As soon as Madam Gong's words settled over the ballroom, the atmosphere shifted almost imperceptibly—yet completely.
People straightened where they stood.
Conversations that had been relaxed and indulgent only moments ago sharpened into alert murmurs.
This was no longer merely a celebratory gathering; it had transformed into a stage where futures, interests, and alignments were about to be decided.
The business world had already been turbulent these past few months. Power was rearranging itself quietly, decisively. The Gong family, standing at the center of it all, had long been a subject of speculation.
For years, there had been no clear heir. Gong Feng, as the head of the family, was powerful, capable, and feared—but he had his own empire to manage, his own company that functioned independently of the Gong Group's traditional structure.
Everyone knew that unless something changed, the Gong Group would eventually face a vacuum.
And now, Gong Rui had returned.
A lost son, suddenly found.
Hope bloomed like wildfire.
The mothers who had brought their daughters tonight felt as if fate itself had smiled upon them.
If Gong Rui were to be announced as the future heir, then his value would skyrocket beyond imagination. Wealth, power, legacy—everything would follow.
Their gazes locked onto him with renewed intensity, calculating and eager, as though he were no longer a man but a prize waiting to be claimed.
Madam Gong paused deliberately, allowing the anticipation to ferment.
Then she spoke again.
Her gaze drifted—slowly, intentionally—toward where Lin Che stood.
"The Gong family," she said clearly, each word enunciated with care, "and the Ming family have decided to deepen our cooperation."
There was a brief stillness as people absorbed the phrasing.
Business cooperation.
A few nods. A few smiles.
Then, as if on cue, attention shifted. Heads turned. Eyes followed Madam Gong's subtle indication toward the side of the hall.
There stood Gong Rui and Ming Mimi.
Their hands were tightly clasped.
The realization spread like a ripple through water.
Before anyone could fully react, Madam Gong continued, her voice lifting slightly, carrying triumph and finality.
"To formalize this alliance, the Gong family and the Ming family will be joined in marriage. My son, Gong Rui, will marry the young mistress of the Ming family—Ming Mimi."
The words landed heavily.
Shock flashed across countless faces.
Some women stiffened. Some mothers froze mid-breath. A few smiles cracked and fell away entirely.
It was over.
The opportunity they had come for—gone in a single sentence.
Madam Gong did not miss a single reaction. Her eyes, sharp and unblinking, returned to Lin Che. They lingered there, unhidden, unapologetic. It was not subtle. It was not kind.
It was a declaration.
Do not dream.
Do not hope.
You do not belong here.
Lin Che, however, did not immediately understand what had been said.
The words reached her ears, but they did not settle in her mind. They passed through her like mist, vague and unreal. Applause erupted around her, loud and overwhelming, yet it sounded distant, as if she were submerged underwater.
Something inside her chest tightened painfully.
It was a familiar sensation.
She had felt it once before—on the day the Gong family came to the village and took Zhang Rui away. That same helplessness. That same sense of something being torn from her grasp without her consent.
Slowly, she lifted her gaze.
Her eyes found Gong Rui.
And then—his hand.
The hand he was holding with Ming Mimi.
The sight struck her like icy water poured straight down her spine.
Her fingers trembled. The glass in her hand shook visibly, the liquid inside sloshing dangerously close to the rim. For a brief moment, she thought it would fall and shatter at her feet.
Before it could, a hand closed over hers.
Warm. Steady.
"Lin Che?" Fu Rong's voice came urgently from beside her. "Are you okay?"
She did not answer.
Her face had drained of all color, leaving her frighteningly pale. Her lips parted slightly, but no sound came out. Fu Rong frowned, concern deepening as he leaned closer.
"You don't look well," he said softly. "Do you want to sit down?"
She barely heard him.
Her thoughts were a mess, fragmented and chaotic. Three days. They had been here for three days. Not once—not even once—had Gong Rui hinted at this. Not a word. Not a sign.
It was only now, standing here under the bright lights, that she understood.
This invitation.
This party.
It had never been for her.
It was as if Madam Gong had invited her here for one reason alone—to make sure she heard this announcement with her own ears.
To make sure she understood her place.
The room spun slightly.
When Lin Che came back to herself, she was already moving.
She didn't remember setting the glass down. She didn't remember excusing herself. She only knew that she was no longer in the center of the ballroom. The lights dimmed as she moved away. The noise faded into a dull roar behind her.
"Lin Che!" Nan Lu's voice called after her, sharp with worry.
She didn't stop.
She couldn't.
Her body felt unbearably cold, as though the warmth had been stripped from her bones. Her steps were unsteady as she pushed through a side corridor, her mind fixed on one single thought—I need air. I need to breathe.
On her way, she passed through a service area near the kitchen.
The smell of food lingered in the air.
Her steps slowed.
Something caught her eye.
A bin.
She stopped.
Inside, discarded carelessly, were several plates of food.
Her breath hitched.
She recognized them instantly.
The dishes she had prepared.
Every slice, every seasoning, every moment she had spent standing in the kitchen—thinking only of Gong Rui, of doing something special for him—they were all there. Thrown away. Untouched.
As if they had never mattered.
As if she had never mattered.
The message was unmistakable.
Her role was finished.
No—worse...
It had never been wanted.
Her vision blurred. Tears welled up before she could stop them, hot and sudden, spilling over and streaking down her cheeks. She raised a hand to wipe them away, but more followed, obscuring her path.
She stumbled forward, barely aware of the people she passed.
Behind her, someone had noticed.
Gong Feng.
He had been watching the announcement with a tightening chest, his attention fixed not on the applause, not on Madam Gong's satisfied expression, but on Lin Che. The moment he saw her face—ashen, stunned—something in him stirred uneasily.
When she turned and left, he followed without thinking.
He saw her pause near the kitchen.
He saw her staring at the bin.
And when his eyes followed hers, his expression darkened instantly.
He turned sharply to the servants nearby.
"What happened here?" his voice was low, controlled, but there was an unmistakable edge beneath it.
The servants stiffened.
"O-One of the dishes was cleared, sir," one replied nervously.
"Cleared?" Gong Feng's gaze flicked back to the bin. "By whom?"
The servant swallowed. "One of the… guests."