Lin Ting had been out enjoying herself with Shen Yueji for a while now, but the day had finally come when she could no longer avoid a banquet.
The invitation had arrived at the villa half a month ago. Lin Ting had glanced at it once and left it on the entryway cabinet, and it might have sat there forever if Housekeeper Zhao hadn't reminded her to dig it out the night before the event.
Shen Yueji, for her part, was eager. In wealthy-family novels, the famous set-piece scenes happened at banquets nine times out of ten—a public face-slap, undercurrents clashing, a run-in with an old rival in love. As the personal bodyguard, she had a duty to give her post its full scope: to stand guard at the young miss's side without moving an inch.
The banquet was held in the ballroom of a five-star hotel downtown, crystal chandeliers hung high, champagne towers and flower arches everywhere.
Shen Yueji wore the standard black-suited bodyguard kit, hair in a low ponytail, earpiece tucked inside her collar, stationed well back by a pillar at the edge of the hall.
Her gaze swept the crowd once. Perfume and silk, glasses clinking everywhere—Sheng Zeyun had an arm around Lin Ting's waist, exchanging pleasantries with a few business partners. Lin Ting wore a moonlight-white gown, hair swept up, the long line of her neck bare, a proper smile fixed in place.
Shen Yueji's face was as impassive as any other bodyguard's, but she snuck a glance toward the buffet table.
Wow, a rich-people banquet!
The seafood spread looked impressive; no telling if it was fresh, though.
But that row of little desserts was genuinely well made—macarons and raspberry tarts lined up in neat ranks, the piped cream not sagging anywhere. Probably delicious. Not that a small-time bodyguard like her was likely to get a taste.
She swept her eyes over the crowd again—handsome men and beautiful women everywhere, tailored suits and evening gowns, every one of them holding a wine glass and smiling without a single leak.
Occasions like this, all poses and performance, showed off the beauty of an elegant scoundrel best of all.
She was quietly appreciating the pageantry when she looked up again—
Huh? In the space of a moment, where had her large pair of employers gone?
Sheng Zeyun was gone, and Lin Ting was no longer there either.
Shen Yueji's pupils contracted. Her gaze swept the entire ballroom, and she finally caught a swish of moon-white hem toward the spiral staircase to the second floor.
Lin Ting was hurrying upstairs, one hand gathering her skirt, the other wiping her eyes.
Shen Yueji made an instant decision and took off after her.
She cut through the crowd, wove around the waiters with their trays, took the stairs two at a time, and swung hard around the corner on the second floor, nearly colliding with someone head-on.
The man wore a flashily cut dark-red suit and was coming downstairs; startled by the sudden apparition, he stepped half a pace aside.
No time to see his face. Shen Yueji tossed off a “sorry” and slipped past, chasing deeper down the corridor.
She didn't look back, and so she didn't see the man stop where he stood, watching her go, brow creasing faintly.
Shen Yueji reached the second floor. At the end of the corridor was a small lounge for guests, its door ajar.
She pushed it open gently and saw Lin Ting standing out on the balcony, hands on the railing, the evening breeze stirring the loose strands at her forehead, the moon-white skirt swaying faintly in the wind.
At the sound of the door, Lin Ting looked back. Her eyes were still rimmed red, but the tear tracks had dried and her breathing had steadied.
Shen Yueji stopped at the balcony door, not stepping out, and leaned against the doorframe. “Young Miss. Can you tell me what happened?”
At first Lin Ting just pressed her lips together and turned away, watching the garden lights below.
But within seconds she spoke, voice low. “I hate these people. I hate coming to these banquets. I know I'm just a wife from a marriage of alliance, that I have no career of my own. But why does every single occasion have to remind me of that? Nobody asked what I wanted back then—so why does everyone get to come pass judgment on me now…”
Shen Yueji understood at once. She stepped onto the balcony and stood beside her. “Young Miss, a career that hasn't taken off yet isn't 'no career.' It's an embryo-stage career. You have to have faith in your career's future. Our young miss's painting is seriously artistic—forget holding a candle to Van Gogh, you're master-tier somewhere down the line.”
She paused and turned her head toward Lin Ting. “Also—has it occurred to you that with the Sheng family and the Lin family behind you, even if they ganged up on you, you'd still be entitled to throw a fit at them?”
Lin Ting gave a bitter smile. “But that's the Sheng family's power and the Lin family's power, not mine. And if word gets out that I lost my temper, in the end it'll be spun as my fault.”
“But your identity right now is the Lin family's daughter and the Sheng family's wife! And as for word getting out—whether it's your fault or theirs isn't even decided yet.” Shen Yueji counted off on her fingers. “In all the time I've spent with you, Young Miss, sure, you're a little tsundere, you've got a bit of a temper—”
Lin Ting's eyes went wide. She couldn't believe even Shen Yueji said she had a temper!
Shen Yueji ignored her and pressed on, slow and even. “But our young miss has a rock-solid moral compass, all right? If you ever threw a proper fit, then it would be their fault, one hundred percent. Either they wronged you on purpose, or they wronged you on purpose.”
“You…” Lin Ting was momentarily speechless. “No one constructs sentences like that.” She was quiet a moment, and her voice dropped. “No one but you has ever taken my side. Every time I went home, my parents only ever said I wasn't gentle enough, not gracious enough.” Her face dimmed; those scolding memories weren't happy ones.
Shen Yueji looked at her earnestly. “The Sheng family is your home too. The Sheng family's people—well, at the very least Mr. Sheng, as your husband—will be on your side.”
Lin Ting laughed at herself. “How would he? He reached the age where the family was hounding him to marry, so he picked someone from the Lin family, a family of lower standing. And the Lin family got picked because of my parents' borderline-pathological management of their daughter's reputation. My younger sister's reputation is better than mine. He chose me only because our ages were closest and my reputation was worse—easier to handle.”
Shen Yueji went quiet for a beat. She remembered the warning that night—Sheng Zeyun telling her not to have any designs against Lin Ting, the cold in his voice clearly the posture of a man protecting his own. She said nothing more. She simply took out her phone, pulled up Sheng Zeyun's number, and dialed.
The phone rang several times before connecting. Shen Yueji didn't wait for him to speak. “Mr. Sheng, sorry to intrude. Madam has something she'd like to say to you.” Then she held the phone out toward Lin Ting.
Lin Ting stared at the phone and didn't take it, turning her face toward the balcony and the night, the picture of someone with nothing to say.
Shen Yueji sighed inwardly and pulled the phone back to file the complaint on her behalf. “Mr. Sheng, Madam was bullied to tears in the ballroom just now.”
She waited. The other end said nothing.
She complained inwardly: how was she supposed to keep filing this complaint? Not even a word of acknowledgment. CEOs really did all have that talking disability.
Then she pushed on, head down. “I don't know the details, but if Madam cried, she must have suffered a tremendous grievance.”
Shen Yueji paused again. This time the other end finally responded—two clipped words. “Who?”
Shen Yueji held the phone out to Lin Ting once more. Lin Ting hesitated, then took it and pressed it to her ear. Her lips moved, and in the end only three words came out. “It's nothing now.”
Shen Yueji could have screamed. I've carried this complaint all the way up the chain and you say it's nothing?