An Ning covered her mouth as she yawned—completely unlike the little melon, who was practically vibrating with energy.
Ever since last night, when they'd agreed to go out together for the gown fitting, the little melon had been buzzing with excitement, like caffeine personified.
Now, they sat in a high-end boutique, where the staff moved with quiet efficiency—pouring tea into delicate porcelain cups and arranging a tray of miniature pastries as if it were a performance.
Across from her, Gu Yuehua was browsing through the catalog on a sleek tablet, occasionally pointing out designs with the unhurried confidence of someone who could afford them all.
An Ya and Song Qingwan sat together off to the side. After the brief introduction, Song Qingwan made no effort to speak to An Ning—her smile polite, her silence even more so.
If it wasn't obvious before, it was now—An Ya and Song Qingwan had no intention of including An Ning in their conversation.
"Aren't you angry?" The little melon asked.
"Angry? Whatever for?" An Ning glanced at him, amused. "I'm just glad I don't have to waste energy on polite small talk."
The little melon hummed, unconvinced.
"Still…they're being obvious. It's like watching a drama without subtitles."
Honestly, An Ning had no idea what was going through Song Qingwan and An Ya's mind.
Didn't they notice how Liu Yufang kept shooting warning glances at An Ya?
Or how Gu Yuehua's lips had tightened ever so slightly, her displeasure plain to see?
Or maybe they simply didn't care.
People who'd always gotten their way rarely learned the art of subtlety—they just showed their dislike whenever they pleased.
The boutique's air-conditioning hummed softly, a polite soundtrack to polite hostility. An Ning was led to the changing room to try on the gown her mother had picked out for her.
She ran her fingers over the fabric—it shimmered under the light, smooth, expensive, and undeniably tasteful. It wasn't her usual style, but it carried her mother's touch; refined, understated and quietly proud.
When she stepped out of the changing room, the boutique lights caught the gown perfectly—muted champagne tones that softened her features, a quiet kind of elegance that drew the eye without demanding it.
Even the sales assistant paused for half a heartbeat before composing her smile again. "Miss An, it suits you beautifully."
Her mother's expression warmed, satisfaction clear in her eyes.
Liu Yufang offered a polite sort of praise that was devoid of genuineness.
An Ya and Song Qingwan, on the other hand, exchanged a look that was all too easy to read.
The little melon sighed. "Song Qingwan doesn't feel to be a smart person."
Before An Ning could respond, the boutique door chimed.
An Ya straightened immediately, her voice bright with genuine welcome. "Qiaolian-jie, you are here!"
The name landed like a pebble in still water—small, but enough to ripple through the room.
Sun Qiaolian walked in with effortless poise, sunlight catching in her soft, straight hair, a smile perfectly measured between warmth and sweetness.
"Sorry, I'm late," she said lightly. "An Ya invited me. I hope I'm not intruding?"
An Ning blinked, a faint smile touching her lips.
Of course An Ya would.
Liu Yufang wanted to shake the water out of An Ya's head. She wanted to know what her daughter was thinking.
The An family's power had always rested with An Hongsheng, An Ning's father.
Her husband, An Zhiguo, still held some influence, of course, but their late father's will had made one thing unmistakably clear—the second son would never hold more than a token share of power.
An Ning had to say that was a smart move that her late grandfather had made. While on the surface, both branches of the family appeared to be harmonious, the boundaries had been drawn long ago.
Or at least, on her second uncle's side, An Ning's family still held a sense of familial kinship and sentiment.
But alas, kindness and family ties had never weighed as much as profit and power in her second uncle's eyes—or at least, that was the impression An Ning had gathered from their meeting yesterday.
"I invited Qiaolian-jie because she happened to be nearby," An Ya said.
"How very convenient," An Ning replied, her tone light, almost amused.
She made no further comment as she turned back toward the changing room.
"Mum, I need your help to decide which gown I should try next."
"How could she just—"
"An Ya, it is fine." Sun Qiaolian interjected gently, her voice warm and composed.
Liu Yufang had to work hard to keep her composure as she glanced at her daughter.
Had she been too lenient with An Ya?
Was that why she spoke and acted without thinking?
While her husband and son were out there, trying to gain more control of the company, An Ya was doing the opposite—proving to be no help at all,
and now, even dragging them down.
What good would it do for her to show open hostility toward An Ning?
They didn't have enough bargaining chips to fall out with the first branch—not yet.
Compared to Sun Qiaolian, An Ya was painfully transparent.
Where Sun Qiaolian could hide her intentions behind a smile, An Ya wore every emotion on her face—jealousy, irritation, insecurity—all laid bare for anyone to see.
Even now, standing beside Sun Qiaolian, she looked more like a follower than a friend.
Liu Yufang saw it too, and the realisation only deepened her frustration.
******
"Ningning, you don't have to mind your second uncle's family," Gu Yuehua said gently. "These past few years, your father and I have been traveling so much…it was only yesterday when I realised that things have changed."
"Mum, I don't mind them," An Ning said softly, a faint smile curving her lips.
"Their opinions don't matter to me—as long as you and Dad love me."
Gu Yuehua's eyes softened. "Your dad just needs a little time," she said.
"He's still coming to terms with the fact that the relationship between our family and the second branch…isn't quite the same as before."
"Song Qingwan and An Ya know each other from before?" An Ning asked curiously.
"She was at the same high school as An Ya and in the same class as Yanming," Gu Yuehua replied.
Honestly, Gu Yuehua had always felt she should treat Song Qingwan with a little more kindness.
In this marriage between Song Qingwan and her son, she knew too well that her son would never be the most loving husband.
It was a union built on duty, on profit—perhaps even on convenience.
But love? That had never been part of the bargain.
So she'd chosen to accommodate Song Qingwan in many things.
Yet today, reality had given her a harsh wake-up call.
Maybe it was time she sat her son down—and asked whether this engagement was worth continuing at all.