Long Time No See
Qi Siran froze at Wen Yin’s words, then let go of the hem of her dress as if waking from a daze.
“What do you mean by that?” she snapped. The question left her baffled for a moment before irritation flared. Was Wen Yin out of her mind? What did the dress she was wearing have to do with Caiyi? Did she really take their small, second-tier label so seriously?
“I mean this dress on me—what has that got to do with you?” Qi Siran shot back, eyes narrowing with contempt. The look was pure derision. How could a woman who called herself a designer not recognize a major brand? Was her title fake too? If so, what a story that would make.
The thought sent a little thrill through Qi Siran: if Wen Yin was pretending, if she’d been faking her credentials all this time, the fallout would be delicious. Her gaze grew colder still, certain she’d found the leverage to humiliate her rival.
Wen Yin didn’t flinch. She watched Qi Siran with a faint, unreadable smile, saying nothing.
Before Wen Yin could explain, a familiar feminine voice cut in from behind her. “Miss, that dress is one of Caiyi’s limited new pieces this season.”
Jiu Jiu had worked her way through the crowd and, hearing Qi Siran’s remark, stepped forward. A few people who knew their labels chuckled, though the sounds were quick and guarded—as if they feared drawing Qi’s ire. Everyone present knew how temperamental she could be.
Jiu Jiu looked at Qi Siran with curiosity. It wasn’t common for someone wearing their clothes not to recognize them. The wealthy young women who ordered gowns at their studio were always eager and well acquainted with the designers. Qi Siran was unusual.
As Jiu Jiu drew closer she finally recognized her face. Surprise flickered across her features. This was the young woman who had deliberately made things difficult for her before—the Qi family’s miss. No wonder there’d been sparks moments ago. Qi Siran had obviously come over to stir trouble.
The rumor mill they’d all overheard before came into focus: the whole social circle whispered that Qi Siran had pined for Shao Yinan for years, only to be spurned when he and Wen Yin became a couple. Jealousy, then, explained everything.
Wen Yin smiled and addressed Qi Siran smoothly. “I think Jiu Jiu has explained it clearly enough.” Her tone was polite but contained a polite rebuke that flipped the earlier accusation back onto Qi.
Qi Siran had meant to trap Wen Yin, to make her stumble. Instead, she’d been the one left looking foolish. Her face went pale. Humiliation flushed through her, and she felt trapped between the eyes of the whole room.
People began to whisper comparisons. Jiu Jiu, not hiding anything, clarified immediately: “Actually, this piece is a bespoke creation I designed for Ms. Wen. She inspired the design, so it’s exclusive to her.” She added, “It’s not on sale anywhere—so you won’t find it on any official site.”
At that, the room rippled with disappointment and admiration. The other heiresses sighed; some muttered in impressed tones.
“I didn’t realize this dress was made for Wen Yin by Jiu Jiu,” someone said. “When the design director creates something, it’s on another level.”
“They’re both Caiyi, but you can’t compare a seasonal piece by another designer to a custom gown by the design director,” another whispered. In short, the consensus was clear: the two dresses were not even in the same league. Wen Yin had, in the eyes of the room, decisively won.
Qi Siran felt the careful ensemble she’d spent the evening curating collapse into a joke. She fled on awkward, glaring feet, cursing the incompetent assistant who hadn’t told her the brand of the dress at selection time. How could they let her walk into this and lose face like that?
She disappeared into a shadowed corner to fume. She couldn’t leave yet—this event was one of the few chances she and Shao Yinan had to cross paths. She would wait for the heat of embarrassment to pass, then make an appearance. For now she watched like a rat peeking from a drain, staring at the couple.
Shao Yinan tenderly stroked Wen Yin’s hair; she gave him an indulgent, slightly petulant look at something he murmured into her ear. Their hands lay intertwined at their sides, fingers threaded together in that intimate, practiced way.
Qi Siran bit her lip in jealous anger. Everything about Wen Yin—her ease, her looks, her place at Shao Yinan’s side—made Qi’s stomach twist. Wen Yin was supposedly a returned countryside heiress; how could such a background allow her to elbow Qi out of standing beside Shao Yinan? The unfairness gnawed at her until her thoughts grew poisonous.
She clenched her phone. So far it hadn’t turned up anything useful. Wen Yin’s origins were the only card Qi had left to play. She imagined exposing her as some low-born imposter, watching Wen Yin’s face crumble, seeing her chased out even from the modest ranks of the Wen family—she could hardly wait.
“Thank you.” Wen Yin offered a brief nod of gratitude to Jiu Jiu, who waved her hand off nonchalantly. “That woman was amusing—wearing our gown and not recognizing it,” Jiu Jiu said.
Wen Yin shrugged lightly. “Who knows?”
Her gaze drifted, casually sweeping the room, and landed on a darker, more somber look. She froze, surprised. Shao Yuanjia was watching her. He opened his mouth and formed the words with his lips, audibly only to her:
“Long time no see.”