Chapter 1: Light Cheesecake Iced Latte Part 2

The mother and daughter had reached the kitchen entrance. Miao Ling eyed Miao Zhu and, seeing her silence, grew stern. “Not clear enough? Today was your orchestra’s charity event—nothing to do with some independent performer. Why’s he playing chauffeur and treating you to dinner? Or did you invite him to pick you up and arrange the meal?”

Explaining to a stubborn person was particularly foolish—Miao Ling wouldn’t think she was wrong, only that Miao Zhu was quibbling. This was a lesson Miao Zhu had learned young.

She just needed to accept and agree, be an obedient puppet.

“Got it,” Miao Zhu gave the answer Miao Ling wanted. By now, all the joy she’d gathered from her friends that evening had vanished.

Miao Zhu never defied her. “Got it” meant no need to worry further. Miao Ling’s frown eased. “I’ve booked you a skincare appointment for tomorrow afternoon. Dress properly when you go out—tonight we’re heading to the Sheng Residence.” She walked into the kitchen. The crab roe sauce cooling on the island counter had gone cold; she covered it and sealed it in the fridge.

Miao Zhu: “Should I bring the cello?”

“No.” Miao Ling faced the fridge, missing Miao Zhu’s mocking expression. “Tomorrow the Sheng Family is hosting a welcome banquet for the eldest miss—it’s a family dinner. Besides, the eldest miss doesn’t seem interested in that stuff. We don’t want to overdo it.”

No wonder she’d made the crab roe sauce—Mu Shanyi was back.

Miao Zhu remembered once at the dinner table, this Mu Family eldest miss had casually mentioned loving crab roe tofu. Ever since, whenever invited to Sheng Family banquets where Mu Shanyi attended, Miao Ling prepared the dish meticulously for her.

As for the Mu and Sheng Families—

The Mu Family had lasted a millennium up to Mu Shanyi’s generation, with deep heritage.

When Mu Shanyi was three or four, her mother Mu Lingyi passed away. Her father Sheng Hong was the son of the Mu Family elders’ old friend and had been childhood sweethearts with Mu Lingyi; their bond was profound. A few years after Mu Lingyi’s death, seeing Sheng Hong still moping, the Mu elders arranged a marriage for him. Two years later, Sheng Xingran, Mu Shanyi’s half-sister from the same father, was born.

“Your Aunt Ni just resembles the late Mrs. Mu, that’s how she got into the Sheng Family. Of course, she had some skills to seize the chance.”

“Her family went bankrupt back then—really down and out. I often shared lunches with her; she’s repaying my kindness.”

“And my cooking is great, I taught you well, your dad dotes on me completely—she has a lot to learn from me.”

“I remember your Aunt Ni studied cello for a few years. Good girl Longlong, I’ve found you a teacher—start cello tomorrow, no more piano.”

“Miao Zhu! Don’t throw a tantrum with Xingran—you need to make her happy!”

Mu Shanyi’s stepmother Ni Xiaoying had three or four points of resemblance to Mu Lingyi in face and figure. She had been Miao Ling’s elementary school classmate. They reconnected while shopping; Miao Ling was a great cook who also knew how to manage a husband and raise a daughter—plenty of shared topics. They grew close again, and Miao Ling smoothly connected with the Sheng Family.

Unfortunately, Mu Shanyi rarely lived with her father as a child and spent most of her adulthood abroad expanding the family business, so Miao Ling couldn’t get close. Still, for the Miao Family, leaning on the Sheng Family tree was nourishment enough.

Miao Ling acted as Ni Xiaoying’s sidekick, Miao Zhu as Sheng Xingran’s—and over a dozen years, Miao Zhu’s father transformed from running a small renovation firm inherited from his father-in-law into one of Cloud City’s top real estate developers.

This made the Miao-Sheng ties even tighter.

“Spacing out?” Miao Ling tapped the counter with her nail. “What has Xingran been up to lately?”

Miao Zhu snapped back. “Nothing much.”

“You’re both 24 already—don’t mention how she went abroad alone for years of study. Is it Xingran not getting it, or you not trying hard enough?” Miao Ling swept a dissatisfied glance at Miao Zhu. “If there’s no progress, we need other options. Cloud City isn’t just the Shengs—you can’t afford to waste time at your age.”

Miao Zhu was used to Miao Ling’s blunt style of laying dark intentions out in the open for “frank” discussion, but she still drew a breath.

In Miao Ling’s world, she wasn’t her daughter, had no human emotions—just a priced commodity for use.

If the Shengs didn’t want her, pack up and shop for the next buyer.

Miao Zhu didn’t resist, just murmured a soft “Mm.”

Miao Ling remembered something, her just-relaxed brows furrowing again. “Your dad’s still stuck on that new industrial park project in Su City—lots of headaches, hot weather making him irritable. His voice was hoarse when we talked today. …It’s too late now; tomorrow morning when you get up, remember to check on him.”

Miao Zhu: “Okay.”

The moon set and the sun rose. Miao Zhu followed Miao Ling’s instructions: she checked on her father’s health, changed into a proper skirt suit, and headed out for skincare.

Sheng Xingran messaged asking if she needed a ride; Miao Zhu said she was driving, and there was no reply.

Miao Zhu was supposed to arrive at the Sheng Residence by 5:30 sharp—the family banquet started at 6:00, and Miao Ling wanted her to use the pre-dinner tea time to chat about art or anything to showcase her charm.

But shortly after leaving the beauty salon, Miao Zhu got rear-ended on Ring City Bridge.

Fortunately, no one was hurt. Miao Zhu moved to the bridge’s walkway and waited with the other driver for the police and insurance to handle it.

Fiery red sunset clouds stretched endlessly across the sky; beyond the half-person-high railing, the water shimmered.

Her phone vibrated in her bag. At this hour, no need to check—it was Miao Ling urging her.

Miao Zhu stared at the water.

She suddenly craved a smoke.

She remembered there were some in the car—sure enough, in the glovebox on the passenger side. A slim black cigarette; Miao Zhu took one and bit it between her lips.

She leaned on the railing, didn’t light it. The evening breeze lifted her dark hair; her clear eyes half-lidded, the air filled with her light, captivating fragrance.

The at-fault driver flicked open a sleek lighter and stepped forward to light it for her.

Several car horns blared in succession.

Miao Zhu lazily turned her head, cigarette in mouth. A pure black sedan had pulled over on the shoulder. The rear window rolled down halfway; the woman inside looked at her, features strikingly beautiful, expression indifferent.

…

Miao Zhu unhesitatingly snapped the cigarette in two and hid it in her palm.

Mu Shanyi?

—