Chapter 3: The Man in Her Eyes

Luo Yunlan had always believed she could bury that memory deep in her heart—never to speak of it, never to touch it, never even to think of it.
But just now, when she saw that familiar face again, her emotions had slipped beyond control.

She still remembered.

She remembered the quiet boy who had always followed behind her, silently giving, never asking.

She remembered how he always called her name with such care, never once overstepping a boundary.

She remembered his eyes—the way they lit up whenever they looked at her.

That light wasn’t blazing or fiery.

It was subtle, hidden in the smallest of gestures—

The sweet pastry he handed her after sword practice.

The cloak he draped over her shoulders on a snowy night.

The warm cup of tea that appeared by her desk when she was utterly exhausted.

She didn’t know when it began.

But his thoughtfulness had quietly seeped into her life, drop by drop, day by day.

Later, when the Luo family’s true heir was found and returned, the Patriarch reshuffled power. The clan’s hierarchy changed overnight.

The new heir shone with dazzling brilliance, while Luo Jiutian became the target of subtle rejection. The servants’ address grew cold, the elders’ concern grew distant, even their peers no longer drew close to him.

Luo Jiutian never complained.

He simply grew quieter.

His smile faded.

His figure grew lonelier.

Sometimes, when she chanced upon him in a corner, she wanted to speak, to comfort him.
But he would always cut her off first, shaking his head with that same line:
“I’m fine. Don’t worry.”

It was during those days that she first began to recognize the unease in her own heart.

She realized she didn’t want him to leave.

She didn’t want him to lower his head.

She didn’t want the whole clan to treat him like an outsider.

But she didn’t dare admit that feeling.

She didn’t dare face the tenderness he always gave her.

So she turned night after night in sleepless struggle, questioning herself—

Why him? Why only him?

Yet she never found the answer.

Until that day.

That day, when they were ambushed outside the manor.

Snow was falling.

She remembered it clearly.

The world was nothing but white.

The cold wind struck her face like blades.

The enemy’s swords and blades were all aimed at her, yet again and again, it was he who stood in the way.

He knew he was outmatched, and still he did not retreat.

Once.

And again.

She screamed for him to run, to save himself.

But he never looked back.

He only stood, and blocked, and endured.

Blood sprayed onto the snow, dyeing the frozen ground red.

By the time reinforcements arrived, Luo Jiutian had already collapsed into her arms.

She heard his breath, shallow and broken, as if the next one might never come.

He looked at her, his gaze still clear.

No resentment in his eyes—

Only… release.

“Yunlan…” He smiled faintly, his lips pale as death.
“This life, to guard you once… I have no regrets. If there is a next life… may we share years untroubled by mountain or stream.”

Those were his last words.

She held him tight.

Her fingers were cold, but her heart was colder.

For the first time, she wept until her voice broke.

She cried his name into the snowstorm—

But there was no answer.

And in that moment, she understood.

Her deepest feelings had long belonged to him.

He was the one she lost.

He was the one she had never dared to confess to.

He was the one whose tenderness she could never reclaim.

…

“Yunlan?”

A deep voice called her back, shattering the memory.

Luo Yunlan blinked.

The snowy vision faded, leaving only the heavy weight in her chest.

She drew in a long breath, suppressing her turmoil, and finally lifted her gaze toward the voice.

Inside the Luo family’s grand hall, on the high dais, a middle-aged man sat watching her, his face stern and imposing.

Her and Luo Jiutian’s father—the current Patriarch of the Luo clan, Luo Changqing.

Several elders flanked him on both sides, the atmosphere so heavy it pressed down on the air.

At the center of the hall, Luo Jiutian stood upright. His back was straight, his gaze calm and steady.

He neither moved nor spoke, but his eyes were cold and clear, facing the assembly without arrogance or humility.

Luo Yunlan instinctively stepped to his side. Her steps were quiet, yet they drew many eyes.

Luo Changqing gave her a glance, then swept his gaze across the hall. His voice was calm, his words sharp: “Everyone. I, Luo Changqing, have recovered the son I lost years ago—Luo Chen. Bloodline verification confirms it beyond doubt. As such, the previous designation of heir will be corrected as of today. From this day forward, the position of heir belongs to Luo Chen.”

Silence filled the hall.

A few elders shifted as if to speak, but none did.

All knew what this meant:

The boy once marked as the Luo clan’s successor, Luo Jiutian, was now cast aside. His identity remained, but his status was gone.

Luo Yunlan lowered her eyes, saying nothing.

She knew her father would hear no protest.

His decisions never changed.

Her fingers curled slightly, and from the corner of her eye, she looked at Luo Jiutian beside her.

He stood tall.

Though every gaze was fixed on him, though the heir’s seat was stripped away, his face remained unmoved.

As though the announcement had nothing to do with him.

Luo Changqing nodded faintly and continued: “Chen’er entered the manor this morning. He is in the inner courtyard now, preparing. Tonight, at the recognition banquet, he will appear and greet you all.”

His words paused. Then, slowly, he turned his gaze toward Luo Jiutian, his eyes tinged with something unreadable.
“Jiutian, you were raised in this house. Though not of the main line, you have always been steady and sensible, contributing much to the clan.”

Luo Jiutian replied calmly, “I understand. The heir’s position should rightly belong to the true bloodline.”

Everyone heard it, yet no one spoke for him.

Luo Changqing sighed, then shifted his gaze to Luo Yunlan.
“Yunlan. With Chen newly returned, as his elder sister, you should guide him, help him learn the workings of the clan.”

The elders nodded imperceptibly, none objecting.

But this time, contrary to her usual compliance, Luo Yunlan did not answer at once.

Her eyes lowered in brief thought. Then she spoke, her voice soft but cool:

“We can decide that… after Luo Chen appears.”

The words seemed harmless, but her evasion was clear.

Luo Changqing’s brows furrowed. He was about to press further—

But Luo Yunlan stepped forward instead.

Before all eyes, she reached out and clasped Luo Jiutian’s hand.

“Father, Jiutian has just returned. He’s weary. I’ll take him to rest first.”

Without waiting for permission, she turned and led Luo Jiutian away.

The hall fell silent. Dozens of eyes followed their retreating figures.

The elders exchanged looks, but none dared speak.

Luo Changqing’s face betrayed nothing. He only tapped the armrest of his chair, then said after a long pause: “Enough. Go. Prepare for tonight’s banquet.”