While Wei Wanwan stewed in anger back at the villa, the girl at the heart of the drama was skipping through the Yin Yue Centre like nothing had happened.
Shen Ruyin.
Daughter of scandal. Heiress of chaos.
She twirled a shopping bag in each hand, her red curls bouncing, her smile wide and shameless as she admired herself in the mirror of a boutique elevator.
The incident at the jewelry shop? Forgotten in five minutes.
Some angry rich girl had gotten her feelings hurt—so what?
Ruyin had better things to think about.
Like the new crocodile skin purse she'd just bought, or whether she should get her nails done in ruby red or shimmering gold to match her shoes.
"Oh my god," she gasped, spinning around to face a mannequin in a sequined cocktail dress. "This! I need this!"
As she summoned a staff member with a dramatic finger snap, her phone buzzed in her purse.
She ignored it at first, until it kept buzzing. And buzzing.
Grumbling, she finally pulled it out and answered with a sing-song, "Yesss?"
Her mother's voice came through, sugar-laced and self-important.
Yulia Dragina.
"Ruyin, darling," she purred. "Dinner tomorrow night. With your new stepfather's family."
Ruyin made a face. "Why? I don't even like my real father."
"Behave," Yulia scolded lightly. "It's family tradition. Everyone must be there. Even your sister."
Ruyin froze mid-step.
"Wait. You want me to bring her?"
"Yes," her mother said smoothly. "You know she won't come unless it's you. And if I call, she'll hang up on me. Again."
Ruyin groaned, long and loud. "Ughhhhhh, Mom. You know Ruxi hates dinners. She hates weddings, birthdays, reunions, and anything that has to do with you."
"She's still your sister."
"She's still a cold-blooded, emotionally unavailable ice cube in heels."
"You're twins, Ruyin. Try."
The call ended before she could argue more.
Ruyin stood in the middle of the boutique, surrounded by piles of luxury bags, and sighed as if her entire existence was a tragic opera.
Calling Shen Ruxi was a mistake.
Her phone rang once. Twice. Ten times.
No answer.
She tried again.
Nothing.
Growling, Ruyin called Ruxi's assistant, a soft-spoken girl named Min.
"Hi, Min. Is my delightful sister too busy building a second ice kingdom to answer her phone?"
"Miss Shen is currently working," Min said in a flat voice. "She asked not to be disturbed."
"It's a family emergency."
"She said especially not for family emergencies."
Ruyin pulled the phone away and stared at it in disbelief.
"Are you kidding me?!"
But Min had already hung up.
Ruyin flopped onto a nearby velvet couch in the boutique and let out a long, dramatic sigh.
"This is going to be hell."
She pulled her oversized sunglasses down over her eyes, stretched out like a diva in distress, and muttered:
"I need chocolate. And maybe a new stepfather who doesn't throw family dinners."
Still sulking from her sister's cold shoulder, Shen Ruyin stomped her way out of the mall, arms loaded with shopping bags and her heart full of irritation.
She slid into the backseat of her sleek, champagne-colored sports car, slammed the door, and sent a sharp message:
[To: Ice Queen 👑❄️]
"Dinner. Tomorrow. Family thing. Bring your face. I know you hate us, but try pretending for one night. 🙄🖕"
She tossed the phone aside and crossed her arms, glaring out the window as the car drove off.
As the chaos of the city faded behind her, so did her annoyance. She leaned back, removed her sunglasses, and sighed.
Her destination was her personal sanctuary: a grand, castle-like villa, nestled in the hills on the city's outskirts. It had once belonged to her maternal grandmother, an eccentric woman who had adored European antiques and hated noisy neighbors.
Shen Ruyin had inherited both her sense of drama and her taste for beauty.
The gates opened slowly, revealing a sprawling stone manor wrapped in ivy, surrounded by cypress trees and weathered rose gardens. The air smelled of old books, polished wood, and flowers—things the city could never offer.
The cobbled path led to a carved oak door, which she pushed open with a sigh of satisfaction.
"Home."
The villa was dim and cool inside, the high ceilings casting soft shadows. Crystal chandeliers glittered overhead. Velvet drapes lined the windows. Gilded mirrors hung beside oil paintings that had probably once been stolen by aristocrats.
She kicked off her heels and walked barefoot across the marble floor, bags dangling from her arms like trophies.
Inside her bedroom—more like a throne room—she finally let herself collapse into the mountain of pillows on her king-sized canopy bed.
This place was her world. Her castle.
Far from paparazzi, socialites, fake friends, and her mother's endless scandal train.
And most importantly—far from Ruxi.
She stared up at the intricate ceiling, a fresco of angels and flames, and whispered to herself:
"Why did I have to be born with her?"
Twins, they called them. But Shen Ruyin and Shen Ruxi couldn't be more different. Ruyin was fire—loud, dazzling, unpredictable. Ruxi was frost—calm, calculating, and cold enough to freeze blood.