【Today Also Trying to Spend Money: Hope all those with a clear conscience can sleep well tonight.】
This was the Weibo post Zhong Ziyan made in the afternoon after the matter had temporarily come to an end, seemingly drawing a conclusion to the charity scandal.
But those with guilty consciences wouldn’t have it so easy.
From her miscellaneous collection of elven magic, Zhong Ziyan dug out a skill that had been utterly useless in the Infinite Space: Nightmare.
Elves, of course, also had dark magic—though the proud, orthodox elves disdained using it.
But Zhong Ziyan, a half-baked fake elf, had no such reservations. She cast the Nightmare spell toward the addresses of the charity offices Fang Nan had previously gathered.
Though Wei Hanyun had said that deeper investigations were still ongoing, Zhong Ziyan had a much simpler, more direct—and far more accurate—method of judgment: unreasonable, unscientific magic.
Anyone who felt guilt or fear over this incident would be ensnared by the Nightmare, trapped in horrifying dreams that could last for years, forced to experience the suffering they had inflicted on others.
Perhaps some would dream of becoming impoverished little girls, starving and barely clothed, living out the miserable lives of those poor children firsthand.
With that thought, Zhong Ziyan spared no expense in expending her magic.
...
The next morning, Zhong Ziyan was awakened by the sound of a helicopter.
Even from hundreds of meters away, she could clearly hear the rotors approaching Wei Hanyun’s mansion in Tingshan. There was no mistaking that sound.
Zhong Ziyan agilely rolled out of bed to survey the surroundings and spotted the butler already standing by the lawn, which was large enough to serve as a temporary helipad.
Clearly, the helicopter had obtained permission before arriving.
Relaxing, Zhong Ziyan yawned and headed to the bathroom to freshen up.
When she met Wei Hanyun downstairs, the butler handed her a letter. "Madam, this was sent from Old Master Wei in Yandu."
Zhong Ziyan: "..." Sending a letter via helicopter across thousands of miles—very Wei family of them.
The envelope was just as thin as before, not even sealed.
Zhong Ziyan first pulled out the letter, but the other slip of paper tucked inside nearly fell into her bowl.
The one that slipped out looked familiar.
—Wasn’t this the same type of large-sum deposit certificate as before?
The letter contained just one line, written in a wild, almost illegible scrawl: "You spent that money well!"
Ending with an emphatic exclamation mark.
Zhong Ziyan figured Old Master Wei had, as a gesture of praise, reimbursed her the rounded-up sum of 100 million.
Though she had spent nearly that entire amount establishing the Dawnlight Foundation, Zhong Ziyan hadn’t felt the slightest pang of regret when handing it over.
—Of course, getting reimbursed was even better.
She unfolded the deposit certificate eagerly and noticed the number was different this time.
An extra "one" had been added before the string of eight eights.
A rounded-up 200 million—not only had she not spent a single cent, but she’d even made a clean profit of a full 100 million.
Holding the new deposit certificate, Zhong Ziyan felt she was about to be exposed on an elderly legal-awareness TV segment again.
...
The Wei family had a joyous occasion to celebrate, and it was no longer a secret within their circles.
Ever since Zhong Ziyan had appeared at the Wei family’s banquet, everyone had understood the message.
—Oh, the Wei family? Naturally, that meant only the legitimate bloodline—the ones with the marriage certificate. As for those mistresses and illegitimate children still scrambling for recognition? Sure, people smiled and laughed with them in public, but who actually respected them?
Countless people wanted to dig up Zhong Ziyan’s records to see just who she was, only to find out over the phone that Wei Hanyun had already taken all her documents away.
So they had to rely on hearsay, piecing together fragments of Zhong Ziyan’s life from those who claimed to know her.
But knowing of Zhong Ziyan’s existence was one thing—actually securing an invitation to their wedding was the real challenge, a privilege so rare it could make anyone fight tooth and nail for it.
Even the Wei family’s countless relatives weren’t all guaranteed invites, let alone outsiders with no real ties to the family.
The wedding invitations were designed by the team handling the venue decorations, as "the design must match the wedding’s aesthetic."
Zhong Ziyan, who didn’t consider herself as artistically refined as a true elf, showed the sample to Wei Hanyun for approval.
The invitations matched the wedding venue’s style—soft hues with a touch of golden radiance, adorned at the corners with embossed tree silhouettes bathed in a delicate glow. Each invitation was individually pressed, giving the embossed patterns unique textures and depths, exuding elegance and sophistication.
Wei Hanyun didn’t offer an opinion. Instead, he asked for Zhong Ziyan’s thoughts.
And Zhong Ziyan’s thoughts were simple: "Look, gold foil."
Every golden detail on the invitations was hand-applied with real gold, making each one practically a work of art worthy of framing—and, of course, exorbitantly expensive. Naturally, Zhong Ziyan was pleased.
"Then it’s settled," Wei Hanyun nodded. "Produce them as designed and distribute them."
He had been rather busy lately, and after confirming a few wedding details with Zhong Ziyan, he left with Fang Nan.
Once the invitations started going out, they became a tool for subtle social competition.
What? You didn’t get an invite to Wei Hanyun’s wedding either? Well, my seventh aunt’s eighth aunt’s son already got his! The wedding’s on a private island—no invite, no entry. Good luck sneaking in.
Zhong Ziyan, however, sent four invitations to Li Ye, asking him to pass them on to Teacher Yang, Teacher Qian, and their family.
Li Ye’s bangs had grown even longer, now covering his chin. He waved the four invitations dismissively. "I won’t be going. I’ll deliver these to Teacher Yang’s family—and this last one, I’ll give to Song Xi for you. Remember her? The one who helped with your lyrics."
Zhong Ziyan sipped her milk tea. "Are you avoiding someone from the Wei family?"
"Nonsense." Li Ye scoffed, immediately deflecting. "What about you? It’s been months—still no new song?"
"I’m busy getting married."
"You’ve got seven or eight teams handling everything that needs handling!"
Zhong Ziyan didn’t take the bait. "Cut the crap. You’re just scared to come."
Li Ye: "..." Damn it, they say beautiful women lack brains, but why do all the ones I meet have double the wits? "Fine, I have romantic baggage, okay? Romantic baggage!"
...
Second Miss had been on edge lately.
The 5-million-yuan incident had involved her to some extent—though unintentionally, she had been the one to forward the donation, and during the ensuing storm of criticism, she had faced her share of attacks.
Even during her regular livestreams, she encountered waves of hateful comments.
But that wasn’t the worst of it. Second Miss had clawed her way up from the bottom to become a top streamer—compared to being insulted, she feared being forgotten far more.
What truly unsettled her was Zhong Ziyan’s stance.
Rich people were known for their eccentric tempers—what if this one mistake had landed her on Zhong Ziyan’s blacklist?
Though they still followed each other on Weibo, Second Miss checked nervously every day, just to be sure.
When Zhong Ziyan privately messaged her asking for her address, Second Miss's panic reached its peak: "Are you sending me something?" Or was this an in-person fight? I-I can’t fight!
"Wedding invitation," Zhong Ziyan replied. "It's on the island I bought from your livestream, but no livestreaming is allowed in the public areas of the island—it involves others' privacy."
Second Miss had seen what Claude Island looked like through Wei Hanyan's photos, so she immediately relaxed and cheerfully handed over her address. "No problem, I’ll definitely attend your wedding!"
Though Second Miss had mentally linked Zhong Ziyan’s name with Wei Hanyan and guessed the woman must have an impressive background, it wasn’t until she received the invitation that her jaw truly dropped.
Not because the craftsmanship of the invitation was ridiculously extravagant—though it certainly was—but because of the two names printed side by side as the couple.
Zhong Ziyan.
Wei Hanyun.
Second Miss shakily searched online for "wealthy people with the same name as Wei Hanyun" and found nothing.
So she tremblingly opened Weibo, bottled up all her shock, and posted a single line: "HOLY SHT!!!!!!!!"
As for her work schedule, after a quick discussion with her company, the moment she mentioned receiving Zhong Ziyan’s wedding invitation, they immediately approved her leave and rearranged all her livestreaming slots.
A connection like this? Absolutely unmissable.
With the mindset of "broadening her horizons," Second Miss packed the most expensive items from her wardrobe, shoe collection, and jewelry box, pulled out her two most luxurious suitcases, and boarded a direct flight to the Bahamas.
She had originally planned to buy her own ticket, only to find that the first-class ticket had been sent along with the invitation.
Truly all-inclusive—flights, accommodation, food, everything covered.
When Second Miss entered the first-class cabin, she found a family of three seated next to her. A young man stood up to help her stow her carry-on in the overhead compartment, and they struck up a conversation.
"I figured as much. Since the tickets came together, it must be a chartered flight," Second Miss said with a smile. "I wonder who’s sitting in economy?"
"Mostly staff," a young woman who had just stepped into first-class answered. "A wedding of the century requires a lot of Mandarin-speaking staff, and most of Zhong Ziyan’s design team members are foreigners. Plus, many of her guests are bringing their own entourages. A chartered flight is the only way."
She pushed her sunglasses up into her cropped hair and waved. "Hi, I’m Song Xi."
Second Miss: "...The lyricist Song Xi?"
Song Xi chewed her gum and eyed her. "What, want an autograph?"
Second Miss: "...Not really, just realizing this wedding seems full of hidden dragons and crouching tigers." Song Xi was a lot like Li Ye—she had burst onto the scene, dominating the lyricist awards in her second year and even gaining international recognition.
Yet Song Xi was notoriously low-profile, rarely appearing in public. Very few people even knew what she looked like.
Second Miss had assumed Zhong Ziyan and Wei Hanyun’s wedding would be packed with business tycoons, but she never expected even a semi-celebrity like Song Xi to show up.
Song Xi gave an indifferent hum. "You’re in for more surprises later."
"So why are you attending the wedding?" Yang Xiuzhu asked, sounding genuinely curious.
Song Xi had just effortlessly slung her backpack into the overhead bin. At the question, she paused mid-chew. With a sharp click, she shut the compartment door and turned around. "I’m a fan. Here to meet someone I admire."
Second Miss: "Because of the Dawnlight Foundation?"
Song Xi gave her a strange look. "Because she’s ‘Zhong Hui.’"
Meanwhile, Wei Ziqian, already on Claude Island, sneezed violently. He rubbed his nose and looked up at the glass structure covering half the island. "The AC in here must be cranked too high."
The island had been completely transformed.
A massive glass dome encased the wedding venue, its central air conditioning keeping the temperature comfortable enough for guests to mingle in formal wear without overheating.
The glass panels were embedded with lights for nighttime, but during the day, sunlight filtered through precisely calculated gaps, creating perfect natural lighting.
For those worried about tanning, shaded areas were available—ideal for guests who wanted to chat without ruining their flawless makeup.
Just the design and construction of this venue alone represented an astronomical cost, far beyond what most could afford.
Even the wealthiest guests couldn’t help but marvel.
Among those with more money than they knew what to do with, nothing impressed them more than someone finding even more extravagant ways to spend it—something that could still stir their money-numbed senses.
