Loving Him

Prologue: The Last Promise

My brother was dying, and all I could do was hold his hand and pretend a promise could save him.

Rain slammed against the windows of the military hospital, streaking the glass like grief sliding from heaven itself. Inside Room 407, under the harsh flicker of overhead lights, machines beeped a rhythm too fragile to trust.

Cheng Yu—my brother, my protector—breathed in shallow, ragged pulls. Blood soaked through the gauze at his chest, each stain a countdown. Around him, time held its breath. Only the hiss of oxygen and the mechanical pulse of a heart monitor said he hadn't left me yet.

I knelt beside the bed, soaked from the storm outside, hair clinging to my face, hands locked around his as if I could keep him tethered to this world. Tears fell on his knuckles—warm, useless, relentless.

"Claire..." His voice cracked like glass. Weak, but urgent. He opened his eyes and found mine, piercing through the shadows creeping in.

"Don't speak," I begged. "Please. Just rest—"

"They're lying," he rasped, his old sharpness flickering. "You know it. I won't see the sunrise."

"No, please, Gege, please—"

"I need you to promise me something," he said, his grip suddenly fierce. "After I'm gone... you won't be alone. You'll be safe."

I shook my head. "I don't want anyone else. I just want you."

"There's someone I trust. He'll take care of you."

My breath caught. Dread unfurled in my chest like a storm cloud.

"Who?"

He hesitated, as if weighing how much pain I could bear.

"Jingchen."

The name hit like a fist to the chest.

Lu Jingchen.

My brother's closest friend. A man made of silence and steel. The soldier I'd watched from across rooms since I was sixteen—too naïve to understand that admiration doesn't equal affection. The man whose gaze never lingered, whose heart once broke quietly for someone else.

No. Not him.

"Ge... you can't mean that. He doesn't care about me."

"I trust him," Cheng Yu said, steel flashing in his gaze. "He's cold, but he's honorable. I asked. And Father agreed. There will be a marriage."

The word shattered something inside me.

"A... marriage?"

"He owes me," he whispered. "He knows it."

"No." I stood, grief boiling into protest. "You can't ask this of me. This isn't your choice!"

"It's the only one I have left." His voice cracked. "Promise me, Claire. Don't fight it."

I stared at him, heart breaking under the weight of the impossible.

The brother who raised me, who believed in my dream to become a doctor—was offering my life as a farewell.

And still, how could I say no?

I dropped to my knees, resting my forehead against the hand that once held mine through childhood fevers and broken hearts.

"I promise," I whispered.

His eyes glistened. A single tear slipped free.

And then, he exhaled his last breath.

The monitor screamed.

Just like that, my world collapsed.

At the end of the hallway, Cheng Wentao stood still. The door clicked shut behind the departing doctor. His tailored suit was pristine. His expression unreadable—grief buried beneath decades of power and discipline.

He turned.

At the far end of the corridor, Lu Jingchen stood. Rain dripped from his military coat, pooling at his boots. His fists clenched. His face carved from stone.

"He's gone," Wentao said.

Jingchen nodded. "I know."

"There's one last thing you owe him."

"I already know."

Wentao's voice turned ice-cold. "You don't even know who she is. You better not screw this up."

Jingchen's jaw flexed. Rain pounded the windows behind him.

In his head, Cheng Yu's final words echoed, "She's good, Jingchen. Too good. Don't break her. She's not built like us."

He looked up.

"I will marry her," he said.

For him.

And for the promise that already felt like a chain.