The Li estate dining room buzzed with polite laughter and clinking glasses. A crystal chandelier hung overhead like it was trying too hard to impress.
Lin Yuhan barely heard a thing.
His parents were glowing, proud. Relatives smiled too wide. And beside him, Shen Mochen — perfect suit, perfect posture — gave his hand a soft squeeze beneath the table.
That touch used to make Yuhan feel wanted.
Tonight, it felt… hollow. Maybe it always had.
Someone offered him a second glass of champagne. He nodded out of habit.
Then, like a crack of cold air slipping into a warm room, a memory broke through — fast and sharp, the kind that grabs you by the throat.
---
Four Years After the Engagement — Flashback
The hallway outside the clinic smelled like bleach and tired hopes.
Lin Yuhan sat there alone, hands trembling as he opened the latest report.
Negative. Again.
Second time this year.
He blinked hard. Swallowed even harder. It wasn't just about wanting a child. It was about trying. Trying to build something with Mochen. Trying to fix what had been slowly slipping between them.
Back at their penthouse, the silence felt personal.
Shen Mochen sat at his desk, face bathed in the cold glow of his computer screen. His eyes didn't leave the numbers.
Yuhan stood there for a second. Then two.
"Mochen?" His voice came out quieter than he meant.
"Hm?" No glance. Just a grunt of acknowledgment.
Yuhan tried again. "The test… it's negative. Again."
He bit his lip. "The doctor mentioned IVF. Or adoption maybe. I was thinking—maybe if I took time off work, it could help. I know it's a lot but—"
That finally got Mochen to look at him.
Not lovingly. Not even kindly. Just… tired. Dismissive.
"Yuhan. Seriously?"
His voice wasn't angry. That might've hurt less.
"You haven't stepped into the office in months. You resigned from the board to 'focus on us,' remember? And now you're suddenly thinking about more time off?"
Yuhan froze.
Mochen leaned back in his chair, sighing like this conversation was an inconvenience. "We have all the time in the world for kids. Right now, just—please. Don't bring this up when I'm working. Not helpful."
Then he turned back to his screen. Like Yuhan hadn't just offered him the last pieces of himself.
He didn't touch him. Didn't move. Didn't say another word.
Yuhan stood there for a long time. Then walked into the bedroom alone.
That night, he cried into the cold side of the bed, biting down on his wrist to keep quiet. He'd cut off his friends, let go of his career, all to be the partner Mochen wanted.
And in the end, he'd become nothing more than furniture in their home. A ghost.
That was the night something inside him started to fracture.
He just didn't realize how deep the crack would go until years later — until the crash.
---
Back to the Present
The chandelier above the dinner table flickered.
Lin Yuhan's fingers tightened around the champagne glass in his hand. A little harder, and it would've cracked.
He blinked once. The present returned.
Laughter around the table. The scent of lilies. Mochen saying something to his father, smiling. The same smile he used on reporters, shareholders, women in red dresses at galas.
Yuhan watched him.
He had called him emotional.
Difficult.
Too fragile. Too clingy.
But really, Mochen had just trained him to apologize for needing love.
Yuhan took a slow sip of champagne, the sweetness curling on his tongue like a bad lie. When Mochen turned toward him, brows raising slightly in curiosity, Yuhan met his gaze and smiled.
Not wide. Not warm. Just enough.
"This champagne," he said casually, "a bit too sweet, don't you think?
Like promises — easy to make. Easier to break."
Mochen blinked. The smile slipped, just a little.
And that was enough for Yuhan.
Do I look like a fool to you? he thought, turning back to the table.
Better check again.
The game had already started.