It arrived exactly at 10 a.m. on the dot.
The envelope was thick, its edges pressed with a faint golden sheen that glimmered even in the morning light. My name was written in a sharp, elegant script, the kind that carried weight. Fei-Fei had already brought it in, placed it on the desk, and stepped back with her usual silence, though I caught the faint twitch of curiosity in her brows.
The moment I saw the seal, I didn't need to open it to know who it was from.
Mr. El-vado.
My biggest partner. The one man in the business world even I dared not offend lightly.
An invitation from him was not like any other. Whoever received it never had to pass through security, never had to be questioned by guards. They were ushered inside with both hands practically bowed in welcome. And once within his circle? The sycophants would swarm, all eager to curry favor, to be seen smiling next to you.
I slid my finger under the seal and pulled the envelope open. Three invitations rested inside.
Three.
Each perfectly timed to fall on days when my schedule was conveniently light, almost as if the old man had memorized my calendar better than Fei-Fei herself.
I couldn't help the dry laugh that slipped past my lips. Typical.
In the business world, he and I were what people liked to call "friends." If anyone messed with me, they were messing with him—and the other way around. But when it came to money? Ah, that was where we dropped the façade and acted like rivals who would burn the whole world down if it meant one more coin in our pocket.
Still, despite all that, Mr. El-vado was… complicated. The cleanest businessman I had ever known, yet at the same time, the dirtiest.
I remembered one of our meetings years back. He had leaned across the table, voice lowered, and shared a secret with me—not dangerous, not incriminating, but something embarrassingly human. One of his sons had pulled a stunt so reckless it left the child with claustrophobia. He told me this with a strange mixture of frustration and reluctant fondness.
I had wondered then what exactly the poor boy had done, but I didn't ask. What I did know was this: to El-vado, respect was everything.
Even when his son remained rebellious afterward, he still smiled whenever the boy's name came up. A genuine, warm smile that softened the sharp lines of his face. I had caught myself smiling back that day, too—a real smile, not the business mask I wore for the rest of the world.
He had once asked me why I never spoke about my family.
"They're dead," I had answered, my voice flat.
But the truth? I wasn't sure. Maybe they were, maybe they weren't.
It wasn't death I wished on them. No… death would have been too easy. What I wanted was for them to live long enough to drown in their regrets. To carry the weight of what they had done for the rest of their lives.
El-vado had only nodded, that respectful "Okay" of his. That was another thing about him: for the richest man in the world, prying came too easily. But unlike the rest of the wealthy parasites, he knew how to stop. He respected boundaries. And in our world, that was almost unheard of.
I leaned back in my chair now, the invitations spread across my desk, gleaming under the light like cards in some twisted game.
The first was for an auction party.
The second, I didn't yet open.
The third—dated three years from now.
I arched a brow. "Really, old man?"
___
The man in front of me looked as though he hadn't slept in days. His eyes were bloodshot, his posture stiff, and he clutched El-vado's invitation like it was the last rope dangling over a cliff.
"Miss Wu," he began, his voice trembling, "please… please don't refuse. If you decline this invitation, Mr. El-vado will…" He paused, visibly shuddering. "…he'll make me study law again."
I tilted my head, my curiosity piqued. "Law?" I asked, keeping my tone neutral.
The poor man nearly burst into tears. "Yes! The last time I failed to bring someone important, he shut me inside his study with nothing but case files and textbooks for three weeks straight. Three! Whole! Weeks!" His hands clutched his hair as if the memory itself tortured him. "When I failed the tests, he extended it for another two weeks. Do you know what it's like to dream about legal codes?!"
I couldn't help it. My lips tugged upward despite my best effort to stay composed. Beside me, Fei-Fei was trembling from suppressed laughter, her hand clamped over her mouth.
"You make it sound like prison," I remarked lightly.
"Prison would've been merciful!" he cried, slamming his forehead against the table with a dull thud. "Miss Wu, I'm begging you. If you won't go for Mr. El-vado's sake, then go for mine. Save me from a future as a failed lawyer with permanent eye bags!"
This time, Fei-Fei broke. Her laughter spilled out like bells, bright and unrestrained. I shot her a look, but the amusement in my own chest betrayed me—I was laughing too, just more quietly.
Finally, I reached for the invitation, letting my fingers brush against the crisp envelope. "Fine," I said, my voice calm, almost casual.
His head snapped up so quickly I thought he might snap his neck. "R-really? You'll come?"
"Don't make me repeat myself," I answered.
Relief washed over his face so dramatically that I wondered if he might actually faint from joy. He bowed deeply, words tumbling out of his mouth like a prayer. "Miss Wu, you are an angel. A saint. I will never forget this kindness. I'll—"
"Graduate law?" Fei-Fei cut in with a mischievous grin.
The assistant groaned miserably, burying his face in his hands. I chuckled under my breath. For once, the world felt a little lighter.
This version fits first-person and keeps Wu An's calm-but-witty personality in focus.
___
The hall was dressed like a fairy tale. Glittering chandeliers spilled light across silken drapes, and floral arrangements—delicate yet extravagant—lined every corner. It didn't take much guessing to know this was the handiwork of El-vado's daughters. They had always had a flair for turning even the most serious events into something out of a storybook.
I stepped inside with Fei-Fei at my side, the invitation tucked neatly away in my clutch. Around us, guests were already whispering, their eyes sliding toward me with that mix of curiosity and wariness I had long since grown accustomed to.
"El-vado never changes," I murmured under my breath. "He insists on calling this a 'party,' yet it reeks of an auction."
Fei-Fei leaned closer, smirking. "At least it's a pretty auction."
She wasn't wrong. The decorations sparkled, the air carried the faint scent of roses, and the stage was framed by velvet curtains. But the way people shifted in their seats, eyes gleaming with greed as items were unveiled one by one, made it clear: this wasn't about elegance, it was about power, wealth, and ego.
I watched as the bids flew higher and higher. A crystal vase went for a price that could feed an entire village for a year. A limited edition painting sparked a verbal war between two tycoons until one nearly slammed his wine glass in frustration.
Then came the real drama.
A young couple stood at the center, clearly not by choice. The girl looked fragile, her fingers trembling as she held onto a small box being auctioned. The boy beside her—her so-called lover—kept darting his gaze toward another woman in the crowd. That woman's painted smile was venomous, her voice loud as she mocked the girl's family, her status, her worth.
The crowd chuckled cruelly, feeding off the spectacle.
I narrowed my eyes. So it begins—the cheap play in every so-called short drama.
Beside me, Fei-Fei sighed. "Real life always finds a way to imitate bad scripts."
"Or maybe bad scripts borrow too much from real life," I replied coolly, my gaze never leaving the stage.
The girl's face flushed with shame as the mocking words rained down on her. Her shoulders curled inward, her voice barely above a whisper. The boy didn't defend her. Instead, he lowered his head and stayed silent, as if her humiliation had nothing to do with him.
The pit in my chest tightened. I had seen this story too many times—in business, in life, in the quiet betrayals that destroy people from the inside out.
"Pathetic," I whispered, though whether I meant him, the crowd, or the situation itself, I wasn't sure.
___
The girl's voice cracked as she tried to defend herself, but the words were swallowed by laughter. The schemer—the overdressed viper with a smile too sharp to be called pretty—tilted her chin proudly, savoring every flicker of humiliation in her rival's eyes.
I clenched my fist. The sound of the crowd jeering, the smug look on that woman's face, the cowardice of the man who stood idle—it all struck me like an echo from my own past.
Enough.
Before I could second-guess myself, I rose from my seat. My heels clicked against the marble floor, cutting through the noise like a blade. The chatter dulled, curiosity sparking as faces turned toward me.
The schemer's smile faltered for just a second, then widened in mock amusement. "Oh? And who might you be?" she drawled, clearly expecting me to sit back down.
I stopped at the edge of the stage, my gaze fixed squarely on her. I didn't bother answering her question. My voice was calm, flat, almost soft—but it carried across the hall like thunder.
"Tell me… how many nights have you rehearsed this little act of yours?"
Her painted smile stiffened.
The girl who had been mocked blinked at me in shock, her lips parting as if to speak, but no sound came. The boy shifted uneasily, guilt flashing across his features before he buried it under silence again.
The schemer laughed—too loud, too brittle. "Rehearsed? You must be mistaken. This is—"
"Don't lie to me."
The words came sharper than I intended, and for a moment, the entire hall froze. I stepped closer, my expression unchanging, but my gaze drilling into her until she flinched.
"I've seen your kind before," I continued, my tone measured, as though I were delivering a verdict rather than an accusation. "Every insult you throw is not about her—it's about the emptiness inside you. And every time you laugh at someone else's pain, you're just proving how little you matter without it."
Gasps rippled through the audience.
The schemer's face burned crimson beneath her powder, her lips twisting as she sputtered, "You—how dare you—"
I didn't give her the chance to finish. "You think humiliation makes you strong? It doesn't. It only makes you pitiful."
The girl on stage stared at me, wide-eyed, tears trembling on her lashes—not of shame this time, but of relief. For the first time since the auction began, her back straightened just a little.
The schemer opened her mouth again, but the weight of the silence pressing down on the room smothered her bravado. No one came to her defense. Not even the boy she had been trying to impress.
I turned slightly, addressing the crowd, my voice cool. "If you came here for entertainment, perhaps you should question what kind of people you've become. If this is what you call refinement—mocking the weak while worshiping the cruel—then I pity you more than her."
The hall was quiet. Too quiet.
I stepped back, smoothing my dress as though nothing had happened. Fei-Fei's smirk met mine from across the room, her eyes glinting with unspoken approval.
For the schemer, there was no applause, no laughter to shield her. Only the suffocating silence of her own disgrace.
____
The moment I stepped away, the weight of every gaze clung to me. Some wide with surprise, others narrowed with calculation. The air buzzed with whispers, but no one dared speak loud enough for me to hear.
I didn't care.
My pulse had steadied, though my fingers still tingled from the urge to slap the smugness off that scheming brat's face. Instead, I smoothed my sleeve and returned to my seat, each step deliberate, as if I had choreographed the entire scene.
Fei-Fei was waiting. Her lips curled in that sly little smile she always wore when I did something she couldn't put into words. She leaned closer, whispering, "You really do love stealing the spotlight, don't you?"
I arched an eyebrow. "I didn't steal it. I just tore it from unworthy hands."
She chuckled under her breath, shaking her head.
The girl I had defended hurried after me, her hands trembling as she clutched the hem of her dress. When she reached me, she bowed so deeply her hair fell forward, hiding her face.
"Thank you," she whispered, voice breaking.
I studied her for a moment. The sincerity in her tone tugged at something in me I didn't want to acknowledge. She reminded me of myself once—too naïve, too desperate to please people who only knew how to break her.
"Don't thank me," I said, my tone cool though my chest felt strangely tight. "Thank yourself, when you finally decide you're worth more than scraps of affection from people who don't deserve you."
Her head shot up, eyes glistening with a mix of fear and hope. I could see the question trembling on her lips—Who are you? Why help me?
Before she could ask, I stood, brushing past her. "Go live your life. Or let them keep it on a leash. That choice is yours."
She froze, the words sinking in, while I slipped back into the crowd.
That was when the room stirred again. Not with jeers this time, but with a different energy—low murmurs of admiration, speculative looks, whispers that carried my name from ear to ear. I had become the uninvited centerpiece of El-vado's grand auction.
Fei-Fei nudged me with her elbow, voice hushed. "You realize what you just did, right? Half of them fear you now, the other half want to know you. And El-vado…"
I glanced up, and sure enough, the man himself was watching me from across the hall. His smile was lazy, amused, but his eyes glittered like a predator's—measuring me, weighing me, as though I'd just passed a test I hadn't known I was taking.
Fei-Fei exhaled softly. "He's intrigued. And you know what that means."
I tilted my glass, letting the wine swirl like liquid rubies. "It means trouble," I murmured. Then I smirked, lifting the drink to my lips. "But I've never been afraid of that."
The taste was sharp, lingering. Just like the eyes still pinned on me.
And for the first time that night, I allowed myself a smle The girl was still standing there, trembling like a bird with clipped wings. Her lips parted as if to thank me again, but I silenced her by pulling a slim black card from my clutch.
I held it out, watching the confusion bloom in her eyes. "This is ten million. Take it."
Her breath caught. "I—I can't…"
"You can," I interrupted, pressing it into her palm, curling her fingers around it with a firmness that brooked no argument. "This isn't charity. I'll collect it with interest. Multiply it. Prove to me you're not the kind of woman who clings to garbage for survival."
Her hands shook, but then, something shifted. Her spine straightened, just slightly. Hope flickered where despair had been. She nodded, clutching the card as though it were a lifeline. "I… I won't disappoint you."
I gave a small nod. For the first time tonight, I felt a spark of pride—not for her yet, but for the decision she might grow into.
Then my attention slid back to the schemer. She was still frozen, caught between rage and humiliation, her face twisted in disbelief that her usual tricks had failed.
I stepped closer, my heels echoing against the polished floor. She tried to sneer, to conjure that venomous confidence again, but her eyes betrayed her. Fear.
"Take her," I said simply.
Two of El-vado's guards emerged from the shadows as if they had been waiting for the command. They seized her by the arms before she could even scream.
Her shrill protests filled the hall. "You can't do this to me! Do you know who I am? Do you know who—"
"Enough." My voice cut her words in half. I leaned in slightly, my smile calm, too calm. "You've made a game of cruelty. Consider this your lesson."
Her eyes widened when she saw I wasn't bluffing.
"Ten days in the dark room," I told the guards. "Let her learn what it feels like when no one believes her schemes. After that… hand her to the police. I'm sure they'll be delighted to review her list of crimes—manslaughter included."
The color drained from her face. She thrashed in their grip, screaming, but it didn't matter. No one in the hall came to her rescue. Not a single soul.
The guards dragged her away, her voice growing fainter until it was nothing but an unpleasant memory.
Silence lingered for a moment, thick and electric. Then, as if a current had passed through the crowd, all eyes shifted back to me. Not in contempt, not in pity—this time, in awe.
I returned to my seat as if nothing had happened, lifting my glass once more. The girl I had defended clutched the black card to her chest, tears streaming freely, but this time they were tears of possibility.
And Fei-Fei? She was grinning ear to ear, her eyes alight with mischief. "You do realize," she whispered, "that half this hall just saw you as judge, jury, and executioner."
I smirked, taking a slow sip. "Good. Let them remember that."
_____
The hall had just begun to breathe again after the storm I'd stirred. People returned to their conversations in low whispers, though their eyes kept darting toward me. Admiration, fear, curiosity—it all clung to the air like smoke after a fire.
And then, the smoke parted.
Mr. El-vado himself strode through the crowd, not with the pomp of a man trying to make an entrance, but with the ease of someone who knew every eye would follow him regardless. His presence pressed down on the room like gravity—commanding, sharp, and amused. Always amused.
I remained seated, my legs crossed, swirling the last sip of wine in my glass as if I hadn't noticed him coming. That's how you deal with men like El-vado. You don't rush to greet the sun; you let it shine on you when it chooses.
But when his shadow fell across my table, I lifted my gaze and met his eyes.
"Wu An," he said, his voice a deep, rolling hum that carried both warmth and warning. "I thought this was my auction, but it seems you've stolen the entire show."
A few nearby guests chuckled nervously, unsure whether he was serious or jesting. I only smiled, slow and deliberate. "I don't recall raising any bids tonight. If the spotlight wandered my way, that's hardly my fault."
He leaned down slightly, close enough that only I could catch the glint of mischief in his gaze. "Fault or not, you turned a dull evening into a spectacle. Even I couldn't have scripted it better."
"Then perhaps you should hire me as your playwright," I replied, tilting my head.
His laugh thundered through the hall, genuine and disarming. People relaxed instantly, as if that laughter was permission to breathe again. That was the kind of power he held—the power to bend a room's atmosphere with a single sound.
He straightened, but his eyes lingered on me, sharp as knives beneath the charm. "Tell me, Wu An, do you always solve problems with ten million yuan and a prison sentence?"
I sipped my wine before answering. "Only when the problems pretend to be human."
That earned me another booming laugh, this time followed by applause from some bold guest at the back. I didn't look. My focus stayed locked on El-vado.
His smile widened, but beneath it, I could see the calculations turning in his mind. He wasn't just amused—he was impressed. And maybe, just maybe, he was wondering if I had just outplayed him on his own stage.
He offered his hand, a rare gesture of respect. "Come. Walk with me. There are things we need to discuss away from eager ears."
Fei-Fei's brows arched in delight, but I didn't glance her way. I slipped my hand into his, cool against his warmth, and rose gracefully to my feet.
The crowd parted for us like the sea, whispers rippling behind us. Some watched in envy, others in fear. But one thing was certain—tonight, Wu An's name would be carved deeper into their memories than any diamond necklace or priceless painting.
And Mr. El-vado knew it.
As we left the hall together, his voice dropped low, smooth as velvet but heavy with intrigue. "You and I, my dear, have much to talk about. Starting with the kind of power you've just displayed."
I smiled, sharp and unreadable. "Power is only power if it lasts, Mr El-vado. Let's see if tonight's lingers."