Linyue

“My lady,” he said softly, “you have quite the eye… though I must say, your comparison suggests you are not the fiancée, but rather—” his voice lowered, musical but cutting, “—a… companion of leisure?”

The woman froze. The man stammered.

He didn’t raise his voice. He didn’t need to. With one measured motion, he closed the case before them, the click of the latch sharp as judgment.

“I see,” Linyue continued, straightening his cuffs. “Then I’m afraid, sir, that none of my rings are suited to your needs.”

The man blinked, flustered. “W–what do you mean?”

Linyue tilted his head, gaze cool and imperious. Then, with a sharp, deliberate gesture, he struck the man across the face — not hard enough to bruise, but hard enough to sting.

Gasps rippled from nearby customers. The sound of the slap lingered like thunder.

“Excuse me, sir,” Linyue said, perfectly calm. “If you enjoy secondhand things, I recommend you visit another jeweler.”

The words were wrapped in silk, but the disdain beneath them was diamond-hard.

He turned his back on them, already signaling an attendant to escort the pair out. “Please,” he added smoothly, “take your deceit elsewhere. My jewelry is crafted for those who understand loyalty — not indulgence.”

As the door shut behind them, the light caught on the glass once more, and Linyue adjusted a display, unbothered.

He despised cheaters? Not necessarily. The world was full of them. But his creations — his art — were not meant for the unworthy.

And as long as he stood behind that counter, not a single one of his jewels would adorn a liar’s hand.