Jiang Xuexi (Shen Mi) · Chat

<scenario>The continuous autumn rain blurs the city's neon lights into hazy spots of color. The windshield wipers scrape mechanically across the glass, and the air inside the car feels a bit stuffy.</scenario> <narration>When the phone vibrates in the console tray, the cold light from the screen illuminates the edge of the steering wheel. The caller ID shows Bai Wei's name. It has been a full month since that night you parted on bad terms, and since all active contact between you and Shen Mi was completely cut off. The moment you press answer, there is no usual greeting from the receiver, not even a half-second buffer. A rush of hurried, almost cracking breath hits you directly.</narration> <message>“Holy shit! Your ex-girlfriend is about to become your aunt!!!”</message> <narration>These words, completely out of the blue, land in the cramped space of the car, even leaving a faint echo. The sound of the rain outside seems to be stripped away at this instant, leaving only these few words vibrating repeatedly against your eardrums. At the same time, on the other side of the city. In the western suburbs of Shanghai, at a private haute couture salon that operates strictly by appointment. Deep hunter-green velvet curtains completely block out the rainy weather and chill from outside. The light from the crystal chandelier is precisely calibrated to the softest color temperature, falling on the huge full-length mirror in the center of the room. The tailor, holding a soft measuring tape, is carefully wrapping it around the woman's shoulders.</narration> <action>Shen Mi stands in front of the mirror, slightly raising her arms.</action> <narration>Today she is wearing a high-quality light gray silk shirt, with the top two buttons undone, revealing her clean collarbone. The gold bracelet on her left wrist gleams with a low-key, mellow luster under the warm light. Her expression is no different from when she sits in the top-floor meeting room of the Shen Group—calm, deep, with no excess emotional ripples in her eyes. The mirror reflects her assistant, Lin Yue, standing aside. Lin Yue is holding a thick folder, reporting in a low voice.</narration> <message>“President Shen, the venue for the engagement banquet has been finalized at the Waldorf Astoria on the Bund. The press releases for the media have been reviewed, focusing on the deep tie-up between the Shen Group and the He family in the new energy project, without involving too much personal emotional color. The first draft of the invitation design is here. Would you like to take a look?”</message> <action>Shen Mi doesn't turn around, but just looks at herself in the mirror, her right index finger subconsciously and very gently rubbing the inner edge of the bracelet on her left wrist.</action> <message>“Follow the standard procedure.”</message> <narration>Her voice is low, her words clear, her speaking pace showing not a single trace of disarray.</narration> <message>“Also, President He said he will come over in person later to try on his suit.”</message> <narration>Lin Yue adds, closing the folder. The scene cuts back to the car. Through the receiver, Bai Wei's voice continues, sounding a bit chaotic out of excitement.</narration> <message>“I also just heard it from people in my dad's circle! They say the Shen Group's recent overseas acquisition hit a snag, and their cash flow was blocked by a few competitors joining forces. Now they desperately need the He family's capital to step in and back them up. But for a partnership of this level, contracts alone aren't enough to secure it; there has to be a deeper binding of interests. That old fox He Zhiyuan actually agreed to the marriage alliance! The design of the invitation is already being passed around in the circle! Are... are you okay? Say something!”</message> <narration>Rain trickles down the car window, distorting the neon lights in your field of vision. This month of silence did not bring any compromise or attempts to hold onto you; instead, it brought a business marriage alliance that has shaken the entire high-society circle. And the person she is marrying is He Zhiyuan—your uncle, who usually seems the most unserious, yet holds the family's decision-making power at critical moments. In the salon, the tailor steps back half a pace and bows respectfully. Shen Mi lowers her arms, slowly folding back the cuffs of her shirt to cover the edge of the bracelet. The door is pushed open at this moment, accompanied by the sound of light footsteps.</narration> <action>He Zhiyuan walks in wearing a well-tailored trench coat, casually handing his damp umbrella to the nearby staff. His gaze falls on Shen Mi, his lips curving into his usual, slightly rogue smile.</action> <message>“My dear President Shen, using your own marriage as a bargaining chip for a project—that's quite a grand gesture.”</message> <narration>He Zhiyuan walks over to the sofa and sits down, crossing his legs, looking at the woman in front of him who is always terrifyingly calm.</narration> <action>Shen Mi turns around, walks to the side table, picks up the cup of black coffee that has long gone cold, and takes a sip.</action> <message>“Just taking what we each need.”</message> <narration>Her tone is as dry as if she were discussing tomorrow's weather.</narration> <message>“Taking what we each need?”</message> <narration>He Zhiyuan cracks a light smile, leaning forward, a hint of inquisitiveness in his eyes.</narration> <message>“The Shen Group indeed needs the He family's funds to stabilize those old guys on the board. But this game of chess probably isn't just for show to outsiders, is it? You and I both know that as long as you, Shen Mi, want to, there's definitely more than one way to resolve this crisis. Yet you chose the one that generates the most sensational effect, and the one that touches a raw nerve.”</message> <narration>The air in the salon remains quiet for a few seconds. Lin Yue tactfully finds an excuse to slip out, closing the door behind her. Shen Mi sets down her coffee cup, the porcelain making a very soft clink against the glass tabletop. Her gaze drifts through the soft light of the salon, landing on a row of unfinished gowns, though her eyes are unfocused.</narration> <message>“She is too proud.”</message> <narration>Shen Mi finally speaks, her voice kept very low, carrying a cold composure unique to someone who has weathered the ups and downs of the business world.</narration> <message>“Until she hits a brick wall, she will never learn to turn back. A relationship isn't her one-woman show, to be cut off whenever she feels unhappy. She is used to me yielding to her, spoiling her. So this time, I need to make her see clearly how the real adult world works. I also need her to understand what exactly she has to face by giving up this relationship.”</message> <narration>He Zhiyuan looks at her, sighs, and shakes his head.</narration> <message>“Old Shen, oh Old Shen, this control freak nature of yours is truly bred in the bone. Aren't you afraid that by administering such strong medicine, you'll drive the kid to a corner and she'll run away for real?”</message> <action>Shen Mi's jawline tightens slightly for a split second, but quickly relaxes again.</action> <message>“If she doesn't even have the courage to face this kind of situation, then we really wouldn't have made it to the end anyway.”</message> <narration>She turns her head and looks straight into He Zhiyuan's eyes, her tone carrying an unquestionable certainty.</narration> <message>“She will come. I know her.”</message> <narration>Time moves forward in this silent game. News of the impending marriage alliance between the Shen and He families spreads rapidly through the circle as if it had grown wings. Front pages of major financial media and small talk at private dinners are all discussing this feast of interest exchange. Three days later, a dark blue invitation with gold foil is delivered to you by a courier. The envelope is of superb texture, with no extra decorations on it, only two handwritten names side by side in dark gold ink, the handwriting strong and vigorous, carrying a cold sense of ritual. On the night the invitation is delivered, the He family hosts a small-scale informal dinner at one of their private estates. Nominally a warm-up meeting for the core members of both families, in reality, those with a keen sense of smell in the circle have been racking their brains to get an entry ticket. The estate's lawn is packed with luxury cars. The interior is brilliantly lit, with the melodious sound of a cello flowing through the climate-controlled air. The color of champagne and the scent of expensive perfume intertwine, constructing a perfect, false, and prosperous world. You appear at the dinner. He Zhiyuan, as one of the hosts, is chatting and laughing with several elders not far away. When he sees you, he only raises an eyebrow slightly, raising his glass in a distant gesture, not walking over immediately. The focus of the crowd is not on He Zhiyuan, but on the woman on the other side of the hall. Today, Shen Mi is wearing a minimalist dark black gown with no complicated decorations, yet it sets off her calm and inviolable aura to the extreme. Her long hair is pulled back, revealing her long, fair neckline. She is holding a glass of red wine, listening to an elderly silver-haired man. Her expression is focused and polite, nodding in response occasionally, but that sense of aloofness is always present. As if sensing something, Shen Mi's gaze shifts slightly, cutting through the crowd across most of the banquet hall, landing unerringly on you. Across the flickering lights and scattered figures, your eyes meet in the air. She does not dodge, shows no surprise, and doesn't even display a single ripple of emotion. In those deep black eyes, there is only an extremely profound, abyss-like calmness. That calmness is not indifference, but a certainty—she knew you would show up here, and she has been waiting for this moment. After a few seconds of eye contact, Shen Mi whispers something to the elder in front of her, then turns around and hands her red wine glass to a passing waiter. She takes her steps, walking in your direction. Her high heels step on the polished marble floor, the sound drowned out by the noisy chatter, but the approaching pressure multiplies geometrically as the distance shortens. The people around her subconsciously clear a path for her. Five steps. Three steps. One step. Shen Mi stops less than half a meter away from you. This distance has already broken through ordinary social safety boundaries, close enough for you to clearly smell her familiar scent of vanilla mixed with sandalwood, close enough for you to see the cold light reflected from the gold bracelet on her left wrist. She lowers her eyelids slightly, her gaze falling on you, scanning you from head to toe, extremely slowly and with restraint. Finally, her gaze returns to your face.</narration> <action>Shen Mi doesn't speak immediately. Her right hand habitually rises, the pad of her index finger gently rubbing the inside of the bracelet.</action> <message>“You've lost weight.”</message> <narration>This is not a statement of concern. Her tone is as flat as a pulled line, devoid of any warmth, with only that low voice vibrating against your eardrums at close range.</narration> <message>“Did you receive the invitation?”</message> <narration>She looks at you, asking her second question. No explanation, no small talk, directly laying the sharpest knife onto the table. The surrounding crowd remains boisterous, but in this tiny space between you, the air seems to have been sucked dry, making even breathing difficult. Her gaze is not spared for anyone else around; she just looks at you, waiting for the first real reaction you have given in this past month.</narration>