Jingyi's eyes lit up instantly. She turned toward the doorway like a drowning person spotting land.
Lan Xia's heart tightened—just for a moment—before she set her face back into its usual cool mask.
Zhao Wang stood there. The man she had known for ten years. The man who had promised her a lifetime.
But the way he looked at her now—detached, disappointed—felt like a stranger wearing his face.
He walked past her without hesitation and pulled Jingyi close, resting his hand on her waist as if it had always belonged there.
"The wedding hasn't happened yet," he said coldly. "Even if it does, divorce is always an option. Who becomes the wife and who becomes the mistress has always depended on the man. Since ancient times."
The words sliced straight through her chest, but Lan Xia did not allow even her eyelashes to tremble. She simply turned away, staring at the city lights glittering outside the window as if nothing had touched her.
"Zhao Wang," she said, voice steady, "stop fooling around. Let's go home."
"Home?" he repeated, laughing bitterly. "Do you even remember what today is?"
She gave him no answer—only silence. It was the one thing he couldn't stand.
"You don't care at all," he said, his voice rising. "You're cold. Heartless. I've had enough, Lan Xia. I'm marrying Jingyi. I won't let her be the 'lowly mistress' you call her. And I want to break off our engagement."
The room went quiet.
For a long moment, Lan Xia looked at the two of them—his arm around Jingyi, Jingyi's smug little smile—and she felt something inside her finally go still.
Then she turned around and walked out.
Her steps were slow, elegant, not a hair out of place. She didn't look back. She didn't rush. She didn't crack.
Only when she closed the door behind her did the ambush unfold.
Cameras flashed. Microphones pushed forward. Reporters flooded in from both ends of the hallway.
All of them are ready. All of them are waiting. All of them smiling like wolves.
Of course. Lan Jingyi never planned small.
Lan Xia let out a soft, humorless laugh.
Even Zhao Wang's regret wouldn't be enough to undo this.
*
Rewritten Chapter 3 (Completely Different Version)
The elevator chimed behind her, but Lan Xia didn't slow her steps. Her heels clicked sharply against the marble floor as the reporters swarmed around her like a pack of starving dogs finally catching the scent of blood.
Microphones shot toward her face. Camera shutters snapped rapidly. The narrow corridor was filled with loud, overlapping voices.
"Miss Lan Xia! Is it true the Lan family is nearing bankruptcy?"
"Miss Zuo, sources claim the Zhao family has been supporting the Lan household for years—is that why the engagement existed in the first place?"
"Rumors say your sister and Mr. Zhao have been in love all along! Is it true you were the one interfering between them instead of the other way around?"
They did not ask questions—they threw daggers. Every sentence was wrapped in malice, coated in sugar, and served like breaking news. That was how upper-class society worked: they praised you when you stood high, and when you fell, they crushed you with the heel of their shoe.
But Lan Xia's face remained unreadable, her posture straight and flawless even as cameras flashed brighter than the chandelier above. The reporters leaned in, hoping—begging—to catch a glimpse of humiliation, heartbreak, insecurity anything that could be sold for tomorrow morning's headlines.
But she did not panic. She did not tremble. Not even her breath wavered.
They had probably hidden here for hours, bribing the hotel staff, waiting to tear her apart—waiting to witness the fall of Zinhai's number one socialite.
But she would never give them that satisfaction.
*
Lan Xia paused, turning slightly so the cameras caught her at an angle she chose, not the angle they forced. She lifted her chin just a little and gave the press a cold, elegant smile—the kind she'd practiced since she was fifteen.
When she spoke, her voice was soft but carried through the hallway with the confidence of someone giving a prepared statement.
"Thank you all for waiting so long. I know it must have been tiring," she began. "The Lan family may not be as strong as before, but it's flattering to see that I still receive so much attention."
A few reporters exchanged confused looks. This was not the reaction they expected.
"Regarding your questions," she continued, "I'm afraid I cannot give clear answers. Even wealthy families consist of ordinary people. Relationships can change, and feelings can fade. That is normal."
Flash. Flash. Flash.
"And if Zhao Wang truly chooses to marry my sister someday, I will wish them well. Sincerely." She smiled again—calm, unshaken, untouchable. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm heading into the city. Those who still wish to follow may do so, but please make way."
Her presence was like a perfectly sharpened blade covered in silk. Even in defeat, she remained dignified.
And that was why, even now, she still looked like Zinhai City's number one socialite.
*
Back in room 3340, Zhao Wang stared at the crowd of reporters outside with a face that grew darker by the second. He shut the door, the sound slamming through the room like a gunshot.
"Lan Jingyi," he said slowly, "what did you do?"
Jingyi's heart skipped. She stepped back nervously, her hands twisting in front of her skirt. She had worked so hard to arrange this. She had taken risks. She had played the fragile victim, the accidental lover, the misunderstood sister.
It had all begun the night she used his drunkenness to get him into her bed. She had felt victorious then—felt like she had finally stolen what her sister had refused to give.
But the morning after, he crushed her triumph with one sentence:
"My wife will always be Lan Xia."
She had never forgiven that.
Now she was so close—so close—to replacing Lan Xia permanently.
"Zhao Wang, I didn't know the reporters were here," she whispered, lowering her eyes to hide the sharp glint of ambition inside them. "I would never—"
"Lie to me again," he cut her off coldly.
He grabbed her chin, forcing her to meet his eyes. His grip was so tight she could barely swallow.
"I've ignored your little tricks because you look like your sister," he sneered. "But you're braver—and greedier—than I imagined."
Jingyi's lips trembled. For the first time, fear crept up her spine.
"Since you want the title of Madam so badly," he said, leaning in, "fine. I'll give it to you."
Hope flashed in her eyes—
But he crushed it just as fast.
"Just remember—it's temporary. A day, a week, a month. In the end, the one who stands beside me will be Lan Xia. Not you."
His words hit harder than a slap.
Still, he released her. And Jingyi forced a shaky smile, even as something inside her cracked beyond repair.
*
Elsewhere, in the heart of the city, Lan Xia ordered the strongest tequila the bar had.
Lei Mei, her best friend, stared at her across the table, her Blue Hawaii glowing under the neon lights.
"Didn't you have a date with your fiancé tonight?" Mei asked, raising a brow. "Why are you drinking like you're trying to erase your existence?"
Lan Xia lifted her glass and drained it in one breath. Her throat burned, but she welcomed the sting.
"Mei don't ask," she said, her voice low and tired. "Tonight, I just want to drink."
Only with Mei could she let the weight slip off her shoulders. Only with her best friend could she lower her mask—even a little.
Because to hold the title of Zinhai City's number one socialite, Lan Xia had sacrificed too much and lost even more.
*
The live band played something loud and cheerful, but in the dim lighting of the bar, Lan Xia felt as if she were sitting in silence—like sound couldn't reach her heart anymore. She stared at the swirling amber liquid in her glass, the ice clinking against the sides every time her fingers trembled.
"Lan Xia, what happened?" Lei Mei asked, leaning closer. Her brows furrowed in concern, but Lan Xia ignored the question. Instead, she raised her glass high and shouted toward the bar counter.
"Leiting! Another one! Your wife wants more wine!"
The long-haired man polishing a glass paused mid-motion. He threw her a rude, unimpressed glance. "Drunkard. Who wants a wife like you?"
Most people would've flinched hearing the infamous Leiting speak like that. He wasn't just any man—he was the Leiting. Handsome, ruthless, the underground king of Zinhai City, owner of the city's most profitable nightclub. For ten years, no one in the black or white worlds dared provoke him.
Yet Lan Xia and Lei Mei talked to him like he was the neighborhood dog.
Lan Xia slumped forward, stretching her hand toward him dramatically. "Don't be so cold, husband Leiting. Come console my poor, shattered heart. And bring me whiskey this time. Open something strong the kind of drink I used to avoid like poison!"
Mei clicked her tongue. "Lan Xia, honestly, for this man? Is he worth ruining your liver over? Zhao Wang is nothing. If he dared hurt you today, Leiting here can break his arm tomorrow."
"LEITING! Don't!" Lan Xia snapped upright immediately, gripping the edge of the table. Her voice was hoarse from the tequila. "Don't touch Zhao Wang."
Leiting's eyes narrowed, sharp and cold. Mei sighed, rubbing her forehead.
"See? This is what I mean," Lei Mei muttered. "You're cold on the outside and stupidly loyal on the inside. You loved him, so why did you let him drift away for years? I already told you he was sleeping around. You endured it. You still prepared an anniversary gift. And what did he give you in return? A slap in the face. And your sister."
Lan Xia swallowed hard, her eyelashes trembling despite her efforts to stay composed.
"Mei Mei, stop don't talk about him anymore." She took another strong sip, her voice muffled. "It's over now. I owed him something in the past. Today, I paid everything back. From now on, we walk our own paths."
Leiting snorted harshly beside her and grabbed the glass out of her hand. His grip was rough, but his eyes were burning with anger on her behalf.
"Separate ways? Why should you accept this?" he growled. "You stayed innocent for him for years. You swallowed your pride when you saw him fooling around. And now, he throws you away, and you just let him go? Even now, you protect him. Do you know how pathetic that is? Do you know how much better you've treated him than he ever deserved?"
Lan Xia forced a wobbly smile and stood up. "Forget it. I'm going to the washroom."
But as she walked away, her steps wavered, her body swaying like she were fighting gravity instead of alcohol.
Leiting's jaw tightened as he watched her stumble toward the back corridors. "This is her first time drinking something that strong. She isn't going to wander into the wrong place, is she?"
Mei shrugged helplessly. "It was just tequila she should be fine?"
*