Holding a small silver spoon between his fingers, Jiang Ci slowly let the sweet fragrance of mango melt on the tip of his tongue.
The mango cake was still the same as always—same texture, same golden hue—but somehow, the taste felt different today.
It wasn’t bad, but it wasn’t delicious either.
His brows twitched faintly. Jiang Ci was never the type to force himself to endure something unpleasant. He turned toward the young servant who had just returned after discarding the pillow.
“The cake is too sweet,” he said calmly, setting down the spoon. “Tell the kitchen to redo it.”
The servant immediately bowed and responded, “Yes, Young Master.”
Back in the kitchen, Master Li—specially appointed to make Jiang Ci’s desserts—stared in shock at the returned mango cake, from which only a single bite had been taken. The round-faced chef blinked in disbelief. “Young Master Jiang Ci said it was sweet?”
The servant nodded. “Yes. He asked to have it redone. You’d better hurry, Master Li. If Young Master doesn’t get to eat something he likes soon, he’ll be in a foul mood.”
“I understand.”
Master Li quickly picked up a small piece of the returned cake and took a bite himself.
The flavor was the same as ever—balanced and delicate, with a subtle sweetness. There was no mistake in the recipe. How could it possibly be too sweet?
Regardless of his confusion, Master Li returned to his work and prepared a fresh batch.
Meanwhile, in the living room, Jiang Haoyan sat cross-legged on the floor, playing contentedly with his toy car beside Jiang Ci’s feet.
A moment later, the young servant reappeared, holding a tray.
“Young Master Jiang Ci, the new mango cake is ready.”
Jiang Ci responded with a faint “Mm,” and lazily reached for the spoon once again.
He scooped up a bite, let it rest on his tongue for a moment, then slowly chewed. His lips pressed together into a thin line, expression calm yet vaguely dissatisfied.
“The mango isn’t sweet enough,” he said, voice steady but cold, “and the cream is too greasy.”
His lips curved upward slightly, but it was a mocking lift. “Redo it.”
“Yes, Young Master Jiang Ci,” the servant said quickly, taking the barely touched cake away once more and rushing back to the kitchen.
…
Elsewhere in the city, a different kind of transformation was quietly blooming.
Su Yue’s old clothes—once purchased to accommodate her larger frame—had long since become ill-fitting and awkward. After her weight loss, she hadn’t had anything suitable to wear. Today, however, her mother, Fang Ru, had taken her out with radiant cheer, declaring that they were going to pick out some beautiful new clothes.
Fang Ru had always dreamed of dressing her daughter up like a princess. But reality had often been a bitter pill. Her daughter had inherited her fuller figure and plain looks rather than the striking appearance of her husband, Su Jindong. Fang Ru, who was never considered beautiful herself, had long accepted that her daughter might suffer the same fate.
But to her surprise—and delight—her daughter had changed. She was slimmer now, her features more defined, and her skin fairer. That maternal desire to dress her daughter up in pretty dresses had suddenly come alive again, burning stronger than ever.
For the first time, Su Yue held her mother’s hand as they walked into a boutique together. The experience felt new, unfamiliar—but warm. It brought a strange, fluttering joy to her chest.
Inside the store, Fang Ru’s eyes sparkled as she selected a white floral summer dress from the rack.
“Try this one on,” she said with a soft smile. “It’ll look beautiful on you.”
“Alright, I’ll give it a try.” Su Yue took the dress and made her way to the fitting room, a little smile on her lips. Her mother had good taste—she genuinely liked the choice.
Just then, a group of women entered the boutique.
“Qingqing recently won first place in a dance competition. My husband, Old Shen, was over the moon about it,” said a middle-aged woman in an expensive-looking outfit, her voice filled with smug pride.
“She’s a wonderful girl,” another woman with gentle features responded, while a teenage girl trailed behind them.
Fang Ru, who had been flipping through the racks, stiffened slightly when she heard that familiar voice. She turned around—and sure enough, it was someone she knew.
The well-dressed woman also noticed Fang Ru. She raised her brows in mild surprise, then smiled with polished politeness. “Fang Ru, what a coincidence. You’re out shopping too?”
Fang Ru nodded with a courteous smile. “Yes, I’m here to pick out some clothes for my daughter.”
The middle-aged woman was none other than Lin Sihong, the wife of the Shen family patriarch. Upon hearing Fang Ru mention her daughter, her lips curled into a knowing smirk.
In the social circles they moved in, Fang Ru’s daughter had long been the subject of ridicule. While everyone else’s daughters were lovely and charming, Fang Ru’s daughter—fat, dark-skinned, and dull-looking—stood out like a sore thumb. No matter how much wealth one had, some things, it seemed, couldn’t be changed. She had always been seen as rustic, a poor transplant from the countryside.
“Really?” Lin Sihong said with a faux-kind expression. “Wouldn’t it be difficult to find clothes that fit your daughter’s size?”
Fang Ru’s lips parted, just as the door to the fitting room opened.
Su Yue stepped out.
The white dress gently hugged her waist, flowing down into a soft skirt that swayed as she walked. She was tall and slender, her long hair cascading like silk. Her skin was fair and smooth, her features refined—charming and elegant.
“I’ve changed. What do you think?” she asked, walking toward Fang Ru with a natural grace.
Fang Ru’s eyes lit up. “It looks lovely! I told you I have good taste—this dress was made for you.”
For a moment, Lin Sihong was dazed.
The young woman standing before her was stunning—delicate and poised, like a blooming flower in summer. After a few heartbeats, she forced a smile and turned to Fang Ru.
“This young lady… she must be a relative’s daughter? She’s quite the beauty.”
Pride flickered across Fang Ru’s face. “What relative? This is my daughter—Yueyue.”
Lin Sihong’s smile froze.
Her daughter? This was Su Yue?
Impossible.
The last time she’d seen Su Yue, she had been bloated and unremarkable, her dark complexion and round face giving her the look of a bumpkin straight out of the countryside. There was no way this young woman could be the same person.
“You must be joking,” Lin Sihong said quickly. “I’ve seen your daughter before. Did you adopt this child?”
“What would I adopt for?” Fang Ru’s voice turned cold. “I have a daughter of my own. Why would I waste my time raising someone else’s child?”
“So she’s really your daughter? Su Yue?” Lin Sihong was finally forced to accept the truth.
Next to her, Su Yue tilted her head slightly, her voice calm and clear. “Auntie Lin, you must be mistaken. I didn’t have plastic surgery. I’ve always had a good foundation. Once I lost weight, everything naturally fell into place.”
She glanced lightly at the girl beside Lin Sihong. “Your daughter is lovely too. But her appearance doesn’t quite match the usual plastic surgery templates. These days, natural beauty is what people prefer.”
The implication was clear—and sharp.
Lin Sihong’s face stiffened. Was Su Yue suggesting her daughter looked unnatural?
“I tend to speak frankly, Auntie Lin. I hope you don’t mind.” Su Yue offered a sweet smile, her lips curved delicately.
Lin Sihong felt a rush of blood to her face, the color draining from her cheeks. She hadn’t expected Su Yue to be so composed—so sharp-tongued.
Her gaze quickly turned to the girl standing beside her. “Zhou Xin, you haven’t greeted Mrs. Fang yet. Didn’t you two meet once before?”
Zhou Xin blinked, caught off guard by the sudden attention. But she quickly composed herself and stepped forward with a graceful smile. “Long time no see, Mrs. Fang. How have you been?”
Compared to her, Fang Ru appeared a little more restrained. She nodded lightly and responded, “I’ve been well.”
Lin Sihong had never taken Fang Ru seriously—on the contrary, she thoroughly enjoyed watching this woman make a fool of herself.
In her eyes, Fang Ru was just a country bumpkin. Her every move seemed laughable, even her very presence felt out of place among the refined. How could someone like her, who looked like she had just stepped out of a rural backwater, end up being cherished like a rare treasure in the palm of a man as exceptional as Su Jindong?
It was ridiculous.
Lin Sihong knew well—there were countless rich wives in their circle who shared her disdain for Fang Ru, women who sneered at her behind her back yet secretly envied her to their core.
After all, Fang Ru’s husband wasn’t just wealthy—he was also strikingly handsome, devoted, and maddeningly doting. Which woman wouldn’t feel a twinge of jealousy?
Her eyes slid sideways to glance at Zhou Xin, who stood silently beside her. Out of everyone, Zhou Xin probably hated Fang Ru the most. After all, she had once been Su Jindong’s fiancée.
Fang Ru didn’t bother wasting words on Lin Sihong. She wasn’t here to play the fool just for the other woman’s amusement. Calmly, she picked out a selection of exquisite clothes for her daughter. After having the shopping bags delivered directly to the Su residence, she took her daughter by the hand and left without looking back.
“Anger level: 3.”
Outside the boutique, Su Yue clutched her mother’s hand. Just as her foot stepped over the threshold, a dull ache suddenly throbbed in her head. Even the chime above the door seemed sharper than usual, ringing out louder than before. She stomped her foot slightly, annoyed.
“Yueyue, what’s wrong?” Fang Ru quickly noticed the subtle change in her daughter’s expression and bent down in concern.
Su Yue smiled sweetly, brushing off the discomfort. “It’s nothing, Mommy. I just suddenly remembered where we’re going for lunch.”
Relief instantly softened Fang Ru’s eyes. “Anywhere is fine as long as it’s Yueyue’s choice. Mommy’s happy with whatever you like.”
“Then I’ve decided!” Su Yue nodded, her smile bright but slightly forced.
She gritted her teeth silently, doing her best to ignore the lingering pain. Jiang Ci… that stingy man! What on earth did I do to upset you again this time? Why are you throwing a tantrum now?!
At the Jiang family’s small mansion.
The young maid’s face was pale as she approached. Her hands trembled slightly as she held the small, beautifully plated mango cake. “Young Master Jiang Ci, the mango cake is ready.” Her voice was cautious, barely above a whisper.
This was already her umpteenth trip between the kitchen and the study. Even Master Li, the pastry chef who was usually the picture of composure, had begun to lose his patience. Yet he dared not complain to Jiang Ci himself and had instead transferred all his frustration onto the poor maid.
Jiang Ci took a small bite of the cake. His expression didn’t change. Lazily, he leaned back in his chair, setting the spoon down with a soft clink.
“Redo it,” he said indifferently, his tone casual and aloof—as if sending back a dish ten times over was the most natural thing in the world.
The maid’s voice quivered. “Yes, Young Master Jiang Ci…”
Return it again?
Even if it were returned a hundred times, Jiang Ci wouldn’t bat an eye. He didn’t think he was being difficult at all. To him, if the taste wasn’t exactly right, then it had to be remade until it was.
After all, he wasn’t the one doing the work.
When the footsteps finally faded, Jiang Ci closed his eyes in silence.
Back in the kitchen, Master Li stared at the rejected mango cake. His brows twisted in frustration. The man was about to lose his mind. Jiang Ci had once loved the cakes he made—especially this particular mango flavor. Nothing had changed in the recipe, and yet the young master was now rejecting it over and over again. Why?
“What are you all gawking at? Get moving and prep the ingredients again!” Master Li barked irritably.
—
Just then, Jiang Xuan was coming down the stairs when she heard the commotion in the kitchen. Curious, she stopped one of the maids to ask what was going on and why the staff seemed to be in such disarray.
By coincidence, the maid she stopped was the same one who had just delivered the mango cake. She liked Jiang Xuan—a soft-spoken, beautiful young woman who carried herself with gentle grace. Unable to resist, the maid blurted out everything she’d heard and guessed.
Only then did Jiang Xuan learn that the entire kitchen staff had been working non-stop, remaking cakes for Jiang Ci. What shocked her even more was the news that Jiang Ci had driven Su Yue out—and had even thrown away her pillow.
What happened?!
Even in her previous life, although Jiang Ci treated her coldly—like a stranger—he never went so far as to drive her away.
—
Back in her room, Jiang Xuan walked onto the small balcony, her gaze drifting toward the lush green bamboo forest that surrounded the estate. Her eyes lowered.
She remembered: these bamboo trees had been planted by Su Yue.
Jiang Ci was allergic to pollen. It was Su Yue who had ordered the flowers removed and the bamboo planted instead—gentle, pollen-free, quiet. Had Su Yue… truly started to like Jiang Ci?
After all, Su Yue hadn’t been pestering Jiang Muhang recently.
This should have pleased Jiang Xuan.
Su Yue with Jiang Ci. Jiang Xuan with Jiang Muhang.
Wasn’t that exactly what she had wanted?
But now… with Su Yue driven away by Jiang Ci, Jiang Xuan felt the heavy weight of guilt settle on her chest. It was because of her—because of her selfish decision—that Su Yue had married Jiang Ci. And now, she was even thrown out.
The unease wouldn’t leave her.
—
Gathering her courage, Jiang Xuan finally walked toward the secluded Xiaoyanglou.
Her footsteps were slow, hesitant. Her heart thumped against her chest, fear threatening to overtake her. But the guilt… the guilt was stronger. Thinking of Su Yue—of everything she had endured—Jiang Xuan forced herself to continue forward.
When she stepped into Jiang Ci’s room, a strange sense of familiarity rushed over her.
This scene… it was exactly like before.
Her fingers curled slightly as she took a shaky breath and entered. Her eyes were drawn instantly to the man sitting in the chair by the window, his head tilted slightly back, eyes closed, bathed in the pale afternoon light.
“Jiang… Ci,” she called softly.
There was hesitation in her voice, and a quiet tremble in her tone. Her fair, delicate face was filled with unease.
Jiang Ci’s eyes opened. Deep and dark, his gaze lacked all focus.
“The cake’s ready?” he asked lazily, his voice slow and indifferent.
Jiang Xuan shook her head, realizing belatedly that he couldn’t see.
“No… it’s me. Jiang Xuan. I came because I have something to say.”
Jiang Ci leaned back into the chair, his face impassive. A mocking curve appeared faintly at the corner of his mouth. “Jiang Xuan? And why should I talk to you?”
His tone was nonchalant—detached, almost cruel.
Jiang Xuan’s face turned pale. But she didn’t back down. She had to say it.
“I… I heard that Su Yue is gone,” she said, voice barely steady. “Can you… bring her back?”