The sun had barely risen above the smokey skyline of City F when the factory's siren blared, cutting through the morning haze like a blade.
Inside the old textile factory, the rhythmic thud of looms and clatter of machines mixed with the heavy scent of grease and cotton dust.
Men shouted to one another above the din, their voices roughened by years of labor, sweat glistening across their brows as the ceiling fans spun uselessly overhead.
Chen Anya's father, Chen Wei, dressed in a worn blue uniform with his name stitched crookedly on the chest pocket, was tightening bolts on an old weaving machine. The man was in his mid-forties, his hands hardened from years of toil, his back slightly bent but his spirit unbroken.
Around him, younger workers worked noisily, teasing and laughing, but Chen Wei's movements were calm and precise. He didn't join their banter; his focus was survival — another day's pay to feed his family.
His world was small, predictable… until the shrill ring of his phone cut through the metallic hum of the factory.
Startled, Chen Wei wiped his hands on his clothes and picked it up, half expecting a call from his wife or the landlord asking for overdue rent. It was an unknown number.
For a moment, Chen Wei thought it was a mistake.
He wasn't expecting any call.
He hesitated before answering, his voice trembling slightly, "H-hello? This is Chen Wei speaking…"
A deep, composed male voice answered from the other side, clear and polite, carrying a tone of quiet authority that could not be ignored.
"Good morning, Mr. Chen Wei. I am Mu Fucheng, Director of Imperial Skies International Hotel. I hope I didn't disturb your work?"
Chen Wei nearly dropped his wrench. He quickly turned away from the other workers, lowering his head instinctively as if bowing through the phone.
"N-no, sir! Not at all! I— I'm honored that you called. May I ask how I can help?"
There was a soft chuckle from the other end, polite yet distant.
"You were recommended for an internal managerial position opening at our hotel. I'd like to personally invite you to come for an interview today, if you're available."
Chen Wei's mind went blank.
Him? A factory worker? Recommended to work at Imperial Skies?
He looked down at his calloused hands and sweat-stained sleeves, disbelief flashing in his tired eyes.
"Sir… are you sure you didn't call the wrong person?" he asked hesitantly.
"No mistake, Mr. Chen. I'm certain. You have experience managing people, don't you? I've seen your records. It's just an interview — whether you pass or not depends on you."
Mu Fucheng's tone was smooth, reassuring, yet carried a firmness that made it hard to refuse.
Chen Wei swallowed, his heart pounding. "Then… then I'll come right away, Director Mu."
"Excellent." Mu Fucheng's voice warmed slightly. "Our company car will come to pick you up. Please wait outside the factory in about ten minutes."
Chen Wei blinked rapidly, overwhelmed. "Th-there's no need to send a car, sir, I can—"
"It's no trouble," Mu Fucheng cut him off gently but firmly. "We value punctuality and comfort for our guests. See you soon, Mr. Chen."
The call ended, leaving Chen Wei frozen in place, phone still clutched in his hand.
He didn't even have time to process what had just happened when a sharp, mocking voice tore through the air.
"Chen Wei!"
The factory boss, a heavyset man with a round belly and slicked-back hair, came stomping over, face twisted with irritation. His name was Hu Dawei, the kind of man who loved shouting more than working.
"How many times do I have to say no personal calls during work hours? You think this is your house?"
Several workers snickered, eager to see Chen Wei humiliated again. The poor man had always been an easy target — quiet, hardworking, never talking back.
But this time, Chen Wei didn't reply. His gaze was distant, the sound of the factory fading into the background.
"Hey!" Hu Dawei barked again, puffing his chest. "Did you go deaf? Or are you pretending not to hear me now?"
Just as Chen Wei opened his mouth to apologize, a luxurious black car — a BMW, its chrome reflecting the dim factory lights — rolled to a smooth stop at the gate. The sound of its engine drew every worker's attention instantly. The contrast between that elegant machine and the grimy, oil-stained factory was almost blinding.
Gasps filled the air.
"Who on earth would drive something like that here?"
"Maybe an official?"
"Or an investor?"
The car door opened, and two men in black suits stepped out. Their movements were precise, professional — the kind of aura only elite subordinates of the wealthy carried. They walked straight into the factory, ignoring the curious stares, and stopped before Chen Wei.
The taller of the two bowed slightly, his tone filled with respect.
"Mr. Chen Wei? Director Mu sent us to bring you to Imperial Skies."
Every jaw in the factory dropped.
Hu Dawei's bluster froze mid-sentence. "Wh-what? You mean… him?" He pointed stupidly at Chen Wei, as though unable to believe the man in question could be anyone important.
The two suited men turned toward him briefly, expressionless.
"Yes. Please do not delay our schedule."
The entire workshop went silent. Only the whirring of the machines remained.
Chen Wei blinked several times, embarrassed yet stunned. "I—I'm ready," he managed to stammer, his co-workers' gazes burning holes into his back.
As the two men escorted him out, whispers erupted like wildfire.
"Did you hear that? Director Mu personally sent a car for Chen Wei!?"
"Impossible! Isn't his daughter just a high school student?"
"How did he suddenly get connected to someone like that?"
Hu Dawei's face turned pale as Chen Wei stepped into the car. He felt a sharp sting of humiliation pierce his chest. For years, he'd mocked Chen Wei for being poor and powerless. Now, before everyone's eyes, that same man was being chauffeured away in a luxury BMW.
The door shut with a quiet click, and the car pulled away, leaving the factory — and its stunned workers — behind in a cloud of disbelief.
Meanwhile, at FUYUAN Academy, the atmosphere was entirely different.
Inside the school's luxurious relaxation center — a place designed more like a high-end café than a student lounge — Su Ning, Chen Anya, and Mu Suying sat in silence.
The morning sunlight spilled through the glass windows, glinting off the marble floors and casting warm hues on the expensive furniture.
Chen Anya's eyes were red from crying. Her head was lowered, her delicate hands trembling slightly as she gripped the hem of her skirt.
Across from her, Su Ning sat in composed silence, her long fingers tapping on the chair. The faint fragrance of osmanthus drifted upward, matching her tranquil yet intimidating presence.
"Su Ning…" Chen Anya's voice was barely above a whisper. Her throat tightened with guilt. "I… I didn't mean to cause trouble again."
Su Ning didn't answer. Her gaze was distant, her expression unreadable — calm as still water but heavy with suppressed power.
When she finally spoke, her voice was low, each syllable carrying quiet authority.
"Mu Suying."
Mu Suying, who had been anxiously watching both of them, immediately straightened. "Y-yes?"
"Go to the cafeteria and bring three cups of coffee. Something strong."
Mu Suying nodded quickly, almost relieved that Su Ning was speaking to her. "Right away!" She hurried off, her ponytail swinging as she disappeared out the door.
As silence returned, Su Ning turned her gaze toward Chen Anya. Her tone cooled.
"Look at me, Anya."
The girl flinched but obeyed, slowly lifting her teary eyes. For a moment, Su Ning's heart softened at the sight — the same friend who had always stood beside her through pain and humiliation. But that softness vanished as quickly as it came.
"Stop crying," Su Ning said, her voice firm. "Tears don't make anyone pity you. They only make people think you're weak."
Chen Anya bit her lip, her shoulders trembling. "But they're too powerful… I— I couldn't—"
"Couldn't fight back?" Su Ning interrupted, leaning forward. Her black eyes gleamed with cold fire. "Then learn to fight. No one will respect you if you kneel."
Her words struck like a whip. Chen Anya's tears froze, confusion and shame crossing her face.
Su Ning continued, each word deliberate.
"Don't let wealth or status decide who you are. If someone tramples you, trample them back — but harder. I won't always be there to protect you, Anya. You must stand for yourself."
The silence stretched between them, thick with emotion. Then, slowly, Chen Anya nodded. The timid fear in her gaze began to waver, replaced by something new — faint but growing. Determination.
When Mu Suying returned, panting lightly with three cups of steaming coffee, she noticed the difference instantly. The heaviness in the air had shifted — from sorrow to resolve.
"Here! I brought the coffee!"
Su Ning took her cup and offered a faint smile. "Good."
Chen Anya hesitated, then smiled weakly too. She lifted her cup, voice small but clear.
"I… I'll try, Su Ning. I don't want to keep crying anymore. I want to be stronger."
Su Ning's lips curved faintly upward. "That's better."
The three girls sat together in the warm sunlight — one calm, one cautious, one reborn — and the story of their fates began to shift quietly, like ripples spreading across a tranquil lake.
Far away, a man in a black suit looked out the tinted window of a Maybach, a small smile curving on his lips as he thought of the calm, mysterious girl who had recently saved his life.
And fate, silent and patient, waited for their paths to cross again.