Chapter Forty-Seven: A Touch of Light Makeup

“Oh, my dear journalist friend, you truly have an eye for detail. This dress was originally tailored for me. But this morning, in all the rush—I don’t even know who spread the rumor that Mr. Jin Yuan was coming to our house to propose—before I’d even woken up, my sister was already wearing it.”

Yuan Xiangdie spun tales with ease, without the slightest awareness of her own falsehoods. As she rambled on, the journalists scribbled down whatever came to mind. After all, being summoned here at dawn was already a stroke of luck; if a bit of gossip emerged, so much the better.

“So, according to your words, Miss Yuan, this dress was meant for you. And Mr. Jin Yuan isn’t here to propose to Yuan Yao’er?”

The journalist had barely finished the question when he felt as if struck by lightning—inside and out, scorched. The words he uttered might well doom him, courtesy of those two women, to exile from this city forever.

But even if what he asked meant he’d have to leave, at least his report would make waves.

Jin Yuan rarely smiled, but now he did. This woman was certainly no meek soul. The pitiful, fragile act she’d put on before him was partly genuine, partly calculated.

Yuan Xiangdie caught the subtle reproach in Jin Yuan’s gaze and felt a twinge of guilt. She glanced sidelong at Xihuang, then finally clasped her hands behind her back in a silent plea for mercy.

After all, there was important business to attend to today. Her mother, at home, had issued special orders: today, the engagement must be settled. She couldn’t allow her future daughter-in-law to slip away.

Jin Yuan had originally intended to wait a few more days to better prepare, but since others were so impatient, he had no choice but to comply with public wishes.

“My friends from the media, I invited you here today to witness my proposal. Naturally, it is for this young lady.”

He took a small round box from the steward’s bag, black with a layer of blue silk thread. Others might not recognize it, but Yuan Xiangdie certainly did. She had set her sights on this set years ago on a famous forum, lamenting that she was too young at the time to claim the pair of diamond rings once worn by the British royal family in the Columbian era.

Her eyes lit up instantly at the sight, and Jin Yuan thought she looked like a cat spotting a fish.

Yuan Yao’er sensed something was amiss. She had never professed any fondness for such things. The rings were plain, without even basic diamonds—just bare silver bands, less practical than curtain rods.

Why? Yuan Yao’er could guess that they were merely two circles. Having learned Yuan Xiangdie’s frequent account names upon moving in, she often searched them online, snooping for clues.

Zhang Xi was still preoccupied, thinking Jin Yuan’s thoughtfulness remarkable—her daughter hadn’t anticipated this, yet the rings were already prepared.

She failed to notice how Yuan Yao’er’s complexion had soured, as if she’d swallowed a bitter pill.

Empty words weren’t Yuan Yao’er’s domain alone. Yuan Xiangdie was determined to show the mother and daughter she was not to be trifled with, even if they still saw her as the easily duped fool from three years ago.

Yuan Yao’er’s body trembled as if she might collapse at any moment, her eyes brimming with tears—a performance well executed.

Zhang Xi had already retreated to her room, unwilling to face further embarrassment. She abandoned even her own daughter, but what kind of mother was that?

Yuan Yao’er’s mind raced—her mother was gone, unable to speak for her, leaving her to fend for herself. Most of the media present chose silence, unwilling to take sides.

With no father, her only recourse was to feign weakness, hoping to stir protective instincts—especially from men, whose tendencies she understood perfectly.

She slumped to the floor as if devastated, trembling slightly and drained of color. Her eyes lost focus, her lips murmuring softly.

“Sister, why are you doing this to me? I was young then, I wanted to help you hide the truth, but the situation was terrifying!”

She brought up old events, and Yuan Xiangdie knew exactly what she was scheming.

Jin Yuan stood nearby, vigilant. If matters slipped from his grasp, he would immediately steer them back on course.

Yuan Xiangdie wasn’t the type needing constant protection; for such petty tricks, Jin Yuan’s intervention was unnecessary.

She ignored Yuan Yao’er and instead tugged at Jin Yuan. Their gazes met, triggering a flurry of camera clicks.

It was almost deliberate, ensuring their presence was noticed. The news agency spared no effort; without digging something sensational from Yuan Xiangdie today, they’d leave unsatisfied.

“I’m going upstairs to change. I’ll have to trouble you to wait for me here.” Their hands touched, Yuan Xiangdie giving a gentle squeeze, summoning her courage.

Jin Yuan glanced down at their joined hands, feeling the warmth. With his head lowered, no one could see his expression, leaving only guesses.

“Is it possible—Boss Jin is shy?”

A reporter, an old acquaintance from previous interviews, ventured the remark.

“Don’t tease him, or you might lose your broadcasting privileges. Then you won’t even know where to cry.”

Beside him stood his cameraman partner—they were a seasoned team.

Others listened, suspecting the truth but dared not speak; being invited by the boss was a rare honor, worth boasting about for a week.

“Go ahead, take your time. Wear whatever’s comfortable. Since someone else took your dress, I’ll have William send another.”

The boss’s words left Yuan Xiangdie inwardly giving a thumbs-up.

She ascended the stairs, glancing back—a touching, almost epic love story.

“The boss is truly impressive.”

Jin Yuan didn’t remain alone downstairs. Once, Yuan Yao’er would have hovered near the sofa, clinging to him. But now, even the act had to be complete. Since Jin Yuan was now that woman's fiancé, Yuan Yao’er had to weigh her options—after all, Jin Yuan was the CEO of a world top-five company.

He held over 45% of the stock, and rumors had it he was expanding the corporate portfolio. The spring season’s fashion show was about to be finalized.

The situation was unfavorable to Yuan Yao’er, but she was no fool. How else could she have toyed with so many young men, leaving them utterly devoted?

She lingered quietly, realizing she was no longer the center of attention. Why stay and endure humiliation? If not for the expensive custom dress, she might have torn it off on the spot.

Before leaving, she dragged her long skirt over to Jin Yuan, finally within close reach. Whether near or far, he was undeniably the most handsome man in the world—unlike those pretty boys.

“I… now should call you brother-in-law.” A trace of bitterness flashed in her eyes, as if watching an old lover betray her.

Such a look sent the media into a frenzy for gossip, but those who knew the couple best dared not dig too deep.

Her heart bled, but the man didn’t spare her a glance.

“Miss, my master dislikes women approaching him, except for his wife. I hope you understand.”

The steward stepped out at just the right moment, whisking the troublesome woman away before the master could lose patience—lest he frighten his lady.

Yuan Yao’er’s expression remained unchanged, still pitifully meek.

“Steward, I didn’t mean anything. I just wanted to wish you and my sister happiness.”

She bit back tears, gathered her skirt, and ran off.

She collided headlong with Yuan Xiangdie, who had just changed and applied a light touch of makeup.

Both women fell to the ground, and Jin Yuan dashed up the stairs. In the instant Yuan Xiangdie sat, he swept her into his arms with a princess carry.

Yuan Yao’er nearly lost her composure at the sight. From above, Yuan Xiangdie glanced down; if she weren’t able to bury her head in Jin Yuan’s chest, she might have been the one to break down.

“I’m fine, sister. Are you alright? I was too careless when I ran out—did I bump into you?”

“I’m alright. I was impulsive earlier; I should have checked the stairs before leaving. If I’d known you’d rush up, I wouldn’t have stepped out.”

Feigning innocence—who can’t act? Yuan Xiangdie couldn’t stand such displays; in a contest of skill, she wouldn’t necessarily lose.

Jin Yuan watched the two women’s rivalry from the side, amused by the one in his arms.