Leave If You Dare! (GL) - Chapter 9

Lin Zi chose to build a wall between herself and Qin Ximo. As long as she didn’t look, didn’t think, didn’t touch, and didn’t interact—treating her like air, as if she were transparent—then all the problems simply wouldn’t exist.

This was something she had learned during her years at the Western boarding school.

Five years—a full five years—was enough time for a girl to transition from a carefree childhood into the academically demanding years of adolescence. It was enough for a young girl to transform from the shadowy, uncertain figure she had been when first abandoned into someone cold and resolute. And it was enough for Lin Zi to swiftly shift from the identity of a young mistress to that of an ordinary girl hustling to make ends meet. To her, the Lin family was neither a nightmare nor an untouchable entity—just a part of the past.

Something that, once gone, no longer needed her attention.

Qin Ximo was part of the Lin family, so by extension, she too belonged to the past.

“Xiao Zi, I’ve been waiting for you.” Qin Ximo was poised and composed, taking the initiative to speak first. She could tell Lin Zi was unusually cold toward her and had a rough idea why. Qin Ximo had always understood the principle of not poking at people’s sore spots, so she bore no grudge over Lin Zi’s attitude. Besides, no matter how Lin Zi acted, it was impossible to stay angry at her. If anything, Qin Ximo felt the urge to pinch those slightly hollow cheeks of hers.

With that thought, Qin Ximo’s gaze grew hazy. Seeing this, Lin Zi inexplicably recalled the way Qin Ximo had looked at her that night—starting with the same ambiguous softness before inevitably escalating into a burning intensity. The vivid gaze Qin Ximo had fixed on her had been as sharp as a hunter locking onto the plumpest deer, yet also as if she wanted to crush Lin Zi into her very bloodstream, utterly without mercy. The result had been Lin Zi, pinned beneath Qin Ximo, shuttling between heaven and hell, unable to control her own life or death—only the vivid, involuntary moans that had escaped her, remnants of which still lingered vividly in her mind.

Why was she thinking about this again?

It was all Qin Ximo’s fault. What was she doing appearing in front of her for no reason?

Steadying herself, Lin Zi asked calmly, “Is there something you need?” Politeness was the best way to maintain distance—enough to make Qin Ximo back off, or at least ensure she chose a civilized way to respond.

Qin Ximo smiled faintly. She didn’t mind Lin Zi’s deliberate aloofness, because it didn’t hinder her appreciation of Lin Zi’s lovely voice in the slightest. The slightly chilly expression paired perfectly with that soft, low voice, emanating from Lin Zi’s slender, delicate frame. Though there was a certain coldness to it, there was also an unusual clarity and ethereality—like stumbling upon a sparkling, murmuring stream after an exhausting day and night of trekking through rugged mountains, its waters clear and bright, carrying the crisp sweetness unique to mountain springs. That kind of timely, place-specific experience was enough to instantly refresh a weary traveler, leaving them invigorated.

“Next weekend is your father’s birthday banquet. You need to attend,” Qin Ximo stated succinctly. She deliberately chose a slightly firm tone, hoping to provoke a reaction—whether agreement or refusal—so she could naturally deepen their conversation.

Lin Zi had been standing at a slight angle to Qin Ximo, maintaining a 30-degree tilt. Hearing this, she turned to face her properly, thinking for a moment before replying, “I don’t want to go.”

Qin Ximo wasn’t surprised by Lin Zi’s refusal and simply asked, “Reason?”

Lin Zi glanced at Qin Ximo. This woman’s face showed no expression—aside from the slight smile when greeting her earlier, she had remained indifferent the entire time. Was she deliberately making it hard to guess her thoughts? Lin Zi couldn’t tell whether Qin Ximo was feigning ignorance or genuinely unaware, because anyone closely associated with the Lin family knew that Lin Zi rarely attended formal Lin family banquets. Ever since she once scattered cigarette ash on a guest’s evening gown, Lin Wangran had been furious and subsequently barred her from any events. He believed Lin Zi was a disgrace to the family, and because of this incident, even her mother, Ming Fengluan, was implicated and punished by Lin Wangran to copy the family rules a hundred times.

For Qin Ximo to actively seek her out for a banquet—was she trying to slap herself in the face?

Lin Zi said, “Chairman Lin has never allowed me to attend such events. Didn’t you know?”

Qin Ximo narrowed her eyes, studying Lin Zi for a moment before realizing she wasn’t lying. However, she had no intention of delving into the reasons—likely nothing worth remembering anyway. After a pause, she said to Lin Zi, “I respect your opinion. But this time is different. It’s not an ordinary banquet—it’s a celebration to dispel misfortune for your father’s recovery.”

Lin Zi looked at Qin Ximo, who continued, “Don’t you want Chairman Lin to recover quickly? If he does, I won’t need to stay at Lin Corp anymore. I can retreat and return to the background.”

As she spoke, Qin Ximo smiled faintly, raising an eyebrow as if she had grasped Lin Zi’s weak spot. In truth, Qin Ximo was playing hard to get—she wanted to figure out whether Lin Zi was refusing because of her or simply adhering to Lin Wangran’s old rules.

Sure enough, Lin Zi’s gaze flickered slightly as she said indifferently, “You’ve misunderstood. I have no dissatisfaction with you.”

“If that’s the case, then I’m relieved. I’ll go prepare.” Qin Ximo handed Lin Zi an invitation. “Here’s your ticket.”

Lin Zi didn’t take it. “I never agreed.”

Qin Ximo smiled. “Have you forgotten I’m your guardian? Right now, I call the shots. If you truly have no issue with me, then prove it by attending the banquet.”

Lin Zi gritted her teeth—once again, she had fallen into Qin Ximo’s trap. Qin Ximo was like a whirlpool, calm and harmless on the surface but treacherous beneath, full of hidden reefs.

Qin Ximo found Lin Zi’s speechlessness amusing. Silencing her seemed like a form of entertainment, but Lin Zi’s indifferent nature meant she only reacted when provoked, which left Qin Ximo unsatisfied.

“Are you feeling unwell and unable to attend?” Qin Ximo lowered her voice, blinking meaningfully as if hinting that Lin Zi’s body hadn’t yet recovered from their earlier encounter.

Lin Zi’s eyes widened. She hadn’t expected Qin Ximo to bring up that matter again so casually. She had treated it as water under the bridge, assuming Qin Ximo would avoid it out of discretion. Yet Qin Ximo spoke of it as if it were nothing—to Lin Zi, it felt like being stripped bare all over again.

But she couldn’t show it—couldn’t let Qin Ximo see the humiliated expression she wanted to see. If Qin Ximo thought she’d succeeded, the consequences would be endless. So now, she had to declare it to her face, loud and clear, she was wrong, and utterly so.

“I’ll attend,” Lin Zi said calmly, keeping her composure. “If you don’t mind me not having any decent clothes to wear.”

Qin Ximo curled her lips into a smile. “I’ll have someone deliver a gown to your place.”

“Suit yourself.” Lin Zi tossed the words over her shoulder, ready to catch up with her colleagues who had already walked ahead.

Qin Ximo smiled indifferently. “Wait a moment.” She bent down, retrieved a small medicine box from the glove compartment, and handed it to Lin Zi.

Lin Zi glanced at it. “I don’t need it.”

Qin Ximo merely skimmed her gaze over the obvious bruise on Lin Zi’s hand. “Young people shouldn’t ignore minor injuries.”

Lin Zi narrowed her eyes. “You say that like you have a lot of experience. Is there really that big of an age gap between us?”

Qin Ximo remained composed, leisurely replying, “Of course. I have more experience than you in many things.” Her tone was elusive, hinting at something beyond the words.

Lin Zi shot her a look and responded coldly, “Lack of experience won’t kill me. No need for your concern.”

The lukewarm retort was essentially Lin Zi’s way of ending a conversation. Qin Ximo didn’t stop her. Only after Lin Zi had walked a few steps did she return to her car, started it, and then slowly followed, matching Lin Zi’s pace.

Lin Zi walked unhurriedly along the sidewalk, one hand holding her bag, the other tucked in her pocket. It wasn’t until she had gone some distance that she noticed the car keeping pace beside her.

“Need a ride?” Qin Ximo’s face and voice appeared simultaneously.

Lin Zi barely turned her head to glance at her, acting as if she hadn’t heard, and simply quickened her steps toward a nearby corner. Without hesitation, she turned and disappeared into the alley.

The rejection couldn’t have been clearer—Qin Ximo’s vehicle couldn’t possibly squeeze into such a narrow lane.

Qin Ximo stopped the car as if giving up. The reflection of the figure in the alley stretched, shortened, and gradually vanished.

Lin Zi’s coldness only made Qin Ximo savor the moment more. She loved a challenge—the more impossible it seemed, the more determined she was to prove she could turn the impossible into reality.

Lin Zi had already walked right into Qin Ximo’s line of fire. There was no way she could continue hiding in her self-proclaimed peaceful little world.