The gala glow hadn't faded before the whispers began.
Not in tabloids, not in business papers. No respectable outlet dared to publish something so trivial.
But in the gilded rooms where wives in jade bracelets played mahjong, where young heiresses sipped champagne before dinner, where socialites swapped stories between spa appointments—there, Lin Qing Yun's name slid like silk across painted lips.
"Did you see the photos from last night?" one wife murmured, tapping her phone screen as she passed it across the table. "Gu Ze Yan, helping her into his car. Very sweet."
"Sweet?" another scoffed, blowing smoke from a slim cigarette. "She disappeared for five years. And now she's back, right when Luminar is booming? Call it sweet if you want, I call it convenient."
A ripple of laughter circled the table.
"People online say it's a fairytale," a younger heiress chimed in, scrolling Weibo with manicured nails. "Cinderella story, they're calling her."
"Cinderella?" one of the older women snorted. "Cinderella married a prince. Does this one look like she can marry him? She has no family, no crown, no place at our tables."
Wine glasses clinked, the judgment as casual as gossip about weather.
And at the far end of the table, Jiang Yi Rong leaned back in her seat, every movement polished, every smile precise.
"She is beautiful," Yi Rong said softly. Heads turned—her approval mattered. "And she has a certain… serenity. I admire that."
The women nodded, surprised.
But Yi Rong's eyes gleamed, and her next words slid in like a blade.
"Still," she continued, tone light, "fairytales end at the wedding. Reality begins after. Ze Yan's brilliance has always been rare. I only hope… he doesn't waste it."
The table hummed with agreement. Her poison was silk-wrapped, sounding almost like concern.
---
That night, one of the younger heiresses posted to Xiaohongshu:
"Circle tea says Cinderella isn't the right fit 👀 Fairytales are for stories, not for business."
Attached was a blurry photo from the gala—Ze Yan holding Qing Yun's hand, his head tilted slightly toward her.
By morning, it was everywhere.
---
Weibo comments piled under the reposted photo:
"She's pretty, but too plain. He deserves a queen, not a fairy tale."
"She vanished for years, then came back when he's richer. Suspicious."
"Still better than those flashy socialites. At least she looks calm."
"Not a society daughter, not an heiress. Can she even handle the circle?"
The phrase that repeated, again and again: Cinderella.
But now the word bent, less affectionate, more mocking.
---
"Jiejie!"
Ruan Yi Lan burst into Qing Yun's small office at Luminar, phone clutched in her hands. "Look at this! They're tearing you apart!"
Qing Yun looked up from her laptop, brows calm, lips faintly curved. "What is it?"
Yi Lan shoved the phone toward her, indignation blazing. "Circle gossip! They're saying you don't deserve Mr. Gu, that you're just a Cinderella pretending to fit in!"
Qing Yun scrolled once. Twice. Then she set the phone on the desk and returned to her document.
"Jiejie—"
"Yi Lan", Qing Yun interrupted gently. "Do you believe them?"
The younger woman blinked. "Of course not!"
"Then that's enough."
Yi Lan's lips trembled. "But they're so cruel. Don't you feel angry?"
Qing Yun gave a small smile, eyes steady. "If I let strangers' laughter write my story, then I'd have lost long ago."
---
Chen Rui stuck his head through the door a moment later, coffee in hand, smirk in place. "What's this, crisis management? Did the goddess finally step on a socialite's toes?"
Yi Lan glared at him. "Chen-ge, this isn't funny!"
He shrugged. "I've seen worse. Crazy rich gossip is poison, but only if you drink it."
Qing Yun glanced at him, amused. "Exactly."
---
That evening, while she packed up her things, Chen Rui lingered. "Miss Lin," he said suddenly, more serious, "shouldn't we tell Boss about all this?"
Qing Yun looked up. "What would he do?"
"He'd flip the table, call them out, maybe buy their companies just to shut them up."
Her lips curved faintly. "Which is why we shouldn't tell him. That's what she wants."
Chen Rui blinked. "She?"
Qing Yun didn't answer, only lifted her bag onto her shoulder.
---
At Ze Yan's mansion, nothing seemed changed.
He walked into the living room with his sleeves rolled, set a box of pastries on the table, and kissed her temple before sitting down beside her. "They had your favorite in stock today."
She unwrapped one calmly, breaking it in half. "You went yourself?"
"Mmm." His tone was casual, but his gaze lingered on her, soft. "Worth the detour."
Not once did he mention rumors, banquets, or gossip. He didn't even glance at his phone.
Qing Yun watched him for a moment, then smiled quietly. Let him remain unbothered. That was her shield for now.
---
But elsewhere in the city, another banquet glittered.
Yi Rong arrived late, dressed in a midnight-blue gown, hair coiled like a crown. The wives shifted to make space.
As the conversation turned—as it always did—to Luminar, someone leaned forward. "Did you see the photo circulating? Him holding her hand?"
Yi Rong's smile was perfect. "Yes. She looked calm."
"Calm," one wife repeated dryly. "That's one word for plain."
Yi Rong laughed lightly, then tilted her glass, voice pitched just enough to carry.
"Ze Yan has always been brilliant. But brilliance can be fragile… when distracted."
The wives hummed, nodding. The words tucked neatly into their ears, polished enough to repeat.
---
By morning, Weibo buzzed again.
A gossip account posted a cryptic line:
"Circle tea: Brilliance can be fragile when distracted. Who's the distraction? 👀"
Below it, Ze Yan's photo from the gala, Qing Yun's hand in his.
---
Qing Yun read the post at breakfast, the sunlight spilling across the table.
She sipped her tea slowly, face unreadable.
She wasn't rattled. She wasn't even surprised.
So she's showing her hand now, Qing Yun thought. Good. The board is set.