The silence Ye Xia left behind in the ballroom was louder than any applause. She didn't look back. She could feel their stares—Liang Rui's shocked confusion, Lin Wanwan's venomous glare—burning into her back as she walked away, the elegant train of her gown whispering against the polished floor.
She didn't stay long. Her objective was achieved. She had shown herself as a new player on the board, one they could not ignore. Let them wonder. Let them speculate. Let them be afraid.
The aftermath was swift. The next day at school, the atmosphere was electric. The story of Ye Xia's stunning transformation and her appearance at Liang Rui's party spread like wildfire, mutating with each retelling. She was no longer "Fatty Ye"; she was "that mysterious Ye Xia." The bullying ceased entirely, replaced by a wary, curious distance.
Liang Rui avoided her completely, a mixture of pride and deep-seated confusion preventing him from approaching her. Lin Wanwan, however, was incapable of staying away. She cornered Ye Xia in the bathroom, her pretty face contorted with rage.
"What was that last night?" she hissed, blocking the door. "Where did you get that dress? How did you even get an invitation?"
Ye Xia calmly washed her hands, meeting Lin Wanwan's eyes in the mirror. The [Advanced Etiquette & Composure] skill kept her expression serene. "I bought the dress. And I receive invitations to many things now. You should get used to it."
"You think you're better than us now? Just because you stole some money and got a new haircut?" Lin Wanwan's voice was shrill. "You're still the same pathetic, ugly—"
"Ugly?" Ye Xia interrupted, turning around and leaning against the sink. She looked Lin Wanwan up and down, a slow, deliberate appraisal that made the other girl flush. "Beauty is a currency, Wanwan. And like any currency, it can be devalued. Especially when it's used to mask desperation."
Lin Wanwan recoiled as if slapped. "What… what are you talking about?"
"I'm talking about the fact that your father's company, Lin Manufacturing, is about to default on its loan from the Great Wall Trust," Ye Xia said softly, voicing the intelligence she had gathered. "I'm talking about the fact that your family's entire future is riding on Liang Rui's little app. That's a lot of pressure for a pink dress to bear, don't you think?"
The color drained from Lin Wanwan's face. Her jaw dropped. "How… how could you know that?" It was a closely guarded secret, known only to her immediate family and their most trusted advisors.
"I make it my business to know things," Ye Xia said. She took a step forward, and Lin Wanwan instinctively stepped back, hitting the door. "So, from now on, you will stop your little games. You will not speak to me unless spoken to. You will not look at me with disdain. Because I hold the power to snap the very fragile thread your family is hanging by. Do you understand?"
Lin Wanwan could only nod, her eyes wide with terror. The mask of the sweet best friend had completely shattered, revealing the frightened, greedy girl beneath.
Ye Xia smiled. "Good. Now, if you'll excuse me."
She left Lin Wanwan trembling in the bathroom. The hierarchy had been decisively overturned.
The encounter solidified Ye Xia's understanding of power. Knowledge was not just power; it was a weapon. And she needed more of it.
She continued her relentless routine. The Sohu stock continued its climb, adding tens of thousands of RMB to her net worth every week. The system was now at Level 3 (150/500). She was wasting 200,000 RMB a day with creative efficiency, funding everything from private archaeological digs to sponsoring obscure musical prodigies.
It was during one of her "wasting" sessions—a private tour of a contemporary art museum she had funded for the day—that she encountered him again.
She was standing alone in a vast, white room, contemplating a minimalist sculpture that was, in her opinion, a waste of good metal, when she felt a presence behind her. She turned.
It was the mysterious man from the alley. He was dressed in a dark, impeccably tailored suit that made him look more like a CEO than a young heir. His cold, handsome features were as arresting as ever.
"We meet again," he said, his voice a low rumble in the quiet room.
"It seems so," Ye Xia replied, her heart rate kicking up, but her composure held firm thanks to her skills. "Do you often frequent museums you've closed to the public?"
A faint glint of amusement appeared in his dark eyes. "I own the museum."
Of course he did. The statement was delivered with such casual authority that it could only be true.
"Then I suppose I should thank you for allowing me to waste… to visit," she corrected herself smoothly.
He took a step closer, his gaze intensifying, seeming to look right through her cultivated exterior into the core of her being. "Your transformation is remarkable. Most people change their clothes. You seem to have changed your soul."
The observation was so acute it was unsettling. Ye Xia forced herself to hold his gaze. "Perhaps my soul was always there, just waiting for the right motivation."
"Vengeance is a powerful motivation," he said, his voice dropping even lower.
The word hung in the air between them, stark and undeniable. He knew. Or he had guessed. How much did this man know about her?
"I don't know what you mean," she said, a standard deflection, but it sounded weak even to her own ears.
"Don't you?" He gestured vaguely in the direction of the city, where Liang Rui and Lin Wanwan were likely scheming. "The sudden wealth. The targeted appearance at a rival's event. The sharp intelligence in your eyes that speaks of lessons learned far beyond your years. It doesn't take a genius to see the outline of a revenge plot, Miss Ye."
Ye Xia said nothing. Admitting it would be foolish. Denying it would be even more foolish.
"Be careful," he said, his tone not one of warning, but of clinical advice. "Ambitious prey, when cornered, can become unpredictable. The Lins and the Liangs have deep roots, even if some branches are rotten."
"Why are you telling me this?" Ye Xia asked. "Why do you care?"
"I find you… interesting," he said, his eyes sweeping over her once more. "A anomaly. A puzzle. And I have a distaste for wasteful destruction. Talent, even vengeful talent, should be nurtured, not snuffed out by clumsy opponents."
He was offering… what? Not help. Not protection. Observation. Perhaps a vague form of patronage.
"What is your name?" Ye Xia asked boldly. "You have my number. You know who I am. It seems an uneven exchange."
That almost-smile touched his lips again. "You may call me Mo."
Mo. Just a surname. But it was more than she had before.
"Mo," she repeated. "Thank you for the advice."
He gave a slight, almost imperceptible nod. "I'll be watching, Ye Xia."
With that, he turned and walked away, his figure disappearing into the next gallery as silently as he had arrived.
Ye Xia let out a breath she didn't realize she'd been holding. The encounter left her feeling both exhilarated and unnerved. Mo was an unknown variable, a force of nature she couldn't control. But his interest, for now, seemed to align with her survival.
She left the museum, her mind racing. He was right. Cornered prey was dangerous. She had shaken the tree. Now, she needed to be ready for whatever fruit—or snakes—fell out.
The reaction came sooner than expected. A few days later, she received a formal letter at her studio apartment. It was from a law firm representing Ye Zhentao. The letter stated that, upon review of family assets, it had been determined that the small trust fund left by her mother had been improperly administered. It demanded that she return the "misappropriated" sum of 500,000 RMB to the family estate immediately, or face legal action.
Ye Xia read the letter, a cold smile on her face. This was Wang Yan's doing, a desperate, clumsy counterattack using her weakened husband as a puppet. They had plucked a number from the air, hoping to intimidate her.
But they had no proof of any trust fund. It was a bluff. And Ye Xia was now an expert at bluffing.
She took the letter to Attorney Li. The lawyer read it and scoffed. "This is without merit. There's no evidence. They are fishing."
"I know," Ye Xia said. "But I don't want to just defend. I want to attack."
Attorney Li looked at her, impressed by the cold fire in the young girl's eyes. "What did you have in mind?"
"I want to sue my father and stepmother for emotional distress and misappropriation of my inheritance—my actual inheritance, which my mother intended for me, but which my father has controlled and likely squandered over the years. We may not have the paperwork, but we can create enough noise and legal pressure to make their lives miserable. And we can subpoena their financial records. I'm sure we'll find some interesting things about Auntie Wang's spending habits."
It was a nuclear option. It would tear the fragile remains of her family apart publicly. But Ye Xia felt no hesitation. They had already torn her apart, in another life.
The war was escalating. And Ye Xia was no longer just defending. She was on the offensive.