"Did you throw away all his other works and keep only his portraits?" Bai Wenxi's temple throbbed. She gripped the frame so hard her knuckles blanched, forcing herself not to hurl the painting at the woman's face.
Yao Chunmei blinked, guilty but quick with an excuse. "What do you mean, 'throw away'? I packed the rest up and donated them to places that need them. As for these portraits—I'm saving them to hang at the Starlight Gallery as your father's final works."
"No way," Bai snapped.
"Why not? They're proof of how much he loved me," Yao Chunmei wailed, turning on the melodrama. "After your mother left, he just shut down. If I hadn't married him, you two would have rotted away in that house."
"I came into his life and brought him back to society," she added, chest puffed with smug self-importance. "If not for me, that social circle would never have even noticed Miss Bai."
"My parents separated peacefully," Bai said through gritted teeth, shoving the gilded canvas onto the floor. "My mother didn't abandon him. And without you, my father and I would have been fine."
"Ungrateful child!" Yao Chunmei recoiled as if struck. She watched the portrait tumble and pressed a hand to her chest, theatrically wounded. "You won't even accept your father's last works? Stop saying you loved him if you won't take them. I'll tell you the truth—there aren't many of his pieces left. Do you want them or not?"
Bai's lips trembled. The woman kept pushing every limit of decency.
At that moment Yao Qingjia wandered in like a stray breeze—lazy smile, shirt half untucked. "Oh? Mother and daughter fight again?" He slung an arm around Yao Chunmei as if clinging to an ally. "Are you all right? The doctor told you to rest after your loss, didn't he?"
Now backed by her birth family, Yao Chunmei grew bolder. "I'm trying to take care of myself, but someone insists on stirring trouble—won't leave me in peace."
Qingjia rubbed his chin, eyes flicking to Bai's calm, composed face. A lecherous grin slid across him. "Wen, long time no see. You're only prettier than I remember."
He wobbled closer and put a fat, warm hand on Bai's shoulder. "We're family—why make a scene?"
Bai slapped his hand away with a sharp, "Show some respect."
Yao Chunmei knew her nephew liked to charm and take what he wanted. If he could ruin Bai's reputation, so much the better. "Wen, how could you be so rude to Brother Qingjia? You've known him since you were kids—didn't your father drill manners into you?" she said, every syllable dripping with malice. "When you see relatives, at least say hello. Don't be so high and mighty."
Qingjia lifted the hand she had slapped, took a deep sniff as if savoring something, then planted a mocking kiss on the back of it. "It's nothing, Auntie. Wen just throws little tantrums sometimes. She's still as delicate as ever." He stuck out his tongue and made a show of licking the reddened skin, as if to prove he wasn't offended.
Disgust rose up in Bai like bile. "Sorry, I'm not familiar with you. You've only been in our lives since my stepmother married in—I met you twice today, nothing more."
"Aw, don't be shy," Qingjia said, shameless. "Guys like me are popular everywhere. We're family—no need to be awkward."
Bai tightened her grip on her purse. If either of them made a move on her, she would not give them the satisfaction.
A clear, polite voice carried up from downstairs. "Ms. Yao, are you home?"
"The buyer's arrived!" Yao Chunmei chirped, instantly brightening. She turned and rushed for the stairs.
Not wanting to be trapped under the same roof with Qingjia, Bai slipped out of the room as well and leaned over the balcony to look down. Their gazes met the moment she popped her head out.
"Yu—Senior Yu?" It took a second for recognition to click. The face was familiar from school—a poised, temperate kind of handsomeness.
"Back from abroad?" Bai asked, remembering the courteous young man from their high school days.
Yu Chenhe hadn't expected to see Bai Wenxi again and what he felt was almost gullible glee. "Wenxi?" he said, pleasure in his voice. "Are you the owner of this place?"
She shook her head and came down the winding staircase slowly, hand along the polished banister. He watched her the whole way, eyes bright with an emotion he barely pretended to hide. He had thought of asking a teacher for her contact, but seeing her now made all that planning useless.
"I'm the owner's daughter," Bai said. "My father passed away. His wife is trying to sell the house." She extended her hand with surprisingly composed cordiality. "If you buy it… it would make parting easier."
Something surged in Yu's chest—possessiveness, relief, longing—but he kept his cool and returned her handshake with just the right restraint. His fingers lingered an instant longer than necessary, stealing warmth.
Yao Chunmei seized the moment. Seeing the buyer's obvious admiration for Bai, she couldn't resist. "An old acquaintance? Even better—prices will be easier to negotiate."
"No need," Yu said quickly, producing a folder. "I'll pay double. I can sign now."
"Wow, a young talent—and a lawyer, no less." Yao Chunmei was practically salivating. The house had already been priced high; now this man was offering twice that. Her mind raced at the thought of the cash.
She meant to make as much out of the situation as possible. After the papers were signed and stamped, she leaned in with a conspiratorial smile. "Wen, it's a shame your husband isn't here. We should sell the house today—at least he can see where you grew up."
Yu froze. "You're married?" The question came out sharper than he intended. He hadn't imagined her married so young.
"I'm sorry—I'm married, Senior Yu. I didn't know you were back," Bai said, a faint embarrassment creeping into her voice. She didn't want to make small talk in front of her stepmother. "If I'd known, I'd have asked you over. Maybe… later, once things settle."
Yu's expression tightened. He had always suspected Zhang Fuwen was in the picture—the Zhang family boy who had shadowed her in high school. Had he been the one to take her? Bitterly he asked aloud, "Zhang Fuwen?"
"I heard about that match too," Yu said, softer now. "Your mother arranged something with the Zhangs, didn't she?"
Bai's face reddened. "No. That engagement was called off. I married into the Jiang family."
That stung. "When did you get married?"
"Just a few days ago," she answered vaguely. She didn't want to linger on the subject with Yao Chunmei listening in. "Senior Yu, once this madness dies down, let me buy you a coffee."
"I'll be waiting," he said, though what he wanted was to see—what did the man who won her look like?
"It may sound odd, but could I stay and look around the house a little longer?" Bai asked. The rooms were full of memories she couldn't hand over in an instant.
"Of course," Yu nodded. "You grew up here. Take as long as you like. I'm in no rush to move."
Relief washed through her. She forced a smile, then hurried out to the garden to fetch the camellia her father had planted with his own hands.
Yao Chunmei had cleared out most of the house privately; the potted camellia—a single stubborn reminder—was all Bai had left. She bent and dug carefully, tearing at the earth so she could take the plant with her.
A pair of hands clamped over her mouth before she could cry out.
"Mmm—" Her muffled protest sputtered into the palm. The sound of footsteps and someone stifling a laugh mingled with the pounding of her heart.