Yan Yu maneuvered her wheelchair, gliding slowly into the top-floor banquet hall of Tiannanxing Garden.
The lighting was a warm gold, like melted honey, spreading across everything within sight.
Countless specks of light fell onto the mirror-like marble floor, like shattered stars.
The air was filled with the scent of flowers, wine, and expensive perfume, all mixed together. It was a bit dizzying after a while.
Men and women in gorgeous attire chatted and laughed in low voices, holding crystal-clear glasses in their hands. Every gesture exuded elegance.
If it were the Yan Yu from before, seeing this scene would have made her heart nearly stop.
She would have felt at a loss, her hands and feet betraying her discomfort. She would have been mortified by her own shabbiness and wished she could disappear on the spot.
But the current Yan Yu felt nothing in her heart.
She just found it… a bit noisy.
All this splendor before her—the gold and grandeur, the perfume and shadows—seemed to her no different from the extravagant sets used in movies.
Beautiful, yes, but merely flowers in a mirror or the moon’s reflection in water.
She wasn’t here to admire the scenery. She was here to act—to perform a critical scene for a specific audience.
Thinking this way eased the slight tension in her heart, born from the unfamiliar environment, completely dissolving it.
She even looked around curiously—after all, such an “expensive” scene she had only ever seen in TV shows in her previous world.
Her outfit for today was obtained with that mysterious VIP card.
She wore a pearl-white silk blouse paired with wide-legged pants, and loosely draped over her shoulders was a thin cashmere shawl in the same color. The fabric quality was impeccable, smooth and cool against her skin.
The design was simple, without any flashy embellishments, but the cut was exceptional, lending a certain charm to her slender figure.
The pants, in particular, were cleverly designed, completely concealing her difficulty walking. Even while sitting, she appeared quite elegant.
Her makeup was light, almost unnoticeable, but it greatly improved her complexion. Her hair wasn’t styled elaborately either; it simply cascaded down softly.
Around her neck, Yan Yu wore a thin chain with a small pearl pendant—not conspicuous, but one could appreciate the taste upon closer inspection.
She knew this outfit, compared to the dazzling dresses and sequins around her, was a bit too plain. Too understated.
But that was exactly the effect she wanted.
Her electric wheelchair carried her forward almost silently. She could feel gazes sticking to her from all directions.
At first, some were merely curious—after all, a young girl in a wheelchair at an event like this was rare. Then, those looks carried other meanings.
Envy, surprise, confusion, and undisguised probing.
“…Which family’s young miss is that? Haven’t seen her before.”
“She’s beautiful and has good poise, but being in a wheelchair… what a pity…”
“That outfit she’s wearing… is it a couture piece from ‘Cloud Garment’? It looks like Silas’s work. My god, how much money would it take to get that?”
“Is she a friend of Miss Jiang? Or some special guest invited by the Su family?”
“In any case, she’s definitely not ordinary. I’d say maybe she’s a young miss from some big family, Miss Su’s special guest.”
“Very likely. Ah, I should go toast her later, get to know her. It’s rare to have a chance to meet someone like this…”
The whispers were fragmented, like the buzzing of mosquitoes, but Yan Yu’s ears could pick up bits of it.
Her face showed no expression, but inwardly she felt like laughing. See, clothes make the man, and fine robes make the monk.
In this snobbish world, changing your skin changes how others look at you.
If she had appeared like she used to, she would probably have only received sympathy or pity, perhaps even some mockery. Now, she had become a mysterious guest.
She ignored the gazes and headed straight for a corner by the window to stop.
The view here was good—she could see most of the venue without standing out too much.
A waiter immediately bent over. She shook her head gently, indicating she needed nothing for now.
No sooner had she settled in than the venue lights dimmed slightly. A spotlight hit the small stage ahead. Su Qinghan walked up.
Yan Yu’s gaze involuntarily followed her.
Su Qinghan’s evening gown tonight was perfectly tailored, highlighting her slender waist and long legs. Standing in the light, she exuded an aura of innate dominance.
She picked up the microphone, and her voice came through the speakers—steady, clear, with that habitual polite yet distant tone.
“Thank you all for taking the time to be here tonight, to celebrate the birthday of my important friend, Mu Yun…”
Yan Yu listened quietly, but her mind wandered.
She looked at the young girls in the audience watching Su Qinghan.
Their eyes sparkled, filled with undisguised adoration and longing, along with blatant envy—even jealousy—for the position of standing by Su Qinghan’s side.
The original host, Yan Yu, was once one of them.
No, she was even more humble than they were.
It was only because of a similar face that she got a chance to get close to Su Qinghan, like Cinderella stumbling upon glass slippers, unaware they carried a curse.
For those three years, she lived in fear, learning to smile like others, learning to speak like others, desperately trying to grasp a little warmth, only to end up making herself even more miserable.
Thinking of this, a very faint emotion passed through Yan Yu’s heart—hard to tell if it was sympathy or mockery.
For the original host, and for her own ridiculous situation now.
Su Qinghan’s speech was very brief—just some polite remarks.
After finishing, she stepped off the stage amidst applause and was immediately surrounded by a few people who looked like elders.
The banquet officially began. The music switched to a lighter tune. People started moving around, toasting each other, laughing and chatting.
Yan Yu was still alone in her corner.
She didn’t get any food, only occasionally took a sip of the warm water a waiter timely offered.
She was waiting—for the right moment, or… for someone who was bound to come looking for her.
Time passed slowly. The bustle around her seemed separated by a transparent pane of glass.
She was a little bored. Just as she was thinking of pretending to check her phone—
Suddenly, a chill ran down her spine.
The feeling was very abrupt, like a pair of eyes from the shadows suddenly fixed on you.
It wasn’t the casual, curious glances from the surroundings. It was focused, with an intense presence.
Yan Yu’s hand holding the cup paused almost imperceptibly.
Who was it?
She didn’t immediately turn her head in panic to look—that would have been too obvious.
She maintained her posture, just lifting her eyelashes slightly, letting her gaze drift casually, slowly sweeping across the crowd in front of her.
Jiang Muyun, surrounded like a star, stood not far from the stage, smiling brightly. She probably had no time to “look after” her.
Su Qinghan was still talking to someone, her gaze not drifting here.
Then who was it?
This stare… was making her a little uncomfortable.
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