Willing to Be for Her - Chapter 9

The fresh flowers and candles on the banquet hall tables dimmed simultaneously, and the elegantly dressed guests seemed to drift away from Luo Xuan.

Or perhaps it was Luo Xuan who was drifting away from this world, away from the aloofness hidden beneath the woman’s gentle elegance, away from the emptiness that lingered after the tangled scents of intimacy.

The elusive world felt like a vast labyrinth, and she stood alone at its shadowy center, unable to see or hear anything clearly.

“I don’t need to learn about her from you,” Luo Xuan said, a wicked smile curling her lips, her clear, beautiful features betraying stubbornness and rebellion. “Besides, we’re not even that close.”

Pulling Chi Li along, Luo Xuan left Luo Wei with only a slender, graceful silhouette.

“I’m your sister. We share half our bl00d. How can we not be close?” Luo Wei called after her.

Standing on the water-patterned cashmere carpet, Luo Xuan’s heterochromatic eyes flickered in the shadows, like a demon descending upon a transparently pale girl.

“If I don’t acknowledge it, we’re not close.”

Beside her, Chi Li glanced at Luo Xuan’s vividly red lips against her sickly pale face, an otherworldly beauty.

The two women descended the stairs side by side. Luo Xuan straightened her coat and put it back on, moving through the crowd of impeccably dressed, haughty-looking people like a lonely, eccentric child who had wandered into a world of fame and fortune—so isolated, so out of place.

“Luo Xuan, you don’t understand,” Luo Wei murmured, watching Luo Xuan’s retreating figure. “I should have come to save you, you pitiful thing.”

Luo Wei smiled indifferently, her wristwatch gleaming brightly, perfectly complementing her pampered appearance.

Outside the banquet hall, the streets were desolate and cold. Even the wrought-iron streetlights seemed to dim, casting a hazy glow on the path ahead, like a chilly mountain mist drifting down to obscure some people’s vision.

Chi Li wrapped her coat tighter around herself, longing to say something but unsure where to begin.

She could see how much Luo Xuan cared about Ning Yiqing.

Though Luo Xuan always projected an image of rebellious introversion, she was actually deeply sensitive and fragile. She possessed few things, but each one held extraordinary significance.

Perhaps having received so little throughout her life, Luo Xuan now refused to accept even what was offered.

She was just that stubborn.

“Tell me,” Chi Li asked abruptly, her voice tinged with frustration, “what do you think those powerful people truly care about?”

Luo Xuan, who had been gazing up at the moon, paused for a moment before replying softly, “Power, I suppose. For them, losing power means losing everything.”

Chi Li nodded in agreement, then suddenly remembered the birthday gift. “Xuanxuanxuan, you forgot to give President Ning her birthday gift earlier! What should we do? You stayed up all those nights making it!”

“I’ll wait until she gets back…” Luo Xuan trailed off. The significance of a birthday gift lies in giving it at the right time; giving it early or late would render it meaningless.

Noticing Luo Xuan’s characteristic romantic streak surfacing, Chi Li frowned. “Do you know where President Ning is on her business trip?”

“I could ask Ning Yiqing’s secretary, Sister Lan, and book a flight there,” Luo Xuan said, her brow furrowing slightly with hesitation. “But would I be interrupting Ning Yiqing’s work?”

“You’re going to see your wife—the one you’re legally married to! It’s perfectly natural!”

Encouraged by her friend, Luo Xuan quickly opened her phone to text Ning Yiqing’s secretary, Lan Leren, while hailing a taxi to rush home and pack a simple bag.

“Chi Li, I’m leaving now. Call me when you get home, and stay safe.”

“Xuanxuan, do you have enough money for the plane ticket? Want me to send you some?” Chi Li asked as Luo Xuan got into the taxi. Without waiting for a response, she transferred 3,000 yuan.

Moments later, the money was returned. Chi Li, sitting in her car on the way home, muttered, “Stubborn dog,” and let Luo Xuan have her way.

Back at the villa, Luo Xuan learned Ning Yiqing’s business trip location from Lan Leren. While packing in the bedroom, she noticed a gift from Ning Yiqing—

A minimalist silver bracelet adorned with a star charm, unadorned by diamonds but accented with two jade stones, one yellow and one green. Its understated elegance exuded a unique charm.

A note left by Ning Yiqing lay beside it:

Star’s Eyes

The other gift was for Chi Li: a collection of recent business analysis case studies, clearly compiled specifically for her—Ning Yiqing knew Chi Li was looking for work in that field.

As Luo Xuan stepped off the plane, a biting wind, laced with snowflakes, slammed into her face.

The city was a forest of skyscrapers, their massive billboards flashing with neon lights that demanded attention, broadcasting a dizzying array of advertisements.

Amid the swirling snow, few pedestrians hurried along, heads bowed and hoods drawn tight against the wind.

The bare trees lining the streets were frosted with ice, creating a scene both desolate and bustling.

Within minutes, Luo Xuan’s eyelashes were coated with white snowflakes that melted as the temperature rose, leaving them glistening like wet, raven-black silk.

Having departed at three in the morning, it was now one in the afternoon. Following the address Lan Leren had sent, Luo Xuan hailed a taxi on the icy street and slowly made her way to her destination.

By the time she arrived at Ning Yiqing’s estate, dusk had fallen, shrouding the grounds in a misty haze. Luo Xuan’s palms grew clammy as she clutched the small wooden box in her arms, still warm from her body heat, feeling a surge of nervous anticipation.

Lan Leren stood by the gate, spotting Luo Xuan as she stepped out of the taxi and approached. The young woman’s slender figure stood out against the wind and snow, her features clear and delicate as water.

A wild, rebellious glint shone in her eyes, carrying the peculiar yet romantic aura of something that had grown untamed, like a cluster of clean, unique thorned roses.

“Miss Luo Xuan, President Ning is currently entertaining two very important guests and will likely be occupied for another twenty minutes or so,” Lan Leren said, maintaining her signature efficiency as she professionally and swiftly handled all matters. “Additionally, as President Ning’s secretary, I am obligated to inform her of your visit.”

As Ning Yiqing’s personal secretary, Lan Leren had been by her side since Ning Yiqing was ten years old, accompanying her through schooling, life, and even studying abroad. Their relationship was both that of friends and superior-subordinate.

Hearing Lan Leren’s words, Luo Xuan nodded, realizing her visit wouldn’t be the birthday surprise she had hoped for.

A pang of disappointment struck her. She had wanted to create a unique joy for Ning Yiqing, but her plan had failed from the start.

Yet, upon reflection, she realized that countless people gave gifts to Ning Yiqing, making her own offering nothing particularly special.

Perhaps surprises were always just fantasies.

Ning Yiqing’s estate was vast, boasting a golf course and an underground wine cellar. They boarded a golf cart at the entrance and drove for a full twenty minutes before reaching a garden.

The garden was enclosed by white glass, within which large camellias bloomed perpetually, unaffected by the seasons.

“President Ning is on the other side,” Lan Leren said, accompanying Luo Xuan as they waited for over half an hour before receiving word from Ning Yiqing to enter.

Luo Xuan took out a small wooden box containing her gift, her nervousness visibly increasing.

The box wasn’t a simple square; instead, it was shaped like a White Sandalwood flower, its petals still in bud. With a gentle press of a hidden latch, the petals bloomed open, revealing the gift within.

“Did you… make this?” Lan Leren asked, her voice filled with astonishment. She had witnessed countless attempts to curry favor with Ning Yiqing—expensive, rare, and never-before-seen items beyond counting.

Over the years, she had grown numb to such displays. No matter how exotic the creature or precious the treasure, none could stir her, let alone President Ning.

Yet this gift was unlike anything she had ever seen—as unique as Luo Xuan herself, paradoxical and morbid, yet exquisitely beautiful.

The wooden White Sandalwood flower, though lifeless, seemed to emanate a serene and tranquil fragrance—coolly self-possessed, naturally elegant, and inexplicably capturing three-tenths of Ning Yiqing’s essence.

“Well, I’ve been learning sculpture since I was a child. It’s nothing special,” Luo Xuan said with a smile.

Lan Leren suppressed her admiration and quickly regained her professional composure. “Follow me.”

Pushing open the large black walnut door, a corridor carpeted in gray stretched before Luo Xuan. As she walked forward, she could faintly see a fireplace burning in the room ahead, flanked by towering bookshelves filled with heavy, gold-stamped volumes.

From a distance, Luo Xuan overheard voices inside.

“He Qiuyue, you can leave now. The Ning-He partnership will be handled by your brother.”

“I won’t! Sister Yiqing, you promised you’d marry me when I grew up. You haven’t let Luo Xuan mark you all this time—aren’t you waiting for me to come back?”

As He Qiuyue finished speaking, she saw Luo Xuan enter the room. The spoiled young heiress glared at Luo Xuan with undisguised hostility.

Lan Leren, sensing the tense atmosphere, thought to herself, *Didn’t I just send this little tyrant away? How did she sneak back in so quickly?*

Forcing herself to break the silence, Lan Leren said, “President Ning, Miss Luo Xuan is here. Didn’t you make a reservation at the restaurant?”

Behind her office desk, Ning Yiqing’s long hair cascaded like a waterfall, held back only by a single jade hairpin. Her raven locks shimmered with a soft luster, while the hairpin glowed with a warm, verdant radiance, exuding a restrained yet exquisite elegance.

Lost in thought, Luo Xuan recalled the necklace Luo Wei had given her and couldn’t help but wonder if this jade hairpin had also been a gift from someone else.

“Luo Xuan, what a coincidence! We’re in the same department at school. You’re quite famous there,” He Qiuyue said with a smile.

Luo Xuan returned a polite smile, though she suspected He Qiuyue’s “famous” reputation likely wasn’t a flattering one.

In the few seconds Luo Xuan was distracted, He Qiuyue strode over and snatched the White Sandalwood flower box from her hand, examining it closely.

“Oh my, this box is so intricately crafted! And there’s a ring inside? You didn’t even get a ring for your wedding?” He Qiuyue tilted her head back deliberately, her gaze fixed on Luo Xuan. Before anyone could react, she slammed the box onto the marble floor.

The fragile wood cracked against the hard surface, its corners splintering. The flowers inside instantly wilted, their petals scattering like fallen leaves.

“Oops, my hand slipped. You don’t mind, do you?” He Qiuyue glared at Luo Xuan with arrogant disdain, offering no hint of apology.

Having been spoiled and domineering since childhood, He Qiuyue had always been indulged by the He Family. If Luo Wei had been the one present, she might have shown some restraint.

But Luo Xuan? A discarded member of the Luo Family, as easily manipulated as a stray dog.

“I do mind,” Luo Xuan said, her brows furrowing with malice. Her raven-feather lashes fluttered slightly as her heterochromatic eyes locked onto He Qiuyue.

“What are you going to do?” He Qiuyue recoiled two steps, startled by those sinister eyes. “You wouldn’t dare hit me, would you?”

Just as He Qiuyue was about to buckle under Luo Xuan’s gaze, Ning Yiqing set down her pen, her jade-white fingers tapping lightly on the desk. “Le Ran,” she said coldly, “take He Qiuyue out.”

“Yes, President Ning,” Lan Leren scurried over, hastily dragging the now-limp He Qiuyue out of the room. She remembered to close the door, leaving Luo Xuan alone.

In the room, the crackling of cedar logs burning in the fireplace filled the air with a comforting warmth.

Luo Xuan stood motionless, staring at the broken wooden box. A bitter liquid seemed to flow through her heart, and a corrosive sensation crackled around her.

A complete tragedy.

She heard Ning Yiqing’s voice, still gentle and considerate.

“Xiao Xuan, don’t be angry. If you want a ring, I’ll take you to buy a new one tomorrow.”

Luo Xuan saw Ning Yiqing sitting upright in the high-backed black chair, her gaze calm and profound. Her tranquil demeanor remained undisturbed by anyone, her expression devoid of joy or sorrow, making her utterly inscrutable to Luo Xuan.

She had witnessed Ning Yiqing’s many gentle facets: her tender words, her serene sleeping face, her affectionate gaze.

Yet the woman had never smiled warmly. Perhaps deep within those slender, beautiful eyes, only a faint chill lingered.

The distance between them was less than a meter, separated only by a sandalwood desk, serene and elegant.

Luo Xuan felt a dull ache in her chest, as if something unyielding had lodged there.

Only after a long while did she realize that this sensation was likely disappointment. The woman sat alone in her lofty hall, untouched by the harsh winds and snow.

Meanwhile, Luo Xuan lived in a fantasy, one that could shatter or be destroyed at any moment.

“Xiao Xuan, I’ve made a reservation at a restaurant. The timing is perfect,” Ning Yiqing said, her posture relaxed yet refined. She rose slowly, and the faint, cool fragrance of white sandalwood wafted through the air.

“Alright.”

The ethereal, pure fragrance of White Sandalwood filled the room. Ning Yiqing picked up the sandalwood box from the floor, as if brushing away nonexistent dust. “Xiao Xuan, the gift is beautiful. I love it.”

Luo Xuan frowned at the imperfect box, her stubbornness and awkwardness rising within her like a persistent virus.

A jade-like wrist, adorned with prayer beads, brushed past Luo Xuan’s eyes, the icy, silken touch lingering at the corner of her eye.

“Xiao Xuan, are you going to cry?”

The woman’s comfort was restrained. She stroked Luo Xuan’s slightly reddened eye but offered no invitation to embrace, maintaining a perfect distance.

“No,” Luo Xuan replied, glancing at the White Sandalwood flowers scattered on the floor, crushed into the mud like an unwanted rag doll. “They’re ruined. I can’t wear them. Just throw them away.”

Ning Yiqing saw the artist’s eccentricities and romanticism reflected in Luo Xuan’s pale, youthful face. Her brow furrowed slightly as she said softly, “Alright.”