Life would've been perfect if it ended over a peaceful family dinner—but perfection, as always, had other plans.
An Ning stepped through the door, laughter drifted out from the living room—bright, overlapping, unmistakably familial.
"Ningning, you are home." Her mother rose from the couch, warmth lighting her face as she walked over to An Ning. "I heard you've decided on the penthouse near your company? Are you sure that's fine? There are other options too—"
"That is fine," An Ning said lightly. "I like the view of the sunset from the window."
"Alright, but if you ever change your mind, there are plenty of others to pick from." Her mother took her hand and led her toward the living room. The laughter she'd heard earlier faltered slightly as they approached.
"Come," her mother said, her voice carrying easy warmth. "Let me introduce you to your uncle's family—I'm sure they'll be happy to meet you."
"Sure," An Ning nodded, as she followed her to the living room.
Her second uncle—her father's younger brother—An Zhiguo, was seated on the main sofa, posture relaxed in a way that spoke of long familiarity rather than deference.
Beside him sat his wife, Liu Yufang, elegantly dressed in a way that tried a little too hard to look effortless.
Her smile widened when she saw An Ning, though her eyes carried the faint sharpness of someone quietly assessing worth rather than people.
On the armchair next to them sat a girl younger than An Ning—her cousin, An Ya.
Pretty, stylish, and radiating the kind of confidence that came from having always been the family's princess.
Until, of course, the real one came home.
Unlike her parents, who managed to mask their real emotions behind the warm smiles, An Ya had yet to master that particular art.
The disdain was in her eyes—clear, unbothered, and entirely unmasked. She made no move to greet An Ning, nor any effort to pretend otherwise.
Her brother, by contrast, offered a polite smile.
"I'm An Yanming," he said. "Welcome home."
Liu Yufang shot her daughter a warning look, prompting a reluctant, "…Nice to meet you, I'm An Ya."
The faint dimming of Gu Yuehua's smile didn't go unnoticed. Liu Yufang recovered swiftly, her tone honeyed with apology. "Don't mind her, Yuehua. An Ya hasn't been feeling well these past few days."
Gu Yuehua didn't respond, though the polite curve of her lips had cooled by a few degrees. It was clear enough—she was not pleased.
An Ya, meanwhile, had to work very hard to keep her expression neutral.
But jealousy simmered beneath her calm facade.She used to be the center of attention in this family—now, all of it was directed at An Ning.
And in that moment, she understood.
Gu Yuehua had been kind to her before, but never like this.
Never with that gentleness—the soft voice, the patient smile, the quiet pride that lingered in every glance meant for An Ning.
It stung more than she'd ever admit.
The air in the living room grew still for a half a heartbeat—the kind of silence that hummed with all the things no one wanted to acknowledge.
Then, as if on cue, An Zhiguo chuckled lightly. "Ah, it's good that Ningning is home," he said, tone warm and practiced. "Your aunt's been talking about a family dinner for a while now. It's not often everyone's around."
The remark landed gently, but to An Ning's ears, it carried a faint echo of possession—as if the house, the family, the warmth, had always belonged to them first.
"Dinner is ready," the butler announced politely from the doorway.
Gu Yuehua's expression softened, the practiced warmth of a hostess slipping easily into place.
"Perfect timing," she said, rising with that effortless grace that came from years of hosting. "Come, let's all eat before it gets cold."
The dining room glowed under the chandelier's light—elegant, comfortable, the kind of wealth that spoke for itself.
An Ning followed behind, the murmur of polite conversation filling the air. Across the table, her uncle's family took their seats with the ease of people who felt at home in another's house.
"Yancheng has a meeting; he won't be coming home tonight." An Ning's father said as he entered last, taking his seat at the head of the table.
Polite murmurs followed, the clink of cutlery softening the silence that trailed his words.
An Zhiguo was first to speak, his tone light and affable. "I saw Yancheng's name in the papers again last week. The new urban project your company took on—quite impressive."
An Hongsheng, An Ning's father, gave a brief nod. "It's progressing as planned."
Across the table, Liu Yufang smiled. "I saw Ningning on the dating show recently—"
"Ningning-jie, is it true you don't like Qiaolian-jie?" An Ya spoke up suddenly, cutting off her mother mid-sentence.
The air shifted—subtle, but immediate.
The clink of cutlery paused halfway. Even the butler, mid-step with a dish in hand, slowed—sensing the sudden chill in the air.
Gu Yuehua's smile froze. "An Ya," she said mildly, the kind of tone that managed to sound gentle and rebuking all at once, "that's not a question for the dinner table."
Liu Yufang let out a quick laugh, airy and forced. "She didn't mean anything by it, really."
An Ya's face flushed a faint pink, but she still looked defiant—chin tilted, eyes darting toward An Ning as if daring her to deny it.
"Qiaolian-jie?" An Ning asked softly. "You know her personally?"
"We're from the same high school—she was in the same class as my brother." An Ya replied.
Interesting.
"Interesting! Sun Qiaolian really does have a way of being everywhere," the little melon whispered, equal parts admiration and disbelief.
An Ning's lips curved, just slightly. "So that's how it is," she said, tone mild, unreadable. "I believe there's been some misunderstanding or did Sun Qiaolian say something to you?"
The question landed softly, but its precision made the air still again.
An Ya blinked, caught off guard. "Sh-she said in her solo interview that you didn't seem to like her—"
"Ah, really?" An Ning tilted her head, thoughtful. "Is it because I didn't help out when it was her turn to cook?"
She smiled faintly, as if the thought had just occurred to her. "If not, I honestly wouldn't know when I ever expressed that I didn't like her."
"You—"
"An Ya!" Liu Yufang's voice cut in, sharp but wrapped in a strained smile. She shot her daughter a warning glance before turning back to An Ning with practiced warmth. "She's still young, Ningning, don't take her words to heart."
Gu Yuehua's chopsticks clicked softly against her bowl—a delicate sound, but it carried weight. "She's old enough to know when not to speak out of turn," she said mildly, though her tone left little room for debate.
Across the table, An Zhiguo gave a low chuckle, trying to ease the air. "Kids these days—they speak too directly, that's all. Plus Qiaolian and An Ya are quite close."
An Ning smiled, expression calm and unreadable.
"It's fine," she said lightly. "I'm sure she didn't mean anything by it. She's close to Qiaolian, after all. Familiarity breeds loyalty."
The quiet stretched just long enough to feel deliberate, before someone mercifully decided to change the topic.
"Don't mind her, Ningning, you still haven't chosen your gown yet, right?" Liu Yufang tried to change the topic. "How about a shopping trip tomorrow?"
"Sure," An Ning nodded.
"I'll ask Wanwan if she has time tomorrow," Gu Yuehua said.
"Right, we should ask Wanwan too." Liu Yufang agreed, heaving a sigh of relief that the topic was switched. "You youngsters probably have more in common."
The dinner continued without another hitch—conversation flowing, laughter perfectly timed, every gesture rehearsed to habit.
But as the laughter carried on, hollow and practiced, An Ya realised something had changed.
It was just as Qiaolian-jie had warned—An Ning wasn't just returning home. She was here to take everything that once belonged to her.