Chen Zheng: ???
Nan Siya: !!!
The words "backup option" exploded in Nan Siya's mind, instantly striking the most sensitive chord in her heart and infuriating her to the point of madness!
"Nan Sangning!" She seethed with hatred.
Sangning raised an eyebrow. "Keep it down, would you?" Then she turned, slid open the balcony door, stepped back inside, and drew the curtains shut behind her.
Nan Siya's eyes burned red with rage, while Chen Zheng's face alternated between shades of green and white. The term "backup option" had become an eternal thorn in both their hearts—and now Nan Sangning dared to bring it up again!
Chen Zheng was so furious he felt his lungs might burst, but since this was the Nan family home, he had to maintain at least a semblance of decorum. Swallowing his anger, he suppressed the urge to lash out.
Yet his irritation was unbearable. Even the sight of Nan Siya's tear-streaked face now grated on him. Suddenly, he lost all patience to console her. "Get some rest. I’ll visit another time," he said curtly before leaving.
Nan Siya was equally fuming, though she wasn’t sure who to direct her resentment toward.
As Chen Zheng departed, she stormed upstairs.
Bang bang bang!
Sangning’s door was pounded with urgency.
She opened it to find Nan Siya standing there, bristling with hostility.
"Can I help you?"
"Nan Sangning, are you feeling smug now? Just because Mom and Dad believed you this once, you think you’ve won? That you can overshadow me?!" Nan Siya spat through gritted teeth. "They might be fooled for now, but not forever. Once they learn the truth—"
"The truth? Don’t you already know what the truth is?" Sangning blinked innocently.
Nan Siya stiffened.
Yes, the second time, Nan Sangning had outright kicked her into the water. But the first incident—where Nan Siya had falsely accused Sangning of pushing her down the stairs—had been entirely her own doing.
Sangning shrugged. "Tit for tat. Let’s call it even."
Nan Siya’s expression twisted. Even?!
She was the one who’d suffered both times—first tumbling down the stairs, then being kicked into the water—while Nan Sangning walked away unscathed. And now she had the audacity to claim they were even?!
Clenching her jaw, Nan Siya hissed, "Don’t think I don’t know what you’re after. You put on this act of indifference, but all you want is to steal everything that belongs to me! You even act all coy and peculiar in front of Zheng-ge to grab his attention. You’re just jealous!"
Sangning: "..."
"You think Mom and Dad will stay fooled forever? That Zheng-ge will spare you a second glance? Dream on! Let’s see how long you can keep up this charade!"
Suddenly, Sangning glanced past her shoulder, feigning surprise. "Mom? Dad?"
Nan Siya’s face instantly paled. She quickly dropped her claws, morphing into a pitiful, teary-eyed mess. "I-I just wanted to apologize and make peace with jiejie… Why is she still angry with me?"
Sangning smirked, arched a brow, and shut the door in her face.
Nan Siya stood frozen, momentarily baffled by the mocking glint in her eyes.
When realization struck, she whirled around—only to find the hallway empty. No one was there.
Trembling with fury, she shrieked, "Nan Sangning! You vile little—!"
---
Sangning spent the night composing the musical score.
The next morning, on her way to class, she sent a WeChat message to He Siyu:
[Mr. He, I’ve finished the score.]
An hour later, after her first lecture ended, his reply finally came through:
[Then deliver it.]
Sangning frowned. She didn’t have time for that.
She typed slowly: [I’m booked with classes all day. Can’t make it.]
[I’m busy too.]
Sangning: "..."
What was even the point of having his contact, then?!
Suppressing a groan, she tried a gentler approach: [Could your assistant pick it up?]
[He’s also busy.]
Sangning: "..."
Unbelievable!
He was absolutely doing this on purpose—petty revenge for calling him a narcissist yesterday!
She angrily locked her phone, then unlocked it just as fiercely.
[Fine. I’ll drop it off at Wisteria Lane for Grandma He at noon.]
With a two-hour break between classes, she had just enough time.
If she had to deliver it, she’d rather hand it directly to Grandma He. Seeing him was the last thing she wanted.
No response came.
After morning classes, Ye Qian tugged at Sangning’s sleeve. "Lunch?"
"Can’t. I need to run an errand." Sangning packed her bag swiftly.
"Seriously? You only have two hours!"
"Just delivering something. I’ll be back before class."
Grabbing her bag, she hurried out. Uncle Zhang drove her to and from school but didn’t linger during the day. Not wanting to trouble him, she hailed a taxi straight to Wisteria Lane.
The driver did a double take at the address. Eyeing her simple attire, he asked, "Kid, you sure you got the right place? Wisteria Lane isn’t just anywhere. They’ve got guards and require clearance."
"I’m sure," Sangning assured.
The driver prattled on, undeterred. "You know the He family, right? Hard not to in this city. Their old estate’s there. Back when the old Commander He was around, the prestige… whew."
"Now they keep it low-key, but they’re even more formidable. The youngest son founded Huiyao—proof that dragons breed dragons, huh? That family’s legacy is something else."
Sangning stayed silent. When the driver realized she wasn’t engaging, he clammed up.
At Wisteria Lane’s gates, they were stopped as expected.
Sangning rolled down the window. A guard approached. "Credentials?"
"I’m here to deliver sheet music to Grandma He. My name is Nan Sangning."
The guard nodded. "Ah, Miss Nan. Mr. He already informed us. Please proceed."
Mr. He had notified them?
Sangning paused. There were plenty of Hes in that family—which one?
The taxi driver gaped. This girl was a guest of the He family? Instantly, his driving became smoother, more cautious.
Pulling up to the He residence’s wrought-iron gate, Sangning paid and stepped out.
A servant was already waiting. "Miss Nan," they greeted, swinging the gate open.
Compared to the Nan family’s lavish villa, the He home was understated—manual gates, unpretentious decor. Yet the towering ginkgo tree in the yard, its trunk so thick it would take three people to encircle it, hinted at centuries of history. Even the seemingly ordinary plants were rare cultivars.
Bag in hand, Sangning walked in, more at ease this time.
"Where’s Grandma He?" she asked.
"Upstairs, Miss Nan. Please come in."
Nodding, Sangning entered, climbed the wooden staircase, and headed to the second floor.
Grandma He had a glass garden on the second-floor terrace, filled with plants she tended to herself—a place Nan Sangning adored.
Heading upstairs, Nan Sangning made her way straight toward the glass garden. But as she walked down the corridor, she had barely taken two steps when the sound of a door sliding open abruptly caught her attention.
A tall figure emerged, dressed in light gray loungewear from the waist down, his toned upper body bare. He was haphazardly drying his damp hair with a towel, the motion of his arm flexing the smooth lines of his muscles.
Nan Sangning’s pupils constricted, and she froze in place.
