Leave If You Dare! (GL) - Chapter 6

Qin Ximo leaned slightly against the sofa, her posture relaxed—a natural signal of her genuine interest. Lin Zi, this girl, though her demeanor had shifted, was undeniably the same person in both body and soul. Nominally the sole legitimate heiress of the Lin family, in reality, she was little more than a wildflower cast aside by Lin Wangran.

Yet Qin Ximo had no intention of showering Lin Zi with sympathy or pity. She knew Lin Zi didn’t need such things.

Lin Zi flipped through the guardianship agreement page by page. Over twenty clauses covered nearly every aspect of life—it might as well have dictated the orientation of her future grave. She couldn’t help but admire Lin Wangran’s thoroughness. What should have been a simple guardianship agreement had been twisted into a manual for molding a captive. Some clauses even dictated that Lin Zi could no longer wear “improper” clothing and had to style her hair in a ladylike manner.

“Improper,” in Lin Wangran’s eyes, likely meant anything slightly androgynous—no skirts, no makeup. Pink, frilly, and fragrant were the only acceptable standards of femininity.

Lin Zi smirked. Her so-called father, barely able to manage his own affairs, still found the time to impose these laughably archaic restrictions on her?

“Xiao Zi, what do you think?” Qin Ximo’s voice echoed softly in the room once more.

Lin Zi closed the thick stack of documents. “I agree.”

Qin Ximo wasn’t surprised by Lin Zi’s swift acceptance. The agreement had been drafted long ago—there was no room for negotiation, only acceptance or rejection. If Lin Zi wanted to reclaim her legal identity in D City, this was her only option.

Qin Ximo smiled faintly. “Your father will be pleased.”

Chen Cheng, the assistant who had been standing quietly nearby, stepped forward and handed Lin Zi a fountain pen. She took it and signed her name beneath Qin Ximo’s on the final page.

Chen Cheng retrieved the document, waiting patiently for the ink to dry before carefully returning it to Qin Ximo’s side with a respectful bow. Without reviewing it again, Qin Ximo rose gracefully, took a few steps toward Lin Zi, and—without warning—embraced her in a formal, almost ceremonial gesture. “Welcome home.”

Lin Zi stiffened slightly, instinctively pulling back. Qin Ximo, still holding her, felt every subtle reaction. The way Lin Zi recoiled reminded her of a startled young animal. Qin Ximo instinctively patted her back, and as Lin Zi’s tension eased, she found herself reluctant to let go.

Lin Zi’s body seemed fragile at first glance—Qin Ximo had even thought her nearly skeletal upon their initial contact. But now, fully enveloped in her arms, she felt unexpectedly pleasant. Lin Zi’s frame was elegantly proportioned, her shoulder blades smooth and delicately curved. Her head tilted slightly against Qin Ximo’s ear, her breath as light as gossamer against her cheek. Her skin, cool to the touch, was like a mermaid freshly drawn from spring water—sleek and icy, as if polished by centuries of nectar into the most exquisite jade.

Her scent was also delightful—fresh, crisp, and naturally bright, evoking the image of tender green grass breaking through the soil after a summer rain in the countryside. It carried a hint of sweetness, a touch of softness, fragrant yet understated. Qin Ximo slightly closed her eyes, as if time had frozen in that moment. Every detail she gathered from Lin Zi constructed a beautiful illusion—one that might have existed in last night’s dream or a past she could no longer recall.

Everything about this made her feel utterly relaxed and at ease. Lin Zi brought her comfort, and none of it had anything to do with desire.

“I’m sorry, I don’t have a home,” Lin Zi said quietly, still letting Qin Ximo hold her, as if stating a fact that had nothing to do with herself.

Qin Ximo paused briefly but quickly regained her usual calm and gentle smile. Before Lin Zi’s rebellious remark could draw criticism from the uncles, she skillfully intervened, asking, “Xiao Zi, is there something on your mind?”

In truth, Qin Ximo didn’t believe Lin Zi had anything weighing on her at all. Lin Zi wasn’t the type of girl prone to melancholy—that much had been clear from the moment they first met. So, when she noticed Lin Zi’s slightly puzzled gaze, Qin Ximo understood that Lin Zi was silently questioning why she had asked such a foolish question.

Lin Zi slowly stood up, tucking the signed agreement into her bag and assuming a posture ready to leave before speaking deliberately, “A home is where my mother is. But my mother passed away ten years ago. No one can ever replace her place in my heart.”

Lin Zi had answered Qin Ximo’s question while subtly putting her in her place, hinting at Qin Ximo’s unofficial status. Lin Zi admitted to a mischievous satisfaction—if Qin Ximo had been acting as her mother’s substitute all this time, she wanted her to know that overstepping into her mother’s role wasn’t something she would ever accept. Not now, not ever.

No matter how refined, commanding, or powerful Qin Ximo was, in Lin Zi’s eyes, she was nothing more than the well-dressed predator who had forced herself upon her in the hot spring pool. She was unworthy—utterly unworthy of being called the new matriarch of the Lin family.

The only woman Lin Zi acknowledged as the true mistress of the Lin household was her mother, Lin Ming Fengluan.

Ming Fengluan had never interfered in Lin Wangran’s business affairs, never appeared in the corporate world as the chairman’s wife, and never second-guessed his decisions. This gentlewoman from a scholarly family was dignified and graceful, embodying traditional virtues even in an era that championed women’s independence. She was so modest that even holding hands with Lin Wangran in front of their children would make her blush.

Back then, Ming Fengluan was like a palace maiden stepping out of an ancient painting. She meticulously cared for her beauty, always presenting herself flawlessly. She managed the household with five maids, two manservants, a chauffeur, and a gardener—the only employees under her command. The Lin Group was Lin Wangran’s empire, but the Lin family villa was Ming Fengluan’s castle. Within its walls, she nurtured her children with devotion, living carefree like the queen of a modern-day utopia.

Among the three children of the Lin family, Lin Zi spent the most time with Ming Fengluan, who also doted on her eldest daughter the most. Though Lin Zi was naturally reserved and distant with others, she was deeply attached to Ming Fengluan. Whenever Ming Fengluan was occupied with her own affairs, Lin Zi would often stay by her side without doing anything else.

Others might say this was Lin Zi’s mother fixation, but only Lin Zi knew it was Ming Fengluan who needed her company. In Ming Fengluan’s castle, there was a queen and a princess.

But now, there was nothing left. Qin Ximo’s arrival shattered the original structure of the Lin family like an intruder forcibly breaking in from the outside, turning all that was once taken for granted into the past. If Lin Zi still held any lingering attachment to the Lin family, it was only because it was the sole link to her memories of her mother while she was alive. The house still held Ming Fengluan’s room and her photographs, and all the servants and stewards remembered the beautiful and elegant Lady Ming Fengluan.

But now, Ming Fengluan had been completely forgotten, replaced by Qin Ximo. She thrived in the Lin household, accomplishing things Ming Fengluan never could—even fully usurping Lin Wangran’s position.

What Lin Zi found even harder to accept was that Qin Ximo had taken her by force. That woman was nothing short of an unstoppable Category 12 tropical storm. She had barely made an appearance, yet in an instant, she demanded everyone become her sacrificial offerings.

The danger level was enough to sound the alarm.