Three days before the gala, Lin Yaoyue found herself standing in front of the mirror in the penthouse guest room, staring at a rack of gowns delivered earlier that morning.
The assistant had sent five options, all elegant, all outrageously expensive. Silk, lace, velvet. Each one meant to turn heads, photograph well, and send a message.
She hated all of them.
Not because they were ugly. Because they didn't feel like her.
Yaoyue let out a sigh and sank onto the edge of the bed. The contract said to look the part. Be convincing. Smile. But no one had mentioned how exhausting it was to become someone else full-time.
The dress she picked in the end was black, floor-length, and simple. No glitter. No dramatic cuts. Just clean lines and a low back that made her feel like she had a spine of glass.
She hoped that would be enough.
---
Later that evening, she caught a glimpse of Jiang Zeyan working in his study. The door was half-open, which was unusual. He was always meticulous about space, privacy, control.
He sat at his desk, jacket off, sleeves rolled, a small frown between his brows as he read something on his screen.
She lingered just outside the doorway, quiet.
There was something about seeing him like this, without the cold shield of his suits, without the careful detachment in his eyes. He looked... tired. Not physically, but like someone carrying weight he refused to admit existed.
She knocked lightly on the doorframe.
He glanced up. "Yes?"
"I just wanted to say… thanks. For the dresses." She motioned over her shoulder. "They're way too nice for someone like me."
"You're not borrowing them," he said. "They're yours."
"Right, because you're secretly a sponsor from a luxury fashion charity."
"No. Because you'll be watched at the gala, and I don't like being associated with mediocrity."
She narrowed her eyes. "And that's the nicest thing you've said to me all week."
He looked back at his screen, but the corner of his mouth twitched.
"Pick the black one," he said. "It suits you."
She blinked. "You saw them?"
He didn't answer.
---
On the day of the gala, the penthouse was buzzing with activity. Stylists, assistants, security briefings, car schedules. For once, even Zeyan looked slightly less composed. His tie had been adjusted three times. His phone buzzed non-stop.
As Yaoyue stepped out of her room, dressed and ready, he turned to look at her — and something in his face went blank.
His eyes moved slowly, taking her in from head to toe. For a second, he looked like he wanted to say something but thought better of it.
"You look fine," he said.
She smirked. "Careful. That sounded dangerously close to a compliment."
"You'll be the center of attention tonight. Handle it."
She raised a brow. "Is that a warning or encouragement?"
"Both."
---
The charity gala was held in the Grand Imperial Hotel, a place where chandeliers sparkled like stars and every footstep echoed luxury.
When they arrived, the cameras were already flashing. Reporters lined the entrance, murmurs spreading like wildfire the moment they saw Zeyan stepping out with someone new on his arm.
Yaoyue could feel the weight of every stare, every whispered speculation.
She kept her head high and her smile steady.
They were escorted inside, where a sea of gowns and suits shimmered under the lights. The air was thick with perfume, champagne, and curated charm.
Tang Min arrived five minutes later.
She was in red. Bold, fitted, dramatic, the kind of red that didn't ask for attention, it demanded it.
And she walked straight toward them.
"Zeyan," she greeted, placing a hand lightly on his arm. "You're late."
"Not really," he replied, moving slightly so Yaoyue was still beside him.
Tang Min turned to her, eyes gleaming.
"And Yaoyue. You look stunning," she said, voice smooth. "I almost didn't recognize you."
Yaoyue smiled. "You too. I mean, I could see the flames of that dress from the parking lot."
Tang Min laughed, but it was tight. "Fiery, aren't we?"
"Only when provoked."
Zeyan cleared his throat. "We should find our table."
As they walked away, Yaoyue muttered under her breath, "She's not even trying to hide the claws."
"She doesn't need to," he replied.
"She's going to cause a scene tonight, isn't she?"
"I expect it."
Yaoyue sighed. "Great. Nothing like performing in front of high society while dodging sabotage."
He glanced down at her. "You'll handle it."
She didn't know if it was encouragement or just another order, but either way, it was the closest thing to trust she'd heard from him.
---
As the night unfolded, speeches were made, photos were taken, toasts were raised.
Everything was going smoothly until the final auction item of the evening was introduced.
A luxury weekend getaway, donated by Jinlin Corporation, was announced as the highlight.
And just as the auctioneer lifted his gavel, Tang Min raised her hand.
"I'd like to bid… on behalf of Mr. Jiang and Miss Lin."
The entire room turned.
Zeyan's expression didn't change, but Yaoyue felt his arm tense.
Tang Min smiled sweetly. "They could use a little getaway, don't you think? A romantic escape. Surely we all want to see if this... surprising new couple is as real as they appear."
Laughter and scattered applause followed.
The gavel came down. Sold.
They were going on a trip.
Yaoyue kept her smile fixed, but her jaw clenched.
"She planned that," she whispered through her teeth.
"Yes."
"And you're not going to say anything?"
"There's no need."
She looked up at him. "You're letting her take control."
"No," he said quietly, "I'm letting her believe she still has it."
---
Back at the penthouse, hours later, Yaoyue peeled off her earrings and sat on the edge of the bed, exhausted.
Zeyan had already retreated into silence. As usual.
But something had changed. The lines had shifted.
This wasn't just about acting anymore.
Tang Min had stirred the pot, and whatever fake peace they had was now simmering toward something neither of them could name.
Yaoyue stared at her reflection, fingers brushing the collarbone exposed by the dress.
"I don't like this feeling," she whispered to herself.
But the worst part was, she didn't even know which feeling she was talking about.