The Contractualists' Game

After the rain, the air on Yunqi Mountain was crisp and bracing. The villa sat halfway up the mountain. It wasn't large, but it occupied an excellent spot, sheltered from the wind and gathering vital energy. Whoever had chosen the site must have consulted an expert. Yet now, for all its supposed advantages, it felt a little too orderly and cold.

Shen Que opened the door himself. He had changed into a beige cashmere sweater and matching trousers and wasn't wearing his glasses. He looked less somber than he had at the funeral, and more refined and gentle, though traces of fatigue remained around his eyes.

“Miss Lin, please come in. My grandfather told me about you. Thank you for making the trip.” He stepped aside, smiling with just the right amount of politeness and distance.

The interior was done in a minimalist modern style, with broad expanses of empty space and stark lines. Sunlight poured through the wall of floor-to-ceiling windows, making the rooms feel almost too bright and open. Lin Zhixia's gaze swept over the entryway, the living room layout, and the decorative ornaments as if scanning them.

“I'm sorry for your loss, Mr. Shen,” she said politely. Without stopping, she walked straight to a bird of paradise plant in the southeast corner of the living room. “How long have you had this plant?”

“Quite a few years. My mother liked it when she was alive.” Shen Que followed half a step behind her, his voice steady.

“It’s growing well, but its position is letting the wood element run too strong, which suppresses the earth position. The southwest belongs to Kun and governs the peace of the lady of the house. You may not have meant to, but over time, this could weigh on the fortunes of the women in the family.” Lin Zhixia spoke evenly, as if discussing the weather.