Dawn broke over the Presidential Office. The first rays pierced the clouds, gilding manicured lawns still jeweled with dew. Vitality hummed in the air.
At the heart of Plume Square, the great clock tolled its solemn cadence.
Before the imposing gilded gates, a ceremonial squadron marched in perfect unison. Beneath the rising sun, the nation's crimson flag ascended—
Bai Yeqing stood atop the Plume Palace terrace, a silhouette against the awakening city. Order reigned.
Beyond the gates, the crowd spotted him. A wave of fervor surged toward the palace, desperate for a closer glimpse of their President. Guards held the tide at bay.
Though newly inaugurated and the youngest to hold the office, Bai Yeqing commanded unprecedented loyalty. His galvanizing speeches had drawn unprecedented crowds, securing his landslide victory over Vice Presidents Song and Yu.
From his elevated perch, Bai Yeqing raised a hand in calm acknowledgment.
Cheers erupted like thunder. He remained an island of serenity, responding with regal grace—to his people.
He savored the privilege of power, yet bore its twin burdens: duty… and peril.
Leng Fei materialized swiftly. "Sir," he murmured, voice low. "Vice President Song has arrived."
Bai Yeqing's response was a cool hum. "Conference Room."
"He seems aware of the new munitions factory initiative," Leng Fei breathed.
A frown flickered, fleeting. "Inevitable."
"And the classified arms—"
"Loose tongues," Bai Yeqing cut in, glacial finality in his tone, "will be silenced. Permanently."
Leng Fei understood. The subject died.
...
Song Guoyao awaited in the conference room. Where Bai Yeqing embodied youthful authority, Song carried the weight of decades. Leaning on an ivory-handled cane, he rose slowly only after the room emptied.
"Mr. President."
The deference was polished, but Bai Yeqing tasted the resentment beneath.
"An urgent matter brings you so early, Vice President?" Bai Yeqing settled into the head chair, a courteous half-smile in place.
"Urgent? No. But delightful." Song beamed. "My daughter, Weiyi—you recall her? She returned from abroad days ago. Insists on meeting you, utterly smitten." He chuckled. "Could you indulge a young woman's whim?"
Bai Yeqing's smile mirrored his. "How flattering she remembers me. I'd be honored. A private dinner this weekend? A welcome home."
"She'll be overjoyed!" Song's eyes gleamed.
Bai Yeqing slid a velvet-lined box from a drawer. "A small token for Miss Song. Please convey my regards."
Song accepted it effusively. "Your thoughtfulness is unmatched, Sir!"
The door closed behind Song. Bai Yeqing's pleasant facade vanished.
"Playing the marriage card already?" Leng Fei observed.
"Precisely."
Leng Fei hesitated. "A Bai-Song alliance offers us little gain. But if he pivots to Vice President Yu…"
"A unified Yu-Song bloc," Bai Yeqing finished, icy resolve hardening his features. "Would be catastrophic." The gift was merely the opening gambit.
...
Saturday Afternoon
Chenchen adjusted Dabai's tailored riding jacket—a gift from his father. With his miniature crop, he looked every inch the young lord.
"Be careful," she urged, handing him a water bottle as she walked him downstairs. "Not too long."
Her own crucial government exam loomed Monday. No distractions.
"Relax! I'm a pro!" Dabai waved, blowing her a kiss before climbing into the waiting car.
The head steward approached, phone in hand. "Miss Xia? A critical guest is arriving shortly. We must request you retire upstairs immediately. Ring if you require anything." His tone brooked no argument.
Chenchen blinked. "The President receives guests here?"
"Miss Song, the Vice President's daughter," the steward clarified. "Considered by many… the future First Lady. Your discretion is appreciated."
Future First Lady.
The words landed like stones. "Of course," Chenchen murmured, forcing lightness. "I won't intrude."
She retreated upstairs. Textbook open, focus elusive.
What is she like? The thought nagged. It's only concern for Dabai's future stepmother, she rationalized. Yet the image of Dabai calling another woman 'Mom' twisted her heart.
The growl of engines shattered her thoughts. Instinctively, she abandoned her book, rushing to the window.
The Presidential motorcade sliced through the driveway. Third car—his.
Vehicles halted. Bodyguards emerged, crisp and efficient. An attendant opened the rear door. Bai Yeqing stepped out, immaculate in a charcoal suit.
Then—
A figure emerged behind him. A slender silhouette in vibrant crimson. Song Weiyi.
She moved with polished grace, her smile dazzling as she accepted Bai Yeqing's offered arm. Chenchen's breath hitched. The woman was elegance incarnate—flawless skin, eyes like dark jewels, an effortless poise radiating privilege.
As they neared the entrance, sunlight glinted on Song Weiyi's wrist. A delicate platinum bracelet adorned it, studded with icy blue sapphires.
Recognition slammed into Chenchen.
Her bracelet.
The one stolen years ago. The one she'd mourned, a tangible link to a night veiled in secrecy and shame.
She'd stolen it.
He'd known.
Chenchen stumbled back from the window, cold fingers pressing against her lips as Bai Yeqing's parting words from the car echoed with brutal clarity: "Seems I remember… more than you do."