The iron gates of the Bai Mansion groaned open as *Bai Lanyue's* sleek car slid through. The mansion loomed ahead, elegant and cold as ever—unchanged, even though she felt as if the ground beneath her had shifted. She stepped out, heels clicking across the marble driveway, her fingers trembling around the handle of her designer purse.
The staff greeted her with cautious bows, sensing the storm that clung to her like perfume.
Without a word, Lanyue ascended the steps.
The heavy double doors opened with a creak, the same familiar scent of aged wood and incense wafting out to meet her. Her mother's favorite scent still lingered in the hall, and it only added to the pressure building in her chest.
She didn't head to her room.
She didn't call out to the maids.
Instead, she walked—no, stormed—through the grand corridor toward the inner hall, lips pressed tightly together, eyes burning with something unspoken. Her thoughts were too loud, too tangled, repeating the same words:
"She's back."
"She played that melody."
"Everyone saw."
She reached the sitting room, her breath shallow, only to halt at the sight of a figure already inside.
Bai Heng
Her elder brother stood by the window, dressed in a crisp black suit, his expression unreadable as always. A glass of untouched whiskey sat on the table beside him. His sharp gaze flicked to her as the door creaked behind her.
"You're early," he said coolly. "I didn't think you'd come back until tomorrow."
Lanyue's chest rose and fell sharply. "I didn't come back for pleasantries."
Bai Heng raised a brow. "Clearly."
She marched across the room, tossing her purse onto the couch, the impact soft but intentional. Her hands were clenched at her sides, jaw taut. "Did you see the gala? Did you hear what they're saying?"
He didn't answer immediately. Instead, he walked toward the sideboard, slowly pouring himself a drink. The silence scraped at her nerves.
"It's just music," he finally said.
"No." She took a step closer, her voice rising. "It's not just music. It was *her* melody."
He stilled.
"Don't pretend you didn't hear it too," she continued, her voice tight. "You know what that tune was. You know only *one person* ever played it like that."
Bai Heng finally turned to her, his gaze sharper now, focused. "Lanyue."
But she wasn't done. "Why now? Why—after all these years—would she come back like this? In front of everyone. In front of *me*."
"She didn't say it was her."
"She didn't have to!" she snapped. "The entire city is talking about her. And now Ji Lanxue is protecting her like she's some rare gem. Do you know what this means?"
He took a slow sip from his glass, eyes never leaving hers. "What does it mean, Lanyue?"
"It means she's not hiding anymore."
Silence pressed down on the room.
For a moment, the years slipped back into place. The courtroom. The trial. The betrayal no one ever addressed. The sibling they never spoke of.
Bai Heng set his glass down with a quiet thud.
"You're afraid," he said simply.
Lanyue stiffened. "I'm not—"
"You are," he cut in. "Because for the first time, someone outshone you without even showing their face."
She looked as if he'd slapped her. "Don't twist this into envy."
"I'm not. But maybe it's time to ask yourself why you're so shaken by a melody."
Her mouth opened, but no words came out.
He stepped past her then, his presence cold and steady, like a wall she couldn't move.
"If she's back, then she's back. The past doesn't stay buried forever."
She turned to face him, the fire in her eyes dimming just enough to show the fear underneath.
"I thought we agreed to leave her out of this."
Bai Heng's expression was unreadable as he walked toward the door.
"Then perhaps," he said, pausing at the threshold, "you should have never let her be written out in the first place."
With that, he left her alone in the echo of the hall.
And Bai Lanyue—once poised and untouchable—stood frozen, a single truth finally creeping into her heart.
Bai Zhiqi was no longer a ghost.
She was a storm—and the thunder had only just begun.