It was a remarkably busy day at the headquarters of Zhao Corporation—one of the most prestigious family-owned companies in the country. Staff bustled through the glass-paneled lobby, their movements frantic but purposeful. From the janitors to the executives, everyone shared one goal: to prepare for the grand return of the long-lost heiress.
Banners had been hung, fresh lilies lined the halls, and golden chandeliers glittered brighter than usual. The entire company sparkled with anticipation, as though royalty was about to arrive.
In the corner of the upper balcony overlooking the lobby, a boy lounged against the railing, watching the commotion with disinterest.
"Mom, why can't we just welcome her at home? Why here, in front of everyone?" he asked lazily, fiddling with the strap of his VR headset slung around his neck.
Mrs. Zhao turned to look at her youngest child, her lipstick as red as wine and her eyes shining with pride. "Silly boy," she said, lightly flicking his forehead, "I want the entire company to witness her return. Let the world know that my daughter—the heart of the Zhao family—is back. Let them see for themselves that she's become a woman of grace, success, and beauty."
Wen Ru rolled his eyes and walked away, pretending to be too cool to care. "Whatever," he muttered, heading off to join his friends in the break room. His shoulders drooped with subtle defeat. He was the spoilt child of the family—the one used to getting away with things, the one everyone excused. But even he knew, deep inside, that his sister's return would change the atmosphere around him. She was the golden child. The one with purpose. The one who made people proud just by being herself.
Still, he didn't hate her. Not really. Maybe he was afraid she'd forget him. Maybe he wasn't ready to share the spotlight.
Mrs. Zhao stood proud, ignoring her son's sulking. Her smile was tinged with both nostalgia and nervous excitement. "She's here," she whispered, almost to herself, her eyes glued to the grand entrance.
Suddenly, a synchronized ripple moved through the building. Security guards stationed themselves with robotic precision. Employees dropped their work and gathered near the lobby, forming orderly lines like students before a school parade. Excitement buzzed in the air like electricity.
Then, the fleet arrived.
First came a convoy of gleaming BMWs, their engines humming low and proud. But it was the final car—a sleek, silver Nemozin—that brought the air to a standstill. The moment the doors unlocked, time seemed to pause.
Guards emerged from both sides like clockwork, each man wearing a black suit, earpiece, and the kind of posture that warned not to come too close. One guard stepped forward and gently opened the passenger door.
And then... a leg emerged.
A flawless leg in a sheer black hosiery and an impossible stiletto heel that looked like it cost more than some people's rent. The crowd collectively held its breath. Then came the rest of her: slender and poised, dressed in a black sleeveless gown that hugged her frame like a second skin. Her long, silky black hair cascaded past her shoulders, swaying with elegance. Her skin glowed a warm ivory under the late afternoon sun, unmarred, pristine.
She wore sunglasses—not for the sun, but for the statement. The crowd could only stare.
"Wow... she's sexy," whispered a female worker under her breath. The admiration was echoed in murmurs and gasps around her.
When she removed her sunglasses, it was as if the universe tilted. Her eyes were bright, deep, intelligent—eyes that had seen the world, and yet still sparkled with warmth. The same eyes that once belonged to a curious little girl clutching her teddy bear at the airport gate 20 years ago.
She smiled.
It was that smile that undid everyone. Men stood paralyzed, women blinked in awe, and some just stared like they'd forgotten how to breathe. A few even fumbled, thinking she had smiled directly at them, not realizing that they were simply caught in the radiance of her presence.
Then she ran.
"MOM!!!"
The sudden childlike cry shattered the fantasy, grounding everyone to harsh reality. No, they weren't the center of her world. No, they weren't the ones she came back for.
She ran toward Mrs. Zhao with arms flung wide. Her mother, standing still like royalty, finally broke into a run as well, lifting the hem of her long designer gown as she went. They embraced fiercely, tightly, like two halves of a soul reunited.
"My beautiful daughter," Mrs. Zhao breathed, tears gathering at the corners of her heavily-lined eyes. "You've grown into a woman far more beautiful than I ever imagined."
Wenli giggled softly, "I got that from you, Mother."
Her mother narrowed her eyes. "Mmn? I don't remember ever being this stunning."
"Maybe it's just old age talking," Wenli teased, raising an eyebrow.
"Stop mocking me," her mother blushed, slapping her lightly on the arm.
Their laughter echoed through the building. For a moment, the company didn't feel like a corporation—but a home.
Then Mrs. Zhao turned to the crowd. "Everyone, meet my daughter—Zhao Wenli. Heiress to this legacy. A brilliant psychologist in London. A woman of vision and grace."
Applause erupted, shouts of "Welcome back!" and "We missed you!" ringing through the air.
"You're all invited to the Zhao Mansion tonight," Mrs. Zhao announced, "for a banquet to celebrate my daughter's homecoming."
Wenli's cheeks turned pink. "Mom..."
Mrs. Zhao leaned closer. "Just smile and let them adore you. You deserve it."
Wenli looked around and nodded, offering a shy wave. Despite the confidence she wore like perfume, she hadn't expected this level of welcome. Her heart swelled.
"Where's Dad?" she whispered.
Mrs. Zhao groaned. "Ugh! That man's buried in meetings. Says he'll welcome you at home."
Wenli snorted. "Of course. Once a businessman..."
"Always a businessman," her mother finished, locking arms with her.
The two toured the building together, taking in departments, nodding at employees, occasionally stopping for a quick photo or handshake. Then, hours later:
"Alright. Let's go home. I'm exhausted," Mrs. Zhao sighed.
"You read my mind," Wenli smiled.
Outside, the cars awaited. This time, the drive felt surreal. Her hands pressed against the window as they drove toward a place she'd only seen in childhood photos.
The Zhao Mansion stood tall, draped in the dusk's golden light. Her breath caught. Memories from her nanny's bedtime stories flooded back. The walls. The garden. The winding driveway lined with magnolia trees.
"I'll make everything count," she whispered, voice trembling. "No moment will be wasted this time."
"Wenli!" a voice called out.
She turned. A tall man in a crisp navy-blue suit approached. His hair was graying at the edges, and his beard had filled in with age, but Wenli would know that face anywhere.
"Dad!"
She ran again, no longer the composed psychologist, but the daughter desperate for her father's arms. They met halfway. His briefcase tumbled to the ground as he held her.
They stayed that way for a long time—until their breaths ran shallow and their chests heaved.
"You've grown," he said, holding her face like she was still a child.
"You've aged," she said, poking his cheek.
Mrs. Zhao joined them. "He refuses to rest. He's the reason I use all my anti-aging creams."
"Mom looks younger than you, Dad," Wenli said, giggling.
He raised a brow. "Really? She's lying. I've aged because I missed my daughter every day for twenty years."
That silenced them.
Wenli stepped back and lifted her pinky. "Promise you'll take better care of yourself now?"
He blinked, then linked his pinky with hers, smiling like a man reborn.
"Let's go," Mrs. Zhao said softly. "Guests await."
As they walked toward the banquet hall, arms linked and hearts full, a familiar voice interrupted them.
"Who's this fairy tale princess?"
Wenli turned.
There he stood—Wen Ru, messy-haired and holding a plate of sweets. He looked up with wide eyes.
"Wow! You're really pretty. I'll try not to get into trouble anymore... maybe," he grinned.
"Try harder," she teased, pulling him in for a side hug.
And just like that, the Zhao family—father, mother, daughter, and son—walked forward. Past regrets, missed birthdays, and unanswered letters stood behind them.
For tonight, they were whole again.
And the future was just begining.