After presenting their gift, Jiang Ciyou and Yan Feng made their way to their assigned table near the entrance. No one else had been seated yet, so they stood off to the side, waiting. Partway there, Yan Feng’s phone buzzed. With a quick glance at the screen, he excused himself and hurried out to the garden through a side door. Jiang Ciyou knew it was Xia Ling calling. She paid it no mind, turning her attention instead to the antiques displayed in the banquet hall. An entire wall adorned with blue-and-white porcelain from the Song Dynasty left her breathless. A moment later, a young woman approached her. "Are you Mrs. Yan?" Jiang Ciyou turned gracefully. "Yes? Can I help you?" "I'm Bai Qian, granddaughter of the commander of the Jingcheng Military Region," the girl said. "This might be forward of me, but could I ask about the formula for your 'Li Wang Hua Jin Chen'?" Before Jiang Ciyou could reply, the girl added hastily, "I can buy it from you. Name your price." Jiang Ciyou smiled. "The formula isn't some great secret. It’s just something I made for fun. If you like it, Ms. Bai, I'd be happy to give it to you." The girl's eyes lit up with delight. "You'd really just give it to me?" "Of course. Add me on WeChat, and I'll send you the formula tonight." The girl quickly added Jiang Ciyou on WeChat. Just then, several other young women crowded around them. "Me too, me too! Mrs. Yan, could you add me as well?" Jiang Ciyou was a bit taken aback by the sudden crowd, but she added each of them on WeChat, promising to send them all the formula that evening. And why wouldn't she? These weren't just any girls—they were the daughters of mayors, heiresses to top financial conglomerates, and even the granddaughter of a Central Committee Secretary. From a distance, Jiang Xiaoxiao watched the gaggle of Beijing's high-society debutantes flock around Jiang Ciyou, adding her on WeChat. She gritted her teeth in frustration, complaining to Yao Shulan, "Mom, are they idiots? A bunch of the capital’s elite, fawning all over Jiang Ciyou. What could they possibly want from her?" Yao Shulan’s expression was calm. "They're far from idiots. Of all the extravagant gifts presented tonight, only hers caught the Old Madam's eye. They want the formula so they can curry favor with the Bo matriarch in the future." She let out a soft sigh. "One of those girls is bound to become the young mistress of the Bo family." Jiang Xiaoxiao scoffed. "What's the point of sucking up to the old matriarch? Bo Jinyan will marry whomever he wants. Maybe he doesn't even like these cookie-cutter princesses, all trained by rules and etiquette. Maybe he’d prefer a rebellious Cinderella." Yao Shulan seemed to see right through her daughter's thoughts. "Xiaoxiao, our Jiang family might be top-tier in Rongcheng, but we're leagues away from these heiresses from the capital. The Bo family is simply not in our league—we can't even dream of it." She spoke soothingly, "Don't worry, Mom will find you an excellent match right here in Rongcheng." "But Mom, you said it yourself—Rongcheng is nothing compared to the capital. People should aim higher. Besides, how do you know Bo Jinyan won't like me if I don't even try?" Yao Shulan shook her head, a look of resignation on her face. Sometimes, family background was an insurmountable mountain. The wealthy were more pragmatic than anyone, especially old, established families who prized marrying within one's station. The story of the prince and Cinderella only existed in fairy tales. Meanwhile, the group of young women had started calling Jiang Ciyou "Sister Jiang." She played along, calling them "sisters" in return, which seemed to delight the young heiresses. But while their smiles were for her, an undercurrent of rivalry flowed between them, each one refusing to yield to another. "I saw *him* last month," one declared. "He even told me I'd gotten prettier." "No one even knew Brother Bo was in Rongcheng until the Old Madam's invitations went out. You're totally lying." "So I'm lying? What about you calling him 'Brother Bo'? That's disgusting. How well do you even know Bo Jinyan? Have you ever even spoken to him?" The girls devolved into a heated argument. From their bickering, Jiang Ciyou pieced it together: all of them were in love with Bo Jinyan. What she couldn't understand was why. These girls were at the apex of the global pyramid themselves, with immense wealth and status. Why were they all so fixated on marrying this one man? Bai Qian seemed to sense her confusion. She explained, a little embarrassed, "Sister Jiang, it's true we all like Bo Jinyan, but it's not because of the Bo family's fortune. You'll understand when you see him. Once you've seen his face, no other man in the world can compare." Jiang Ciyou chuckled softly. So they were a flock of fangirls, smitten by a handsome face. She could understand that. She had a weakness for attractive men herself. The man she’d kept… aside from their first drunken encounter, hadn't she kept him for three years precisely because she was captivated by his looks, utterly bewitched by his beauty? "The Young Master is back!" The butler hurried into the hall, rushing toward the Old Madam. The boisterous banquet hall fell silent in an instant. All eyes turned to the entrance. The Young Master the butler mentioned… could that be Bo Jinyan? Jiang Ciyou had heard that the Bo matriarch had three daughters and only gave birth to this one son in her forties. The chattering heiresses beside her were now completely still, their eyes fixed on the doorway, shimmering with excitement and anticipation. Jiang Ciyou followed their gaze. A long leg strode into view. The man was dressed formally in a bespoke suit, a deep blue tie knotted at his throat. He was tall and lean, with broad shoulders tapering to a narrow waist. His posture was impeccable, his proportions perfect. With every step, his long legs seemed to land right on the hearts of the young women watching. Just from his build, he was undeniably top-grade. Jiang Ciyou found herself silently agreeing. Her gaze traveled upward, from his feet to his face. When she saw him clearly, her entire body went rigid. As if caught in a spell, Jiang Ciyou felt her blood run cold. His features were exquisite, the line of his jaw so sharp it looked carved by a master sculptor, as if he were a divine masterpiece. His skin was fair, a cool, almost otherworldly white, like the finest porcelain fired in a thousand-year-old kiln—a pure, ultimate beauty forged in flame. But in stark contrast, his lips were a rich, natural red, as if painted. That touch of red rescued the cool white from any hint of fragility. He looked like an immortal deity cast out of the heavens, stripped of his divine essence but reborn into a noble house, possessing an innate, aristocratic grace. His aura was one of cold, transcendent detachment, and an almost palpable chill seemed to follow him into the room. The man’s eyes didn’t linger on Jiang Ciyou for even a second. He walked right past her. Jiang Ciyou remained frozen in place. After a long moment, she finally managed to ask, "Who is that?" The young heiresses around her burst back into a flurry of whispers. "That's Bo Jinyan! The one and only." "I haven't seen him in three years. He's even more handsome than before. Colder, too." "Someone said they were going to pursue him, but they didn't even dare to say hello just now!" "Well, neither did you!" The girls started bickering again. Only Jiang Ciyou couldn't seem to pull herself together. *Could it be him? No, it couldn't be…*