over her face. His hand wrapped around her neck as he drew her in, and she found herself collapsing into his embrace. In an instant, he possessed her lips, his strong, masculine scent overwhelming her senses. Her mind spun wildly, yet amidst the chaos, Cyrus Leaf's presence stamped itself into her consciousness. Cyrus Leaf, thirty-six, the heir of the Leaf Manor's Lord Commander, serving as the deputy commander of a provincial military district. A colonel, without a doubt capable of commanding respect or envy wherever he went, he was known for his calm demeanor. Calm demeanor. That phrase felt untrue to Isabella as she stared dumbfounded at the man ravaging her mouth, his features growing larger in her panicked vision. She could even see the fine scar at the corner of his eyebrow as his agile tongue explored every contour of her mouth. He held her partially up, lifting her to his height, while she passively absorbed the kiss, her head in a haze, unsure of her actions. Once was an accident; what would two times mean? She wanted to cry. But—Isabella wasn’t that kind of person. She wouldn't shed tears. No, she would never let herself look foolish. The old saying goes, "Hit the snake at its seven inches." If she regarded Cyrus as that snake, then she would target his weak spot. Where was a man's seven inches? Finally, she tilted her head back, allowing him to continue his assault on her lips, her hands boldly reaching toward the heart of his being, brushing against the prominent bulge beneath his pants. Surprised—she felt a thrill at the response. Every movement sent a deeper ache coursing through her. Cyrus didn’t stop her; he let her hands explore, not uttering a word. He fiercely nipped at her tender lips, leaving them crimson and swollen, as if he'd draw blood, his dark eyes narrowing, revealing a hint of mischief. The moment he pulled back, a silver thread glimmered between their lips—his breath had left a tantalizing mark, almost invisible but palpable, hanging at her chin, leaving her yearning for another taste. Oh, his sweet little captive. That was Cyrus Leaf’s inner thought as he felt her body slacken against him, hands resting on his lap as she played the part of coy ambivalence perfectly.
Chapter 4
“Hey, what did you say? That’s just wrong. This qualifies as incest.” “I have to tell you, it doesn’t count, it really doesn’t.” Isabella Chen, not Aunt Isabella, but she likes to call herself “Auntie” just to mess with the family’s stern head. In front of Old Man Leaf, she couldn’t dare to call herself “Auntie”. No way could she muddle the family hierarchy. But once you step outside the door, who cares about the ties? Cyrus Leaf, now that’s a name that commands respect in the manor. Since he was a kid, he knew what he wanted to become, and with every step, he carved his own path. If he claimed he had no support from home, he’d just be fooling himself. In this day and age, being influential isn’t just about experience; you need connections. Without someone backing you up, that’s just talk for naive dreamers. Cyrus hadn’t paid attention to Isabella Chen before. With so many people around, it didn't matter much. He hardly spent time at home and when he did, they barely crossed paths. Sure, Isabella was a bit of a deadweight, but she didn’t actually live at the Leaf Manor. When Isabella’s mom married into the Leaf family, it was agreed that Isabella wouldn’t step foot inside, so she’s always been just Isabella, never Cyrus Chen. To look at her, she seemed well-behaved and quiet. That was the first impression he had, but reality revealed how utterly unreliable this seemingly sweet girl could be—only through firsthand experience could he grasp that he had been blinded like a hawk caught in the glare of the sun. Her soft skin pressed against three others, crammed on a big bed that could easily fit four or five people. With three sprawled together on the bed, her face was flush, and her delicate arms wrapped around the boy in front of her. Behind her, Young East was snug up against her back. All limbs tangled like a plate of spaghetti; they were stuck together tight. The bald monk was wedged between her legs, trying to squeeze in, and she seemed to be wincing from the discomfort, tears pooling in her eyes while the two boys were completely unfazed. “Big Nephew—” She looked up to see him standing outside the door, squinting, her lips pursed, red and luscious like ripe fruit. She called out to him. That one shout nearly knocked him off his feet. The restless little guy inside him stirred awake, and he dashed forward, yanking her between the two boys like she was a prized possession, pulling her into the bathroom and drenching her in ice-cold water. “Don’t tell my mom,” she insisted stubbornly, hands pressed against the wall as her flustered cheeks deepened in color. His heated presence made her heart race, refusing to let go of her, eyes narrowed playfully, though her posture showed she was prepared. Her word pulled him back to reality, a cold stare piercing, “You want her to find out.” He countered her request, flipping the initiative back at her. A seasoned player wouldn’t let her get caught in trouble. Isabella certainly didn’t want her mom to find out. What would Lady Qin do? A fountain of blood, that’s what! Her daughter? Seeming all prim and proper on the surface, yet downright unreliable when it came down to it. She had always played the role of the good girl in front of her mom, tightly wrapping her wild spirit beneath an impeccable facade. But she couldn’t have Lady Qin catching even a glimpse of her true self.
Chapter 5
Realizing that she could easily hold a conversation with smart people, Isabella Chen concluded it was totally effortless. She quickly withdrew her hands from a certain thing she definitely didn’t want to keep touching; it had been making a cozy spot in her palm for far too long. Casting a sideways glance at Cyrus Leaf’s lap, she couldn’t help but notice how high things were getting. Everyone said there was a certain allure in a sideways glance. Usually, she didn’t indulge in much pretense, but this little flick of the eyes had a way of captivating a person's soul. She could tease out a profound sense of distraction that might leave someone wondering just where their focus had gone. Honestly, if someone had to describe her beauty, it wouldn’t be as easy as it sounded. Perhaps she wasn't the classically stunning type, but her features were undeniably delicate. As for her figure, she could definitely claim to be well-endowed. And when it came to being a 36D, that was no lie—some enhancements could possibly sort that out. Though she didn’t have any issues down there—she was certainly not a blank slate—her sensitivity level surpassed anyone else’s. Just a mere touch, and the floodgates would open; there was plenty of water waiting. She leaned against Cyrus, not trying to hide their connection at all. After all, men are often thought of as the best heating pads; the car’s heater was on full blast, but Isabella had a natural chill that made her feel like an icicle in winter. Her hands and legs were practically frozen. Cyrus Leaf let her rest against him, making no effort to push her away. He believed a man’s role was to offer support, which he clearly embodied. Upon arriving at the airport, the flashy license plate attracted attention from numerous onlookers. Cyrus stepped out of the car and extended his hand to Isabella. Seeing the crowd’s eyes fall on them, she instinctively pulled her cap lower and hesitated for a moment before offering her hand. His hand enveloped hers, dwarfing it much like a parent holding their child's. As they strode toward the VIP entrance, he was a pillar of confidence in his military uniform, draped in a stylish black coat, each step echoing authority. She felt compelled to match his stride, breathless and eager to keep up. It wasn't fate that made her so breathless; it was simply because she hardly ever emerged from her cozy apartment. If given the choice, she would rather spend her days gaming at home than face the outside world. Her pantry was fully stocked with snacks; she was particularly fond of rice cakes. The preparation was simple: toss some cakes into boiling water, mix in spicy kimchi bought from the store, sprinkle salt and MSG, and she would savor every last mouthful. “You soldiers have it made,” she exclaimed as they entered the VIP area and made their way to the first-class lounge. The perks of military life made her eyes shine with envy, her lips curled in a teasing pout, “It must be great to have such comforts.” “Are you daydreaming again?” Cyrus queried, handing her a glass of water. Isabella bristled slightly at the implication, feeling it somehow diminished her intelligence. She was a preschool teacher, after all, constantly battling the endless questions of children whose inquiries could stump the wisest adults—even those found in the famed book “A Hundred Thousand Whys.” She was always brainstorming ways to answer, far from being absent-minded; she was genuinely invested in the matter of state affairs.
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