The sunlight pouring through the café window was soft — deceptively gentle — unlike the tension sitting between Wei Jun and Lin Xinya.
He stirred his coffee for the third time, jaw tight. "She humiliated me, Xinya. In front of everyone. The guards—" He broke off, clenching his fist. "She didn't even look at me."
Lin Xinya tilted her head, pretending sympathy. "What did you expect, Wei Jun? You pushed her too hard." Then, her lips curled. "But… if she's announcing her choice in three days, you still have time."
His eyes snapped up. "What do you mean?"
"She'll need everything perfect for that day," Lin said, her voice dripping with false sweetness. "Dress, venue, reputation. If any of that goes wrong—" she paused, tracing the rim of her cup with a manicured nail, "—her father will be furious. And your name might come up again."
Wei Jun's expression softened into something darker. "So you're suggesting… sabotage."
"I'm suggesting opportunity," Lin replied, smiling faintly. "I have friends at the boutique she always shops at. If the wrong dress or rumor happens to spread, it'll reach the reporters before the ceremony even starts."
Wei Jun leaned back, his anger cooling into calculation. "I thought you were her friend."
"I was," Lin said smoothly, eyes cold. "Until she decided she was above all of us."
For a moment, they sat in silence, the faint clinking of cups around them the only sound. Then Wei Jun smirked. "Fine. You make the calls. I'll handle the rest."
---
Across the city, Lian Yue's day moved with quiet grace.
The boutique smelled faintly of jasmine and silk. Mannequins in soft hues lined the walls, their gowns shimmering under soft golden light.
"Welcome back, Miss Lian," the designer, Madam Zhou, greeted warmly. "Your measurements are already prepared. Shall we begin with the white series?"
"Yes," Yue replied. "Something elegant. Minimal, but striking."
She stood before the mirror, her reflection calm yet unreadable as assistants brought in dresses one after another. The first was too loud. The second, too plain. But the third — a sleek ivory silk gown with a silver-threaded waistline — drew her still.
"This one," she murmured, fingers grazing the fabric. It glowed faintly under the light, as if the fabric itself knew who it belonged to.
Mei Rong, standing nearby, smiled. "It suits you perfectly, madam."
Yue gave a faint nod, but her mind was elsewhere — on the faces that would fill that hall, the whispers that would spread the moment her choice was announced, and the calm expression she would wear through it all.
She turned slightly, admiring the reflection again. "Send it to the estate," she said softly. "And prepare an emerald set to go with it. Simple but commanding."
"Yes, madam."
As she left the boutique, reporters outside snapped pictures, shouting questions.
"Miss Lian, is it true you've chosen your groom?"
"Will it be Mr. Wei Jun?"
"Or someone from the Zhao family?"
Lian Yue only smiled faintly, slipping her sunglasses into place. "You'll know soon enough," she said, her voice cool and elegant. Then she stepped into her car.
As the car pulled away, a man in a dark coat across the street watched her leave — Rian Zhao, unreadable behind the tinted glass of his own car.
Their eyes didn't meet, but something in the air between their separate worlds began to shift — quiet and inevitable.
---
Meanwhile, in a quiet corner of the boutique, one of Lin Xinya's "friends" sent a message with trembling fingers.
> [Text Sent: "She picked the ivory silk gown. Deliver the replacement by tomorrow. Don't be late."]
The message vanished, leaving only silence and the faint scent of perfume lingering in the air.
Lian Yue, unaware of the plot unfolding, leaned back in her car seat. Her phone buzzed — a message from her father reminding her to prepare her speech. She replied simply:
> Everything is ready, Father.
But deep inside, she felt the faint pulse of intuition — that something was moving beneath the surface.
Her lips curved slightly. Let it come, she thought. I'm not the same woman you once fooled.
> Three days left — and every mask was about to fall.