The heavy oak doors of the reception hall creaked shut, sealing away the last echoes of Lin Xinya's frantic, undignified shrieks. Inside the cavernous space, the atmosphere remained uncomfortably tense, but the power dynamic had shifted irrevocably.
The elders, who had spent the better part of the morning whispering behind their hands about "propriety" and "scandal," now sat in a state of terrified, statue-like silence. They avoided Chen Ying's calm, level gaze as if looking her in the eye might invite their own immediate ruin.
Yang Muchen stood by the elevated dais, his towering presence radiating a cold pressure that kept the entire room in check. He didn't offer the elders a single word of comfort or explanation; he simply watched with a critical eye as his grandmother's breathing continued to stabilize under the watchful eye of the medical team.
