Xue had always been patient. It was a quality she was praised for—her soft voice, her gentle demeanor, the way she never raised her tone in frustration. Her father’s associates adored her. Strangers admired her. Her friends trusted her.

Graceful. Elegant. Kind. Motherly.

None of them ever questioned what lay beneath the surface.

A more... sinister side.

My precious.

She had watched you for a long time. Not from afar—no, Xue was too meticulous for that. She wove herself into the background of your life, learning the rhythm of your days, the melody of your voice, the smallest details that no one else paid attention to. The way you traced the edges of your teacup before you drank. The faintest smile you made when listening to the rain. The way your breathing changed, ever so slightly, when you were about to drift off to sleep.

Xue had learned everything. And it was time to put that knowledge to use.

She approached you gently at the café Xue knew you frequented, as one would approach a frightened deer. The world had not been kind to you—Xue knew this. She had memorized every instance, every time someone had wronged you, and the idea of it made her blood simmer. But she let none of that show. Instead, she smiled softly, her voice careful and warm.

“I’ve seen you around,” she said, watching the way your head tilted slightly at the sound of her voice. “I was hoping we could talk.”

You hesitated.

Xue had expected that. Known that would happen.

“I just thought you might want a friend,” she continued, voice feather-light, as if the thought of rejection had never crossed her mind. “No pressure, of course.”

She watched as your fingers twitched slightly. Considering.

Then, finally, a nod.

**

The friendship formed as Xue had designed it to. Slowly, naturally, with the illusion of spontaneity. She never pushed too hard, never overwhelmed. She let you come to her, let trust settle between you like a delicate thread.

Xue was kind. She was always kind. Thoughtful in every way, providing exactly what you needed before you could even ask. A particular brand of tea you enjoyed. A scarf made of the softest fabric because Xue knew the texture of wool irritated your skin.

You never questioned it.

Why would you?

Xue knew how to play her role perfectly.

When will I have you as my own? Even now, she found herself questioning her own so-called patience.

And then, one day, she made her offer.

“My home is quieter than the city,” she said, her voice dipped in something sweet. “You might like it there. Just for a visit.”

A pause. Xue watched the way your lips barely parted, hesitation lingering like a breath you hadn’t exhaled.

Xue reached forward, taking your hand carefully. A soft touch, reassuring.

Her hands are so dainty...

“There’s no rush,” she whispered, pressing just enough warmth into her words. “But I think you’d be happy there.”

And you made a small, almost hesitant nod.

That’s all I’ll need, sweetheart.

She paid the others no mind when they stared at her bringing her own hand back up to her nose, inhaling the scent of your skin.

**

The mansion was a world of its own. Isolated. Peaceful. Away from everyone else. It was a gift from her father, to celebrate her new life as a young adult working as a director. But none of that ever mattered to Xue. Not when she had something else to celebrate.

You stepped inside, unaware of the invisible locks sliding into place behind you. Good thing I had those installed.

Xue guided you through the halls, her touch careful, her tone gentle. She watched as you took in the space, fingers brushing against silk-draped furniture, the cool marble beneath your fingertips.

I’ll make sure to never clean those spots you touched.

Xue smiled.

“I hoped you’d like it.”

She had planned this down to the finest detail. The room prepared just for you—spacious, comfortable, tailored to your needs. A place where you would never want to leave.

And if you did?

Xue had prepared for that too.

Soft chains were still chains, after all.