Yu Yunfei gestured toward the line of models, her eyes fixed on Lu Zhiling’s composed face. “YL released a Guofeng [Chinese National Style—modern fashion inspired by traditional aesthetics] series this season, themed around pale celadon and gauze. I think it would suit your temperament perfectly.”
Lu Zhiling offered a small, polite smile. “I cannot see, Aunt Yu. It matters little what I wear.”
“Precisely because you are so beautiful, you must be discerning. Let me choose for you,” Yu Yunfei insisted. She snapped her fingers at a model carrying a delicate oil-paper umbrella. “You—walk again.”
The model glided forward, the silk of her dress fluttering like mist. As she slowly unfurled the umbrella, the room seemed to dissolve into a scene from a rainy Jiangnan [The lush region south of the Yangtze River] landscape.
“We’ll take this one,” Yu Yunfei decided. “You possess a tranquility that outshines the model, Zhiling. You will wear the dress; the dress will not wear you.”
“Thank you, but I have no need for more clothes,” Zhiling replied, her posture modest but firm.
Yu Yunfei laughed, a melodic but hollow sound. “No girl has ‘enough’ clothes. You cannot refuse Aunt Yu’s kindness.”
Lu Zhiling remained silent, sensing the invisible threads being woven around her. Yu Yunfei wasn’t just offering a wardrobe; she was recruiting an ally.
Gong Zihua, standing in the corner, felt her body go rigid. She had been invited here expecting favor, yet she was being treated like furniture while Yu Yunfei doted on the very woman she loathed. How? she wondered. How did this blind girl crawl into the center of the Bo family’s power?
“And this,” Yu Yunfei added, picking up a long velvet box. She opened it to reveal a bracelet encrusted with 37 multi-colored diamonds that shimmered like trapped stars. “I fell in love with this at the exhibition. Consider it a gift.”
Lu Zhiling didn’t reach for it. “It is too precious, Aunt Yu.”
“Take it.” Yu Yunfei pressed the box into Zhiling’s hand, leaning in close as the music swelled to mask their voices. “I liked you the moment I saw you. I know life in the Bo family is… difficult. The Old Lady is occupied, and Bo Wang is… well, he is what he is. If you have grievances, tell me. I will be your sword.”
Yu Yunfei’s gaze flickered to Gong Zihua, a predatory glint in her eyes. “Tell me what you want done to her. Aunt Yu will settle the score for you.”
Gong Zihua couldn’t hear the words, but the look sent a cold shiver down her spine, making her knees tremble.
Lu Zhiling felt the cold weight of the velvet box. There is a saying: “He who eats another’s bread must sing their song.” To accept this was to sign a contract with a devil. She wasn’t interested in the Bo family’s internal rot; she was a guest in this house of cards, waiting for her time to flee.
Smiling calmly, Zhiling placed the box back on the table and stood up. Yu Yunfei’s face instantly lost its warmth.
“The bracelet is magnificent, but I cannot accept it,” Zhiling said.
Yu Yunfei sneered, her voice dropping into a chill. “Zhiling, the most important thing in this world is knowing one’s limitations. Some men—like Bo Wang—are wolves that crawled out of the mud. A wolf has everything… except humanity. You think you can control him, but you will only lose your life trying.”
“Thank you for the warning, Aunt Yu,” Zhiling replied, her voice unfazed. She signaled to Jiang Fusheng and walked out.
“Stop.” Yu Yunfei’s command cut the music. The models vanished like ghosts.
She stroked the plush cat in her lap, her eyes turning to the trembling Gong Zihua. “Some girls taste a bit of success and think they are the leading lady of a drama. They covet what they cannot have.” She looked at Zihua with a sudden, gentle innocence. “Zihua… you aren’t like that, are you?”
Gong Zihua’s heart leapt. She realized the opportunity. Yu Yunfei had failed to buy Lu Zhiling, so she was handing the “weapon” to her instead. “No, Madam Yu,” Zihua smiled. “I am not like that at all.”
“I like smart girls,” Yu Yunfei purred.
From the third-floor railing of the main building, Bo Wang watched the two women exit. He lit a cigarette, the ember glowing like a solitary eye in the shadows. He exhaled a plume of smoke, his gaze dark as he watched Lu Zhiling’s receding figure.
He pulled out his phone. “Find out what Yu Yunfei said to her,” he ordered coldly. He didn’t believe in loyalty; he only believed in the inevitable point where everyone eventually broke.
Lu Zhiling stopped in the courtyard, the morning sun warming her face. “To the Old Lady’s,” she told Fusheng.
She had offended Yu Yunfei. To survive the inevitable blowback, she needed to understand the Matriarch’s true play.
Inside the Wutong [Phoenix Tree] Courtyard, Ding Yujun was waiting. The tea room was silent, filled with the scent of aging leaves and steam.
“Zhiling,” the Old Lady said, skipping the pleasantries. “I want you to help Bo Wang reclaim what is his. He is the rightful heir, but he has spent years living a ‘muddled’ life. You grew up in the Lu family; you know what a true successor looks like. Change him.”
Lu Zhiling’s eyelashes fluttered. The Old Lady thought Bo Wang’s obsession with her was a tool she could use. “Grandma… I am afraid I cannot do that.”
“I have lived a long time, Zhiling. I do not misjudge people,” Ding Yujun insisted. She took Zhiling’s hand. “If you do this, you will be the future Mistress of the Bo family. We will open the ancestral hall and place your name among the greats.”
“I don’t have that ability,” Zhiling whispered.
Ding Yujun’s voice choked with emotion. “Why? You stood up for him last night. You feel for him, don’t you?”
“I am sorry.”
Ding Yujun turned away, a bitter smile on her lips. “You pity the man, but your heart isn’t with this family, is it?”
Lu Zhiling had no answer. As she walked out, she looked back to see the powerful matriarch sitting alone, weeping over an old photo, her back slightly hunched. It was a sight of profound loneliness, but Zhiling didn’t turn back.
The first auction at Guiqi Tower was a triumph. The teahouse was filled with the elite and the rising middle class, all captivated by the “Jiangnan” charm of the venue.
“We’re building the connections we need,” Feng Zhen whispered to Zhiling on the second-floor balcony. “Soon, the Lu family’s lost items will start surfacing.”
Zhiling looked down and saw Jiang Fusheng chatting with Li Minghuai. The security captain looked tall and imposing in his tactical gear, a perfect foil to Fusheng’s bubbly energy.
Suddenly, the atmosphere changed. A group of bodyguards cleared a path. Ji Jing strolled in, accompanied by a haughty Gong Zihua. And behind them…
Bo Wang.
He wore a crisp white shirt, unbuttoned at the collar, with a dark patterned suit jacket draped over his shoulders. He didn’t look like a businessman; he looked like a predator who had just finished a meal—languid, dangerous, and impossibly sexy.
“Oh, Zihua,” Ji Jing mocked. “Your ‘fundraising’ events are so dull compared to this. This place has… soul.”
Gong Zihua sniffed. “It’s just a small teahouse. Small-minded charm.”
Bo Wang ignored them, his eyes sweeping the room until they landed on the stairs.
Lu Zhiling descended slowly, her hand gliding along the rail. She wore a simple white dress that glowed in the dim light like a mountain orchid. She looked elegant, untouched by the filth of the world—the perfect contrast to the man watching her from below.