The military jeep sped away from her view.
Zhao Nige knew those dark eyes were watching her through the rearview mirror.
She stood still, her fingers tightening on the umbrella’s handle. A faint smile deepened at the corners of her eyes.
As the heavy clouds broke, the oppressive heat returned. Beneath her green umbrella, she looked like a lotus swaying in the mist—so ethereal she bordered on provocative.
The man captured the scene in his mirror. His gaze flicked to the discarded rose, then his lips quirked into a shallow smile. He struck the steering wheel with his palm as the jeep accelerated toward the intersection and vanished around the corner.
Ah, damn it, Zhao Nige thought.
He didn’t take the bait.
She clicked her tongue in disappointment. Then, holding her umbrella, she turned and walked toward the far end of the street.
**
When Zhao Nige returned to the Zhao family’s small villa, she found Zhao Lanxin waiting for her at the gate.
“Sister, why did you come back alone?” Zhao Lanxin asked, her fake smile unable to hide her smugness. “Didn’t Young Master Lu drive you home?”
Zhao Nige stopped and swept her gaze over the other woman. “Do you think everyone is as idle as you?”
Zhao Lanxin’s expression stiffened.
She loathed Zhao Nige’s blatant disregard for her. She’s just a wild girl raised in the countryside, she thought bitterly.
So what if she’s our parents’ biological daughter? I’m the one who’s been by their side for twenty years.
As Zhao Lanxin seethed in silence, Zhao Nige clicked her tongue in disgust.
“Move,” she said, “you’re in my way.”
Without another glance, Zhao Nige walked past her into the garden.
***
Tao Rong was in the kitchen preparing a meal.
The family had a housekeeper, but since her daughter had returned, she had taken to cooking herself. It was a deliberate attempt to bridge the distance between them and forge a deeper bond.
Her daughter’s resemblance to her was striking. In her own youth, Tao Rong had been the belle of the Art Troupe, and Nige had clearly inherited her beauty. But her personality was…
How to put it?
Distant. Aloof. She showed neither affection nor resentment. After spending a few days together, Tao Rong felt utterly at a loss.
Walking into the living room with a platter of sliced fruit, she saw both her daughters had returned. She forced a warm, eager smile. “You’re back! Come, have some fruit. Nige, how did the date with the Lu family’s young master go?”
Zhao Nige sat on the sofa and popped a grape into her mouth. “It was fine,” she said, her tone utterly casual.
“So… there’s a chance for something more?” Tao Rong asked cautiously.
Zhao Nige spat out the grape skin and glanced at the woman who was now her mother. The middle-aged beauty watched her with a strained, tentative expression, her smile stretched too wide.
Zhao Nige sneered inwardly. “Are you happy for me, or are you just feeling sorry for your other daughter?”
Tao Rong’s smile froze. She glanced at Lanxin, who sat beside her with pressed lips, silent. “Of course I want you to find a husband you’re happy with.”
“But you arranged this date for Zhao Lanxin,” Zhao Nige said, her expression a mocking half-smile. “Wouldn’t you find it a waste if I messed it up?”
Tao Rong could no longer force a smile.
She had pulled every string she had to secure this introduction to the Lu family. In the Capital City, countless daughters of noble houses were eyeing the Lu family as a prize. It was only because the Lu family still held some prestige and Lanxin had earned her place as a lead dancer in the Art Troupe this year that Mrs. Lu had finally agreed to the match.
Yet, on her second day back from Shucheng, Zhao Nige had demanded this date for herself.
Looking at her daughter’s extraordinary beauty and those distant, detached eyes, Tao Rong had found herself unable to say no.
But this left Tao Rong feeling she’d shortchanged Lanxin. Fortunately, Lanxin had always been sensible and considerate, never causing her mother any trouble despite the unfairness she harbored.
“Sister, don’t blame Mom and Dad,” Zhao Lanxin began, her voice dripping with feigned sympathy. “As long as our family stays harmonious, I’m happy to give you whatever you want.”
Zhao Nige arched an eyebrow. “Is that so? Perfect. I’ve been tossing and turning in that second-floor side room for the past two nights. Your room looks much nicer—why don’t you give it to me?”
Zhao Lanxin choked on her words, falling silent.
“Nige, your sister has lived in that room since she was a child,” Tao Rong interjected, trying to smooth things over. “You’ve only just returned, so you might be struggling to adjust to a new bed. Give it a few more days.”
“That room was always supposed to be mine,” Zhao Nige retorted without a hint of hesitation.
Tao Rong was speechless.
Zhao Lanxin turned to her mother, her expression a picture of wounded innocence.
Zhao Nige couldn’t bear to watch the plastic bond between mother and daughter any longer. She stood up. “Clear out the room. I’m moving in tonight.”
“And don’t bother calling me for dinner.”
With that, she turned and walked upstairs, leaving the two women to stew in their own silence.
***
Back in her room, Zhao Nige shut the door.
She eagerly opened the Point Exchange system, her eyes fixed on the total. Zero.
What?!
“…”
She stared at the screen, but the number remained a stubbornly empty 0.
Ha.
Had she wasted her entire day for nothing? Or had she unknowingly done something to disgust him?
No, that can’t be it.
Even without earning Heartbeat Value, a negative reaction should have resulted in a negative score. How could it possibly be zero?
Zhao Nige flopped onto her bed and meticulously replayed their entire encounter—every word he’d said, every reaction he’d had.
“Zero points…” Her gaze grew thoughtful, and a slow smile tugged at her lips. “Fine.”
It seemed she had underestimated him. The man was… more challenging than she’d anticipated.
She glanced at the items in the Point Exchange system that could enhance her life force attributes. Even the cheapest Nutrient Solution cost 9.9 points.
With a zero balance, Zhao Nige could only window-shop.
She had been with the Zhao family for three days, but she still couldn’t get used to this.
She lifted her arm and examined it. Her skin was like cream, her hands like soft shoots of bamboo, and even her nails had a delicate, healthy pink glow. To make her a match for the female supporting character, the system had restored her to her twenty-year-old self.
So supple, she thought, touching her beautiful face. Just a pinch and I’d practically drip water.
Being young truly was a blessing.
In her original world, Zhao Nige had died at twenty-seven, right at the peak of her career. She had burst onto the stage at twenty, spending seven years in the relentless spotlight until she reached the pinnacle of international acclaim.
She had dedicated her most vibrant years to the stage—and in the end, she had died on it.
Now, transmigrated and twenty once again, Zhao Nige wanted a different, more relaxed way of living.
Maybe I’ll fall in love, flirt with some handsome guys…
That sounded like it could be quite interesting.
***
The room’s north-facing window let in no sunlight, and Zhao Nige had always disliked the gloom. Worse, it faced another building, making the space feel even more oppressive.
She tossed and turned in bed, unable to sleep. Finally, she gave up and went downstairs.
In the living room, Tao Rong and Zhao Lanxin were talking. Zhao Lanxin’s eyes were red-rimmed, clearly from a recent cry, and Tao Rong was comforting her.
Zhao Nige leaned against the banister, looking down at them. “Zhao Lanxin, I told you to vacate the room. What are you still dawdling around for?”
“Nige,” Tao Rong said, “Lanxin told me the Art Troupe is recruiting ensemble dancers. I think your figure and skills would be a great fit. How about I arrange a job for you there?”
“Not interested.” Zhao Nige looked down, idly tapping her nails.
She knew exactly what game Zhao Lanxin was playing, but she had no patience for it.
“Your sister was just promoted to lead dancer,” Tao Rong said, her tone pained. “She practices so hard every day. She won’t be able to adjust to a new room. You wouldn’t want her to lose this hard-won opportunity, would you?”
What a joke, Zhao Nige thought. What does that have to do with me?
Tao Rong was a mother whose favoritism knew no bounds. If Zhao Nige were truly her biological daughter, she would be the one who was truly pitiful.
Every good thing—from the best clothes and food to the most valuable connections—had been given to Zhao Lanxin. And now, over a simple room change, Tao Rong was trying to guilt-trip her with such a heavy burden.
Zhao Nige remained unmoved. “I still want that room.”
***
Zhao Lanxin stuffed the last of her clothes into a suitcase and glared at Zhao Nige, who was leaning casually against the doorframe.
“Are you happy now?”
“Pretty much,” Zhao Nige replied, her smile serene.
Seeing the folded dance costumes, Zhao Nige raised an eyebrow. “You dance ballet?”
Zhao Lanxin stood up, her face alight with smugness. “I’ve been training in ballet since I was a child. My mother poured all her effort into me, which is how I became the troupe’s principal dancer.”
“Really?” Zhao Nige’s voice dripped with skepticism. “With your lower-body proportions? I assumed you did modern dance.”
“You—!”
Her face contorted. It was exactly because her proportions weren’t ideal that she had to work twice as hard as everyone else. How dare Zhao Nige judge her!
“You’re just too scared to join the troupe,” Zhao Lanxin sneered. “Afraid you’ll look like an amateur standing next to me on stage.”
The Art Troupe’s performances…
That thought struck a chord with Zhao Nige. The troupe frequently performed for the military, which meant more opportunities to encounter the male lead, a special forces soldier.
Her goal was to win him over.
Why not seize this chance? After all, as a member of the ensemble, she’d just be filling out the background. It wasn’t a betrayal of her original intentions.
That evening, Zhao Nige changed her mind. She told Tao Rong she would join the troupe.
Tao Rong was surprised, but she agreed to arrange the position.
***
A few days later, Zhao Nige joined the Art Troupe as a new ensemble dancer.
The news that she was Zhao Lanxin’s sister sparked a wave of curiosity among the members. The male principal dancer, who frequently partnered with Zhao Lanxin, was especially enthusiastic. He even tried to invite Zhao Nige to dinner on her very first day.
Zhao Lanxin’s face turned a sickly shade of green with rage.
This time, she dropped all pretense. The Art Troupe was her domain, and here, Zhao Nige was nothing more than a background dancer—someone only fit to carry her shoes.
Before heading home that afternoon, Zhao Lanxin cornered her sister in the dressing room.
“Zhao Nige, you stole my blind date with the Lu family’s young master, yet you didn’t even seize such a golden opportunity,” she sneered. “Now you’re here at the Art Troupe trying to seduce Gao Xiang. Do you really want to steal everything I have?”
“Gao Xiang?” Zhao Nige asked, her expression blank. “Who’s that?”
“You—!” Zhao Lanxin gritted her teeth. “The one who just asked you to dinner!”
“Oh. Him.” Zhao Nige shrugged with a faint smile. “I’m not interested. You can have him.”
***
Lu Yanling and his friend, Guan Chu, were having a meal at a mutton soup shop.
Guan Chu had been apologetic about missing their last meeting, claiming he was sick of Western food in London. He had chosen this traditional spot and even driven to the Special Operations Brigade headquarters to wait for Lu Yanling to finish work so they could head over together.
As they climbed into the off-road vehicle, Guan Chu spotted a withered rose beneath the passenger seat. He picked it up, examining it with a teasing grin.
“Well, well. The celibate Brigade Commander Lu is keeping a secret lover, is he?”
Lu Yanling glanced at the dried flower and said coolly, “Throw it away.”
“Whose is it?” Guan Chu refused to toss it, instead bringing the rose to his nose and sniffing.
A flash of a slender figure holding a green umbrella crossed Lu Yanling’s mind. “I don’t know,” he replied softly.
“Tch. Boring.” Guan Chu rolled down the window and tossed the flower out.
They drove to an old alleyway, where a fifty-year-old restaurant stood. After finding a table, they waited for their meal.
When the steaming pot of mutton soup arrived, Guan Chu, who hadn’t been back in the country for years, practically drooled. He eagerly dipped several slices of lamb into the broth.
Lu Yanling shook his head with a faint smile at his friend’s enthusiasm.
Just as he was about to eat, two figures passing on the street opposite the restaurant caught his eye.
A woman in a dress and a wide-brimmed hat walked ahead, her pace steady and unhurried. A man followed close behind, clutching a bouquet of flowers and struggling to keep up.
Even from across the street, the man’s eager expression made it clear he was trying to win her favor—or more accurately, courting her.
And that woman…
Thinking of the rose Guan Chu had just thrown out the window, Lu Yanling’s lips curled into a cold, hard line. He looked away, his gaze turning indifferent.
***
Zhao Nige was growing impatient with the man trailing her.
“You’re Gao Xiang, right?” she asked, turning to face him. “Thank you for the flowers, but I don’t like roses.”
Gao Xiang froze, his face flushing crimson. “Then—then what do you like? I’ll buy them for you next time.”
“I’m allergic to pollen,” she replied.
Without waiting for his response, Zhao Nige turned and walked away.
As she reached the corner, she stopped abruptly and stepped aside. A familiar black military off-road vehicle was parked at the curb, its license plate unmistakable.
Zhao Nige scanned the area. This street, just outside the Art Troupe, was an old alleyway lined with century-old shops. If the car was here, the driver must be nearby.
A smile touched her lips. Talk about a lucky find.
***
Twenty minutes later, two figures emerged from a bustling mutton soup shop.
“I have to get back to the base,” Lu Yanling said, pulling on his leather gloves. “I’ll visit Uncle Guan at the hospital tomorrow.”
“Alright, I’ll head out,” Guan Chu replied, patting him on the shoulder with a sigh. “I’ll be staying in the country for a few months until the old man recovers.”
A black sedan pulled up, and the driver stepped out to respectfully escort Guan Chu into the car.
After seeing his friend off, Lu Yanling turned and strode toward the street corner where his own vehicle was parked.
As night fell, the wind whipped his trench coat into a sharp, angular silhouette.
Rounding the corner, he spotted a slender figure leaning against a lamppost. In the shifting light of dusk and neon, amidst the flow of passing cars and pedestrians, she seemed strangely frozen in time.
Lu Yanling’s pace faltered for a heartbeat.
Then, he kept walking, his gaze fixed straight ahead, and opened the car door.
A soft voice drifted from behind him.
“Eldest Young Master Lu, could I get a ride?”
Lu Yanling turned, his expression impassive. “No.”