2 was where she first met Ouchen.

Eleven to his fourteen that year.

Regaining consciousness beneath the shade of a tree, she found him standing over her, eyes shadowed with an eerie amusement as if she were some porcelain doll. He had agreed to her request but demanded in return that she stand barefoot on the lawn holding apples above her head for target practice. Dressed in his pristine archery uniform, he drew back the bowstring with a detached air and loosed it toward her! The arrow pierced through the apple atop her head just as its whooshing wind and sheer velocity left her spine drenched in cold sweat. That day she imprinted forever on her memory how coldly resolute this boy named Ouchen truly was.

From then on, he seemed determined to carve himself into the spaces of her life. Every time he returned from overseas trips, he would seek her out, bearing lavish gifts - a pink pearl necklace here, an emerald-encrusted bracelet there. Once she'd asked for a doll; in return came one so uncannily alike to her own features that it must have been crafted from her portrait. Meanwhile her stepfather's government post remained secure with increasingly generous wages, their dining table piled ever higher with gourmet meals, and Xiaocheng herself blooming taller day by day with untroubled joy both at school and home.

Though his possessiveness often made her uneasy, she chose to cherish all these blessings rather than question them. Those were the most tranquil years of her youth when she secretly prayed this peace would last forever... until Luoxi's arrival, until that cataclysmic event, until wave after wave of unbearable nightmares finally taught her - happiness built on another's foundation was but a mirage destined to shatter!

"Miss Yin, the young master is waiting for you in the parlor."

The Lincoln stretched in the garden villa courtyard as the steward opened her door. She lifted her gaze toward the surroundings: a stately three-story French villa with white façade, its grandeur undiminished by the autumn season despite perfectly manicured emerald lawns beneath it.

A small white round table stood exactly where she remembered it. The outdoor pool mirrored the cerulean sky in rippling blues beyond. She knew about the indoor pool too - Ouchen had always favored that one during his teenage years. Time itself seemed suspended here, unchanged for nearly six years as if their youth had never aged at all.

Stepping quietly into the parlor, she found Ouchen seated on a chestnut leather sofa opposite a French gentleman while the maid poured coffee between them. The room filled with rich aromas of espresso. Hearing her soft footsteps, he turned his head instantly, eyes darkening when recognition struck. Rising to meet her halfway, he draped an arm around her shoulders and guided her toward their guest.

"Xiaopei," he introduced in Mandarin that felt suddenly official between them, "this is my father - M. Robert Mesmer."

The Frenchman had already risen at Ouchen's words, his golden hair catching the light as he turned to meet her eyes. This was her first encounter with Ouchen's father; she'd never seen a photograph of either parent during their ten-year acquaintance.

Smiling politely, Xiaopei offered: "It's an honor."

M. Robert Mesmer appeared approximately fifty years old - silver-haired with blue eyes that radiated aristocratic poise blended perfectly with French romanticism. He took her hand in both of his and placed a courtly kiss against her knuckles, murmuring words in Mandarin laced with foreign accents.

"Father," Ouchen's arm tightened slightly over her shoulders as he spoke, "this is the woman I will marry - Miss Yin Xiaopei."

Summer's Last Breath III