Whether in the palace or the inner household, every corner was a battlefield where conflicts were fought without bloodshed. The Xie family placed great emphasis on the education of their descendants—even the girls attended the clan school, and Sang Ning had been studying court policies and governance since she was eight years old.
From a young age, she had been the most outstanding among her peers, effortlessly navigating even the most complex environments. She had a keen eye for reading people—subtle shifts in expression, the flicker of a gaze—she could decipher a person’s hidden intentions with just a glance.
From the moment she took her seat, she had been quietly observing the people at the table, and she noticed something quite interesting: Chen Zheng kept stealing glances at Zhan Yijun, and Zhan Yijun’s attitude toward him was equally peculiar, as if she regarded him as her personal possession.
Of course, such subtle expressions and attitudes were never displayed openly.
Nan Siya, the oblivious one, naturally didn’t notice a thing. Instead, she went out of her way to flaunt her affection in front of Sang Ning, asserting her dominance as if afraid Sang Ning would snatch her fiancé away.
This wasn’t the first time Sang Ning had seen through such a farce. She wasn’t one to meddle in others’ affairs, but… well, these people had provoked her.
And if they wanted trouble, she’d make sure no one walked away unscathed.
Without hesitation, Sang Ning tore through the thin veil of pretense, laying bare the ambiguous and delicate relationship between Chen Zheng and Zhan Yijun for all to see. The entire room instantly fell into dead silence.
Chen Zheng’s mind buzzed. Frozen for a moment, he finally slammed the table and stood up. "Nan Sangning, are you here just to cause trouble?!"
Their table’s commotion had already drawn the attention of many.
Sang Ning glanced around at the onlookers and frowned slightly—such a lack of decorum was truly unbecoming.
She blinked innocently. "Are you sure I’m the one causing trouble?"
Sang Ning remained seated calmly, her voice never rising above a composed tone. Meanwhile, Chen Zheng and Zhan Yijun were the ones shouting and pounding the table. Anyone with eyes could see who was really making a scene.
"Pretty obvious it’s you, Chen Zheng," a woman at the next table chimed in, her wavy hair cascading over her shoulders as she lounged in a little black dress.
The surrounding gazes all shifted to Chen Zheng in agreement.
His face twisted through shades of green and white, his eyes practically murderous as they locked onto Sang Ning. But with so many influential figures watching, how could he possibly escalate the situation?
He had no choice but to swallow his rage.
Zhan Yijun opened her mouth to speak but seemed to think better of it, casting a wary glance toward the second floor before forcing herself to stay silent.
She didn’t dare make a scene either.
The woman at the neighboring table smirked, her tone dripping with schadenfreude. "A guilty conscience needs no accuser. Some people jump at the slightest mention—wonder what they’re so nervous about?"
Chen Zheng’s expression darkened further, while Zhan Yijun shot her a glare. "Ji Yan, what’s with the sarcasm? This has nothing to do with you. Who asked you to butt in?"
Ji Yan shrugged. "My face isn’t as thick as yours—wearing fakes and playing homewrecker must be exhausting."
"You—!"
Zhan Yijun’s face flushed crimson. "Ji Yan, don’t push it!"
Ji Yan and Zhan Yijun were longtime rivals. Their families were of equal standing, so neither feared the other—nor did either hold the other in high regard. Their encounters were always fraught with thinly veiled hostility.
But the elite circle was small, and their paths inevitably crossed. To avoid conflict, their seating was always arranged separately—hence why they weren’t at the same table tonight.
Sang Ning turned to study Ji Yan, finding her somewhat familiar.
Ji Yan raised a brow at her and patted the empty seat beside her. "That table’s a mess. I doubt you’ll have much appetite sitting there. Why not join me instead, Miss Nan?"
Sang Ning glanced back at her original table—Chen Zheng and Zhan Yijun’s friends all wore thunderous expressions, the atmosphere thick with tension.
With a faint smile, she rose and took the offered seat at Ji Yan’s table.
Nan Siya’s face grew increasingly stormy, tears welling in her eyes as she glared at Chen Zheng.
He grabbed her hand. "Siya, you’re not actually buying Nan Sangning’s nonsense, are you?"
He emphasized Nan Sangning as if to remind her—this was the sister she despised most.
Hadn’t he invited Nan Sangning today just to help her settle the score?
Nan Siya stiffened. Of course she knew Nan Sangning had ulterior motives, but she couldn’t help it.
Perhaps because, now that Sangning had pointed it out, she truly could see the way Chen Zheng treated Zhan Yijun differently. She’d just been too blinded by love to notice before.
Upstairs, in a private booth overlooking the banquet hall, a figure stood by the floor-to-ceiling window, swirling the wine in his glass as he watched the drama unfold below with great amusement.
A rustling sound came from the sofa behind him. He turned.
A tall, languid figure sprawled across the couch, dressed in a deep blue satin shirt and black trousers. The magazine covering his face slid down as long, elegant fingers pulled it away. He frowned slightly, dark eyes squinting against the light.
"Has it started?" His voice was rough with sleep.
"The auction hasn’t, but the main event just ended!" Gu Xingchen pointed excitedly at the scene below. "I saw that Valkyrie beauty again. I’m telling you, this woman is something else—she had Zhan Yijun completely cornered."
He Siyu rubbed his temples, still groggy. "Hm?"
"Nan Sangning. The one the Nan family just brought back from the countryside."
At that, He Siyu finally opened his eyes fully. Pushing himself up from the sofa, he strode to the window, raking a hand through his tousled hair as his gaze landed on Sang Ning downstairs.
"What main event?"
Gu Xingchen grinned. "You missed it! Nan Sangning took on Zhan Yijun’s whole table single-handedly. Shut them down so hard they turned purple. Look at their faces now."
He Siyu glanced at the table in question—its occupants looked like they’d been poisoned, their expressions a kaleidoscope of fury and humiliation.
His attention returned to Sang Ning. She was just as she’d been the last time he saw her—poised, serene, unruffled.
He shot Gu Xingchen a look. "You knew it’d be entertaining and didn’t wake me?"
"You said not to disturb you until the auction started!" Gu Xingchen rolled his eyes.
He Siyu had no interest in these social galas and avoided them whenever possible. The He family’s standing in Jing City didn’t require such events to maintain influence—there were already enough people lining up from here to France just for a chance to speak with him.
He’d only come tonight because there was an item at the auction his grandmother wanted, and she’d insisted he attend personally.
But since he couldn’t be bothered with small talk, he’d holed up in the private booth to nap until the auction began.
He Siyu arched a brow. "Since when do you follow my orders so diligently?"
Gu Xingchen smirked. "Oh? Missing one little spectacle has you this worked up? You never cared for catfights before. Why the sudden interest?"
Then it hit him. He leaned in, eyes gleaming. "Wait—don’t tell me you’re actually intrigued by this Nan Sangning?"
