But everyone knew that with a private jet, returning for a single day just to make an appearance was trivial. Combined with the absence of the old Chairman Bai, rumors of internal strife within the family intensified.
Old Chairman Bai still held the reins of power. It was whispered that he couldn’t stand the successor he had previously chosen trying to usurp his position, so he had shifted his support to his daughter.
It was exactly what one would expect from the Bai family—a breeding ground for strife where only the most ruthless survived…
With the old Chairman’s favor and grooming, people speculated that within a few years, they might witness a “coup” led by the “Little Chairman Bai.”
In the massive banquet hall, the spotlight always gravitated toward the same few people. The Ji and Lu families were seated at the same table, making them the absolute center of attention.
“Little Zhou, has our A-Yan caused any trouble or made any new friends since starting university? You know how she is; even I can’t do anything with her.”
The concern in her voice was marrow-deep, paired with a fragile, beautiful appearance. Even Lu Zhou, who knew the truth, was nearly fooled by the act.
Ji Yan’s eyes were like frozen pools, her damp lashes casting deep shadows over her gaze.
Xiao Lin had “made” her fish congee this morning. This deliberate, calculated attempt at affection only made Ji Yan feel more disgusted and nauseated. She had simply asked if the woman had forgotten that she hadn’t touched fish in years.
Predictably, the woman had played the martyr, acting as though she were about to burst into tears of self-reproach. The two men in the family, terrified that she might suffer a mental break and lose control at the banquet, had shielded her and practically forced Ji Yan to apologize.
Xiao Lin only calmed down once she felt everyone was revolving around her and “spoiling” her. But she had become increasingly suspicious of her daughter’s unusual behavior. Her neurotic sensitivity made her fear that her position in Ji Yan’s life was being usurped by someone else, filling her with a sense of crisis.
Ji Yan had watched the farce of her dysfunctional family with cold detachment. Hearing her mother’s pointed question, her gaze sharpened. She quickly tapped a few words into her phone and sent them to Lu Zhou.
[Mention others.]
Lu Zhou caught the scrolling text out of the corner of her eye. She exchanged a glance with Ji Yan, reading the shadows in the other girl’s eyes.
She spoke up, her smile flawless. “Auntie Xiao, perhaps you’ve been too busy with work to hear? A-Yan’s university roommates just happen to be the Shen family’s only daughter and Bai Ran.”
As expected, Xiao Lin’s eyes widened in shock.
“Even though A-Yan doesn’t live on campus because of her germaphobia, it’s inevitable that she’d be close to them, right A-Yan?” Lu Zhou added, giving her a pointed, playful look.
Beneath her exquisite makeup, Xiao Lin turned pale. She knew exactly what kind of power those two families held.
What if… what if my A-Yan is taken away by them?
Her husband had cheated on her over a decade ago. If she lost A-Yan too, she wouldn’t be able to go on living!
Naturally, everyone wants to hurt me. They just want me dead. I knew it!
No matter how vast their influence, she had to investigate. She had to find a way to stop them.
The eyes of the woman who consumed attention and love through her fragility flickered with the chaotic pain of a mental patient, yet they also held a terrifying malice.
She looked up, staring intently at the second floor, where the young successor—dressed in a tailored gown with a white blazer draped over her shoulders—stood behind Shen Yi.
Just then, the excited chatter surrounding the host’s appearance and the debut of the Shen family successor died down with eerie abruptness. The vast banquet hall fell into a heavy, stagnant silence.
The elites at this table were furthest from the entrance, and only now did they look toward the door.
What met their eyes was a vision of absolute purity, something that felt entirely out of place in this world of cold calculations and profit.
It wasn’t just because of the “White Jasmine”—the gown designed by an ordinary tailor that had taken Paris by storm twenty years ago. It was the innate aura of the girl herself, looking like a fawn who had stumbled into a world she didn’t belong to.
The heavy, ornate gown and the lace-like gemstone necklace were undeniably eye-catching. But the moment anyone saw her, they could only see that face—breathtakingly beautiful, like an ethereal siren.
In the crowd, her porcelain-white skin and perfect features were radiant. Her face, which had previously only been hidden or forcefully colored by those who coveted her, was now artfully touched with unforgettable hues of crimson.
The corners of her eyes were shimmering, her cheeks and the tip of her nose flushed, her lips full and crystalline.
As she lifted her almond eyes, a wave of timid alarm spilled out from those misty, pale depths.
Who could look away?
She possessed a beauty that was both ignorant and fragile, evoking an intense desire to protect, yet she also had the helpless, blooming vulnerability of a fragile vine waiting to be plucked. These contradictory traits—innocence and a dark, captivating allure—coexisted on a single face.
When the observers finally regained their senses, they noticed the cut of her gown. The bodice was wrapped in satin and lace, tracing her curves. Beneath her exposed shoulder blades, a palace-style corset tie was pulled taut.
Underneath the elegance was a hidden, magnetic pull.
Though she was slender, with a delicate neck, collarbones, and back, the crowning glory of the dress was the bust—full and blooming like a jasmine bud. Only a frame as fine as hers, which hid a subtle curviness, could carry such a design.
The skirt was a display of lavish craftsmanship, made of heavy silk and hand-embroidered antique lace, with layers of unique jasmine-petal folds shimmering with a pearlescent glow.
This dignified, conservative bottom half balanced the exposed skin of her upper body.
Beside her, the cold, glamorous “Red Rose” stood guard, willingly bowing her head just to help lift the girl’s train.
Like a girl blessed by the gods, the overhead lights of the banquet hall seemed to fall solely on her. In an instant, the micro-diamonds on her skirt lit up like a brilliant galaxy.
It felt as though the entire quiet world had narrowed down to her alone.
A natural-born femme fatale.
…Someone who shouldn’t have appeared under the covetous, greedy gazes of so many. She was a flower that could only be raised in the greenhouse of a power-holder’s doting love, carefully watered and tended.
