"Shiru!" Zhiwei beamed, completely oblivious to the sudden drop in temperature, turning to his companion. "Look! Brother Lin is back from the capital! The rumors were true!"

Shiru pushed his spectacles up the bridge of his nose with a single, elegant finger.

His eyes, the color of crushed jade, swept over Ji’an.

They took in her slightly disheveled hair, the gray cloak, and the faint, lingering scent of the Spices.

"Indeed," Shiru smiled, a perfectly crafted expression that did not reach his eyes. "I am relieved to see you in one piece, Martial Uncle Lin. The Eastern Wastes are famous for being notoriously harsh. Though it seems you have returned with an aura that is even more... vibrant than before."

Ji’an felt her stomach twist into a hard, unpleasant knot.

There was something wrong with the way Wen Shiru looked at her. 𝚏𝕣𝐞𝗲𝐰𝕖𝐛𝐧𝕠𝕧𝚎𝚕.𝐜𝚘𝗺

When Wangchen looked at her, it was with an aura of silent devotion.

When Hu Yanlie looked at her, it was with feral, primal hunger.

But Shiru looked at her as if she were a ledger.

He looked at her as an asset to be acquired, cataloged, and locked away in a vault where no one else could access it.

"Wen Shiru," Ji’an replied, her tone dropping into a cool, guarded young-master drawl. "Still following the Holy Son around like a shadow, I see. Are you hoping his righteous aura will eventually rub off on your business practices?"

Shiru chuckled, the sound like silk dragging across a blade. "I merely seek proximity to excellence, Martial Uncle. One must always keep an eye on high-yield investments."

Zhiwei, entirely missing the venomous undercurrent of the exchange, suddenly slapped his forehead.

"Ah! The manuals!" Zhiwei gasped, turning to Shiru. "We came up here to find the Codex of the Sun-Cleaving Sword! The elder said it was in the western wing of the second floor, and we’ve been wandering for an hour!"

Shiru’s eyes gleamed with a dark, subtle triumph.

He gestured gracefully down the long, shadowed aisle stretching behind Ji’an.

"I believe the martial arts codices are located three aisles down, Zhiwei, in the restricted elemental section," Shiru lied smoothly, his tone the picture of helpful companionship. "I recall seeing a glowing golden binding that matches the description. Why don’t you go secure it, while I remain here to... catch up with our esteemed Martial Uncle?"

"Perfect! I’ll be right back! Do not leave, Brother Lin, we have to finalize the hotpot menu!" Zhiwei cheered, turning on his heel and sprinting down the aisle, his heavy boots echoing loudly until he disappeared behind a maze of towering shelves.

The moment Zhiwei’s footsteps faded into the distance, the atmosphere in the aisle shifted violently.

The golden retriever had left the room, leaving Ji’an and Shiru alone.

Ji’an did not hesitate.

Her survival instincts, honed by reading countless Chapters of toxic web novels, screamed at her.

’Do not be alone with the manipulative merchant in a secluded library,’ Ji’an’s brain blared.

"Well, it was thrilling to see you, Brother Shiru, but I have some research at my hand to conclude," Ji’an stated flatly, turning her back on him and reaching for another jade slip from the shelf. "Feel free to calculate your profit margins elsewhere."

"Research regarding the Sect Leader’s returning prodigies, I presume?"

The voice did not come from behind her.

It came from directly beside her ear.

Ji’an flinched, spinning around.

Wen Shiru had moved with a speed that belied his scholar’s aesthetic.

In the blink of an eye, he had closed the distance between them.

He didn’t just step close.

He stepped into her personal space, utilizing a subtle, high-tier spatial array to warp the dimensions of the aisle.

Suddenly, the towering bookshelves on either side of them felt incredibly close, narrowing the corridor until it was barely wide enough for two people.

Ji’an took a step backward to reestablish her boundary, but her shoulders hit the solid, unyielding wood of the bookshelf behind her.

She was cornered.

Shiru stepped forward, perfectly mirroring her movement.

He raised his left arm, placing his hand flat against the wood of the bookshelf, right next to her head, effectively caging her in.

With his right hand, he slowly, deliberately raised the solid-gold abacus.

He didn’t strike her with it.

He pressed the smooth, cold, rigid edge of the golden artifact firmly against her waist, right above her hip bone, pinning her in place.

The closeness between the two was suffocating.

She could smell the scent of rare, imported sandalwood ink and cold mint radiating from his green silk robes.

Ji’an’s heart hammered against her ribs, but it wasn’t the frantic, blushing flutter of a romance novel protagonist experiencing a "kabedon".

It was pure, visceral revulsion.

She knew exactly who Wen Shiru was, knew the original plot.

She knew that beneath his elegant, scholarly facade, Shiru was a man who destroyed rival merchant families by driving them to suicide.

She knew he viewed human beings as mere commodities, breaking their minds until they were entirely dependent on him for survival.

He didn’t want a partner; he wanted a monopoly.

And right now, he was looking at her like she was the ultimate prize on the market.

"What are you doing, brother Shiru?" Ji’an demanded, her voice dropping into a harsh, flat baritone, her silver-flecked eyes narrowing with absolute hostility.

She didn’t blush or stutter.

She glared at him with the cold fury of a chef finding a rat in her kitchen.

"I am merely proposing a business arrangement, brother Ji’an," Shiru murmured, leaning in closer, his voice dropping into a husky, silky whisper that was meant to be seductive, but only made Ji’an’s skin crawl.

He tilted his head, his jade-colored eyes tracing the line of her throat, completely oblivious to the fact that he was currently attempting to seduce a disguised woman.

"Your culinary creations," Shiru continued, the golden abacus pressing a fraction of an inch tighter against her waist, a rigid, inappropriate physical barrier.