The moment Grandmother Wei entered the main hall, the temperature seemed to drop.
Her silver hair was combed into a perfect bun, her embroidered midnight blue cheongsam whispering of decades of prestige and pride. Two attendants followed at her side, but none dared walk beside her—not even Zhao Wenqing, who quickly stepped back with her hands folded.
As the guests stood to greet her, she gave each a brief nod—measured, cold, and distant.
When she saw Yulia Dragina seated near Wei Zhenhai, Grandmother Wei's expression tightened by the faintest margin. Her sharp gaze traveled from Yulia to the red-haired girl seated beside her—Shen Ruyin, who, in a red silk dress with gold detailing and earrings that dangled like fire, looked anything but modest.
"Who arranged this seating?" Grandmother Wei asked, her voice low and commanding.
Wei Zhenhai stood and smiled, trying to ease the tension. "Mother, I thought it would be fitting to seat Yulia beside me. She is my wife."
"And that," Grandmother Wei said, eyes narrowing, "gives her the right to sit beside the head of the Wei family during the ancestral dinner?"
Yulia's smile froze.
"Is she family, or is she a placeholder?" Grandmother Wei asked bluntly.
The room went still. Even Shen Ruyin looked up, intrigued.
"I thought this was a celebration," Yulia said, still smiling, but her tone icy. "Surely the New Year is not the time to measure bloodlines?"
Grandmother Wei didn't even glance at her. "The New Year is precisely when we remember who we are. And who we are not."
Wei Zhenhai tried to intervene again, but this time Wei Wanwan rose, feigning concern.
"Grandmother, perhaps Yulia and her daughter would be more comfortable on the left side of the hall," she suggested sweetly, gesturing toward the area where extended cousins and more distant relatives usually sat.
Grandmother Wei gave a satisfied nod.
"I think that would be best."
Zhao Wenqing watched with a blank face, her hands folded over her lap, but Wei Wanwan caught the flicker of a smile in her mother's eyes.
Yulia stood gracefully, not reacting, and Shen Ruyin followed, clearly unfazed. As she passed by Wei Wanwan, she gave a dramatic little yawn and said under her breath:
"Boring crowd."
Wei Wanwan's eye twitched.
The matriarch had thrown her power down like a gauntlet—and Wei Wanwan's plan was already unfolding.
But no one noticed Shen Ruyin's smirk as she poured herself a drink.
The garden of the Wei family ancestral estate was in full bloom. Plum blossoms danced in the crisp breeze, their fragrance mingling with the earthy scent of fresh tea. Red lanterns swayed gently above the pavilion, casting warm glows over white porcelain teacups, delicate sweets, and girls dressed in silk and subtle envy.
Wei Wanwan, dressed in soft jade green, was the picture of elegance. Her smile was demure, her tone sweet—but her eyes never left Shen Ruyin, the uninvited storm that had walked into her family.
Ruyin was seated near the edge of the group, sipping tea with one leg crossed loosely over the other, red curls tumbling down her shoulder like fire against her snow-white dress. She looked as if she had wandered into the gathering by mistake—and chose to stay out of boredom.
The ceremony was meant to be simple. Traditional. Quiet.
But nothing was quiet around Shen Ruyin.
Laughter echoed as cousins complimented Wei Wanwan's newly gifted jade bracelet, which glinted on her wrist like a badge of victory.
"This is Qing dynasty," one cousin marveled. "Grandmother must trust you the most!"
Wei Wanwan giggled modestly, but her fingers stroked the bracelet with pride. "I'm just lucky, I guess. It suits me, right?"
"You deserve it," they chorused.
Then came a sharp gust of wind. One of the silk napkins fluttered into the koi pond, prompting some of the girls to shriek playfully. Wei Wanwan stood up quickly.
"I'll be right back," she said with a sweet smile. "The tea set for the next course is in the side room. Don't start without me."
As she left the pavilion, no one noticed the way her hand hovered—just for a second—over a folded napkin, carefully placing the jade bracelet beneath it, hiding it on the table like a treasured secret.
She turned with a satisfied grin.
Her plan was simple.
Come back. "Lose" the bracelet. Find it… maybe in Shen Ruyin's chair. Cause a scandal. Play the victim.
By the time she returned with a tray of new cups, she almost couldn't contain her excitement.
But as she reached the table, she froze.
The napkin was… moved. Crumpled slightly. The bracelet?
Gone.
Her hands trembled slightly as she looked around, trying not to panic.
No. No. This wasn't part of the plan.
"Where's my bracelet?" she said, too loudly.
The chatter stopped.
"What?" a cousin asked.
Wei Wanwan frantically lifted the napkin, then checked under the table, on the cushion, on the floor.
"It was right here!" Her voice pitched.
"I saw it earlier!" one girl confirmed. "You had it on when we started."
"Did it fall?" another asked, crouching down.
But someone else had a different thought.
"Ruyin was sitting right there the whole time."
Every head turned.
Shen Ruyin, now leaning lazily on one elbow, looked up slowly. "I was. Thanks for noticing."
Wei Wanwan's cousin narrowed her eyes. "It was right next to you."
"Oh no," Shen Ruyin said, voice dripping with mock concern. "A missing bracelet. In broad daylight. How mysterious."
"She was the only one who didn't leave the table!" another added.
"I also didn't cry about my jade accessories like a soap opera character," Shen Ruyin muttered, standing up and brushing nonexistent dust off her dress. "But hey, priorities."
"Are you saying I planted this?" Wei Wanwan's voice cracked.
"I didn't say anything," Ruyin said with a shrug. "But if the bracelet vanished from your trap, maybe you should set better ones."
Gasps echoed around the garden.
"I… I'm calling a maid. We'll search everyone!" Wanwan said.
Shen Ruyin arched a brow. "Sure. But if someone checks the pavilion's corners, you might just find a certain someone's fingerprints under the napkin where she hid the bracelet like a bored eight-year-old playing spy."
Silence.
Wei Wanwan paled.
One of the quieter girls moved toward the edge of the pavilion—bent down, then straightened with a surprised expression.
"Uh… Wanwan, come here. I think I found something in the grass, near the pond…"
A few of the girls rushed over. Moments later, a maid returned holding the jade bracelet.
"It was half-buried under the petals," she explained. "Might've slipped off the table."
Shen Ruyin just smiled and sipped her tea again.
"Oh well," she said cheerfully. "Mystery solved. Shame though—thought I was about to meet a prosecutor."
Wei Wanwan said nothing. Her hand trembled as she took back the bracelet.
The girls laughed nervously, awkward tension thick in the air.
Ruyin stood, stretched like a cat, and turned to leave.
She paused and looked over her shoulder.
"Lovely tea. Bad company."
Then she walked away, hair bouncing, leaving crushed petals and crumbling reputations in her wake.