This… This outfit…
The fabric, the cut, the style… that ultra-low-key quality that somehow highlighted its luxurious texture…
This was absolutely not some high-end knockoff from a secondhand market, nor was it an off-the-rack piece from an ordinary boutique!
This was clearly… the kind of true high-end garment that required booking far in advance, custom-tailored, with a price tag so outrageous it defied reason!
And this style, this color scheme…
Jiang Muyun’s heart jolted. A strange surge of emotion rushed through her, making her entire body tremble.
No, this was impossible!
Where did Yan Yu get the money? Where did she find the connections to obtain something like this?
Could it be… Su Qinghan gave it to her privately?
Impossible! That was even more impossible! Qinghan wouldn’t do that, and there was no need.
Could it be… fake?
A replica?
But this texture, this craftsmanship…
With Jiang Muyun’s eye for luxury goods, she could tell at a glance that this was far beyond what any counterfeit could achieve.
Her expression shifted almost imperceptibly. A crack appeared in that perfect smile.
She barely maintained her tone, but the surprise in her voice was already impossible to hide:
“Miss Yan, that outfit you’re wearing… if I’m not mistaken, is that Master Silas’s private collection from Cloud Garment? That collection is rarely made public…
“Ahem, what I mean to say is, without a special channel… this should be quite difficult to purchase, shouldn’t it?”
Yan Yu met her doubtful, unsettled gaze. A faint curve lifted the corners of her lips as her voice remained calm.
“Yes, it is. Miss Jiang has excellent eyesight.”
She paused, her gaze clear as she looked at Jiang Muyun.
“Since I’m attending such an important birthday banquet as Miss Jiang’s, I thought I should present my best self, to show respect. After all, the occasion is different… and people… should be somewhat different too, shouldn’t they?”
‘Yan Yu’s words were like a silver needle that had been overlooked, silently piercing the carefully maintained facade Jiang Muyun had constructed.’
All the lines Jiang Muyun had prepared—mockery of cheap attire—suddenly lodged in her throat.
The perfect smile on her lips seemed frozen by a chill, stiffly maintaining its shape while storms raged within.
She… she actually admitted it?
And so calmly?!
No, impossible! There was absolutely something wrong with this!
‘Jiang Muyun screamed inwardly.’
How could Yan Yu have the capital to access Cloud Garment?
That level of private studio had a threshold so high, mere money couldn’t open its doors.
Could it be… there was someone behind her that even she didn’t know about?
Besides Su Qinghan’s remaining “pity,” did she actually have another “backing” capable of reaching this level?
This faintly emerging thought made Jiang Muyun’s chest tighten.
She had always seen Yan Yu as a shadow with nothing but Su Qinghan’s “charity”—someone she could manipulate at will.
But if this shadow wasn’t entirely hollow… even if it merely borrowed a single ray of light, it meant some kind of loss of control, a crack in the cognitive foundation she believed so solid.
This feeling infuriated her, and brought a hint of panic.
Jiang Muyun, of course, wouldn’t show it.
As the “true original” herself, she could never reveal the slightest sign of weakness before a “substitute.”
During this brief silence, her curly-haired friend standing beside her keenly sensed her predicament.
Both of them were adept at reading the room.
The curly-haired girl’s eyes darted as she stepped forward, a smile plastered on her face. In her hand, she held a glass of champagne filled nearly to the brim, raising it toward Yan Yu:
“Oh my, Miss Yan, what a rare treat! I’ve heard so much about you and wanted to get to know you. Since we finally meet today, let me toast you—thank you for coming to celebrate Muyun’s birthday!”
With that, she bent down dramatically, raising her glass extremely high—clearly intending to bully Yan Yu, who could only sit in her wheelchair, forcing her to strain her neck and reach high to “meet” the glass.
Yan Yu raised her eyes, calmly looking at her.
There was no panic, no obediently raising her own juice glass higher.
Instead, she tilted her head slightly, her voice clear and gentle:
“I’m sorry, my legs aren’t very cooperative. The doctor advised me to avoid any major movements. Could you trouble yourself… to lower your hand a bit?”
The reason was impeccable.
The curly-haired girl’s smile froze. She hadn’t expected the other party to so directly “draw a boundary.”
“Fine, fine, I understand.”
Under several covertly watching gazes, she reluctantly lowered her glass a bit, letting out a barely audible mutter: “…So much trouble.”
Yan Yu acted as if she hadn’t heard, calmly picking up her own glass and raising it to an appropriate height.
The curly-haired girl watched her composed demeanor, recalling Jiang Muyun’s earlier embarrassment. Malice flashed in her heart.
Just as the two glasses were about to touch, in that split second, a fierce glint flashed in her eyes. With a tiny twist of her wrist, she suddenly thrust her glass forward!
“Oh dear!”
Accompanied by her deliberately startled cry, a splash rang out—
Most of the golden champagne from her glass, along with a small amount of the crimson pomegranate juice from Yan Yu’s glass, splashed out, pouring down onto the pearl-white gown covering Yan Yu’s chest and knees.
Deep golden wine and bright red juice instantly exploded across that smooth, expensive pearl-white fabric in a mess of glaring, spreading stains—quickly seeping in, bleeding outward, creating a brutal contrast.
A few splashes even fell on Yan Yu’s pale cheeks and shawl.
The air froze for a moment.
“Oh my god! How did this happen?!”
The curly-haired girl immediately covered her mouth, stepping back half a step, her face filled with exaggerated apology while her eyes gleamed with the satisfaction of success.
Her voice rose high enough for everyone with perked ears to hear clearly:
“I’m so sorry, so sorry, Miss Yan! It’s all because I’m not used to bending down to toast someone—I really was careless! My hand slipped! This… what can we do about this?!”
As she spoke, she used her brightly nail-polished fingers to point vaguely at the spreading stain on Yan Yu’s chest, her tone filled with concern and an barely suppressed excitement:
“This gown of yours… was it borrowed? Oh my god, this kind of top-tier custom fabric—lighter colors fear stains the most! I’ve heard that once it’s stained, it’s practically ruined—the color and texture can never be restored!”
Her gaze swept over Jiang Muyun, whose expression had shifted from stiffness to satisfaction, then over the increasingly gathered crowd, their eyes filled with curiosity and amusement.
“This is terrible! How will you explain it to the owner? This is a one-of-a-kind custom piece—if it’s ruined, how will you compensate for an identical one? You… what are you going to do?”
With every word she spoke, Jiang Muyun’s chin lifted a fraction higher. The regained sense of control and satisfaction crept back into her eyes and brows.
The plump friend chimed in quietly beside her: “Exactly… oh dear, it’s all your fault for being so careless… now you’ve made Miss Yan so embarrassed.”
All eyes, as if pulled by invisible strings, locked firmly onto Yan Yu in her wheelchair and the shocking mess before her.
Yan Yu knew.
Those watching were waiting for her panic, waiting for her composure to shatter into undeniable disarray.
‘Ridiculous. As if she would ever let them have that satisfaction.’
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