Lihyun hadn't said much since Lily arrived — but honestly, he didn't need to.
The man's silence had more personality than half the people she'd ever met.
He lifted his wine glass again (third time — yes, she was counting), swirling it like he was about to gulp it all down in one sip.
Across the table, Mrs. Lihua Shulong's smile flickered, the tiniest hint of motherly panic behind it. She glanced at her husband — a man who could probably win a staring contest with a statue — but Mr. Weiming Shulong didn't even twitch.
Lily caught the silent exchange, though she pretended not to. There was tension here… deeper than she understood. But Lihua's eyes betrayed genuine worry for her son. Seeing him drowning himself in wind had done nothing but worry her it seemed.
Thankfully, Meilin — her walking, talking ray of pink sunshine — jumped in.
"Sister Lily! Tell everyone about your performance! Grandpa watched it three times! He said you have poise like an empress!"
"Oh, Meilin," Lily laughed, cheeks heating. "That's way too generous. I just tried not to fall onstage."
Grandfather Ren nodded, all serious and imperial. "Your training shows. Talent is nothing without discipline."
"Discipline," Weiming echoed, slicing through the air like a sword. "And humility. Two things most young women lack."
Lily smiled sweetly, heart pounding. "Then I'll keep both close to me, sir."
There was a murmur of approval around the table. Grandma Suirin even cracked what might have been a smile (or maybe she just sneezed quietly).
But at the far end of the table, Lihyun was lazily swirling his wine again, eyes locked on her like he was watching a mildly amusing reality show.
"Humility suits you," he murmured.
Was that praise? Was that shade? Did he just call her humble or humiliating?
Before Lily could decide, Mrs. Chen's daughter, Lifen, leaned forward with a grin that spelled trouble.
"Brother Lihyun," she teased. "Don't you think Sister-in-law's a beauty?"
Oh no.
Oh no no no.
Every head turned toward Lihyun.
He didn't even flinch. "Beauty," he said coolly, "is subjective."
Oh. My. God.
Lily's smile froze. For one terrifying second, she considered crawling under the table and starting a new life as a tablecloth.
But instead, she smiled sweetly. "You're right," she said calmly. "That's what makes art — and people — worth appreciating differently."
Boom. Mic drop.
Even Grandma Suirin's eyebrow did a proud little lift.
Meilin grinned. "Well, I think you're beautiful, Sister!"
Lihua laughed softly, clearly trying to steer the Titanic away from the iceberg. "Alright, enough flattery. Let's eat before the soup gets cold."
"Finally," muttered Mr. Shulong.
Dinner was served — duck, greens, and one very fragile sense of peace.
Lily reached for her glass, determined to be elegant and collected—
Steady hands, Lily. You are grace. You are calm. You are—
Splash.
Red wine spread across the pure white tablecloth like a crime scene.
"Oh no—"
Before she could panic-scream, Han jumped in like a hero from a detergent commercial.
"My fault," he said smoothly, already blotting the spill. "I brushed her arm."
Lily blinked at him. Wait… did he just— cover for me?
She sent him a grateful look, but her relief lasted two seconds before Lihyun's voice drifted across the table, low and sharp.
"How gallant. You must be used to cleaning up after your sister."
Oh, okay. So this was his thing tonight — emotionally waterboarding her with sarcasm.
Lily lifted her chin, meeting his gaze head-on. "Isn't that what family's for, Mr. Shulong? To take care of each other when we slip up?"
Something flickered in his eyes — brief, unreadable. Like she'd just scored a point he didn't expect.
He downed the rest of his wine.
A servant refilled it. Then another. And another.
Mrs. Lihua's voice finally broke through, soft but firm. "Lihyun, dear, that's your fourth glass."
He didn't even look up. "I'm not a child, Mother."
Oof. The family tension could've been bottled and sold as perfume — Eau de Dysfunction.
Lily kept her smile glued on, chatting with Meilin about flowers and Mrs. Chen about piano music while pretending not to notice that Lihyun's stare had practically turned into a spotlight on her.
Every time she laughed — just a little too brightly — his jaw tightened. Another sip. Another vein in his temple popped like a ticking time bomb.
Then—
Bzzzzzzzz.
His phone buzzed.
Everyone heard it.
Lihyun glanced at the screen, and for the first time all night, his poker face cracked.
Lily caught the name reflected in his wine glass.
Shin Ling.
Oh. Ohhh.
But one thing Lily was not sure of was if everyone knew who Shin Ling was to Lihyun.
Lihua noticed too. Her voice trembled slightly. "Lihyun…"
He half-stood, like a man possessed, then froze under his mother's pleading gaze. His jaw flexed.
Then, slowly, he put the phone down. Face down.
Weiming didn't even blink. Probably didn't breathe either.
She caught the subtle tremors in Lihua's fingers as she reached for her tea.
Lily's stomach twisted. So the entire family knows about the ex. Wow. Okay. Great. So much for leverage. Note to self: do not mention Shin Ling.
The table went on pretending everything was normal — laughter that sounded like stage acting, clinking glasses like sound effects.
And through it all, Lihyun just sat there, gaze fixed on her again — not cold this time. Not testing.
Daring.
He wanted her to see.
Fine. She saw. Loud and clear.
You're still hung up on your ex. Tragic. Boring. I'll just focus on not staining anything else tonight.
Lily folded her napkin neatly, her smile perfectly serene.
he wants to play this game, she thought, folding her napkin neatly, then let the games begin.
From the corner of the table, Lihyun's silence was deafening. His phone vibrated once, twice—each time his jaw clenched tighter. His knuckles whitened around the glass stem.
Lihua noticed. She sent him a quick, warning glance.
He ignored it this time.
Then—
CREAK.
The grand double doors swung open.
Every head turned.
The chatter stopped mid-sentence.
And there, standing in the doorway like she'd just walked out of a melodrama, was Shin Ling.