Morning arrived reluctantly at Xuan Estate, coaxed only by the faint slivers of daylight seeping through heavy, dark teal curtains. Xuan Jing lay in his bed, a fortress of thick, fluffy sheets and soft pillows that held him like a siren's embrace, murmuring promises of warmth and rest if he just stayed a little longer. His black cat—a treacherous little demon named Hei—poked at his cheek, letting out a demanding, high-pitched meow, as if Xuan Jing's slumber were some grand injustice.
"Traitor," Xuan Jing mumbled, turning his head away from the cat's persistent nudges. But his bed was working against him, its siren voice coaxing him back to sleep, whispering sweet nothings of indulgence and idleness. Why did the world expect him to abandon something as perfect as this? If his bed could devour him whole, he'd welcome it without a fight.
That peace was shattered by the door creaking open and the gentle padding of Wei Lin's steps across the polished floor. Xuan Jing's personal servant, Wei Lin, knew his master's lazy habits well enough, and his entry was almost ritualistic by now. With a quiet sigh, he slipped off his shoes, padded over to the curtains, and yanked them open, spilling unforgiving daylight across the room. Hei the cat meowed in approval, stretching before hopping off the bed to nuzzle Wei Lin's leg, clearly grateful for the intrusion.
Wei Lin sighed with a soft smile, running a hand along Hei's back as he made his way to Xuan Jing's side. He perched himself on the edge of the bed, glancing down at Xuan Jing's barely-awake form buried in a cocoon of teal sheets. "Young Master," he called gently, nudging him.
One jade eye cracked open, and Xuan Jing's gaze, icy as ever, landed on Wei Lin with a silent message: You're fired.
(Not because I wrote "Jade eye" means that Xuan Jing's eye colors are Jade but jaded posture. Jaded posture eyes are like Eyestrain being another word for it or sleepy eyes.)
Wei Lin chuckled, amused. "Good morning to you too," he said, undeterred by the death glare. This wasn't his first time handling Xuan Jing's unique brand of morning hostility.
Xuan Jing shut his eyes again, content to ignore the world a few minutes longer. He could hear Hei purring as she settled onto a pillow, basking in the morning light like some miniature empress. A traitor she may be, but at least she didn't demand he interact with the rest of the household. Unlike some people, he thought bitterly, already dreading breakfast.
And of course, footsteps approached outside his door. He waited, barely breathing, tracking the steps until they came to a halt. He allowed himself a smirk. Naturally, he'd go last. Xuan Jing was nothing if not consistent—why bother being punctual when you're the only important person in the room?
Finally, he pushed himself up, and Wei Lin, as was his duty, began straightening Xuan Jing's shirt. When his hands moved to tame Xuan Jing's bed-tousled hair, though, Xuan Jing shook his head. "Leave it," he murmured, voice still thick with sleep. He didn't particularly feel like presenting himself as "proper" today. Besides, he knew he could get away with it. His face alone lent him an aura of effortless elegance, even with sleep-ruffled hair.
Wei Lin chuckled, used to these whims. "Of course, Young Master." He smoothed out the last of Xuan Jing's collar and stepped back, his eyes lingering on his effortlessly commanding presence.
As they made their way to the dining hall, Hei padded along beside them, her tail curling in contentment. The trio's entrance—Xuan Jing, Wei Lin, and Hei—was unhurried, and when they finally entered the room, the rest of the family was already seated.
Xuan Mei, his stepmother, sat prim and proper, her lips pressed into a tight, disapproving line as her gaze flicked disapprovingly over Xuan Jing's appearance. Xuan Long and Xuan Jian, his half-brothers, glanced up, their faces pulling into poorly-masked sneers. They'd clearly woken up hours ago to ensure their appearances were pristine, yet here he was, waltzing in with rumpled hair, his expression as indifferent as always.
And then there was Xuan Rong, the father, at the head of the table. Xuan Rong barely looked at him, his attention fixed on his tea cup, but the dismissive gesture was more than clear. A ghost of a smirk tugged at Xuan Jing's lips. Oh, how he adored this morning routine—facing the people he despised, and knowing they felt exactly the same in return.
He offered a cool nod in greeting, giving each one just the barest acknowledgment before taking his seat with no further word. Hei immediately jumped onto the chair beside him, curling up with a regal air that matched his own. Xuan Jing placed a gentle hand on her back, stroking her fur absentmindedly, ignoring the piercing glares from his family as if they were beneath his notice.
"Well," Xuan Mei drawled, her voice dripping with thinly-veiled disdain. "You finally decided to grace us with your presence again, Jing'er. How considerate."
Xuan Jing merely blinked at her, his face a picture of serene indifference. "I figured the room could use a bit of decorum," he said, deadpan, and watched with satisfaction as her lips tightened.
Xuan Long snorted, leaning back with his arms crossed. "Is that what you call it? You look like you just rolled out of bed."
"Imagine that," Xuan Jing replied dryly, not bothering to look his way. "Some of us have the privilege of actual rest."
Xuan Jian, always the eager follower, jumped in, hoping to score points with his mother. "Maybe a bit more respect would suit you better, don't you think? Especially around family."
"Family? This family shit again." Xuan Jing's voice was ice. He let the word hang, deliberately vague as to whom he was addressing. "Interesting choice of words."
He saw Wei Lin suppress a grin in his peripheral vision. Hei, as if sensing her master's disdain, let out a faint hiss, her luminous eyes fixed on the family as though she were judging each and every one of them.
Xuan Rong finally spoke, his tone laced with a thin veneer of politeness. "Jing'er, as much as we… appreciate… your contributions, perhaps it's time you start considering your responsibilities here."
Xuan Jing looked up, the jade in his gaze sharpening. Responsibilities? The very idea amused him. "And what responsibilities might those be, Father?" he asked, letting the word 'Father' drip with barely concealed sarcasm.
Xuan Rong's grip on his teacup tightened, but his voice remained calm. "Responsibilities to your family and to this estate. You will have a role here, whether you like it or not."
Xuan Jing's lips quirked, a ghost of a smile crossing his face. He glanced around the table, from his stepmother's pinched expression to his half-brothers' glares, and then back to his father. "Perhaps you should consider choosing a better master for the Xuan Estate, one who actually cares about… family."
The room fell into an uncomfortable silence, and Xuan Jing leaned back, his expression serene. His words were a slap in the face to each one of them, but he knew none would dare respond. They'd all cultivated a fragile balance, and no one wanted to be the one to shatter it.
He calmly reached for a piece of fruit, peeling it with the same grace as if he were in his own private quarters rather than surrounded by people he'd rather never see again. Wei Lin, ever loyal, stood behind him, the faintest glimmer of pride in his eyes as he watched Xuan Jing handle his so-called family with the same indifference he reserved for flies.
Breakfast proceeded in strained silence. The tension was thick, but Xuan Jing remained unaffected, each wordless moment adding to his satisfaction. He didn't care about their resentment; if anything, it gave him an odd sense of peace. This was the Xuan family, after all—only appearances mattered, and beneath the surface was nothing but rot.
As he finished his breakfast, Xuan Jing rose, dusting off his hands as if to remove any trace of the encounter. He offered a final nod to the table, his tone dismissive. "Thank you for breakfast."
He turned and left, Wei Lin and Hei trailing behind, leaving his family to stew in their own dissatisfaction.