Celia's eyes were calm, clear like a spring hidden deep in the mountains. She stared at Nathaniel with that same unshakable calm.
Nathaniel finally stepped aside.
Without saying another word, Celia walked out.
Zane Song walked over, still indignant. "Second Brother, that country girl's got some nerve. Who does she think she is?"
Before he could finish, Nathaniel shot him a cold glance. "Say one more word about her."
Zane fell silent, visibly annoyed. Even after Celia had rejected him and left, Nathaniel still defended her. What made her so special? Was she made of gold?
At that moment, Mrs. Song arrived. "Mr. Fu? Zane? You're here too?"
She was wearing a protective face mask. Her complexion had long been troubled by red patches that itched uncontrollably. Years of scratching had left faint scars, and despite consulting renowned dermatologists from around the world, nothing had worked. After years of persistence, she'd finally managed to secure an appointment with the legendary King.
All her hopes now rested on this mysterious perfumer.
"Mom, we're here to meet King," Zane explained.
Mrs. Song beamed. Among the upper-class ladies of Yecheng, King was a household name and idolized by all. "Is King here already?"
A hotel staff member approached at that moment. "Excuse me, are you Mrs. Song?"
"Yes, that's me."
"I was asked to give you this bottle of ointment."
Mrs. Song took the small, elegantly packaged bottle. Attached to it was a note, typed and concise:
Apply morning, noon, and night after cleansing. The condition will resolve within one week.
Her hands trembled. "It's from King. She was here!"
Zane frowned, skeptical. "Mom, we've consulted top doctors for years with no results. Now King just sends over a cream and says it'll be cured in a week? Isn't that a bit far-fetched?"
Mrs. Song clutched the bottle as if it were a miracle. "Of course it's real. If King says it'll work, then it will. She's a genius!"
She turned quickly to the waiter, "Where did she go? Where is King now?"
"She handed me the ointment just outside," the waiter replied, pointing toward the hallway.
Without hesitation, Mrs. Song rushed in that direction, with Nathaniel and Zane following close behind.
Celia had just handed over the ointment when she saw a familiar face approaching. Her footsteps faltered.
Rosalie Su.
She was back.
Rosalie wore a refined Chanel-style skirt, elegant and polished—fitting for someone who'd long been celebrated as Yecheng's darling socialite.
Celia's gaze darkened. Two years ago, Rosalie had pushed her grandmother down the stairs during a heated argument at the Su residence. Later, she denied any involvement, claiming Celia's grandmother had fallen on her own due to age.
That fall left the old woman in a coma—controlled by the Su family ever since.
Now, seeing Rosalie back in Yecheng, Celia's lips curved into a cold, calculated smile.
She'd been waiting for this moment for a long time.
Just then, Mrs. Song and the others rounded the corner. Spotting them, Celia quickly turned and walked away.
Mrs. Song caught sight of Rosalie standing nearby. As a well-known figure in Yecheng society and a perfumery prodigy who had studied abroad, Rosalie was instantly recognizable.
"Miss Su?" Mrs. Song called out. "Wait—are you King?"
King?
Rosalie was well aware of the world-renowned perfumer's name. King was her idol, someone she had aspired to become her entire life. Of course, she wasn't the real King—but clearly, Mrs. Song had misunderstood.
And Mrs. Song wasn't just anyone. She belonged to one of the most powerful families in Yecheng.
Rosalie turned slightly and caught sight of Zane—and Nathaniel Fu.
Her breath caught.
The Nathaniel Fu.
She had followed the Fu family's affairs while abroad and seen him on the news, but in person, he was even more composed and magnetic than she had imagined—handsome, reserved, and commanding.
Rosalie smiled sweetly. "Mrs. Song, thank you for the compliment… but I'm afraid I can't answer that question."
It was a clever response—neither denying nor confirming.
And one that planted the seed of doubt in everyone's mind.