The recognition banquet of the Ye family was not merely a party; it was a political battlefield draped in gold leaf and white lilies. The air in the Grand Ballroom of the Crystal Palace Hotel was thick with the scent of vintage champagne and the razor-sharp whispers of the Capital's elite. Every influential family, every titan of industry, and every high-society gossip was present, their eyes fixed on the empty throne at the head of the room. They had come to see the "Country Girl," the long-lost daughter who had been found in the dirt of a northern village. The rumors had already painted a vivid, cruel picture: a girl with no grace, a girl who couldn't speak the language of the refined, a girl who would be the ultimate stain on the Ye family's prestigious legacy.
Lin Shuyin and Ye Shijun stood at the entrance, welcoming guests with a forced poise that hid their internal turmoil. Beside them, Ye Aurora was a vision of celestial beauty in a dress that cost more than a suburban home. She greeted everyone with a humble, heartbroken smile, subtly dropping hints that her "sister" was struggling to adapt. "Please, be patient with her tonight," Aurora whispered to a group of socialites. "Wanwan has a good heart, but she hasn't had the chance to learn how to behave in such a grand setting. If she makes a mistake, just remember where she came from." The ladies nodded, their eyes gleaming with the anticipation of a scandal. They were like sharks waiting for the first drop of blood.
Suddenly, the lights dimmed. A single spotlight hit the top of the grand staircase. The chatter died down instantly, replaced by a silence so heavy it felt as if the room had lost its oxygen. Ye Wanwan appeared at the top of the stairs. She was not wearing the silk pastels Aurora had suggested. Instead, she wore the dress Lu Zhentian had sent—a masterpiece of charcoal silk that clung to her like a second skin, embroidered with silver needles that caught the light like fallen stars. Her hair was down, a dark river flowing over her shoulders, and her face was a mask of cold, untouchable majesty. She didn't look like a country girl; she looked like a sovereign returning to a kingdom she had already conquered in her mind. As she descended the stairs, her movements were so fluid, so silent, it was as if she were gliding on ice.
"She's... breathtaking," someone whispered, the mockery dying in their throat. Shuyin's breath hitched as she watched her daughter. She had known Wanwan was beautiful, but tonight, there was a gravity to her that made even the most arrogant CEOs subconsciously straighten their ties. Wanwan reached the podium, her obsidian eyes scanning the crowd with a boredom that was more insulting than a scream. Ye Shijun stepped forward, his voice booming with a pride that shook his very soul. "Ladies and gentlemen, thank you for coming. After twenty years of darkness, the Ye family is finally whole. I present to you my eldest daughter, the true heiress of the Ye household—Ye Wanwan!"
The applause was polite but hesitant. The elite were still looking for a crack in the armor. A group of wealthy heiresses, led by a cousin who was close to Aurora, nudged each other. "So what if she's pretty?" the girl sneered loudly enough for the front rows to hear. "She's probably illiterate. I bet she can't even read the menu, let alone understand the music playing in the background. A beautiful vase is still just empty clay." Wanwan's gaze flickered to the girl. It was a look so devoid of emotion it made the girl's knees buckle. Wanwan didn't respond with words. Instead, she walked toward the grand piano in the center of the hall. The whispers surged. Is she going to play? Does she even know what the keys are for? Aurora's heart soared. She knew the piano was a masterpiece, notoriously difficult to tune and even harder to play. She expected Wanwan to bang out a discordant mess.
Wanwan sat down. She didn't adjust her seat. She didn't check the pedals. She simply laid her long, pale fingers on the keys. For a heartbeat, there was only the sound of the wind outside. Then, she struck. The first note was a lightning bolt—sharp, resonant, and impossibly clear. It wasn't a simple song. It was the 'Requiem of the Frozen Moon,' a piece so complex and emotionally draining that only three people in the world were known to have mastered it. As her fingers blurred across the ivory, the ballroom was transformed. The "music" wasn't just heard; it was felt. It was a cold, haunting melody that told a story of isolation, of a mountain peak where no one could breathe, and of a power that could shatter the world.
The socialites who had mocked her were now weeping, their expensive mascara running down their faces. The "Music Prodigy" Ye Chen stood paralyzed, his violin bow dropping from his hand. He had studied this piece for ten years and couldn't play the first movement, yet his sister was playing the entire concerto with her eyes closed, as if she were breathing through the keys. Wanwan finished the final chord, the vibration echoing through the room for a full ten seconds after her hands left the piano. She stood up, her face as expressionless as ever, and walked back to the center of the stage. The silence was absolute. She had just "slapped" the entire Capital without saying a single word.
But before the applause could even begin, the heavy doors at the back of the ballroom were kicked open with a violence that made the crystal chandeliers rattle. A squadron of men in jet-black tactical gear marched in, forming a corridor of iron. At the end of that corridor stood a man who looked like he had stepped out of the deepest pits of hell. Lu Zhentian walked in, his charcoal suit draped over his broad shoulders like a shroud of power. His golden eyes were fixed on Wanwan, ignoring the gasps and the terrified retreats of the guests. The Ye brothers immediately formed a human wall in front of their sister, their faces masks of hostility. "Lu Zhentian," Ye Mo growled. "You weren't invited to this banquet. Leave now before I have security escort you out."
Zhentian didn't stop. He walked right up to the line of brothers, the heat radiating from his body so intense that those standing nearby felt their skin begin to prickle. He looked at Ye Mo, a dark, dangerous smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth. He didn't look like a businessman; he looked like a god of war who had found his missing piece. "Escort me out?" Zhentian's voice was a low, gravelly vibration that filled every corner of the room. "I think there's been a misunderstanding. I'm not here as a guest." He reached into his pocket and pulled out an ancient, blood-red jade seal—the Ye family's ancestral engagement token that had been missing for decades.
The crowd gasped. Shuyin and Shijun turned pale. They remembered the vow made by the grandfathers of both families before the "mix-up" happened—an engagement between the eldest daughter of the Ye family and the heir of the Lu family. But when Aurora was in the house, Zhentian had treated the engagement like a joke, refusing to even acknowledge her existence. He had openly stated he would rather burn his lineage than marry a woman he didn't choose. Everyone thought he was against the marriage. They were wrong.
Zhentian stepped past the stunned brothers, his eyes locked onto Wanwan's cold obsidian ones. He stopped just inches from her, the heat of his presence clashing with the ice of hers. He didn't ask for permission. He didn't wait for an introduction. He reached out and grabbed her hand, his warm, calloused palm sending a jolt of electricity through her frozen blood. He turned to the room, his voice booming with a shameless, terrifying authority. "My name is Lu Zhentian, and this woman is my fiancée. The engagement decided by our ancestors is back on. As of this moment, anyone who looks at her with disrespect is looking for a war with the Lu family."
The ballroom exploded into chaos. Aurora's face twisted in a silent scream of rage, while the five Ye brothers stepped forward, their fists clenched. Wanwan looked at her hand in Zhentian's, then up at his arrogant, burning face. Fiancé? she thought, her silver wire twitching in her sleeve. This man really is a shameless beast.