Let's dive into Li Wei La's next calculated move, deepening her revenge arc. This scene will focus on how she subtly ruins Li Sou Lu's image in front of every prominent family attending the banquet — not through open confrontation, but through social finesse, manipulation, and psychological warfare. Think of this as chess played in pearls and poison.
---
The Pawn is a Poisoned Gift
Sou Lu stood frozen where I left her — cheeks blotched with heat and humiliation, lips trembling with too many unsaid things. But I didn't give her time to collect herself.
She thought she had disrupted my banquet.
She didn't know I designed the board she was trying to play on.
I walked elegantly back into the heart of the hall, where the real game was. The power brokers, the heirs, the heiresses — watching, speculating, whispering. I knew the moment was fragile: either I framed Sou Lu as a pitiable outsider, or they'd begin entertaining the idea that she was a legitimate contender.
So I played the part of the gracious debutante.
A hostess who forgives.
A queen who condescends to bless the dust.
I took the mic again and smiled gently.
"Dear guests, I apologize for the unexpected interruption."
"It seems a… distant relative of mine has come seeking family. I've invited her to stay. After all, kindness costs little. But please — do not misunderstand. A name does not make one nobility. Actions do."
I let that hang in the air. They heard what I didn't say.
She has the name. She will never have the blood.
The guests murmured. The seed was planted. Time to water it with venom.
---
Poisoning the Fengs' View
Later, I approached Feng Rushi and his mother, Zhang Juli, during dessert.
"Aunt Juli," I said sweetly, "may I apologize on behalf of my family? That girl — Sou Lu — is a... forgotten chapter. One that only now re-emerges, and quite… unprepared for our ways."
Zhang Juli clicked her tongue.
"I could tell, dear. Those shoes she wore... fake. And her posture? Appalling. Not a day in etiquette school."
I laughed lightly. "She's spent her life outside the city. Rural. I'd hoped to help her adjust quietly, but she's clearly not ready."
I leaned in.
"Please don't let her presence reflect on the rest of us. Especially not me."
She gave me a sharp look, then nodded.
"We know who's real and who's a climber."
Check.
---
Turning the Guos and Tangs Against Her
I joined Guo Ran and Tang Anran at their table.
"Girls," I sighed. "I'm so embarrassed. That girl from earlier? She claims to be my sister."
Ran gasped. "Seriously? She just barged in and started yelling. So ghetto."
Anran frowned. "I thought she was a drama actress or something. She's family?"
"Barely," I said with a rueful smile. "Her mother was... an affair, a plot planned to ruin my family. My mother forgave it. I try to do the same, but…" I paused.
"You can imagine what happens when ambition outweighs manners."
Ran leaned in. "She seemed jealous of you."
"Jealousy is the only thing she inherited," I said softly.
Checkmate — in friendship.
---
Sowing Doubt in the Business Circles
I casually passed by two business moguls speaking near the bar — Mr. Ling and Director Zhen.
"Gentlemen," I said warmly, "hope the banquet hasn't been too dramatic."
Mr. Ling chuckled. "That girl earlier — Sou something? Quite the scene."
I nodded. "She's unfamiliar with social boundaries. I suppose when you've lived in obscurity, attention becomes oxygen."
Director Zhen narrowed his eyes. "She said she's a Li?"
"In name only," I replied delicately.
"My father is kind to those who cry for pity. But she has no stake in our legacy, nor a place in our business."
They exchanged a look. "We'll remember that."
Pawn off the board.
---
A Dance of Domination
Later that night, the music began again. I stood at the center of the hall when Feng Rushi came to offer a dance.
From the corner of my eye, I saw Sou Lu — now dressed in borrowed pearls, trying to mingle, invisible to all.
As I danced, I asked Rushi softly:
"Would you have been swayed by her, if she came first?"
He snorted. "Please. I know gold from brass." I snorted he knew gold from brass, what a snake. No worries, being with him is just temporary after all.
I smiled.
But in my heart, I thought: Brass can still cut if sharpened. I'll keep her dull.
---
By the End of the Night...
Sou Lu had been given a "place" but no "power."
She was known to all — but valued by none.
And while I smiled and danced and drank champagne under chandeliers...
She stood alone in a corner, a candle trying to survive the ballroom's stormlight.
She may have come to steal my legacy.
But now, she couldn't even steal a glance.
---
Feng Rushi's eerie unease, his intuition clashing with reason, as Li Wei La masks her vengeance behind elegance. This scene will drip with psychological tension, as he begins to sense that Wei La's not just a socialite, but something far more dangerous.
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The Smile That Hides a Sword
Feng Rushi stood by the balcony, drink in hand, swirling the amber liquid without drinking. Behind him, music floated from the banquet hall like perfume — elegant, practiced, composed.
He should have felt at ease.
He was Feng Rushi — heir to one of the most powerful families, groomed for charm, trained for control.
But the feeling wouldn't leave him.
That thing that stirred in his chest every time his eyes landed on Li Wei La.
From across the hall, he watched her. She laughed softly at something Director Zhen said. Her movements were poised. Her face, untouched by tension. Her smile — bright but measured.
Too perfect.
No stumble. No moment of weakness. Not even annoyance.
Even when Sou Lu embarrassed herself. Even when Zhang Juli made passive comments about marriage.
Wei La was porcelain and silk, effortless and unmoved.
Almost… inhuman.
Rusji exhaled and forced a smile, tossing back the rest of his drink.
"You're imagining things," he muttered to himself.
"She's just well-trained. Just... elite."
But it wasn't just that.
Whenever she looked at him — with those eyes framed in long lashes, calm as a still lake — his skin prickled.
Like she saw through him.
Like she already knew every move he'd make.
---
That Moment on the Dance Floor
Earlier, when he'd danced with her, her fingers had rested lightly on his shoulder, her hand in his. She smiled and spoke gently — about politics, art, even him.
But when their eyes met, he swore... for a second...
There was a flicker.
Not fear. Not malice. Something colder.
Memory.
As if she remembered something about him. Something he himself had never lived.
The smile returned, and the moment passed.
But he couldn't unfeel it.
It was like waking from a dream only to realize something followed you out.
---
Alone Again
He stepped away from the crowd, into a quieter corner where waiters passed less frequently.
"Why does she feel like déjà vu?"
She wasn't aggressive. Wasn't dramatic. And yet she pulled every string in the room — without a word out of place. Without raising her voice once.
Even Sou Lu had been destroyed, and yet Wei La wore the same expression — a calm, smiling kindness — as though nothing had happened.
That's what scared him.
She looked like someone who had never suffered,
but felt like someone who had already killed.
---
Internal Conflict
"Get a grip," he told himself again.
"You're judging her because she's smart. Because she's elegant. She's your fiancée — maybe. You should be grateful."
But his body didn't agree.
Every time she turned her head slowly to him, every time her gaze paused just a moment too long...
Chills.
And then she would smile — that soft, devastating smile — and the feeling vanished.
Like it never existed.
Was he hallucinating?
Or was she hiding something that only his instincts could detect?
---
Ending Line (for suspense)
And in that moment, as Li Wei La turned her head slightly and caught his gaze from across the room,
she smiled — demure, angelic.
And Feng Rushi…
stepped back.
Not because of the smile —
but because for half a second...
he thought she smiled with her eyes closed.
But when he blinked — her eyes were open.
Watching.
And he no longer knew if the unease was in his head —
or if he'd just been marked.
---