"Grandma He."
A sweet voice rang out as Chen Zhihan stepped forward proactively.
Old Madam He studied her for a moment before hesitantly asking, "You are...?"
Chen Zhihan smiled brightly. "I'm Zhihan. My mother's maiden name is Song—she's the cousin of Aunt Song Rui."
At the mention of Song Rui's name, recognition finally dawned on Old Madam He. Song Rui was her nephew's wife.
"When I was little, my mother even brought me to pay New Year's respects to you."
Old Madam He chuckled. "There are so many youngsters in the family, it's hard to keep track. But you do bear some resemblance to your Aunt Song Rui."
He Siyu couldn't help but shoot the old woman a glance. How could she possibly see a family resemblance in this distant, convoluted relation?
He Yunzhou gave him a warning look, as if to say, This is Old Madam He's birthday banquet. If you dare make a scene, you’ll regret it.
He Siyu found the whole affair unbearably tedious and lazily slumped into the sofa.
Old Madam He had always adored young girls and could chat with any of them for hours. Chen Zhihan, with her poised and graceful demeanor, had caught the old lady’s eye.
Soon, more and more guests gathered around, and the atmosphere grew livelier.
Sang Ning stood where she was. Earlier, Chen Zhihan had practically sprinted toward Old Madam He with stars in her eyes, leaving her behind without a second thought.
As the crowd thickened, Sang Ning had no interest in joining the commotion. From what Chen Zhihan had said about the He Family, their influence was formidable.
The Nan Family, with their nouveau riche background, could never measure up.
Even if they tried, it would be futile.
No matter how many centuries passed, the invisible barriers of class would always loom like an insurmountable chasm over ordinary people.
In all of history, she knew of only one person who had truly defied all obstacles to cross that divide.
Her great-grandfather—a man whose sheer willpower had preserved the Xie Family’s prestige for a hundred years, rising to the position of Chief Grand Secretary and wielding unparalleled power.
And yet, he had once challenged ancestral traditions, crushing all opposition with an iron fist to marry an orphaned merchant’s daughter.
That girl was her great-grandmother.
Sang Ning had only learned this story as a child, eavesdropping on the adults. Such a legendary, earth-shattering feat—yet in the Xie Family’s entire history, he was the only one who had ever accomplished it.
Raised under the strict discipline befitting a future matriarch, Sang Ning had been taught to seek only what was certain. She had no illusions about achieving anything so extraordinary.
It was far more practical to focus on securing the Nan Family’s assets for herself.
Sang Ning picked up a cocktail from a passing waiter’s tray and brought it to her nose. The scent was light and sweet. She took a sip and blinked in surprise—it was delicious.
"Sang Ning, why are you standing here alone?" Wen Meiling had finally found her.
Sang Ning answered plainly, "Chen Zhihan went to greet Old Madam He for her birthday."
Wen Meiling’s expression darkened. The thought of Mrs. Chen flaunting her family’s tenuous connection to the He Family earlier had already irritated her. Now, seeing Chen Zhihan cozying up to Old Madam He while her own daughter stood idly by, her temper flared.
"And you just let her go without joining her?!"
"The Chen Family actually has ties to the He Family. What was I supposed to say? That I’m the sister of Chen Zhihan’s brother’s fiancée?"
"You—!" Wen Meiling choked on her words, her face flushing with anger.
"Mom should’ve sent Siya instead. At least then the relation would’ve been one degree closer."
"..."
Wen Meiling exhaled sharply. "Never mind. Go find Muchen and tell him to come back immediately. His father is looking for him—he needs to start networking. Honestly, none of you children know how to behave properly!"
Sang Ning smiled faintly. "Alright."
Then she turned and walked away.
Wen Meiling watched her retreating figure with mixed emotions. For some reason, this girl always seemed obedient on the surface, yet left her feeling inexplicably frustrated.
Sang Ning soon learned that Nan Muchen and the other young guests were in one of the smaller banquet halls.
The He Family had spared no expense, booking the entire Haiyanheqing venue—one grand hall and five smaller ones, all interconnected but each with its own distinct atmosphere.
Just as Sang Ning reached the entrance of the smaller hall, she suddenly heard Nan Muchen’s scornful laugh:
"What kind of sister is she to me? Some country bumpkin from the sticks. Even looking at her disgusts me."
"If it weren’t for Mom’s soft heart, we’d never have brought her back, let alone let her attend banquets. A woman like her has no place in high society—she’s an embarrassment to the Nan Family."
"An illiterate peasant who pretends to read books. I doubt she even understands half the words—"
Nan Muchen’s arrogant voice carried through the entire hall, drawing stares even from passersby.
Earlier, someone at the banquet had mocked the Nan Family’s lack of refinement by bringing up Sang Ning. Nan Muchen, at that proud and rebellious age, had eagerly distanced himself, tearing her down with vicious insults to prove he was nothing like her.
Sang Ning paused mid-step, her expression hardening.
"Sang Ning? What are you doing here?"
Nan Siya was also in the hall. Spotting Sang Ning, her eyes gleamed with barely concealed delight before she quickly feigned concern, rushing over.
"Sang Ning, you have to stop Muchen! He’s had too much to drink—I can’t control him."
As she spoke, she grabbed Sang Ning’s wrist, trying to pull her inside.
This was the perfect opportunity to humiliate Sang Ning in public—Nan Siya wasn’t about to let it slip away.
Nan Muchen was already rebellious and unruly. With alcohol fueling his bravado, any attempt to rein him in would only provoke him further. Now that Sang Ning was here, he would undoubtedly escalate his insults.
Nan Siya wanted her to face this degradation head-on, to be so thoroughly shamed that she’d flee in disgrace, never daring to show her face again.
Sang Ning didn’t resist, allowing Nan Siya to drag her inside.
The hall was filled with about twenty young people—Nan Muchen’s classmates, Nan Siya’s friends—all now staring at her with undisguised curiosity, eager to see the "country bumpkin sister" Nan Muchen had been railing about.
"Muchen, stop it! Your sister is here," Nan Siya pleaded.
Nan Muchen scoffed. "So what if she’s here? I don’t give a damn about her! Do you really think Mom and Dad care either? They think you’re bad luck too—they’re sick of having a disgrace like you represent the Nan Family!"
As Nan Zhenming’s only son, Nan Muchen had been spoiled rotten since childhood. He had no fear of consequences.
Nan Siya quickly turned to Sang Ning, feigning concern. "Sister, don’t take it to heart. Muchen’s just drunk."
Sang Ning’s face was expressionless. She took two steps forward, her voice icy. "Say that again."
Nan Muchen didn’t back down. "I said you’re a disgraceful—"
SMACK.
Sang Ning’s palm struck his cheek with full force. She was grateful she’d only worn three-centimeter heels today—they wouldn’t hinder her momentum.
Nan Muchen, already unsteady from the alcohol, staggered from the unexpected blow. He lost his balance, crashing into a glass coffee table and knocking over several cups, which shattered on the floor.
Amid the cacophony of breaking glass, the toppled cups rolled off the table, splashing liquor all over him in a chaotic mess.
Dazed, Nan Muchen lay sprawled on the ground for three full seconds before the reality of what had just happened sank in.
His face twisted with fury as he glared up at her.
"You dare hit me?!"
Nan Siya was utterly stunned. After freezing for a moment, she immediately rushed forward to confront Sang Ning, "How could you hit Muchen? He's— Ah!"
Sang Ning swung backhanded, delivering a sharp slap that sent Nan Siya stumbling backward. She staggered a few steps before collapsing into the sofa behind her.
