In the Pavilion of Flowing Water, the silk curtains swayed with the wind in the open space. Morning birds sang in melodic chatter, their song filling the pavilion and awakening Levine from a dreamless sleep.
She stirred, blinking against the dappled sunlight spilling onto the floor. Stretching beneath the gauzy sheets, she welcomed the caress of the breeze against her bare skin. The scent of dew and blooming osmanthus hung in the air—a fleeting perfume of serenity.
A soft voice greeted her, calm and pleasant as the morning.
"Fine morning, Miss Levine," said Lily, stepping into the room with practiced grace. "Granny instructed me to come fetch you and help you prepare." She carried a mantle of pale blue silk, embroidered with cloud patterns, which she draped over Levine's shoulders.
Levine tilted her head, still caught in the haze between sleep and waking. "Fine morning to you too, Lily… but what's the occasion?" Her voice was hoarse with sleep, curiosity lacing the question.
"It's Tea Day, Miss," Lily replied with a gentle smile, her tone low.
Levine blinked, the fog in her mind slowly clearing. "Father is back?"
"Yes, Miss," Lily nodded, gently tying the mantle at the front.
"But... I thought his trip abroad would take at least two weeks. There are still three days left." Levine's brows knit slightly as she rose from the hanging swing bed, puzzling aloud.
"I heard it's because the Li Family is sending out invitations," Lily said, guiding her toward the manor. "The celebration will be more lavish than usual. They're honoring the Old Master's seventy-eighth birthday... and the return of his grandson."
Levine's steps faltered momentarily. "Hm? It must be for that Li Yunhao..."
Having arrived at her room, she immediately slipped into the bathtub. Warm water had been drawn, and her bath was brief but soothing. A maidservant entered quietly with a tray. A hearty breakfast was arranged on a ceramic plate: a thick slice of golden brioche toast topped with creamy scrambled eggs and tender asparagus spears, lightly dusted with black pepper. Beside it lay delicate folds of pan-seared ham, glistening with savory juices. Fresh slices of kiwi and plump strawberries, accompanied by crisp lettuce leaves. A steaming cup of clear broth sat nearby, subtly fragrant, along with a glass of orange carrot juice. Lily laid out a satin dress. Then she began to dry and sweep Levine's hair back with her deft fingers, twisting it into a sleek, low chignon at the nape of her neck. A single lock escaped, curling softly along her cheek, lending a touch of vulnerability to her otherwise composed appearance.
---
Meanwhile, in the manor's living room, the scent of brewed jasmine tea mingled with a more tangible tension in the air.
Three people sat around a polished rosewood table. The centerpiece, a lacquered black box sealed with gold ribbon lay unopened between them. Its presence was quietly ominous, as if demanding attention.
Gao Yuhua sat poised in a black and gold qipao that shimmered like ink brushed with starlight. Her hair was swept into a low, elegant chignon, every strand disciplined into place. She sipped her tea, her fingers twitching ever so slightly. She set the porcelain cup down with a quiet clink and turned sharply toward her younger daughter, who was quietly reading a book.
Su Jiayi sat on a white armchair by the floor-to-ceiling glass wall, dressed in a pale cream qipao with subtle embroidery that caught the light like silk spun from morning mist. Her long, dark hair was pinned with delicate ornaments, glimmering softly in the morning glow. There was a stillness to her, as though she belonged more to the quiet world of ink and paper than to the heavy air that hung around the table.
She didn't look up, but she'd been listening—she always did, especially when it concerned her sister.
Su Wenxiu. The name alone stirred a blend of awe and distance within her. From the moment they were introduced, Su Jiayi had spent her time admiring her from afar, like one might admire the moon—distant, untouchable, casting light that both guided and shadowed. She loved her sister deeply from the moment they met, but they hardly interacted. There seemed to be a wall built around her sister, barring anyone from entering her space. So, it had always been like this—when that love felt fragile, folded under layers of silence.
"XiaoJia, why don't you go upstairs and fetch your elder sister? We've been waiting far too long," Gao Yuhua said, her voice smooth but clipped. "There are still arrangements to make."
Jiayi blinked, carefully marking her page before rising with quiet obedience—setting aside her book, her only refuge.
"There's no need to rush," Su Haoran replied, his tone calm but reproachful. "The child is having a hard time. Be gentle with her," he said, reaching for the box to open it.
Gao Yuhua's lips thinned. "Haven't I always been gentle? Haven't I always considered her feelings before mine—and your daughter's?" Her eyes flashed. "I treated her like my own, yet she remains distant. Cold, even."
Su Haoran's fingers brushed against the edge of the box and lifted the lid. "She still calls you Mother. That counts for something. The loss of her birth mother left her adrift—don't expect her to anchor overnight."
"I'm not forcing her to love me," Gao Yuhua snapped, her control fraying. "But I won't apologize for wanting something more than silence and polite nods."
"Enough," Haoran said quietly but firmly. "Let it rest for today. In a little while, go out with the girls and handle the preparations."
Gao Yuhua inhaled deeply, steadying herself. "Since you've been invited, I assume there aren't many invitation cards left? I'd like to know how many people will be attending."
"Just three," Su Haoran replied. "One each for you, me, and XiaoWen."
"Then take XiaoJia in my place," Gao Yuhua said, her tone suddenly light. "She hasn't seen such an event before. Let her experience it."
"You make it sound like I've neglected you," Su Haoran replied, frowning. "Why don't we all go? I'll try to get a fourth invitation."
A voice, clear and calm, interrupted them from the stairwell.
"No need, Father," Levine said as she stepped into view.
Her presence, as always, seemed to quiet the room. Though Chinese by blood, there was something strikingly foreign in her beauty—perhaps it was the way her dark green eyes gleamed like a forest stirred by the lighting, or the way she moved with composed assurance. She wore a long, ivory satin dress that clung to her frame with effortless grace, the fabric catching the light like moonlit silk. The gown's bell sleeves flared gently at the wrists, and a soft drape cinched the waist, lending her silhouette a quiet sophistication. Her beauty that seemed blended with western blood made Gao Yuhua doubtful if the child's ties with her husband is indeed true.
"You three can attend without me. I've been swamped with company work and I'm not fond of crowds."
"But still—" her father began.
"Haoran," Gao Yuhua placed a gentle hand on his arm. "It's alright, since Xiao Wen insists."
Jiayi and Wenxiu exchanged glances, unreadable.
Su Haoran sighed. "Very well."
"To make the most of the day," he said with forced cheer, "why don't we all go shopping together for bespoke outfits?"
There was a brief pause, then nods of affirmation all around.