The May breeze in Ning City carried a delightful coolness that soothed the soul.

Mu Xiaowan had risen early, preparing for the evening's grand event—her younger sister Mu Qingqing's eighteenth birthday celebration. The night before, her boyfriend of three years had hinted at a surprise, leaving her eagerly anticipating the night's arrival.

As dusk fell, Mu Xiaowan, along with her adoptive parents and sister, rode in a sleek, extended Bentley toward the venue. The moment they stepped through the entrance, she spotted her boyfriend waiting by the door. A warm smile spread across her face, but Yan Chen barely glanced her way, his indifference sending an uneasy ripple through her heart.

Yet, recalling his promise from last night's call, she brushed aside the strange moment. Yan Chen greeted her parents politely before walking alongside them into the banquet hall.

Mu Qingqing lingered close to their mother, though her gaze kept drifting toward Yan Chen.

Inside, the sheer opulence of the grand ballroom took even the well-traveled Mu Xiaowan by surprise. Crystal chandeliers cast dazzling light over the lavish decor, their brilliance almost overwhelming.

Pulling Mu Qingqing aside, Mu Xiaowan sipped red wine as they observed the mingling crowd.

Suddenly, a familiar voice echoed from the stage: "Good evening, everyone. Tonight, we celebrate Mu Qingqing's eighteenth birthday. But I'd also like to take this moment to propose to the love of my life—with all of you as witnesses!"

Yan Chen held up a ring, prepared by an attendant, and began walking toward Mu Xiaowan. The crowd parted, their eyes following his path. Clutching the sides of her gown, her palms damp with sweat, she struggled to contain her excitement—even though she had expected this.

"Qingqing," Yan Chen dropped to one knee, his gaze fixed solely on Mu Qingqing, "will you marry me?"

"Chen..." Mu Qingqing blushed, stealing a glance at her sister before murmuring, "I... I will!"

Mu Xiaowan felt as though an invisible weight had slammed into her chest, stealing her breath.

Had she not witnessed it herself, she would have thought this a nightmare. Her boyfriend of three years—the man who had sworn to love only her—was now proposing to her sister. No one had warned her. Not her closest family, not the man who had whispered sweet promises for years. How could such a cruel twist of fate happen to her?

Watching Yan Chen lead Mu Qingqing onto the dance floor, Mu Xiaowan clenched her fists, her nails digging into her palms. Every fiber of her being screamed to march over and slap the smug grins off their faces, but years of refined upbringing held her back.

She retreated to a shadowy corner, nursing her drink like a wounded animal licking its wounds. The golden liquid burned down her throat with each bitter swallow, yet the pain couldn't eclipse the sight before her—the way Yan Chen's hand lingered at Qingqing's waist, their heads tilted together in intimate whispers punctuated by soft laughter. The champagne flute trembled in her grip.

Across the ballroom, a broad-shouldered figure in a tailored suit observed the scene with hawk-like intensity. Mo Zixiao's jaw tightened as he tracked the lone woman drowning her sorrows. Three years abroad had transformed the girl into a woman, yet here she was—still too gentle for her own good. His polished Oxfords clicked against marble as he moved with predatory grace.

On her nth refill, Mu Xiaowan barely registered the warmth seeping into her limbs until a large hand intercepted her glass. "That's enough," a familiar baritone rumbled.

The sudden theft of her alcohol—her last pathetic shield—ignited her fury. She surged to her feet, ready to unleash a tirade that would peel paint from the walls. Then moonlight caught the intruder's angular features, and the words died in her throat. Time seemed to stutter as she stared into those obsidian eyes, darker and more dangerous than she remembered.