Chapter Twelve: The Engagement Broken

The butler walked into the courtyard, trembling with anxiety. There was an imposing wall within, separating the inside from the outside, reminiscent of something from a bygone era of feudalism. Picking up the telephone mounted by the wall, the butler dialed, and the call was promptly transferred.

“Hurry up and let that gentleman in,” Zhang Xi called out loudly, fearful her daughter might not hear her words. Only by hearing these instructions could she hope for the best possible outcome.

Yuan Yao’er, always impeccably dressed alongside her mother, had long formed an inseparable partnership; countless promising young men had fallen under their spell. Receiving her mother’s signal, she glanced once more at the child standing blankly atop the spiral staircase, gazing down.

She shivered involuntarily—what was it about the child’s eyes that felt so chilling? Yet, in the next moment, his expression was utterly blank.

“Perhaps I’m overthinking it. But don’t imagine this matter will simply be brushed aside. Your engagement ceremony is in three days. Don’t even think of running away, or it’ll be bad for everyone.”

Indeed, it would be bad for all. An Yongxu was currently tearing his hair out, trying to figure out how to break off the engagement while still salvaging his reputation with Jin Yuan.

After losing that industrial contract, An Shi Enterprises had plunged into disarray, especially the stock market.

“You useless fools, have you investigated properly? Didn’t I tell you—even if there’s no outcome, report everything to me. Don’t let that brat cause me any more trouble.”

Perhaps out of desperation, An Yongxu unwittingly reached out to Yuan Xiangdie. He sent a lengthy introduction—after all, the chief designer of the latest fashion show, Situ, had previously praised Yuan Xiangdie’s dress on the trading network. If Yuan Xiangdie would speak on his behalf, An Yongxu was willing to dissolve the engagement.

Unfortunately, Yuan Xiangdie was preoccupied with her own troubles. Who was this man who had entered, and why was such a beautiful woman standing behind him?

Yuan Yao’er’s eyes suddenly blazed with fire, flames dancing within. Her hands clenched tightly. “Since when did Jin Shao have a female assistant?”

If word got out among the wealthy ladies and heiresses, there’d surely be a chorus of tears overnight.

“Madam, good afternoon. I hope you won’t mind the young master staying here and causing a little disturbance,” Tian Xiaomeng addressed the elders with practiced grace, regardless of the boss’s feelings toward her.

Jin Yuan entered, his gaze immediately settling on Yuan Xiangdie. Today, she wore a black t-shirt, comfortable in appearance, and loose wide-legged trousers that concealed her figure entirely, making it impossible to discern what lay beneath.

Zhang Xi, despite her own troubles, maintained her composure; children might wear such expressions, but as an elder, she could not, and so she suppressed her curiosity and doubts.

“You overstate it. It’s our honor that the young master visits us.” Since the child was taken by that man, Yuan Xiangdie had enjoyed a rare period of peace, though she remained wary of the two women’s schemes.

Jin Yuan brought the child home and insisted on a lengthy medical examination by the family doctor.

The examination revealed that the child was sleeping soundly, and his recurring symptoms of insomnia and night sweats had significantly improved.

“I say, Young Master, did you call me over just to check on your child’s health? You know, your kid’s usual doctor is far more qualified than I am.”

Indeed, he was. Wu Tong brought his medical kit, standing awkwardly outside the grand house, muttering to himself about not being needed.

“Such wicked capitalists—the child’s health improves, and they don’t even thank me, nor have they paid for this visit.”

Wu Tong limped away, nursing the spot where he’d been kicked out, full of grievances, looking as wilted as a frostbitten flower.

“Always calling me when needed and discarding me when not. If I weren’t Jin Yuan’s closest friend these years, I’d never have lasted until payday. Jin Yuan may be a favored child of fate, but his friends are few.”

“President, as you requested, I’ve sent Miss Yuan the invitation,” Tian Xiaomeng reported, recovering her professional demeanor amid the gossiping glances.

Jin Yuan’s choice of a woman to be Xiao Wei’s mother was carefully considered. He adored Xiao Wei but lacked the capacity to be a nurturing mother himself.

Thus, when the president entrusted her with this task, Tian Xiaomeng did everything possible, deploying every rumor and resource at her disposal.

Jin Yuan didn’t even lift his eyelids, keeping his attention fixed on the documents in his hands—an approval letter from An Yongxu for the bidding process. Heaven knew how many times it had been rejected; every time it returned, the proposal was more refined.

This was why, despite the unreliable men in An Shi Group, the company remained standing. The founder had issued a strict directive years ago: if the studio’s plan was rejected, revise it to perfection and resubmit, no matter what. If there were no objections, revise it further.

Thus, only the most capable remained in the company—Jin Yuan admitted the method was sound, but such talent was rare; most were simply mediocre.

“Post the news online—clean up all Xiao Wei’s scandals,” the CEO said grimly, dropping the stack of papers and finally sitting up. He’d just been scanning the online rumors, each more outrageous than the last, prompting his rescue of the woman from the flames.

Since returning home, Xiao Wei had been thinking about Yuan Xiangdie, not even touching her favorite strawberry cake.

Despite the butler’s coaxing and threats to eat, Xiao Wei remained unmoved, until the CEO himself intervened.

“Brat, I told you to eat properly. Now your big brother is coming to catch you—what a privilege.”

What privilege indeed—Xiao Wei rolled her eyes internally, but showed nothing outwardly. If she expressed her true feelings, she’d be in trouble.

She’d been clamoring to see Aunt Yang, but Aunt Yang was always so busy.

“Big brother…”

Jin Yuan, a devoted child lover, paid no mind to such affectionate nicknames. As long as he treated the child well, nothing else mattered.

The little head knocked into the corner of the office, revealing a cute forehead and neat bangs. With those adorable eyes fixed on her, Tian Xiaomeng’s heart nearly burst.

At last, she shut her eyes—falling, truly falling.

Jin Yuan seemed not to hear the child’s muttering. After days of longing, he too wished to see the woman appear before him. Lacking a proper excuse, he asked Situ for a VIP ticket to Fashion Week, knowing full well that such mother-daughter pairs would never be provided one.

When Yuan Xiangdie received the VIP ticket for the show, she was stunned. Such tickets were nearly impossible to obtain, and she, once confined and forbidden from attending, had only ever watched from afar.

“Miss Yuan, this ticket allows you to bring a family of three or a man and a woman—other combinations at your discretion.”

The bodyguard placed the ticket and quickly vanished into the night. If he didn’t hurry, the boss might see him getting too close to the lady and he’d be in trouble.

Yuan Xiangdie stood dumbly by the mailbox, staring at the letter in deep thought after the messenger had left.

If she truly attended the event, she would take Mina. But Mina was rushing to finish the digital renderings of her designs.

These were her recent creations, born from rigorous study after her release from confinement. Her vision was now sharp and unique.

Yuan Yao’er, by contrast, was always out early and home late, unwilling to return, partly because of that little wretch at home.

“You people had better work hard—don’t think you can slack off and escape. These tasks are yours to finish. If you don’t complete them on time, I’ll see you all unemployed.”

In a prestigious design studio, there were always one or two senior designers. The trouble was, they cared only for fame and rivalry, not whether their work surpassed the others’, and if not, they’d just throw money at it. So the brand, Xunfang, had steadily declined.

The staff worked tremblingly, always knowing their boss was formidable, but never expecting such threats. Still, as long as they had skill and wit, they’d survive.

On the day of Fashion Week, every socialite and lady carried an invitation with Situ’s personal signature—purple-gold embossing and a cutout of a female statue.

Everyone secretly mocked Situ’s taste, always so peculiar.