The Ji Penthouse was unusually quiet for an evening following such a chaotic event. But inside, beneath the hush, tension crackled like static in the air. A tray of untouched desserts sat in the center of the living room table, flanked by steaming teacups, but no one had the appetite to indulge.
Bai Zhiqi sat on the far end of the sofa, shoulders straight, her expression serene but unreadable. She had changed out of the veiled musician's attire, now dressed in a plain slate-gray loungewear that somehow made her seem even more distant, like a phantom returning to the realm of the living.
Ji Lanxue leaned back in the armchair, swirling her tea lazily. "Honestly… I almost wanted to applaud when Wen Qing yanked the veil and froze. That was pure theater."
Across from her, Ji Meiran—quiet, composed, her usual demureness accented by her sleek bob and minimalist makeup—smiled faintly. "I kept waiting for someone to notice I wasn't her. The hands, the posture… I only mimicked the basics."
"They didn't care to look close enough," Bai Zhiqi replied, voice soft but steady. "They saw what they wanted to see. That's what arrogance does."
Ji Yanluo, who had been silent until now, stood with one arm rested against the back of the couch, eyes fixed on Bai Zhiqi. "You took a risk tonight. You knew what they were planning."
"And I countered it," she replied, finally lifting her gaze to him. "I gave them exactly what they were hungry for… and then took it away."
Ji Meiran adjusted her posture. "I'll admit, I was nervous. If she had yanked harder or if the light had hit me wrong—"
"But it didn't," Ji Lanxue interjected. "And you did better than we expected. You carried the performance with just enough hesitation and mystery. Not even a single word. Well done."
"I suppose being mistaken for someone else is the family legacy," Meiran replied wryly.
Zhiqi chuckled under her breath, then turned to Ji Yanluo. "They're rattled now. Bai Lanyue will push harder. She'll be embarrassed, humiliated even. That kind of woman doesn't retreat quietly."
"She'll double her efforts," he agreed. "But now she knows you're watching. That you're not afraid."
"That I'm alive," Zhiqi corrected, her voice low. "And that's what scares her the most."
Lanxue clicked her tongue. "I wouldn't be surprised if she already has people digging into Ji Meiran's past. Looking for anything to prove the switch."
"They won't find much," Meiran replied, sipping her tea calmly. "My name has never been tied to music publicly. I've always stayed behind the curtain. That's why it worked."
"And it worked because you were brave enough to wear the mask," Bai Zhiqi added, offering her a rare, genuine smile. "Thank you."
Meiran looked genuinely moved, then nodded. "For you, cousin… always."
Ji Yanluo crossed to the window, hands in his pockets. The city skyline shimmered behind the glass, but his mind was clearly elsewhere. "This only bought us time, Zhiqi. They'll come again. Smarter next time."
"Then we'll be ready," she said simply.
Silence hung for a moment, heavy but not uncomfortable. It was Ji Lanxue who broke it, stretching her arms above her head before speaking with a wicked grin.
"You know… the best part wasn't Wen Qing's frozen expression. It was Bai Lanyue. The way she stared at Meiran like she was trying to rearrange her entire brain. She looked like she'd seen a ghost."
"She thought she had," Zhiqi said quietly.
Meiran set down her cup and looked toward her cousin. "Are you sure you're ready for what comes next?"
Zhiqi's fingers curled slightly against the edge of her seat, but she nodded. "I've been waiting for years to take back control of my name. This… this is only the first step."
Lanxue narrowed her eyes. "Still, I'm not happy with the risks you're taking. We barely avoided exposure tonight."
"And if I hadn't gone at all, they would've painted me in whatever colors they pleased," Zhiqi replied.
Ji Yanluo turned from the window and finally met her gaze. "So… what now?"
A flicker of something fierce passed through her expression, like a shadow slipping behind her calm.
"We don't just defend anymore," she said. "We play offense."
For a moment, no one spoke. Then Ji Lanxue leaned forward with a grin. "Now that sounds like the Zhiqi I remember."
Their eyes met—not as conspirators, not as family, but as survivors of something long buried.
And maybe, just maybe, as the storm approached… they were ready to face it together.