The garden was quiet—too quiet. The sort of silence that wasn't peace, but suspense. The koi pond shimmered gold beneath the morning sun, but even the fish swam cautiously today, as though they sensed something was brewing.
Bai Lanyue sat at the center of the stone pavilion, a delicate porcelain teacup resting between her fingertips. Her posture was refined, her eyes distant. Her thoughts, however, were anything but still.
Wen Qing arrived without needing to be summoned. That was the nature of their alliance—silent, sharp, and built on mutual interest rather than friendship. She walked past the cherry blossom trees in full bloom, her heels muffled against the smooth stone tiles.
"You're unusually calm," Wen Qing said as she reached the pavilion. "Considering you dropped a storm on your household last night."
Lanyue didn't look at her. "Storms are necessary. They wash away the filth."
Wen Qing smirked and sat across from her, pouring herself tea without being offered. "So? What now? You've stirred your family into a frenzy and you're sipping oolong like you're the only one not drowning."
Lanyue finally met her eyes. "Because I'm not. I'm the one orchestrating the flood."
That silenced Wen Qing for a moment. Then her brows lifted, sharp with intrigue. "What exactly are you planning?"
Lanyue turned her head slightly, the wind brushing against her perfect profile. "A banquet."
"For what?"
"For Bai Zhiqi."
Wen Qing choked softly on her tea. "You want to honor her?"
Lanyue's lips curved. "I want to expose her."
A tense pause.
"I'm inviting the city's elite. The press. Influencers. Politicians. Everyone who ever whispered her name, praised her talent, or doubted her sanity. I'll give them something to feast on."
Wen Qing blinked. "By throwing a banquet in her name?"
"Yes," Lanyue replied, voice calm, but eyes gleaming with cold fire. "I'm not just going to point a finger. That's too easy. Too… forgettable. I want the revelation to be poetic. Scandalous. Let the public question. Let the tension build."
"And if she doesn't come?" Wen Qing asked.
"She will."
Lanyue stood, gliding toward the edge of the pavilion, her silk robe brushing the floor like water. "She's already walked too far down this path. Her pride won't let her stay hidden. Not now."
Wen Qing narrowed her eyes, watching her carefully. "So you're baiting her."
"No. I'm giving her a throne—so she can fall from it."
"And you're sure she's the veiled musician?"
Lanyue turned her head slightly, expression unreadable. "I have enough to believe it. But even if I didn't—someone in the shadows pretending to be more? That's enough of a threat to my name. To my family. I'll crush it either way."
Wen Qing grinned. "You've always been terrifying when you plan."
"I'm not planning," Lanyue murmured. "I'm reclaiming."
She returned to her seat, smoothing out the folds in her robe. "This banquet will be held under the Bai name. The very legacy she shamed. Let her see the elegance she lost. Let her feel how far she's fallen."
"And if the plan goes wrong?"
Lanyue raised a brow. "Do I ever let it?"
A shadow passed over the garden as clouds drifted across the sun, the warmth dimming just slightly. Wen Qing leaned back, her smirk curling with admiration—and just a touch of fear.
"I'll begin drafting the guest list," Wen Qing said. "You'll want everyone there, I assume?"
"Everyone who matters. The media too. Make sure the right whispers are planted."
"And what about Ji Yanluo?"
Lanyue's expression didn't flicker. "Send him an invitation. He can decline if he wants."
"And if he brings her?"
Lanyue's eyes sharpened. "Then I hope she enjoys standing under a spotlight."
Wen Qing rose from her seat. "Very well. I'll handle the logistics. You prepare your speech."
Lanyue gave a nod, eyes already distant again—thinking, weaving, preparing.
As Wen Qing turned to leave, she paused. "Lanyue."
"Mm?"
"What if this doesn't destroy her?"
Lanyue looked up slowly. "Then I'll do it again. Until there's nothing left of the name she stole."
The wind picked up, lifting the hem of her robe as if the very air bowed to her will. The koi swam deeper into the pond. Somewhere in the distance, thunder rumbled—a warning, or perhaps, a promise.