After posting on Weibo, Second Young Miss didn’t even glance at the comments before eagerly boarding the guest shuttle with Song Xi, heading straight to the banquet hall.
On the way, she inspected the affordable luxury dress she’d changed into before landing and touched up her makeup, then flipped open her compact for a quick check: Good, the makeup hasn’t caked, and my complexion and figure are on point.
Song Xi, sitting across from her, gave her a sidelong glance and remarked airily, “Vain. There’ll be plenty of beauties inside—no point comparing.”
Second Young Miss straightened her posture and corrected her, “I’m not here to pick up men. I’m here to network, promote myself, and secure future business opportunities.”
Song Xi crossed her legs and shot back matter-of-factly, “Then why haven’t you been buttering me up this whole time?”
Second Young Miss, who had just snapped her compact shut, blinked in confusion. “…Huh? But Miss Song, aren’t you famously low-key?”
“But my brother isn’t.” Song Xi rummaged through the shuttle’s mini-fridge, pulled out a can of cola, and cracked it open with a pop. “Don’t overestimate the crowd inside. Plenty of rich idiots around—just walk away if you run into one. Causing a scene here would only embarrass them, so no one’s going to push their luck. And if they do, someone’ll handle it in seconds.”
Song Xi spoke with authority, leaving Second Young Miss both impressed and bewildered. “Wow, the media wasn’t exaggerating about your family’s untouchable background.”
Song Xi arched a brow, unimpressed. “My family’s decent—what the public calls ‘wealthy.’ But there’s a huge gap between ‘wealthy’ and ‘wealthy.’”
“Like Wei Hanyun?” Second Young Miss instinctively lowered her voice.
Song Xi neither confirmed nor denied, glancing out the window instead.
By then, the shuttle had traveled some distance and was nearing the banquet hall. Inside, guests mingled in small groups, chatting and laughing, their attire relatively casual. Every so often, a vaguely familiar face—the kind that made you wonder where have I seen them before?—flashed by.
Song Xi pointed. “Look over there.”
Second Young Miss gasped. “That supermodel!”
Song Xi: “…No, the man next to her.”
“…” Second Young Miss fell silent. She wasn’t well-versed in politics or business, only recognizing the biggest names—like Wei Hanyun.
“…Russian oligarch. Net worth in the tens of billions,” Song Xi explained, then gestured elsewhere. “Over there, a royal from an oil-rich nation and his wives.”
Surrounded by stars, Second Young Miss itched to start live-streaming.
Just then, the shuttle came to a stop, its doors sliding open as a wave of heat rushed in.
Two men stood waiting outside.
The one on the left was familiar—Song Guangzhi, the actor-turned-award-winning director. But the bespectacled elite on the right was a stranger.
“I’m Fang Nan, Mr. Wei’s assistant,” the man introduced himself with a nod. “Miss Yue, a word?”
Second Young Miss—whose surname was Yue—felt her heart drop, assuming her earlier photo post had already been flagged. She followed Fang Nan inside and immediately apologized, “Is this about the photo? I’ll delete it right now.”
After the island sale, the lawyer handling the transfer from Tingshan had vaguely mentioned Fang Nan, leaving her with the impression of a “sly fox.”
“No. In fact, Mr. Wei would like to offer you a collaboration opportunity.” Fang Nan gestured at the sprawling venue and the crowd within. “This wedding is closed to the press, with no media invited. But you may use your personal platform to live-stream or share content—video, photos, text—as you see fit.”
Second Young Miss’s heart raced.
She didn’t need Fang Nan to spell it out—she knew exactly how massive this opportunity was.
Exclusive coverage rights to Wei Hanyun and Zhong Ziyan’s wedding!
Even if this was the sly fox himself, she was in.
“Of course, any content featuring others must first obtain their consent,” Fang Nan added. “Otherwise, the consequences will fall solely on you, Miss Yue. Many guests value their privacy or hold sensitive positions.”
Second Young Miss nodded eagerly. “No problem, no problem! I’ll keep it positive!”
Fang Nan remained expressionless. “Your Weibo will be under our review. If anything is deemed inappropriate, I’ll notify you immediately.”
Still buzzing with excitement, she pressed, “Great! Do we sign a contract now?”
After a pause, Fang Nan produced the paperwork and handed it over.
She scribbled her signature in seconds, whipped out her phone, and finally unleashed the excitement she’d bottled up for days:
[Finally got the green light—I was dying holding this in! Guys, you won’t believe this, but I’m about to witness a wedding of the century!! The kind you see ONCE in a lifetime—insanely lavish!! On a private island! With custom-built venues!]
Internet sleuths quickly pieced it together:
[Keyword: private island. Got it. The wedding of that financial deity from Dawn? Didn’t she say she was already married? A redo?]
Ignoring the scorching sun, Second Young Miss dashed around the venue, snapping photos from every angle. She cherry-picked one that captured all three architecturally stunning halls and posted it:
[Remember what this island used to look like?? [Photo]]
[Tired of the jealousy: Holy crap, is that a forest inside the glass dome?! Did they just plop an entire forest in there?! I can’t even fathom rich-people wedding creativity. I’m so jealous T_T]
[Tofu: ?? I thought it’d just be on the island—sun, sea breeze, sweating buckets, basic wedding vibes… Now you’re telling they built a mini-EXPO just for this?!]
[Nintendo: So that 4-million-dollar floating pod was a one-time use too? Any spare invites? Name your price.]
[Sony FTW: Maybe after the wedding, you can just float home in it. [dog emoji]]
Song Xi skimmed the post, forwarded it with nothing but a cold “.”—enough to confirm her presence.
Second Young Miss seized the chance to request a mutual follow, grinning inwardly: That island promo deal was the best decision ever. Who knew it’d snowball into all this?
With the wedding set for tomorrow, she resolved to draft a meticulous live-stream plan overnight to avoid chaos.
And given the sheer number of high-profile guests milling about, she didn’t dare turn on her camera recklessly, wary of accidentally offending someone powerful.
Sticking close to Song Xi and Song Guangzhi, she mustered the courage to approach recognizable figures, sheepishly asking for photos and permission to post.
Most agreed graciously.
For the next period of time, the Second Young Miss’s Weibo updates reached a frequency usually seen only during the biannual shopping festivals.
[Live Stream Maniac Second Young Miss: Director Song Guangzhi is here too! [Photo]]
Comment: Holy crap!
[Live Stream Maniac Second Young Miss: The supermodel’s legs are so long! [Photo]]
Comment: Holy crap!!
[Live Stream Maniac Second Young Miss: One of my favorite actors!! [Photo]]
Comment: Don’t tell me that’s Lord X!!!
[Live Stream Maniac Second Young Miss: This little girl is so cute… though I don’t know her [Photo]]
Comment: She looks like the princess born into a certain royal family last year…??
…
In just half an hour, the Second Young Miss single-handedly crashed Weibo’s servers.
Countless people frantically refreshed their feeds, speculating offline with friends about the groom’s background—just how influential was he to have such high-profile guests? And how extravagant would this wedding be?
But when Weibo finally recovered, all they saw was the Second Young Miss’s latest post: [Dinner’s served. I’m off to taste the high-end hotel’s menu. The wedding’s tomorrow, so I’ll continue taking you into the world of the ultra-rich then.]
[You got me all hyped up just to leave me hanging!!]
[Stop eating and keep streaming!! I need to know who else is inside!!]
[You woke me up from my dream before it even started—tears are shooting out of my mouth.]
[If you’re gonna eat, at least show us the invitation so we can see who the groom is!]
The Second Young Miss had seen it all before. She locked her phone, ignoring the chaos, and dove into the sea of gourmet food.
“This is delicious,” someone suddenly said.
The Second Young Miss looked up and was instantly struck by the close-up beauty before her. Flustered, she stammered, “I—I’ll let you have it.”
“Thank you.”
“I feel like I’ve heard your voice before…” The Second Young Miss frowned in thought, then widened her eyes. “Miss Zhong?!”
“Shh.” Zhong Ziyan swiftly ducked behind a towering dessert table, putting a finger to her lips.
The Second Young Miss glanced around and spotted Wei Hanyan scanning the banquet hall with her hands on her hips, clearly searching for someone.
“Running from the wedding?” Song Xi, who had witnessed the whole scene, dropped the bombshell.
Zhong Ziyan stood behind the dessert table, popping bite-sized crab cakes into her mouth—perfectly sized to avoid smudging lipstick, though the portions were a bit too dainty.
Hearing Song Xi’s words, she shook her head. “I just need a break.”
True to her professional dedication, Zhong Ziyan had dutifully tried on the entire wedding ensemble, rehearsed at the venue twice, and walked around nervously, terrified of damaging the diamond-and-pearl-encrusted, gold-threaded gown.
Every scratch would cost real money!
After the exhausting rehearsal, Wei Hanyan insisted they needed more photos and made Zhong Ziyan pose for another round.
If not for the photographers’ exasperated expressions, Zhong Ziyan might have fallen for it.
Tired of standing around, she made a quick escape, carefully removing the gown, hanging it on a mannequin, changing into casual wear, and sneaking into the brightly lit banquet hall for food.
“I’m Song Xi. It’s an honor to meet you,” Song Xi introduced herself, extending a hand.
Zhong Ziyan nodded in understanding, holding a fork between her teeth to free a hand for the handshake. “Pleasure working with you,” she mumbled.
The Second Young Miss: “…” Right. Not only was she insanely wealthy and gorgeous, but she was also the composer who had taken the industry by storm.
“Song Xi?” Wei Ziqian happened to pass by and paused at her introduction. “The lyricist Song Xi?”
“Young Master Wei.” Song Xi recognized him and nodded. “Want an autograph?”
Wei Ziqian rolled his eyes, hands still in his jeans pockets. “No. I wanted to ask about Zhong Hui. What kind of person is he?”
Song Xi froze. “…You’re asking me?”
“You collaborated with him, didn’t you?” Wei Ziqian frowned. “I attended the musical—you wrote the lyrics. You must have met him. How can I contact him?”
Song Xi slowly turned to look at Zhong Ziyan, who had already retreated into the distance, leaving only a faint silhouette. “…Actually, if you want to know what Zhong Hui is like, you could just ask the bride.”
Wei Ziqian’s frown deepened. “Even though Hou Tu Entertainment is under her, I don’t want to use connections or pressure to meet him.”
Song Xi gave him a sincere look. “No, I’m certain you’ve already met Zhong Hui in person.”
Wei Ziqian: “?”
…
Three minutes after quietly slipping away, Zhong Ziyan received a WeChat message from Wei Ziqian.
[Zhong Hui Is the God of Music: ??!!!??!?!]
[Zhong Hui Is the God of Music: …I’m changing my name right now. Pretend you didn’t see these.]
