The sprawling mansion felt less like a home and more like a gilded cage. Lu Manman moved through its polished halls, her sensible heels clicking on Italian marble. Everywhere she looked, the details screamed opulence: rococo mirrors, silk tapestries, genuine oil paintings. Yet, a peculiar silence clung to the air, broken only by the distant clatter from what must be the kitchen or the faint rustle of fabric as someone hurried past. She noticed the staff first. A young woman, perhaps a maid, was dusting a console table near a towering orchid arrangement. As Lu Manman’s shadow fell across her, the maid flinched, her hand freezing mid-air. Her head snapped up, eyes wide and startled, before immediately dropping to the floor. She mumbled a quick, almost inaudible apology, her body hunching slightly as if preparing for a blow, then scuttled away with an unnatural speed, disappearing around the corner. Another time, a man in a crisp uniform, a butler perhaps, was arranging flowers in a massive crystal vase. He paused, his gaze flicking to Lu Manman with a flash of something unreadable – fear, perhaps, or resentment – before he too bowed his head and retreated, his steps unusually swift. They moved like ghosts, avoiding her eyes, their movements economical and silent, like creatures of the shadows. Lu Manman felt a chill that had nothing to do with the air conditioning. These weren't servants who respected their mistress; they were people terrified of her. The previous Mrs. Lu, her host body, hadn't just been neglectful; she had been a monster. This was the confirmation she needed, laid bare in every averted gaze, every quick exit. The reputation wasn’t just bad; it was poisonous. How was she supposed to mend shattered familial bonds when even the hired help treated her like a venomous snake? The task felt heavier, more impossible than ever before. She reached the vast living room, sunlight streaming through floor-to-ceiling windows, illuminating dust motes dancing in the air. A grand piano sat untouched in a corner, its polished surface reflecting the light. There was no warmth here, no sign of life beyond the rigid perfection. This house was a monument to wealth, not a place where children laughed or felt safe. The realization solidified: her first hurdle wasn't just the children's hostility, but the toxic atmosphere the original Mrs. Lu had created. She needed to dismantle it, brick by expensive brick. --- Lu Manman returned to her study, the expansive room dominated by a dark mahogany desk. She pressed a button on the intercom, her voice cutting through the silence. “Xiao Yu. Come to my study.” A beat of silence, then a faint, shaky “Yes, Mrs. Lu.” The young maid, Xiao Yu, appeared moments later, her hands clasped tightly in front of her, her head bowed. She kept her gaze fixed on the Persian rug beneath her feet, her shoulders hunched. The fear emanating from her was almost palpable, a thick, suffocating wave. Lu Manman’s stomach tightened. This was going to be harder than she thought. “I need you to go shopping,” Lu Manman stated, her voice flat, betraying none of the internal discomfort. She reached for the stylus on her tablet, ready to make a list. “For the children. I want the most expensive toys. The latest models. Limited editions, if you can find them. For Li Cuan, something related to coding or business strategy. For Li Ming, whatever high-end, educational toys are popular with toddlers. And for Li Wei, designer clothes, whatever the current trends are for teenagers, and the most coveted makeup palettes.” Xiao Yu shifted, her fingers nervously pleating the fabric of her apron. “All three… Mrs. Lu?” Her voice was barely a whisper. “Yes, all three,” Lu Manman affirmed, a flicker of irritation sparking within her. Was this so unusual? “And don’t hold back on the budget. Get everything. I want their rooms overflowing. I want them to have the best of everything.” She imagined a wave of gratitude, a softening of their expressions. This was how problems were solved in her world: by throwing resources at them until they capitulated. Money was the great equalizer, the universal language. It had always worked before. “Yes, Mrs. Lu. Immediately,” Xiao Yu stammered, turning to leave. She nearly tripped over her own feet in her haste, catching herself on the doorframe. Her eyes darted back to Lu Manman for a split second, a look of bewildered terror, before she fled the room. Lu Manman watched her go, a sigh escaping her lips. The girl was practically vibrating with fear. This deep-seated aversion wasn't going to vanish overnight, but surely, a mountain of luxury goods would at least start to chip away at the children’s defenses. It had to. --- The mansion was abuzz for the next few hours. Delivery trucks, sleek and unmarked, pulled up the winding driveway. Housekeepers and maids, under Xiao Yu’s frantic direction, ferried large, branded bags and meticulously wrapped boxes into the children’s respective rooms. Lu Manman supervised from a distance, observing the flurry of activity. The sheer volume of purchases was staggering even to her, a veteran of corporate extravagance. She finally ventured into Li Ming’s room. It was transformed. Plush carpets covered the floor, new, vibrant paintings adorned the walls, and a miniature race track, complete with remote-controlled luxury cars, snaked across one corner. Shelves overflowed with limited-edition action figures, building block sets, and interactive electronic gadgets. A life-sized, articulated robot, sleek and metallic, stood sentinel by his bed. Li Ming sat on the floor, a tiny figure dwarfed by the avalanche of toys. He clutched a worn, faded plush elephant to his chest, his eyes wide and unblinking. His gaze wasn't on the shimmering new playthings, but on the floor between his small, bare feet. Not a single toy had been touched, unwrapped, or even acknowledged. The room, bursting with color and newness, felt strangely lifeless around him. Lu Manman felt a familiar frustration simmer. This wasn't the reaction she expected. Where was the excitement? The awe? The grasping hands, the delighted squeals? She had spent a small fortune, chosen items that would make any child's eyes light up. Instead, Li Ming looked… numb. His small chest rose and fell in shallow breaths. Her corporate strategies, her belief that every problem had a transactional solution, were hitting a wall. He just stared at the floor, clutching that threadbare toy like a life raft in a sea of forgotten treasures. It was a silent, potent rejection. --- Lu Manman knelt, careful not to wrinkle her silk trousers. She tried to soften her expression, to make her face approachable, but it felt stiff, alien. “Li Ming,” she began, her voice a little too loud in the silent room. She pointed to the robot, its polished chrome gleaming. “Look. It’s a new friend. He can talk. He can play.” Li Ming didn’t look up. His grip on the worn elephant tightened, his knuckles white. A small whimper escaped him, almost imperceptible. He shifted further away from her, pressing his back against the wall, making himself as small as possible. His tiny shoulders trembled. An uncomfortable warmth spread through Lu Manman’s chest, a sensation she hadn’t felt in years. It was inadequacy, sharp and unwelcome. She wasn’t good at this. She wasn’t good at *him*. Her hands felt clumsy, useless. What was she supposed to do? She couldn't reason with him like a subordinate, couldn't incentivize him with bonuses. This was uncharted territory, and she felt hopelessly unprepared. She picked up a brightly colored race car, a miniature Ferrari, and rolled it across the floor towards him. It stopped just inches from his small feet. “See? It’s fast. Do you want to try?” His eyes, when they finally flickered up, were brimming with unshed tears. They were wide with a terror that clawed at her, an animal fear that made her freeze. It wasn’t just disinterest; it was active revulsion. He saw *her*, not the car, not the robot, not the overflowing bounty. He saw the previous Mrs. Lu, the mother who had inflicted unimaginable pain. He pulled his legs tighter to his chest, his chin trembling. A tiny gasp of fear. The distance between them wasn't physical; it was an emotional chasm carved by years of neglect and unkindness. Lu Manman felt a profound sense of helplessness. All her power, her wealth, her corporate cunning, meant nothing here. It was like trying to use a spreadsheet to solve a broken heart. Her jaw clenched. She needed a new strategy, and quickly. --- Lu Manman slowly stood, retreating a step, giving Li Ming more space. His breath hitched, a tiny sob escaping him. He squeezed his eyes shut, burying his face deeper into the plush elephant. It was clear she was only making things worse. Her presence was a trigger, not a comfort. Her gaze landed on the gleaming robot again, the one she had specifically picked out, believing it to be the ultimate distraction. It cost a small fortune, a limited-edition model imported from Japan, capable of complex interactions. She had imagined him laughing, engaging with it, forgetting his fears for a moment. Instead, he was shrinking away, trapped by his own terror. Frustration, raw and sharp, flared within her. She had tried. She had *spent*. This was supposed to work. This was her solution. Why was it failing so spectacularly? The system had promised points for spending money on the children. Where were they? She had literally thrown money at the problem, the most expensive, lavish money possible. Li Ming, still huddled against the wall, let out another small, pained cry. His eyes darted open, unfocused and tear-filled. He saw the robot, perhaps, or perhaps it was just the looming figure of Lu Manman. With a sudden, surprising burst of strength, he reached out a small arm, not to touch, but to push. His tiny hand connected with the robot’s polished chassis. The large, expensive machine, not quite stable on its elaborate stand, wobbled. It toppled with a sickening crash, landing on its side with a sharp clang, one of its articulated arms breaking off with a distinct snap. It lay there, inert, a fallen idol of failed intentions. As Li Ming threw a brand new, limited-edition robot across the room, the system chimed, 'Money Spent: 50,000. Points Earned: 0. Invalid emotional expenditure.'

First Rule: Buy Silence