Daniel
Daniel
Daniel had fought assassins in simulations, sparred in dojos across three continents, and once hiked sixteen miles on a torn ankle because the GPS lied. None of it prepared him for watching Vivian Li kneel in front of their mother in a move that somehow didn't look subservient at all.
It looked like dominance disguised as grace.
"I offer apologies for the dishonor of allowing my husband to greet you first. As his wife, I should have been at his side."
He was having a hard time following what happened after Vivian said that. He stood just to the right of the gift table, posture straight but relaxed, as if his heartbeat weren't quietly hammering behind his ribs.
She shouldn't be here.
Not because it was forbidden—if anything, her presence completed the tradition. But she had said she wouldn't come. She hadn't even told him. And he hadn't asked her to.
It was supposed to be symbolic at most. He was supposed to arrive alone.
So why was she here? Why kneel?
Why… smile?
Daniel picked the conversation back up mid-topic. Vivian was trying to give Ethan's father some sort of spell scroll. His father took the scroll with both hands, bowed faintly in return, and tried to hide the tremor in his voice. "This is… too generous, Lady Li."
Vivian offered the smallest of nods. "It is from my father. A record of our house's enduring respect for your leadership and grit. Please give us some face and accept it."
Robert Zhou, ever the stoic individual, simply nodded. Vivian turned to the twins, who gave her big grins, clearly starstruck. Daniel barely held back a blink as she gestured, and one of the attendants opened a chest with a flourish.
Inside: clothes, and lots of them. Not just beautiful—enchanted. Lined with WidowSpider silk thread. Each garment tailored in size and style to the twins' exact measurements and favorite colors. He could tell just by the way their mouths dropped open.
Vivian spoke softly. "Woven with phoenixfeather satin and lined with WidowSpider silk, blended with mana-thread from the eastern isles. They enhance clarity of thought and internal rhythm. They will offer a certain amount of spell protection. May they serve you in study, safety, and cultivation."
The twins bowed in stunned silence. One whispered, "She knew our favorite colors…"
How on earth had she prepared specific gifts in time?
Daniel glanced sideways at Mei, who stood near the parlor doors. She winked.
Another gift followed—this time for Ryan, his younger brother. A martial scroll so gilded Daniel could feel the heat of the mana signature from several paces away. Ryan took it with trembling fingers, eyes wide as orbs.
"And for you," Vivian said, voice gentle but exact, "a technique passed through House Li's outer disciples. Chosen by my youngest brother for someone… earnest."
Ryan nodded quickly. Too quickly. "Th-thank you, Lady Li."
Vivian smiled. Not widely.
But it was real.
Daniel felt his stomach twist in a way that had nothing to do with danger. He didn't trust moments like this. Not when they were this perfect. Not when the same woman had given him a speech about boundaries and disinterest just days ago.
Then again… that was the moment he told her he didn't want her affection.
He wasn't chasing her.
Maybe she was getting back at him. She turned next to his mother.
A second chest opened. Daniel couldn't see inside—but whatever it was made Margaret Zhou gasp.
"A legacy stone," she breathed. "Bound?"
Vivian nodded. "With my own memories, tied to my oath. A thank-you for raising a son worthy of House Li."
Daniel's mother didn't speak. She just bowed. Deeper this time.
Vivian accepted it with silence. Daniel looked at Ethan, mentally. What the hell is going on?
Ethan didn't answer immediately. Then: She said she wouldn't come. Now she is here and she didn't even tell us.
Daniel shifted slightly, still not moving forward. Still watching.
Technically she didn't tell us anything. We actually hadn't invited her.
Daniel could feel Ethan's hesitation. Vivian barely spared him a glance since entering the room.
But everything she did screamed purpose.
And now, with his entire family humbled, gifted, and quietly stunned, she finally turned to him.
Slowly. Precisely.
And met his eyes. She lowered her gaze. None of the edge or steel he usually saw. She bowed just slightly. Then she said, soft and composed:
"Husband. I am sorry for being late." Then Vivian smiled at him.
Just a flicker. Controlled. Elegant.
But it hit Daniel like a goddamn mana bolt to the chest.
His heart didn't just skip—it tripped, stumbled, and almost fell straight out of his ass.
Ethan, whispering from somewhere behind his ribs: She smiled at you. Are you okay?
No, Daniel thought. No, I am not. What the actual f—
Margaret Zhou clapped her hands lightly. "Everyone, let's eat. Vivian, dear, you must be starving after such a long trip."
The attendants scattered like well-trained shadows, and within seconds the long lacquered table in the east wing had been set. Roasted duck. Eight treasure rice. Dumplings arranged in spirals. Lotus root. Three kinds of tea. Some of it traditional. Some of it suspiciously high-class—like someone had whispered the Li name in the kitchen and the chefs had panicked.
Vivian took the seat beside Margaret without protest. Not just as a gesture of power—but respect. It was a place of honor. Daniel, mechanically, took the spot beside her. Across from them sat the twins, Ryan, and Claire.
Caleb was at the far end. Sulking.
As soon as Vivian's robes settled around her like silk armor, Margaret began the ritual Chinese mother act with the force of a typhoon. Apparently, Chinese mothers were still Chinese mothers, even in a fantasy world in another dimension. And that thought was freaky, but not entirely unwelcome.
"Try this, Vivian." A delicate scoop of fish.
"And this. It's lotus root with plum blossom honey—good for circulation."
"Oh, and the soup—we had it made fresh. They said you like clear broths?"
Vivian, somehow, received it all with grace. A nod here. A gentle thank-you there. She even raised her chopsticks when prompted. She wasn't performing.
She was… allowing.
Daniel didn't know what to do with that.
Claire, across the table, was doing her best imitation of a tree trunk. But the way her smile tightened with each new offering made it obvious. She'd expected attention. Deference, even. But no one had saved her a seat next to Margaret. And no one was asking if she'd tried the duck.
This is awkward, Ethan muttered.
Yeah, Daniel agreed.
Do something, Ethan added. This feels like a social bloodbath.
So Daniel, without overthinking it, leaned slightly forward and said, "Claire, I heard you've been studying the merchant guild reforms. What's your take on the new tiered licensing proposal?"
It was dry. Academic. Real legislation—but about as exciting as watching a turtle die of old age. Still, Claire's eyes lit up like he'd offered her a lifeline.
"Oh! Yes, it's fascinating actually—there's been pressure from the Spirit Banks to shift how regional influence is calculated—"
She launched in.
Margaret nodded absently. Ryan listened politely. One of the twins yawned.
Vivian reached for her tea. Quiet. Composed.
And then she spoke, addressing Daniel without looking directly at him.
"It's rare," she said smoothly, "for a husband to ignore his wife during a family meal."
Daniel blinked.
Claire went silent mid-sentence.
Caleb's chopsticks paused halfway to his mouth.
Ethan: Oh my god. What the hell was that?
Vivian finally turned her head—just slightly—and looked at him. That same smile again.
Only this time… it had edges.
Not hostile. Not sarcastic. Just sharp enough to make sure he felt it.
Daniel stared at her, caught somewhere between confusion and awe.
She was engaging with everyone. Margaret. The girls. Ryan.
She'd claimed the room, gifted them into silence, and now—now—she was reminding him that he was the one falling behind.
She's drawing you in, Ethan said, stunned.
She's not just tolerating the role. She's playing it. Perfectly.
Daniel turned back toward the table, re-centered his posture, and lifted his tea.
"Apologies," he said with a slight smile. "I was just overwhelmed. My wife's presence tends to do that."
A ripple of laughter.
Margaret beamed.
Even Vivian's smile twitched—just slightly. Claire picked up her teacup and sipped in silence.
And across the table, Caleb finally put his chopsticks down.
But he didn't speak.
Not once.