The Heiress's Game

The afternoon tea gatherings of socialites take place in a private clubhouse on the hillside, with an infinity pool and geometrically manicured gardens outside the windows, and white truffle finger sandwiches and a silver three-tiered pastry stand inside.

The dozen or so people present were all prominent wives and daughters of the wealthy and influential in Dahai City, all wearing the latest seasonal items.

Carrying limited-edition handbags, the conversation veered from items at charity auctions to which female celebrity had recently undergone cosmetic surgery.

Gu Mingyue sat in the main seat of the sofa, wearing a champagne-colored silk shirt, her posture holding a teacup was impeccably elegant.

She wore a perfectly measured smile, nodded slightly when others spoke, and smiled just the right amount when necessary.

But her mind wasn't in the room.

She was thinking of Chen Cui.

She glanced at her phone before leaving home in the morning—an interview preview from the weekly magazine "People's Depth" was prominently featured on the trending topics list, with the title "Chen Cui: Every experience is a gift, thank you for the benefactors in my life."

She didn't click to read the article, but the title alone made her temples throb twice.

Who is her benefactor?

Chen Cui is like a piece of chewing gum; you can't shake her off, and the more you try, the stickier she gets.

"Miss Gu?"

A voice pulled her back.

Gu Mingyue looked up and saw a socialite she didn't recognize sitting diagonally across from her smiling at her.

The socialite looked to be in her early thirties, wearing a hazy blue tweed coat and two layers of pearl necklaces. She had an elegant demeanor, but her accent had a slight northern rolled lilt, indicating she wasn't a local from Dahai City.

"Excuse me, I was just spacing out," Gu Mingyue's smile returned instantly. "And you are?"

"My surname is Fang, Fang Yu, and I'm from Beicheng. My husband has a project in Dahai City recently, so I came here to stay for a while."

Fang Yu spoke in a very warm tone, with the enthusiasm of someone who has just arrived in a new place and is eager to integrate into the social circle.

"Miss Gu, I actually knew about you a long time ago."

Gu Mingyue tilted her head slightly, waiting for her to continue.

She'd heard this opening line countless times; it was usually followed by, "You're the number one socialite in Dahai City."

She was already prepared to accept compliments like "Your outfit is so beautiful."

"You were Chen Cui's former boss, right?" Fang Yu said with a smile, her eyes sparkling.

"I've been watching 'Walking with Brilliance' lately, it's so good! Chen Cui mentions you several times in the show, saying that you used to take special care of her."

I told my husband, "It turns out that Miss Gu is not only outstanding herself, but also so willing to mentor younger generations."

The air was silent for about a second.

In that instant, Gu Mingyue felt her smile freeze on her face, like frozen cream, the surface still holding its shape, but the inside already hardened.

Her personal assistant, Kobayashi, stood ramrod straight behind her, her fingers leaving white marks on the edge of the tablet computer, and she even held her breath.

Xiao Lin felt a pang of anxiety for the woman named Fang Yu.

But Gu Mingyue's smile only lasted for a second.

The next second, she picked up her teacup, took an elegant sip, and swallowed the nausea and irritation that rose in her throat.

She put down her cup, looked at Fang Yu, and adjusted the corners of her mouth to the most appropriate angle.

"Chen Cui," her voice was as gentle as a spring breeze in March.

"She's a very hardworking girl, and I'm happy for her that she's gotten this far."

"Really? That's great! I knew it, anyone who can work with Miss Gu must be extraordinary."

Her show is incredibly popular right now; all my friends in Beijing are watching it.

Fang Yu was completely unaware that she had stepped on a landmine and continued speaking enthusiastically.

"Miss Gu, could you tell me more about her another day? I'm really curious about what she was like before."

"Okay," Gu Mingyue agreed with a smile, picked up her teacup and took another sip.

Sitting to her right was Mrs. Zhao—the eldest sister-in-law of the Zhao family, a shrewd woman who had been immersed in the circles of the wealthy for twenty years—who glanced at Gu Mingyue without making a sound, then gracefully turned to Fang Yu and changed the subject in a nonchalant tone:

"Mrs. Fang, I also watched the variety show you mentioned, but I think what's more worth talking about recently is Art Basel next month. I heard there are some major works this year."

The topic was cleverly diverted.

The ladies started talking about art exhibitions, about whose family had recently acquired a Zao Wou-Ki painting, and about the prices sold at Sotheby's spring auction.

Fang Yu joined in the conversation, completely unaware that she had almost been scratched.

Gu Mingyue maintained her smile, nodded at appropriate times, chuckled when things were funny, and tactfully stated that "both have their merits" during a debate about Impressionism and Modernism.

But her mind was racing, focused on the same thing—even the socialites from Beijing knew her now, not because Gu Mingyue was the top socialite, but because she was Chen Cui's "former boss".

Former boss. What an absurd label.

Gu Mingyue is the most famous socialite in Dahai City, the apple of Gu Zhenxing's eye, and the second young mistress of the Zhao family of Hongsheng Group. She is the most dazzling name at any occasion.

But now, at an afternoon tea party, when a stranger introduces her, she uses the title "Chen Cui's former boss".

Her name became an appendage to another name.

At the end of the gathering, Gu Mingyue bid farewell to each of the wives in a thoughtful manner, and even exchanged contact information with Fang Yu.

Her smile lasted until she got into the car, the door closed, and the soundproof glass shut out the outside world.

Her face fell.

"Where did that Fang Yu come from?" she said coldly.

Xiao Lin quickly flipped through the memo: "She's from Beijing, the third daughter of the Fang family, and her husband's surname is Zheng. He works in infrastructure."

There's a mixed-use development project in Dahai City recently, and I've heard it requires at least six months of stay.

"Half a year." Gu Mingyue repeated the word, then fell silent.

As the car crossed the sea bridge, a corner of the white roof of the Zhao family's villa was revealed amidst the green trees.

That house was a wedding gift from the Zhao family patriarch to the couple, and it's worth about two or three hundred million yuan.

In the years since Gu Mingyue married into the Zhao family, she has been a perfect match in the eyes of outsiders—they are well-matched in terms of social status, handsome and beautiful, live in the best house, drive the most expensive car, and have someone open doors and pull out chairs for her whenever she goes out.

But only she knew that the big house was empty most of the time.

She parked the car in the garage, pushed open the door, went through the entryway, and walked into the living room.

The crystal chandelier in the living room was off; only a few wall lamps in the hallway were lit, creating a dim light.

The nanny poked her head out of the kitchen and whispered, "Madam, dinner is ready." She waved her hand to indicate that she had already eaten.

In fact, she had eaten a lot of exquisite pastries at the afternoon tea party, and now her stomach felt nauseous from the sweetness.

She went upstairs to the bedroom door, passing her husband's study.

The study door was ajar; there was no light or sound inside.

The second young master of the Zhao family is not home again today—to be precise, he has only eaten dinner at home a handful of times this month.

It's either something at work, a social engagement, or going out with friends.

As for whether it was a social engagement or not, Gu Mingyue was too lazy to investigate.

In the second year of their marriage, she discovered those ambiguous messages on his phone. The next day, she went out and bought a limited edition Hermes bag, swiped his card, and felt much better.

A marriage between wealthy families, where each party gets what they want.

She wanted recognition and status, while he wanted face and freedom.

His extravagant lifestyle is his business, as long as it doesn't escalate into a public spectacle and embarrass both families, there's nothing she can't tolerate.

People in their social circle will only see them as a loving couple, and that's enough.

True happiness lies in one's social circle—this is the most important principle she learned over more than 20 years of growing up in the Gu family.

Real wounds don't need to be shown to others, and it's best not to show them to yourself either.

She walked into the dressing room, kicked off her high heels, and stepped barefoot onto the temperature-controlled floor.

The dressing room lights automatically turned on, illuminating the entire wall of Hermès bags—crocodile skin, ostrich skin, limited editions, and custom-made items—arranged from light to dark color, like a boutique display case.

She stood in front of the wall, reached out and touched a matte crocodile Birkin; the leather was cool and smooth, with a perfect feel.

She bought the bag herself for her birthday last year. Her husband didn't even know she bought it until the bill arrived at home, at which point he remembered and added, "Oh, it's your birthday."

He doesn't care how much she spends on this supplementary card, because he doesn't care at all.

This is the second son of the Zhao family.

He doesn't love her, but that doesn't matter, she doesn't love him either.

She stands in this house worth 300 million, possessing material wealth that ordinary people could not earn in several lifetimes. So what if she is unhappy?

Whether you're happy or not isn't important; winning or losing is.

She walked out of the dressing room and changed into a silk robe.

My phone screen lit up; it was a WeChat group discussion about a charity gala next Wednesday, with several ladies recommending brands to wear that day.

She scrolled through a few messages, typed a reply saying "See you then," her tone thoughtful and appropriate.

Did he win against Chen Cui?

So far, no.

All the moves she threw out were caught perfectly by her opponent, and even bounced back.

She investigated Xingyao Media for so long, and all she could find were compliant and legal operating records. All financial transactions and contract procedures were watertight.

It was as if, out of her sight, someone even more meticulous than her had preemptively blocked all possible points of attack.

Gu Mingyue stood in front of the French windows in her bedroom, looking at the few rose bushes in the garden outside the window that were illuminated by the night lights.

The roses were in full bloom, a deep, rich red, with droplets of water left from the sprinkler at dusk clinging to their petals, which looked like crushed diamonds under the lamplight.

But roses also have thorns. She loved roses since she was a child because she felt that she was a rose—everyone should revolve around her, be attracted by her beauty, and at the same time remember that she has thorns.