PLEASE ANNOUNCEMENT!!!
I MESSED UP THIS CHAPTER.
NOTE: After reading this chapter, you must all be confused. At the near chapter, I think chapter 21, that's were the continuation of this particular chapter Is.
Thank you.
________________________________________
As soon as the Zhao family stepped into the banquet hall, a hush fell over the grand room.
Every clinking glass, fork, whisper, and murmur came to a stop.
It was as though time itself had frozen for a moment—to bow respectfully before the return of the fabled daughter.
Wenli walked in behind her parents, arm in arm with her younger brother who, despite his usual mischief, behaved as if an invisible string pulled him into noble composure.
The soft gleam of the chandelier danced on her shoulders as she entered. Her black gown shimmered ever so slightly with each step. Heads turned. Gasps rippled. Conversations sparked like wildfire.
The guests—business partners, friends of the family, politicians, and celebrities—looked at one another with mild disbelief. Everyone had heard tales of Zhao Wenli, the daughter who had left at three and studied in London. But no one had expected this. Not the grace. Not the aura. Not the warmth in her eyes.
"Wow, Mrs. Zhao," a sharply dressed woman whispered to her mother, "Your daughter is more than the rumors claimed. She's... indescribable."
By the respectful tone and the way she kept close to Mrs. Zhao, Wenli guessed she was her mother's secretary.
Mrs. Zhao gave a subtle smirk, basking in the glow of admiration. "I'm not surprised. After all, she's my daughter."
The statement held no arrogance—only genuine pride that shone through every word.
Once seated, Mrs. Zhao raised a perfectly manicured hand and signaled to her husband to make the welcome speech.
Mr. Zhao adjusted his collar and stood. The spotlight shifted onto him. His hand gripped the microphone a little too tightly, as though unsure if his emotions would betray him.
He cleared his throat. "Ah…"
He paused, then took a breath and began.
"This is my daughter, Zhao Wenli. The heiress to Zhao Corporation. A brilliant, world-class psychologist, who once left us for London when she was barely three years old. That decision… was one of the hardest I've ever made."
The room grew still.
"She grew up away from us. Her mother and I could only send letters, gifts, and dreams her way. We missed birthdays. Missed her first words in English. Missed hearing her laugh echo in these halls."
His voice faltered.
Wenli blinked.
Was that… a tear?
Yes. A small, barely visible droplet rolled slowly down his right cheek, catching the light before he wiped it away discreetly.
"I regret sending her away at such a young age," he whispered. "But I promise this now—before all of you—I will shower her with all the love we missed giving. Everything our son enjoyed during her absence, I will now double, triple, and give her more."
His voice cracked slightly as he raised the mic hand toward the ceiling, using the other to dab his eyes behind the shield of dignity.
The silence after his words felt sacred.
Before the crowd could process, Mrs. Zhao, lips trembling with emotion, stepped up and gently took the mic from him.
Without turning back to the audience, she leaned in and whispered to her daughter, "Would you like to say something, dear?"
Wenli blinked. "Me?" She pointed at herself.
Her mother nodded.
Wenli took a deep breath, then gently accepted the microphone.
"Hello everyone," she said softly, her voice as smooth as silk yet firm with intelligence. "I'm Zhao Wenli. It's a pleasure seeing so many people gathered here tonight—for me."
She paused, scanning the faces before her, many eager and admiring.
"Truth be told… I'm surprised. I thought homecomings were quieter." A few people chuckled.
"But there's something I must say. The real reason I took the mic… is to correct the mistakes my father made just now."
A sharp gasp spread across the room like a ripple in a still pond.
Her mother turned her head slightly.
Her father's brows drew together.
But Wenli smiled, unaffected by their surprise.
"If my nanny Zhao were still alive, and I told her to narrate the sacrifices my parents made for me—she'd speak for days without reaching the climax."
There were a few soft chuckles.
"They didn't abandon me. They made sure I never forgot their faces. They gave me a giant family portrait, entrusted me to my favorite aunt, and kept sending so many presents that Nanny Zhao had to rent a second room to store all the toys."
Laughter filled the room—relieved, heartfelt.
"And now, look at this. This event. This breathtaking homecoming... Can anyone here really say my father didn't treat me well?"
She held the microphone with confidence now, her smile wide.
"I leave it to you. Give a fair judgment."
A roaring applause erupted.
Voices rang out:
"You were blessed!"
"That's more than love!"
"Your father's the best!"
Wenli turned back toward her father, grinning. "So Dad, please… stop saying you regret anything."
She returned the mic.
Her mother let out a dramatic breath. "Okay! She just scared the life out of us."
Laughter rippled again, and the atmosphere lightened like a curtain lifting.
Mrs. Zhao clapped once. "Let the fun begin!"
The banquet turned into a glittering festival of lights, laughter, music, and dancing. Guests toasted, shared stories, and laughed until the night grew old.
But Wenli...
She smiled, she danced, she even laughed. But her mind lingered elsewhere. Something tugged at her heart. A strange heaviness.
As she watched her family smiling across the room, a sudden wave of dizziness crashed over her.
She staggered.
She tried to steady herself against the wall, but her vision blurred.
Then—
Darkness.
***********
"Cough! Cough! Cough!"
Her throat burned.
She sat up with a start, gasping for air.
Water—cool, sweet—was gently pressed to her lips. She drank it in one gulp, the world spinning back into shape.
Her eyes fluttered open.
A woman was crouched by her side, eyes filled with concern. Her face... unfamiliar.
No makeup. Hair pinned in an ancient style with delicate golden hairpieces. Her hanfu was an elegant blend of white and rose-red, embroidered with flower vines. Nothing modern.
"What…?" Wenli blinked. "Is this one of my dad's... maids?"
"Miss Wenli, do you remember me?" the woman asked with wide, worried eyes.
Wenli frowned. "Who are you?"
"Did the fever affect your memory that much?" the woman said gently, taking a cloth to dab her forehead.
Wenli slowly sat up. Her fingers brushed against her own clothes.
Silk. Heavy. Traditional. She looked down.
"What the hell am I wearing?" she asked, almost to herself. "Is someone filming a historical drama?"
The woman froze.
"You don't remember anything?" she asked. "I'm your personal maid, Hualia."
"Hualia?" Wenli repeated, confused. "Never heard of that name."
"You've known me since you were eight. I've been with you for ten years."
"You're joking. Where am I? Where are my parents?"
"They're on a diplomatic visit to the head of the cultivation world."
Wenli blinked hard. "Head of the... what?"
"You are Zhu Wenli, the eldest daughter of the Zhu Clan," Hualia said, kneeling properly. "You are next in line to join the Celestial Cultivation Path."
"Zhu?" Wenli muttered. "But I'm Zhao Wenli. My name is Zhao!"
Her heartbeat quickened.
"You said you're my personal maid?" she asked.
"Yes, Miss. Always at your service."
"Then prove it. Tell me who I am. Everything."
Hualia hesitated. "Shouldn't we call the physician first?"
"No. No doctors. Just tell me what I need to know. Now."
Wenli swung her legs over the side of the bed. The weight of her robe pulled against her, heavy like fate itself.
She didn't need anyone to explain that this was not 2025. Not Shanghai. Not the Zhao Mansion.
Something had happened.
Something unnatural.
She was no longer in her world.
But if she had been dragged into this world, she had only one goal:
Figure out why. And return.
Hualia bowed her head. "Very well, Miss Wenli. I will tell you everything—starting from the very beginning."
Wenli crossed her arms. "Good. I hope you're a good storyteller. Because I'm not staying here forever."
But a voice deep within her said otherwise.
This was just the begining.