Chapter 1 (6): Each Person's Hell
### Jia's Perspective / Her Family Home
The light through the curtains was harshly white.
Though the hour was still afternoon, the room's air hung heavy as night.
How long had it been since she'd entered this room?
One thing was certain: she couldn't leave.
At that moment, footsteps, then the door opened.
"...You still don't understand, do you."
Her eldest sister had entered.
The firstborn daughter who held real power in the family.
The woman who married the partner chosen by their parents, protected the family name,
and naturally stood one level above everyone--parents and servants alike.
"Your husband, Li Haotian.
--He's doing nothing."
No greeting. No preamble.
"The market is paranoid.
The banks are distancing themselves,
and executives are scrambling to protect themselves."
Matter-of-fact,
yet a voice of "condemnation."
"Doing nothing in a crisis?
If you think that's 'courage,'
you understand nothing about management."
Jia listened in silence.
Before anger,
something terribly cold sank deep in her chest.
--Here it is again.
Those eyes judging Haotian,
thinking they "understand" him.
"Bound by bloodlines, shackled by emotion, losing decisiveness."
"A typical family-business failure. Only third-generation. Still smelling of mud."
The eldest sister stepped closer.
"You're equally guilty."
"You don't understand what it means to be 'a woman of a distinguished house.'"
Until that moment,
Jia had been trying to choose her words carefully.
But--
suddenly, something inside snapped.
"...Dajie"
To her own surprise,
her voice was quiet.
"How can you be so certain
that Haotian is 'doing nothing'?"
Her sister's brow moved slightly.
"You’re just assuming that his decision to do nothing is
the same as running away, aren’t you?
"--What are you--"
“Since he was fifteen—since his father died—
people have looked at him and seen only what came next.”
“Ever since then, everyone has kept putting things on his shoulders
—their expectations, their fears, all of it.”
Her sister said coldly:
"Results are everything."
Jia raised her face.
"Yes. Which is precisely why."
Clearly.
"Calling him incompetent before the results are even in—
that’s just self-preservation, isn’t it?"
The air froze.
"...What did you say?"
"You just want to abandon the man who looks like he's losing,
then claim you 'were right.'"
"That's--"
"It's not wrong."
For the first time, Jia looked her eldest sister straight in the eye.
"Haotian doesn't pander to anyone."
"That's why you're all anxious."
Silence.
In her sister's eyes,
anger--
mixed with a trace of irritation.
"...You're not in a position to spout nonsense about love and trust."
With those words,
a dry sound rang out.
"--You've lived without bearing anything on your shoulders."
Her voice dropped lower.
"Because you're the third daughter.
Expectations, responsibilities,
cleaning up failures--
we've shouldered all of it."
Involuntarily, she caught her breath.
This wasn't
logic, or family precepts.
This was
the eldest sister's own
accumulated emotion.
"I've lived as
'the face of the family,' as the eldest daughter,
giving meaning to every single smile."
"One mistake, and the entire family wavers."
Another step closer.
"And what about you?"
"'I love him,' 'I believe in him'--
you've always been
in a place where you could use such words."
--That's not true.
She almost said it, but swallowed it back.
She knew
the more she denied it,
the deeper this woman's anger would become.
"You, you see,"
Her sister's eyes glinted sharply.
"Are 'the one who wasn't chosen.'"
"That's why I can't stand
watching you play at 'resolve' now, of all times."
Silence.
"...Perhaps you're right."
Her sister's eyes widened slightly.
"I haven't
borne what you have, Sister."
"But."
Without averting her gaze, she continued.
"Which is precisely why I didn't run from
the one thing I could do: 'choose.'"
"I chose Haotian--
not because someone decided for me."
"Even knowing the fear,
the uncertainty, all of it—
I still chose to stand beside him."
Her sister's expression froze.
"...You're a fool."
As if spitting the words.
"You'll learn
just how fragile that 'resolve' is."
Her cheek burned.
"...Even so."
Her voice hoarse,
but certain.
"I am not the wife of a man doing nothing."
Her sister said nothing for a long while.
Then she turned away.
"Cool your head.
--As my sister."
Silence.
(What I chose
wasn't "righteousness.")
(It was accepting
that man,
silence and all.)
That, at least,
would no longer waver.
