Scene 1: Morning After
After the chaos and theatrics of last night's welcome banquet, Han Yue had fallen into a deep, dreamless sleep.
When she opened her eyes the next morning, soft sunlight was streaming into her room through the sheer curtains. And all around her—stacked high across the tables, filling the floor, and even piled at the foot of her bed—were boxes. Dozens and dozens of them. Shimmering with gold foil, satin ribbons, hand-stitched embroidery. Every shape, size, and brand imaginable.
She sat up slowly, dazed by the sheer volume.
Then a smile tugged at her lips.
It wasn't just that people were generous—no, this was a statement. These were the spoils of legitimacy.
"So this is what it feels like to be the rightful daughter," she murmured.
The Han Family themselves had also prepared a large display of gifts. A pristine, lacquered box sat neatly atop a silk-covered pedestal, opened to reveal five full jade sets—hairpins, earrings, pendants, bangles, rings, even belt clasps. All of it exquisitely carved from high-grade jade: glossy green with flecks of white, symbolizing purity and prosperity.
Of course. These were not only gifts—they were symbols. A reminder to the guests that the Han Family was not only wealthy but formidable. Powerful enough to drown their real daughter in jewels the moment she returned.
After breakfast, Han Yue quietly returned to her room and began organizing.
She pulled out a fresh notebook and flipped to a clean page, then started taking inventory.
Designer handbags.
Luxury heels and dresses.
Boxes of high-end cosmetics.
Gold and diamond jewelry.
Red envelopes. Lots of them.
By the time she finished counting the red packets, she raised a brow in mild disbelief.
"Two-point-five million yuan?" she read aloud, a soft laugh escaping.
"Rich people really are... generous."
Her fingers brushed over a long velvet box containing a set of diamond-studded brooches, but she didn't linger. Those could all be sold or recycled. What mattered were survival supplies—and anything that might feed her jade space.
She paused in front of a medium-sized box at the back of the pile. It looked different.
The paper was textured, engraved with subtle golden filigree. A delicate red wax seal was stamped at the corner—not flashy, not loud. Elegant and rare.
Han Yue's heart gave a small, involuntary stutter.
She stepped closer, staring.
"...This box."
Her hand hovered over it, fingers trembling slightly. She recognized this one.
In her past life, this very box had arrived the morning after the welcome party. Back then, she'd barely noticed it. She'd been too busy clinging to her illusions about Zhou Rui… thinking he was the one who had saved her from falling at the banquet. That he was the one who pulled her out of trouble again and again.
She had been wrong.
So terribly wrong.
In her final moments, blood gurgling in her throat and life draining from her fingers, the only thing she remembered clearly… was a man's voice, shaking with grief as he held her in his arms and cried for her death.
Long Yichen.
He had been there every time. Quiet. Steady. Strong. She just hadn't looked at him properly.
"I was so blind…" she whispered, her eyes burning.
"I thought I owed Zhou Rui everything. I didn't realize it was Yichen all along."
She sat down, clutching the box to her chest for a moment.
"But not this time," she murmured.
"I'll find a way to talk to him. I don't care how long it takes—I won't repeat the same mistake."
For now, she tucked the box gently aside.
There were things to do.
She tapped the notebook with her pen and resumed writing.
The designer items could all be sold to high-end consignment shops—preferably before chaos broke out in society. As for the jewelry… she'd toss all of it into the jade space and see what stuck. If only jade was absorbed, she'd know for sure. Diamonds were flashy but useless. Gold, however…
Gold had its value.
"In peaceful times, collect jade. In troubled times, store gold," she muttered.
"And the end of the world is definitely troubled times."
Gold would serve her well at the future bases, especially the government-run ones where "points" were used as universal currency. It could be traded for food, medicine, even shelter.
She drew a bold underline beneath the word "Gold" in her notebook and shut it with a soft snap.
Time was running out. Her past life had taught her that clearly.
This time, she was going to be prepared.