Leave If You Dare! (GL) - Chapter 7

In the chairman’s office on the top floor of the Donglin Building, the core administrative tower of the Lin Group, Qin Ximo sat in a spacious and comfortable armchair, leaning back slightly against the soft cushions with her head tilted up.

The vast space was filled with the gentle strains of opera selections. The indoor sound system, configured to Qin Ximo’s exacting standards, delivered an impeccable audio experience. The continuous flow of beautiful notes intertwined through the air from the bass speakers, as if drifting from a distant, profound place, yet also as if performed right before her. Qin Ximo’s eyes were closed, her slender, pale hands resting quietly on her knees. The gentle indoor breeze caused the strands of hair draped over her shoulders to sway lightly. She remained still, serene as an autumn lake.

A knock sounded at the door. Qin Ximo opened her eyes and spoke in a low but commanding tone, “Come in.”

“Chairman, here are the sales reports and market analysis for this quarter, along with the projected business plan and new product introduction for the next quarter,” reported Xu Yang, a department manager of the Lin Group, standing across from Qin Ximo’s expansive desk.

Qin Ximo pulled out the top document from the stack and flipped through it casually before remarking, “The third data point in the second report doesn’t match the summary figures.”

Before Xu Yang could react, she picked up the next document, skimmed through it, and said, “The fifth data point—I specified it should be precise to one decimal place. Why is it still rounded to a whole number?”

Xu Yang couldn’t even recall which project’s data Qin Ximo was referring to. Even if he could, he had meticulously checked every figure while compiling the materials and hadn’t spotted any errors. Qin Ximo was notoriously strict with the quarterly reviews conducted every three months. Failing to meet her standards meant forfeiting double the year-end bonus—a penalty that had already claimed many department managers. Some of the younger, more hot-headed managers had tried to challenge her by cross-checking the data in person, only to find that Qin Ximo’s calculations were faster and more accurate than a computer’s.

Qin Ximo had been the chairman of the Lin Group for less than a year, yet her extraordinary intelligence and emotional intelligence had already made her the center of heated discussions within the company. Her leadership style was a stark contrast to Lin Wangran’s—one was cosmopolitan, the other provincial. Lin Wangran had been content as long as the quarterly reviews passed on a broad level, often waving off discrepancies with a single stroke. Deep waters make for happy fish—his lenient, relationship-driven management style had fostered a harmonious atmosphere within the Lin Group, but beneath the surface, it had also intensified power struggles, even leading to semi-public factional rivalries. However, after Lin Wangran fell seriously ill and stepped down to a secondary role, Qin Ximo, the woman behind the scenes, emerged into the spotlight as the rightful new chairman of the Lin Group.

In a traditional family-run conglomerate, the sudden appointment of a woman at the top was bound to meet resistance. Many senior executives who had spent their entire careers at the Lin Group eyed the top leadership position covetously, waiting for an opportunity to seize a substantial share of power. Yet Qin Ximo’s arrival abruptly shifted the landscape. Contrary to industry expectations that the Lin Group would fragment and lose its dominance, it quickly regained its footing under Qin Ximo’s decisive leadership, restoring its vitality and maintaining its unshaken position as the industry’s reigning titan.

Even media outlets without soft advertising contracts dedicated extensive coverage to Qin Ximo, the new director of the Lin Group. “The Lin Family’s New Matriarch Takes the Helm of the Family Business, A Merchant’s Daughter Emerges as a Force to Be Reckoned With.” Business school professors even adopted the Lin Group’s turnaround as a case study. For a time, Qin Ximo’s story became a celebrated tale in City D. Moreover, with Qin Ximo serving as a natural PR element, the Lin Group’s stock soared, firmly holding the red line on the market charts.

As for Qin Ximo herself, amidst a mix of factual details and street gossip, whenever she was mentioned by the people of City D, many would likely praise, “If only one could raise a daughter like her.”

Whether as Mrs. Lin, Chairwoman Qin, or Ms. Qin Ximo in social circles, she navigated her various roles with effortless grace. Yet, the most striking of these identities was undoubtedly her role as the stepmother to Lin Wangran’s children, a position she assumed as his second wife.

Everyone knew of the deep affection between Lin Wangran and his first wife, Ming Fengluan, née Ming Fengluan. But fate played a cruel trick—Ming Fengluan died young due to complications during childbirth. After years of remaining single, Lin Wangran finally shed his “eternal bachelor” status and married Qin Ximo. At the time, Lin Wangran was past forty, while Qin Ximo had just entered her twenties.

Whispers about a stepmother of the same age were incessant. Qin Ximo was not ignorant; she knew untimely justifications were futile. Though she had no intention of donning the somewhat aged mantle of “mother,” weighing the pros and cons, it was essential to prove to both the public and the Lin Group’s veterans and newcomers that she not only held power but could also fulfill the role of a mother.

Thus, Lin Wangran’s upcoming birthday banquet, ostensibly held to “ward off misfortune,” took on extraordinary significance. Qin Ximo meticulously planned and arranged everything, ensuring every detail was thorough and secure, ready to commence when the day arrived.

Perfect and precise—all Qin Ximo needed to do was play the part of an elegant and refined hostess. However, she knew nothing about Lin Zi, who had been suddenly summoned back by Lin Wangran. It was as if Lin Zi were a blank in the Lin family’s history or an omission in the family records. Lin Wangran never spoke of her voluntarily. The only mention came one day when the second daughter, Lin Qing, casually remarked at dinner that it seemed to be some important day. After much pondering, the family couldn’t recall what it was—until Lin Wangran quietly said, “It’s your elder sister’s birthday.” Lin Qing, extremely embarrassed, lowered her head and pretended to sip her soup. All conversation ceased abruptly, the atmosphere heavy and stifling. Qin Ximo could see Lin Wangran’s reluctance to discuss the matter and thus never inquired. After all, Lin Zi remained exiled, nothing more than a fleeting, uncertain variable.

But now, Lin Zi had returned.

Qin Ximo had imagined countless scenarios for her first meeting with Lin Zi, even considering how to handle it if this rebellious figure publicly humiliated her. Yet, she never anticipated encountering a girl surnamed Lin during her rare three-day hot spring retreat—let alone that, half out of insistence and half swept up by temptation, she would push this girl onto the bed.

And this girl turned out to be the very Lin Zi she had been strategizing how to face.

Should one call it the unpredictability of life?

In Qin Ximo’s eyes, Lin Zi was like a snail with a hard shell—she had her own space, impervious to others, and no intention of stepping out.

Qin Ximo had investigated Lin Zi’s upbringing, but the information she obtained was scarce. So far, all she knew was that Lin Zi had incurred Lin Wangran’s displeasure during her teenage years and was subsequently treated with cold indifference. Over time, she fell further out of favor until she was eventually sent to a boarding school in the western region. Qin Ximo had even taken out a national map, tracing her finger across it until she located the exact spot where Lin Zi’s boarding school had been.

It was a valley nestled between several mountain ranges—geographers had given it a fitting name, the Dry-Hot River Valley climate zone. Though it sounded as romantic and mysterious as the Amazon basin of their country, the reality was far from it. After years of overdevelopment and severe pollution, the place had become a veritable wasteland—dry, rain-starved, and perpetually shrouded in swirling yellow dust.

To think that an underage girl had spent her formative years in such a place was nothing short of heartbreaking.

Qin Ximo stared at the tiny red dot she had marked on the map, resting her elbow on the sofa as she sank into thought. Although Lin Zi had signed the guardianship agreement, fulfilling Lin Wangran’s wish as far as Qin Ximo was concerned, Lin Zi showed no intention of abiding by its terms. Qin Ximo couldn’t tell whether this was due to lingering defiance from her father’s unjust treatment or a genuine belief that accepting Qin Ximo’s guardianship would betray her biological mother. Either way, Qin Ximo knew these weren’t issues that could be resolved overnight. Not that she particularly wanted to resolve them—it was just that Lin Zi lingered in her mind like a smooth river stone, neither painful nor irritating, yet persistently present, impossible to ignore, impossible to hold, impossible to touch.

Besides, Lin Zi wasn’t just a stepdaughter to her. Closing her eyes, Qin Ximo could still recall that night at the hot springs—a dreamlike memory buried deep within her, surfacing unexpectedly with the same comfort as sinking into warm cream.

Every expression Lin Zi made in the throes of passion, every whispered word, the trembling refusal she insisted on despite knowing she couldn’t escape—it was all like the finest aphrodisiac wine, leaving Qin Ximo craving another taste after just one sip.

Had she lost her mind? Lin Zi might have a strained relationship with Lin Wangran, but she was still his biological daughter—now legally Qin Ximo’s ward, someone she called her own.

Yet the mere mention of Lin Zi’s name recalled the crisp scent of grass on her skin, the slender yet graceful curve of her neck hidden beneath her shirt collar—not voluptuous but exuding the innocent allure and delicate sweetness unique to a girl on the cusp of womanhood. And then there was the way she bit her lower lip, her brows trembling, making Qin Ximo want nothing more than to wrap around her body, press against her warmth, sink her teeth into every quivering inch of her skin, kiss every mark left behind—and then, with unbearable force, claim her completely, coaxing out those shameless, wanton moans.

Could she really do such things to her own daughter?

Qin Ximo gripped her wrist, her fingertips lightly brushing over the back of her hand. This faint touch helped her regain composure—otherwise, she might have found herself parched with thirst.