The journey from St. Jude's Hospital to the Lu Estate was a silent, high-tension ballet of black steel and shattered nerves. The Rolls-Royce Phantom glided through the rain-slicked streets of the capital, its tires whispering against the asphalt like a secret. Inside, the cabin was a vacuum of unsaid things.
Lin Yan was pressed so tightly against the left rear door that he seemed to be trying to merge with the leather. He had draped a heavy, cream-colored cashmere throw over his lap, his gloved hands—now encased in fresh, surgical-white silk—clutched tightly in his lap. His eyes were fixed on the blur of the city, but they weren't seeing the neon signs or the skyscrapers. They were scanning the digital ghosts of the world.
[System Pulse: Environment Scan... 100% Active.]
[Target: Driver Xiao Wu.]
[Current Status: Profuse sweating; heart rate 105 BPM.]
[Eye of Truth Detail: He is hiding a dent on the rear bumper. He hit a bollard while rushing to the hospital and plans to claim the 'Young Master' kicked the car in a 'fit of madness' during the drive home.]
"Look at him," Lin Yan's inner voice rang out, a crisp, crystalline sound that seemed to bounce off the interior of Lu Jingho's skull. "Xiao Wu is practically vibrating. He thinks he's a genius for coming up with the 'crazy wife' excuse. It's the go-to move in this house, isn't it? If the tea is cold, blame the idiot. If the car is dented, blame the idiot. If the stock market crashes, it was probably Lin Yan's bad vibes. Honestly, the lack of creativity in this household's corruption is the real tragedy."
Lu Jingho sat on the opposite side of the vast rear seat, his long legs crossed, a tablet resting on his thigh. He appeared to be reading a quarterly report, but he hadn't turned the page in ten minutes. Every word Lin Yan "thought" hit Jingho with the weight of a physical revelation. He glanced toward the driver's partition. He hadn't noticed the sweat on Xiao Wu's neck until now.
Jingho's jaw tightened. He felt a surge of cold, protective fury. For months, he had been the one to sign off on the "incident reports" regarding Lin Yan's supposed tantrums. He realized now he hadn't been a CEO; he'd been a blind judge presiding over a kangaroo court.
"And the Refrigerator husband is just sitting there, probably calculating how much my hospital bill is going to affect his annual bonus," the voice continued, a hint of a sigh echoing in the silence. "He smells like cedarwood and expensive solitude. It's actually quite a nice scent, but it's a shame it belongs to a man who probably has a 'no-touching' policy written into his soul. Well, that's fine. We have that in common now, Sock-Boy. Just stay on your side of the 3.1-meter line, and we'll get along famously."
Jingho's fingers twitched on his tablet. 3.1 meters? He made a mental note to measure the distance in the Master Suite.
As the car approached the massive wrought-iron gates of the Lu Estate, the rain began to fall harder, drumming a frantic rhythm against the reinforced glass. The gates swung open like the jaws of a beast, welcoming them into a world of manicured hedges and stone-cold tradition.
The car came to a smooth halt under the grand portico. A line of servants stood waiting, led by the New Housekeeper, Mrs. Gable—a woman Jingho had hired via an emergency headhunter only three hours ago.
Xiao Wu hopped out to open the door. He put on a face of deep, exaggerated concern. "Young Master, we're home. Please, be careful. I know you've been... agitated." He reached out a hand, ostensibly to help Lin Yan, but his eyes were darting toward the dented bumper, preparing his "explanation.
Lin Yan flinched, a sharp, violent recoil that made his head hit the window with a dull thud. The Haphephobia wasn't a choice; it was an electric shock.
"Don't touch me!" Lin Yan rasped, his voice sounding like dry leaves.
"STAY AWAY!" the inner voice roared, and Jingho felt the sheer, raw panic behind it—a visceral fear of being grabbed, controlled, and blamed. "I see your game, Xiao Wu. You want to touch me so I'll struggle, and then you can point to the dent and say I did it. You want to use my trauma as a shield for your incompetence. Not today, you red-handed snake!"
Jingho stepped out of the other side of the car, rounding the back with the grace of a panther. He stopped directly behind the car, his eyes locking onto the fresh scrape and the dented metal of the bumper.
"Xiao Wu," Jingho said, his voice a low, lethal vibration that cut through the sound of the rain.
"Yes, Sir? The Young Master, he just—"
"The paint on this bollard you hit," Jingho pointed a finger at the bumper, "is the exact shade of the hospital's parking barriers. You have thirty seconds to leave this property. Your final paycheck will be docked for the repairs. Don't let me see you again."
The driver turned a ghostly white, his mouth hanging open. He didn't even try to argue; the cold certainty in the CEO's eyes was a death sentence for his career. He scrambled away into the rain.
Lin Yan watched from inside the car, his eyes wide.
"Wait... did the Refrigerator just handle that? Without me having to throw a fake tantrum?" the voice mused, sounding genuinely bewildered. "He didn't even look at me for confirmation. He just... saw it. Maybe he's not a refrigerator. Maybe he's a high-tech freezer with sensors. Interesting."
Jingho turned back to the car. He didn't reach in. He stood exactly three meters away, his hands clasped behind his back. "Lin Yan. The path is clear. Mrs. Gable will show you to your new quarters. The staff has been instructed: no one is to approach you. No one is to touch you."
Lin Yan stepped out, leaning heavily on his silver-tipped cane. He looked at Mrs. Gable, who bowed deeply, keeping her distance.
[Eye of Truth: Mrs. Gable.]
[Current Status: Disciplined / Observant.
Gossip Data: She grew up with a sister who was touch-averse. She actually understands the MC's condition and has prepared 'No-Contact' trays for his meals.]
"Oh, I like her," the inner voice softened. "She's not looking at me like I'm a broken vase. She's looking at me like I'm a person who needs a quiet room. Finally, a glimmer of competence in this house of cards."
They entered the foyer. The Lu Mansion was a museum of wealth—marble floors that shone like mirrors, crystal chandeliers that dripped light like water, and walls covered in art that cost more than small countries. But to Lin Yan, it was a maze of potential triggers.
As they walked toward the grand staircase, a young maid, eager to please, stepped forward with a warm towel. "Young Master, let me—"
Lin Yan's breath hitched. He felt the familiar wall of ice rising in his chest. But before he could even gasp, Lu Jingho's arm shot out, blocking the maid's path with the force of a steel bar.
"Back," Jingho commanded, not even looking at her. "Rule one: The Young Master is invisible unless he speaks to you. Move."
The maid scurried away.
"Invisible... he remembered my thought," Lin Yan's mind whispered, a flicker of something that wasn't quite wit and wasn't quite trauma. It was a moment of pure, unadulterated recognition. "He's actually listening. Not to my mouth, but to my... wait, he can't possibly hear me. Can he? No. He's just a CEO with good instincts. Yes. That's it. Logic above all."
Jingho followed Lin Yan up the stairs, maintaining the gap. He watched the way Lin Yan's gloved hand gripped the bannister, the way his shoulders stayed hunched as if expecting a blow from the air itself.
They reached the Master Wing. Usually, they shared a room, a cold arrangement of separate beds. But today, a set of double doors had been installed, effectively splitting the wing into two private sanctuaries.
"Your side is to the left," Jingho said, standing at the junction. "The locks are biometric. Only your fingerprint—and mine, for emergencies—will work. No staff can enter without your verbal permission through the intercom."
Lin Yan stopped. He looked at the door. It was a fortress.
"A lock," the inner voice said, and for the first time, it sounded small. "A real lock. I can be alone. I can breathe without someone watching my chest move. I can... I can finally be safe."
A single tear escaped Lin Yan's eye, soaking into the white silk of his glove as he wiped his face. He didn't say thank you. He couldn't. The "old" soul was too overwhelmed, and the "new" soul was too proud.
He tapped his cane twice on the floor and walked into his room, the heavy doors clicking shut behind him.
Jingho stayed in the hallway for a long time, staring at the closed doors. He could still hear the faint, fading echo of Lin Yan's mind—a quiet, rhythmic thought that repeated over and over: Safe. Safe. Safe.
"You're more than safe, Lin Yan," Jingho whispered to the empty hallway, his voice thick with a resolve that shook his very foundation. "I'll make sure of it."
Inside the room, Lin Yan didn't go to bed. He went to the large, bay window and looked out at the estate. He felt the System humming in the back of his mind, a steady stream of data about the house, the staff, and the brewing storms in the Lu Group.
"All right, System," Lin Yan's mind sharpened into a cold, vengeful blade. "The fortress is secure. The Refrigerator is on our side for now. Let's look at the accounts. I think it's time we found out exactly why the Head of Security, Mr. Chen, has been buying a villa in Spain using the Lu family's 'petty cash' fund."
[System Pulse: Tracking Initiated.]
[Gossip File: The Purge of Chen... Loading.]
Lin Yan sat at his desk, his white-gloved fingers dancing across the keyboard of his laptop. He was a ghost in the machine, and the haunting had just begun.