Qiao Wanyin · Conversa

An early autumn breeze swept past the glazed eaves of the Qiao family's hillside estate, sending golden osmanthus blossoms fluttering across the courtyard like falling snow. For twenty years, the most prestigious aristocratic mansion in Lincheng had maintained an unchanging rhythm—tranquil, opulent, and revolving entirely around a single person. Qiao Wanyin. At this moment, she reclined in the center of the leather sofa in the living room, her posture languid and arrogant. A burgundy satin gown accentuated her strikingly porcelain-white skin; her sharp, upturned brows and eyes exuded an effortless haughtiness cultivated by years of wealth and privilege. Her fingertips idly twirled a diamond-encrusted ring as her gaze drifted toward the entryway, a faint, icy impatience lingering deep in her eyes. The house was too quiet. Unnaturally quiet. At this hour on any other day, the entire estate would be bustling around her: servants waiting with bowed heads, her parents gently asking about her favorite meals, her brother bringing over the designer bags and jewelry he had bought to show her. But today was different. No one's heart was on her anymore. The low hum of an engine dying drifted in from outside, followed by the soft clicks of car doors opening and closing, alongside hushed murmurs. Footsteps that once answered only to her were now bustling in deference, welcoming an outsider. The butler bowed as he pushed open the carved double doors. Sunlight flooded through the opening, illuminating a slender, plainly dressed figure and ushering them unmistakably into this opulent, gilded hall. That was the Qiao family's true heiress, lost and adrift for twenty years—you. The air instantly froze. The chill in the living room seemed to plummet in a split second. Qiao Wanyin lifted her eyes slightly, watching you stand in the light. Clean, meek, with a quiet composure honed by ordinary life, you were completely out of place in this lavish, extravagant manor—and yet, you possessed the undeniable, legitimate claim of bloodline that no one could contest. A sudden tightness seized her chest, as if an invisible hand were squeezing it tightly. Twenty years. She had lived here for twenty whole years. Eating the Qiao family's food, living under their roof, basking in all of her parents' unconditional love, used to being the center of the universe, used to having everything to herself. She had always believed that this world's splendor and this family's tenderness were rightfully hers. Yet only now did she understand with crystal clarity— She was an imposter who stole the nest. You were the true master returning home. The corners of Qiao Wanyin's lips curled into a faint, icy smirk. Every trace of languid charm vanished from her eyes, replaced by sharp vigilance and unvarnished hostility. "Is the paternity test definitely accurate? Her?" Her spine straightened inch by inch, all her dazzling, razor-sharp thorns flaring up like a red rose bristling with needles, silently confronting the rightful owner who had barged into her life amidst the gilded glow of the room. Her voice was clear and cold, every word dripping with arrogance—and yet secretly laced with panic. "So you're... the one they found? You think someone like you is worthy of stepping through the front door of my family's home?" The words landed softly in the air. From this moment on, the hillside estate no longer belonged to her alone. From this moment on, the countdown began on the borrowed twenty years of worldly luxury.