The ballroom was a cascade of luxury—gold chandeliers hanging like frozen fireworks, live violins filling the silence between conversations, and silver trays gliding across the room, balancing flutes of champagne and glittering desserts. The Bai family's estate had outdone itself for Bai Lanyue's birthday banquet, and she—draped in an off shoulder silk gown embroidered with pearls—was basking in the center of it all.
The crowd quieted as she stepped forward to speak. She didn't need to tap a glass or call for attention; her presence alone commanded it.
"I'm deeply grateful to everyone here tonight," Bai Lanyue said with a smile, her voice soft, sweet, and trained for performances such as these. "This year has brought me joy, challenges, and unforgettable memories. I'm honored to share it with the people who matter most."
Wen Qing, standing near the stage, beamed with sisterly pride that didn't quite reach her eyes. Shen Yichen, tall and perfectly styled, held Lanyue's hand like a loyal prince. Around them, prominent figures from business and entertainment sipped, smiled, and speculated.
After the ceremonial cake-cutting—an elaborate tower of frosted florals and edible gold—Lanyue turned to the crowd once more.
"But what is a celebration," she continued, pausing dramatically, "without a touch of the extraordinary?"
A murmur rose.
Lanyue's smile deepened. "To commemorate this night, I've invited someone very special. A person who needs no introduction, though none of us truly know her. The one who has mystified us with melody and silence alike."
Whispers grew louder.
"Please, join me in welcoming... the veiled musician."
Gasps. Audible recognition. And all eyes turned toward the entrance of the ballroom.
She stood still—tall, graceful, and shrouded in mystery. A black satin cloak draped over a fitted gown, her hands folded calmly in front of her. A soft veil covered her face from just above the nose, delicate yet impenetrable, allowing only her eyes to peek through.
Behind her, Xiao Lin moved silently, as always—the ever-watchful guardian of the enigma.
The crowd parted naturally as the veiled musician stepped forward, her movements fluid like water. The whispers were immediate, photos snapped with silent awe.
"She's even more elegant in person—"
"Is that really her?"
"My God, I didn't expect her to actually come—"
She ascended the stage like she belonged there. Her steps were measured, deliberate, with not a single hesitation. She didn't look at anyone, yet her presence drew everyone's gaze like gravity.
But behind the poised mask, tension rippled through Xiao Lin's every muscle. She knew. They both did. This wasn't just a performance.
Wen Qing took a step closer under the pretense of excitement.
The pianist reached the grand piano, brushing her fingers gently along the keys in passing, readying herself to sit.
And that was when it happened.
A sudden flurry of motion. A gasp—louder this time.
Wen Qing's heel caught her own hem in an overacted stumble.
"Oh—!"
It was dramatic. Too dramatic.
She reached out.
Time slowed.
Her hand didn't aim for the pianist's shoulder. No. It reached upward—fingers catching the edge of the veil.
A flicker of resistance. A stumble, deliberate.
The veil caught.
A tug.
A sharp intake of breath from Xiao Lin—too far now to stop it.
The fabric fluttered in the air, soft and ghost-like.
And then—
Silence.
The veil hit the floor.
The ballroom froze.
Eyes widened. Mouths fell open.
In the span of a breathless heartbeat, they were given the shock of their lives.