That evening, when Lianne Lianne returned to her apartment, Mrs. Sawyer, wearing an apron, came over as she was changing her shoes. Wiping her fingers, she said, "Miss Lane, Mr. Sinclair is here."
'Mr. Sinclair.'
'This is the second time I've heard that name today.'
'But they weren't referring to the same person.'
After changing her shoes, Lianne Lianne walked inside. A smart-home robot named Kitty rolled over on its wheels, deftly offering her a glass of water.
"Thank you, Kitty." She took the glass, patted the robot's round head, and instructed it to make a cappuccino.
On the other side of the luxury apartment's floor-to-ceiling windows, the vibrant neon lights of the city were a tapestry woven into the inky night sky.
A man stood in the light, making a phone call.
Ethan Sinclair was dressed in a crisp, slate-blue suit. Its tailored fit accentuated his dignified and composed bearing.
Hanging up the phone, Ethan Sinclair pushed aside the sheer curtain and saw Lianne Lianne holding a cappuccino with both hands. Steam swirled around her fair, pretty face, softening her features in the haze.
Her clear eyes, however, were exceptionally bright, her gaze almost tangible.
"Ethan, dinner's ready."
Ethan Sinclair nodded. "Alright."
Ethan Sinclair had a sensitive stomach, so Lianne Lianne had given Mrs. Sawyer standing instructions to make crucian carp and glutinous rice congee whenever he came over. This rule had not changed in years.
At the dinner table, Ethan Sinclair, as always, asked about her studies like a parent inquiring after their child's schoolwork.
"Everyone in the orchestra is getting more in sync," she said. She wasn't lying—at least, not in terms of technical skill.
Lianne Lianne placed some shredded pork with sweet bean sauce into her bowl, scooped it up with a bit of rice, and ate it before continuing, "I'm done with classes. Now it's just the graduation internship and my thesis."
Ethan Sinclair offered no comment, simply asking in a placid tone, "And your driver's license?"
Lianne Lianne stiffened slightly.
She had never been afraid of any test, big or small, except for the driver's exam. She had already put herself through the ordeal three times.
She could never line up the reference points correctly, her foot was always slipping off the clutch... It was as if either her body or her soul refused to drive on the open road.
Millions could cross a single-plank bridge in the fiercest competition, yet she was the one who stumbled on a wide-open road.
Lianne Lianne sighed. "I finally passed."
Seeing the girl's tormented expression, as if she had just overcome a monumental trial, the corner of Ethan Sinclair's mouth twitched into a barely perceptible smile.
"Contact Hugo Hollis to pick out a car. Just tell him what you're looking for."
Hugo Hollis was his executive assistant.
A very capable young man.
She interacted with Hugo Hollis far more often than she did with Ethan Sinclair.
As Lianne Lianne ate with slow, deliberate movements, she suddenly recalled Zachary Alden's words: 'Mr. Sinclair will dump you in less than a month.'
'It didn't sound like he was just talking nonsense.'
The phone resting on the table began to ring.
Ethan Sinclair glanced at the caller ID and stepped away from the table to take the call.
Lianne Lianne faintly heard his deep, warm voice utter a single name: "Seth."
'It must be a call from Seth Sinclair.'
Seth was Ethan Sinclair's full-blooded younger brother, two years his junior.
Lianne Lianne had a knack for numbers, and her mind automatically did the math: 'Seth Sinclair is six years older than me.'
Ethan was the eldest son, Seth the second.
The eldest son was the rightful heir, groomed from childhood under a strict regimen befitting his future role. As for the second son, his upbringing was more laissez-faire.
Seth Sinclair had been out of the public eye for the past few years, with the media speculating he had been sent abroad. The truth, however, was that the elder Mr. Sinclair had sent him into the military.
Now that he was back, there was speculation he had returned to fight for the inheritance.
A bitter feud between rich brothers—just the kind of drama the public loves.
But the two of them were very close. A feud was out of the question.
While Ethan Sinclair was on the phone, his voice remained as placid as ever, but the corner of his mouth was curved into a slight smile.
Lianne Lianne had never seen him break into a smile while talking to anyone on the phone before.
'I wonder what kind of magic spell Seth Sinclair is casting over the phone.'
Not even the elder Mr. Sinclair or any of the other family seniors ever got that kind of treatment.
After dinner, Ethan Sinclair was still on the phone. Lianne Lianne gave him a little wave and returned to her room, where she sat at her vanity to inspect her injured wrist.
It was almost completely healed.
She lifted her hand for a sniff. The medicinal scent was strong, so she opened a drawer and pulled out some hand cream.
A cellist can't use hand cream, as it makes the hands slippery and affects their performance.
Lianne Lianne only applied the cream to her knuckles.
The delicate rose scent of the cream settled over the medicinal smell, seeping into her skin.
In the living room, the call ended. Ethan Sinclair set his phone on the dining table, the smile on his face vanishing in an instant.
He looked up, his gaze sweeping over to Mrs. Sawyer. His expression was somber and detached.
While Mr. Sinclair was usually warm and self-possessed, the oppressive aura of a man in absolute control that he radiated was especially chilling.
"What did Mrs. Sinclair ask you to keep an eye on?"
"N-nothing." Mrs. Sawyer froze, clearly terrified of him. "Mrs. Sinclair just asked me to... to report on Miss Lane's daily activities." There was another part she didn't dare to add: *and to pay special attention to Mr. Sinclair.*
"For how long?"
Mrs. Sawyer's face flushed. Guilty and terrified, she stammered, "...For half a month."
"Did I hire you to spy on Lia's every move?"
The shimmering light from the crystal chandelier washed over Ethan Sinclair. The play of light and shadow filled his steady, calm eyes, giving them an intensely oppressive weight.
"No! You hired me to look after Miss Lane," Mrs. Sawyer said, her face and forehead slick with cold sweat. She shrank back, her voice trembling.
The sound of a door opening, followed by footsteps, suddenly broke the tension. Ethan Sinclair calmly picked up a cigarette case from the table and issued a final verdict: "You don't need to come in tomorrow."
Lianne Lianne walked out in her slippers. Ethan Sinclair stubbed out the cigarette in his hand and slowly looked up, his tranquil gaze resting peacefully on her face.
Lianne Lianne walked closer and stopped in front of the sofa, watching him in silence.
Ethan Sinclair said nonchalantly, "Mr. Mayer's birthday banquet is next month. You'll attend with me."
Nine years had been long enough for Lianne Lianne to learn how to read between his lines: he would have someone else arrange for the gift, and all she had to do was be there.
When it came to important matters, he always covered every detail.
Lianne Lianne nodded. "Okay."
Ethan Sinclair stood up and ruffled her hair. "I'm heading out," he said gently. "Good night."
"Okay, good night," Lianne Lianne replied. "Get home safe."
Ethan Sinclair often had dinner at her apartment, but he never stayed the night.
His days were consumed by meetings and banquets, leaving him little leisure time.
Day and night cycled past. The wheels of time rumbled on into the depths of autumn, and the weather grew colder.
On another weekend, Sophie Sheridan invited Lianne Lianne to a neo-Chinese style hot pot restaurant that specialized in traditional copper pots.
With the steaming hot pot perfect for the autumn chill, the comfortable, spacious seating, and the elegant ambiance under the warm lights, the two ate to their hearts' content.
Sophie Sheridan looked at Lianne Lianne, who was sitting across from her, and reminisced, "My first impression of you was that you were a legend."
Lianne Lianne quipped, "A legend? You mean like, 'Don't get obsessed with this girl, she's just a legend'?"
"Hahaha, something like that. They all said you were this unworldly being, 'Her Idleness.' Not Her Highness, mind you. Her *Idleness*."
Sophie continued, "When I heard that, I was totally confused. 'Who the hell becomes a goddess by being idle?' I thought. But then I met you and, hey! It's actually true!"
Lianne Lianne didn't care what other people thought; she just focused on herself.
A truly unique brand of idleness.
"You're the one who really impresses me," Lianne Lianne said, leisurely swishing a slice of lamb in the broth. "The great heiress of the Sheridan Family, giving up her inheritance to devote herself to scientific research."
Sophie chuckled. "I've already been kicked out of the family! What inheritance?"