Five years ago
"Zhiqi, just say you were the one with her."
The sentence sliced through the thick silence of the Bai estate's study like a cold blade.
Bai Zhiqi stood at the center of the room, still in her gown from the socialite party — the midnight blue now wrinkled, stained faintly from the spilled wine and shattered glass. Her knuckles were white, fists clenched tightly as she stared across at her adoptive father, Bai Chenyi, seated behind his desk with a deep frown carved into his aging face.
"I'm sorry, what?" she asked, her voice eerily calm.
Across the room, Bai Lanyue sat with red-rimmed eyes, her face pale and frightened. She looked every bit the perfect, helpless victim. Except Zhiqi knew better. She had seen that glint in Lanyue's eyes when she realized the fall could be pinned on someone else.
"You're the last person seen with Su Yiran," Bai Heng said, pacing slowly. "There are witnesses. The situation is already bad. If you don't step up and take responsibility, the media will rip this family apart.
Zhiqi let out a humorless laugh. "You want me to confess to something I didn't do?"
"Zhiqi," her father said sharply. "This is about protecting the Bai name. Lanyue is the future of our family. She has sponsors, backers. You… you've always been the quiet one."
"You mean disposable," Zhiqi snapped, her voice shaking now — not with fear, but rage.
Bai Lanyue bit her lip and looked down, as if holding back tears. "I didn't mean for it to go this far. I really didn't… but Yiran—she's hurt badly. They think you did it. I just—I told the truth. That you two were fighting."
"We weren't fighting!" Zhiqi turned on her, stepping forward, eyes blazing. "She asked to speak privately. I listened. She left. I stayed back. She must've slipped on the stairs—how is that my fault?!"
"Intent doesn't matter," Bai Heng said. "Only optics. This isn't the time to be stubborn."
"And if I refuse?"
There was a long silence.
Her father sighed. "Then we'll all suffer. The sponsors will pull out. The media will dig up your mother's death again. Your brother's scandals. We'll be ruined. Is that what you want?"
Zhiqi's chest rose and fell, air burning through her lungs.
So that was it.
Five years of being the perfect daughter, the obedient child, the one who stayed quiet when her talents were dismissed, when her piano recitals were canceled to give Lanyue the spotlight, when she was told her real mother didn't matter because "you're a Bai now."
None of it mattered now.
"You said you loved this family," her father added softly, almost regretfully. "Then prove it. Take this one fall. We'll protect you. A year or two. Maybe less. It'll be a sealed case. Quiet."
Zhiqi looked at Lanyue — still crying, still fragile.
And for a moment, her chest ached with betrayal so sharp it nearly knocked her off balance.
"Fine," she said, voice low.
"What?" Bai Heng blinked.
"I'll do it," she said again. "I'll say I pushed her."
Her father nodded slowly.
Lanyue's expression softened with a small, relieved smile.
"But," Zhiqi continued, lifting her chin, "don't expect me to come back the same."
She turned toward the door, pausing as her hand touched the cold handle.
"No one forced you," her father said behind her.
Zhiqi didn't look back.
"Of course not," she said bitterly. "I'm a Bai. I've always known what that means."
And then she walked out, the door closing with a quiet finality.
That night, Bai Zhiqi turned herself in.
And from the polished halls of high society, she fell into a cell of cold cement and iron bars.
But while the world turned its back and celebrated the "grace" of the Bai family's daughter for accepting her crimes so noble
Bai Zhiqi remembered every word.
Every expression.
Every silence.
She'd given them her freedom once.
She wouldn't give them mercy next time.