Wen Yanyi stood by her dresser, watching her own reflection while a maid fussed with the last fold of her blouse. Today she'd chosen something new — a soft pearl-gray top with a structured neckline that framed her collarbones like art. Her trousers were dove-colored and high-waisted, cinched just enough to trace her narrow waist before falling into a fluid drape that brushed her ankles and made her seem taller than she was.
She lifted her chin slightly, letting her hair fall in a smooth wave over one shoulder. It was parted to one side today, pinned loosely at the back with a slender jade clip that caught the morning light. When the maid stepped back, Yanyi offered a quiet nod. "Thank you, A-Lan."
The maid blushed faintly, bobbing her head before gathering the hangers from the bed and slipping out. Outside her room's French doors, the Wen family's private courtyard glowed under a mild spring sun — trimmed hedges, stone pathways winding between bonsai and flowering camellia. Somewhere downstairs, she could hear voices: her mother giving soft instructions to the butler, a maid's polite replies. It was a picture of wealth so well-oiled that nothing felt out of place.
Yanyi turned, letting her fingertips brush her bare shoulder as she crossed to her mirror once more. The faintest ghost of something old lingered there in her mind — a memory of black ink carved over pale skin. Shen Jiyan. A name she'd once thought she would carry until her last breath.
A tiny smile ghosted across her lips — a smile that never reached her eyes. One year had passed since she'd erased that mark, just as she'd erased every trace of that girl who'd once clung to her so pathetically.
"Miss Yanyi." A quiet knock at her door snapped her out of it. It was the butler, his voice trained to never break the hush of the Wen family's upper halls. "Madam Qin is waiting in the main hall."
"I'm coming," she called back, voice as gentle as rain on leaves.
She slipped on a pair of soft grey flats and picked up her quilted purse. By the time she descended the grand staircase, the vast living hall was awash with morning light pouring in through high windows. Qin Qifang stood near a marble side table, checking her phone as two maids fussed with her coat. She looked up as soon as Yanyi stepped onto the last stair.
"You look beautiful today," her mother said, her eyes warm as she took in the soft fall of her daughter's hair and the quiet confidence in her posture.
Yanyi curved her lips into that signature smile — sweet, unassuming, the kind that made even strangers feel the urge to protect her. "You always say that, Mama."
Qifang brushed her cheek with the back of her hand. "Because it's always true."
Behind them, a maid handed over a pale handbag, while another checked that the household car was ready at the entrance gate. The Wen estate was awake but serene — housemaids moved through corridors with muted footsteps, the scent of fresh tea drifting faintly from the kitchen. Even small things whispered of old money: lacquered wood screens, hand-painted porcelain vases, carved jade statues tucked between carved wooden panels.
Outside, the car rolled through the gates and down the quiet lanes of their neighborhood. Yanyi watched the stone lanterns flicker by — memories drifting back to when she'd first learned to drive here, her father's gentle scolding when she'd scratched the car door. In this life, she'd never waste moments like that again.
They reached the luxury district just before noon. Shops gleamed behind tinted glass walls, brand names glittering under bright signage. Inside the boutiques, attendants straightened at once when they saw the Wen mother and daughter step in.
Today, Yanyi lingered over new collections — structured blazers in soft pastels, high-waisted skirts, fine blouses with subtle embroidery that shimmered only when she turned under the lights. Qifang trailed beside her, adding a quiet word here and there, nodding when Yanyi paused to test the drape of a skirt against her hips in the mirrored aisle.
"You really do suit everything you touch," her mother said once, her voice warm but tinged with that pride only a mother could carry.
Yanyi only laughed lightly, letting a staff member hold her shopping bags. She never fussed, never lingered too long — her aura was so easy that the store manager found himself bowing twice, stammering as he promised to deliver the new season's catalog to the Wen estate personally.
They stopped at a discreet café tucked above the main floor. Qifang stirred her cup, eyes crinkling at her daughter's soft hum of thanks to the server.
"You're glowing more these days," Qifang said, voice low as she leaned in. "It makes me happy to see you so… settled."
Yanyi's lashes swept down. If only her mother knew how carefully every glow was crafted — a mirror, not a truth. She only reached out to tuck a stray strand of hair behind her mother's ear, her fingers cool and gentle. "It's because you're here."
By dusk, they stepped out of the spa tucked near the boutique district — staff trailing behind with soft farewells and polite bows. Yanyi's hair was still slightly damp from the final rinse, her cheeks faintly flushed under the warm lights of the lobby.
As they reached the car, Qifang brushed her fingers over her daughter's hand. "Come home tonight. We'll have your father's favorite soup — he'll be delighted to see you."
Yanyi's lips curved as she squeezed her mother's hand. "You go ahead first, Mama. I still have something to pick up. Besides…" She leaned closer, her voice playful. "You know how Papa gets if he has to wait for you too long."
Qifang's laugh was soft and full of warmth. "That old fox does miss me too easily."
"Exactly. So go," Yanyi urged, giving her hand one last squeeze.
A few more goodbyes, and she watched the Wen car slip into traffic, its tail lights glowing red in the dusk. She stood alone under the shopfront's soft lanterns for a moment, adjusting the strap of her purse as if nothing at all waited behind her calm smile.
Then she turned, stepping into Aurora Atelier, one of the city's newest, most exclusive jewelry houses. The hush of velvet displays and glass counters wrapped around her like a secret garden. The lights caught on gems and precious metal, winking like stars caged under glass. Yanyi's eyes moved past glittering necklaces and heavy rings until they paused at a slender diamond bracelet — fine, elegant, subtle. Perfect for a girl who needed just enough shine to stand out.
A young shop assistant, noticing her interest, stepped forward politely. "Miss, would you like to see this piece?" Her voice was warm but careful, the way luxury staff always were with guests who might or might not be someone important.
Yanyi nodded with a gentle hum. "Yes, please."
When the tray appeared, she lifted the bracelet with a soft touch, testing its weight in her palm. It caught the light — not loud, not ostentatious, just right. It would look beautiful on Chen Jinyi's wrist. An unexpected gift, easy enough to earn trust, and sweet enough to bind a silly, naïve girl a little closer.
"It's for a friend," she said, more to herself than the attendant, her tone as soft as drifting snow.
The shop girl only smiled, murmuring praise for her taste as she packed the piece into a slender box lined with navy blue suede. Yanyi didn't rush — she thanked her, let the box settle into her purse, then walked back into the gentle night air without looking back.
Outside, the city lights flickered awake, catching on glass and chrome.
No storm behind her smile. No shadows in her footsteps. Just a soft hum under her breath, light as a tune drifting into the dusk as she slipped into the waiting car — a pretty girl with a perfect gift in her bag, and a calm heart beating quietly beneath her neat gray coat.