Chapter 7: Sense of Shame Part 1

Sheng Xingran dropped Miao Zhu off at the Cloud City Symphony Orchestra. The rift between them had not fully mended, but Miao Zhu spent the entire day busy with rehearsals for a new piece, and her date with He Zizhou loomed right around the corner. She simply had no time to coax Sheng Xingran at the moment.

As night fell, He Zizhou arrived at Moon Reflection Villa to pick up Miao Zhu for the party.

She carried a box of fresh lake fish, saying it was a catch from her family’s fishing. Miao Ling took it with a beaming smile and personally saw her and Miao Zhu off.

The two walked side by side. Miao Zhu caught the scent of He Zizhou’s perfume. Once they were both in the car and the door sealed them into the confined space, Miao Zhu was completely enveloped in the warm woody fragrance.

He Zizhou’s car was impeccably clean, with no clutter whatsoever—except for a cartoon doll clipped to the air vent on the passenger side.

Miao Zhu’s gaze lingered there briefly. Worried that she might think her childish, He Zizhou leaned over to remove it at once, the woody scent growing even more intense with her proximity.

Miao Zhu leaned back against the seat. “It’s pretty cute.”

He Zizhou relented then. She adjusted her glasses, settled back into her seat, and buckled her seatbelt.

“Today’s perfume suits you,” Miao Zhu said suddenly.

“It was a gift from Zishan. I don’t usually wear it.” He Zizhou’s ears turned red. She fixed her eyes ahead and slowly drove out of Moon Reflection Villa.

“Zishan’s the one who recommended tonight’s gallery party, right?” Miao Zhu asked.

“Yes, she’s my uncle’s daughter. She’s very easy to get along with. You two are the same age, so you should hit it off.”

Miao Zhu wasn’t very familiar with He Zizhou yet, but He Zizhou was eagerly introducing her sister to her. Miao Zhu found He Zizhou’s perceptiveness a bit slow on the uptake, yet her straightforward honesty made for a wonderfully unique personal charm.

Miao Zhu thought it amusing and unwittingly let out a soft chuckle. “What kind of exhibition is it?”

Unsure what had made Miao Zhu laugh, He Zizhou’s cheeks flushed along with her ears. “An art exhibition. Zishan opened a gallery after graduating and knows a lot of artists.”

?

An art exhibition?

A red light appeared ahead, and He Zizhou braked. “She said the party has some interesting activities lined up. We can look forward to it.”

Miao Zhu’s feelings were complicated, but she kept a smile on her face. “Sounds good.”

The organizer of this gallery party had chosen a three-story old Western-style mansion as the venue. When Miao Zhu and He Zizhou arrived, clusters of socialites dotted the garden outside.

He Zizhou showed the invitation, and they entered the first-floor hall smoothly. She called He Zishan to ask where she was, letting her know they had arrived.

Miao Zhu stayed by He Zizhou’s side. The old mansion’s interior was impeccably maintained—from the delicate window lattices and intricate floor tiles to the stately wooden wall panels, everything exuded a century of opulence.

They strolled along, admiring the evening’s exhibits. As they neared the grand spiral staircase, Miao Zhu stopped in her tracks.

Before her eyes stood an oil painting as tall as a person: torrential rain pounded relentlessly into the dark abyss of the sea, a small boat tossed high by the waves, rendered in oppressively muted tones.

At that moment, He Zishan lightly patted He Zizhou’s back. “Big Sis! I’m over here!”

He Zishan winked at He Zizhou. “You brought your friend?”

She eyed Miao Zhu curiously. What kind of person could make my sister wise up? When Miao Zhu turned, their eyes met, and He Zishan’s mind went buzz.

He Zizhou cleared her throat and introduced He Zishan to Miao Zhu. “Miao Zhu, this is my little sister, He Zishan.”

A bit embarrassed, she turned to He Zishan. “Zishan, this is the Miao Zhu I mentioned to you.”

“…Ah, um, hi. I’m He Zishan.” The smile nearly slipped from He Zishan’s face.

“Hi, Miao Zhu.” Miao Zhu’s voice remained steady. She asked He Zishan, “Have we met before?”

Oblivious to He Zishan’s odd reaction, He Zizhou chimed in excitedly. “Really? Where? What a coincidence!”

It was quite the coincidence. That oil painting was Sheng Xingran’s work—Miao Zhu had seen it in her studio before.

Since Sheng Xingran’s painting was on display, He Zishan undoubtedly knew her, and Sheng Xingran herself might even be at the party.

Miao Zhu had no recollection of He Zishan. Sheng Xingran’s social circle was vast; she’d met too many of her friends to remember every one. He Zishan, however, remembered her vividly—hence the reaction.

He Zishan’s lips pressed thin as she hesitated to answer Miao Zhu. Finally, He Zizhou sensed the off atmosphere.

“Zishan, what’s wrong?”

“He Zishan.”

The two voices rang out almost simultaneously. The named He Zishan’s palms began to sweat. She turned toward the source of the second voice, words catching in her throat.

Sheng Xingran stood just two steps away, her tone stiff as she confirmed with He Zishan, “Who’s this?”

She was asking about He Zizhou. He Zishan couldn’t help shooting Miao Zhu—the culprit—a glare and said helplessly, “Xingran, let me introduce you. This is my big sis, He Zizhou.”

Assuming the newcomer was He Zishan’s friend, He Zizhou extended her hand politely despite the poor attitude. “Hello.”