Chapter 8
1186 Words
In the auction catalogue, there were but three pieces of jewelry.
Apart from the necklace and bracelet that had caught You Sijia’s eye, there remained only a teardrop-shaped diamond necklace.
Since it lacked the rarity of colored stones, she dismissed it without a second thought.
When the auction concluded, You Sijia was left listless, her spirits deflated.
The two treasures she had set her heart upon had both been seized by others, and her lovely face now drooped in visible gloom.
A trace of guilt lingered in You Kuiqing’s heart—for had she not stayed her sister’s hand earlier, that pink diamond bracelet might already have been safely claimed.
“Next month, when you go to Fashion Week in New York, there will be auctions as well, won’t there? You can bring back whatever you fancy. All right?”
You Kuiqing gently tugged her sister’s hand as she spoke.
Sijia gave a haughty little hum, her pride still intact.
“That depends on whether there’s anything I care for.”
The next morning, the sisters parted ways. Kuiqing went to meet a client, while Sijia arranged to see Jiang Lingyu, freshly returned from a holiday in Australia, in Central.
At the very sight of her, Jiang Lingyu swept her into a vigorous embrace.
“My dearest little Jia!”
Sijia rolled her eyes without mercy, though she accepted the hug.
“Don’t call me that in such a nauseating tone,” she complained, feigning disgust.
Lingyu had been her companion since childhood; from kindergarten through high school, they had been almost inseparable.
For Lingyu, it had been but half a month apart, yet for Sijia, it felt as though she had not seen her in over a year.
In her previous life, after marrying Gu Yu and following him abroad, her once-sunny nature had dimmed. Neglected and consumed by endless self-doubt, she grew increasingly withdrawn, shunning even her oldest friends.
But reborn, Sijia saw through much that once burdened her.
Why should a man ever be the cause of her doubting herself? Why should she wither for anyone’s neglect?
“I heard your marriage to Gu Yu fell through,” Lingyu said, her tone cautious yet curious. “And that it was your father who refused the match?”
Sijia nodded. “Mm.”
Lingyu studied her, almost tentatively. “And you… are you all right?”
“Why wouldn’t I be?” Sijia turned to her with a radiant smile. “I told them I simply did not wish to marry him.”
Lingyu was dumbfounded. She had known Sijia all her life, watched her grow in a world of abundance, where even the smallest grievance was rare. The only time she had ever seen her cry was years ago—upon learning that Gu Yu had taken a girlfriend.
Ignoring Lingyu’s astonishment, Sijia clung to her arm, her voice syrupy and coquettish.
“Come along now. I had a salesgirl set aside a darling little dress just for you. You must try it on—if it doesn’t suit, we’ll have them fetch another size.”
As Sijia nudged her forward, Lingyu still pressed her about the looming family arrangements.
Girls of their lineage rarely had the freedom to marry for love. Should they wed outside their class, they must be ready to cut ties with their family altogether.
“So what will you do next?” Lingyu asked.
“Go to Jing City,” Sijia answered carelessly.
Lingyu halted, then leaned close with mischief in her eyes.
“You’ve met him, haven’t you?”
“Met whom?” Sijia blinked.
“The young master of the Meng family, of course!” Lingyu prodded with both thumbs raised in teasing suggestion. “Isn’t he handsome? Surely he must be. At least he cannot be less than Gu Yu, otherwise how could you give up so easily?”
Realization dawned on Sijia, and she let out a startled cry.
“I haven’t seen him at all!”
“Truly?”
“Hmph. But our families will meet formally this weekend.”
Lingyu, who had grown up at Sijia’s side, never doubted her words. Though she seemed pampered and delicate, her beauty always drew admirers. Yet beneath appearances, Sijia’s heart remained unmarked, a blank sheet untouched.
Even in middle school, when handed a love letter, she had turned it over to the teacher—not from obedience, but from disdain. Boys her age were simply too unsightly to capture her attention.
That proud and spirited hauteur of hers only made her more endearing.
So when she confessed to liking Gu Yu, Lingyu had taken it in stride, for she had grown accustomed to always having such a singular creature beside her.
“Shall I make inquiries? I can ask around,” Lingyu offered slyly.
“How? There are no photographs of him online,” Sijia replied, disinterested. Her family valued not only Meng Weiyuan himself but the power behind him. As for her, she had already steeled herself for a marriage of appearances—husband and wife in name, but each free to their own life.
“I’ll ask anyway.” Lingyu was already tapping out a message.
Suddenly wary, Sijia narrowed her eyes.
“You’re not contacting… one of your old football team, are you?!”
Lingyu gave her a look one would grant a child.
“Of course I am,” she answered, utterly unabashed. “It’s not as though we parted as enemies. What harm in asking?”
“…”
That “football team” was Sijia’s nickname for Lingyu’s collection of ex-boyfriends. Even in elementary school, boys had fought for her attention—she was born a siren of the schoolyard.
“See? Already got something.”
Within minutes, Lingyu enlarged a photograph and held her phone before Sijia’s eyes.
Her correspondent—one of those exes—had even sent a stream of cautionary notes.
“Why are you inquiring about the Meng heir? Their family keeps to themselves. Even at press conferences, only company spokesmen appear; Meng Weiyuan is rarely seen.”
“This picture was taken early this year at a symposium. It’s a bit blurred.”
“The Meng family is notoriously strict. If you’re thinking of pursuing him, I’d advise against it.”
The messages, plainly visible on the screen, reached Sijia’s eyes as well.
She couldn’t help but marvel at Lingyu’s audacity—how many women could still elicit such protective counsel from their exes?
Only then did she turn her gaze to the man in the photo. Though not sharply defined, the image captured him at a reception: tall, poised, and commanding in presence.
“Tsk, tsk… what a figure,” Lingyu murmured as she dragged her into a nearby café. Sprawling on the sofa, she leaned over Sijia’s shoulder. “Not bad at all. Rather striking.”
“…You can tell that from a single picture?” Sijia asked, incredulous.
Lingyu merely chuckled, refusing to answer.
Years of experience had sharpened her eye. What could the sheltered darling beside her possibly know?
- Writer
