Rival Arrives: The Capital Heiress Comes to Town
The day Lin Wanqing arrived, light snow fell. Northwest snow was nothing like the fine, soft flakes of the capital—coarse, gritty grains stung the face like handfuls of sand.
Lin Wanqing didn’t mind. Wrapped in a tailored black wool coat and polished lambskin boots, she hopped down from the jeep at the military compound gate. She looked like a fashion plate cut straight from a magazine: curled hair, bold red lips, sharp willow brows. Even standing still, she radiated an air of noble, unmistakeable distance—I am not one of you.
The sentry checked her papers, saluted, and let her pass. She clicked her heels along the path, a confident smile playing on her lips.
Zhanye. I’m here. And that little country girl of yours? I’ll see exactly what she’s made of.
Su Qing heard the news from Xiao Zhao.
“Comrade Su—” Xiao Zhao panted as he ran into the courtyard, breathless “—someone’s come from the capital! The eldest Miss Lin—from the cultural troupe—!”
“What for?” Su Qing knelt by the herb pile, rubbing dried stems between her fingers, not looking up.
Xiao Zhao lowered his voice further. “She… she’s here for the Commander. Everyone’s saying she’s his… fiancée.”
Su Qing’s hands paused for a fraction of a second—too brief for Xiao Zhao to notice—then kept working.
“Mhm.”
That was all. No tone, no alarm.
“Aren’t you worried?” Xiao Zhao fidgeted. “She’s from the capital—her family’s one of the most powerful—!”
“Xiao Zhao.”
“Mhm?”
Su Qing looked up. Her expression was calm, even faintly amused—but the look in her fox-like eyes made Xiao Zhao swallow the rest of his sentence. It wasn’t anger. It wasn’t jealousy. It was the easy, unshakable poise of a chess player who sees every move before it’s made.
“Thank you for telling me. Go on back to work.”
Xiao Zhao left glancing over his shoulder. Somehow, Comrade Su’s calm was far scarier than any outburst.
Lin Wanqing didn’t head straight for Lu Zhanye. She chose what she thought was the smarter move: visiting the educated youths’ compound first. She wanted to see this “country girl” with her own eyes—before making her presence known. And to set things straight from the start.
She arrived just as Su Qing stepped out to fill an enamel mug. They met face to face in the centre of the yard. Time seemed to stutter.
Lin Wanqing’s smile faltered for half a second. She’d prepared herself for someone rough, sun-darkened, plain. She’d rehearsed every line: “You must be Su Qing?” “Do you know who Zhanye is?” “Stay away from him.”
She hadn’t prepared for this.
Su Qing stood amid drifting snow, wearing a faded grey cotton jacket, hair tied simply back, no makeup, no adornment. Yet her skin was pale as porcelain, her eyes lifted at the corners with a faint, luminous gleam, her lashes long and dusted with frost. Her lips were soft natural pink, no lipstick needed. She looked like a white plum blossom pushing through the snow—so beautiful that even Lin Wanqing, another woman, caught her breath.
This was no rival to brush aside.
Lin Wanqing recovered fast, schooling her features back to cool composure.
“You’re Su Qing?” Her tone carried the refined, haughty drawl of capital elite.
Su Qing looked her over—wool coat, styled hair, commanding presence—and guessed exactly who she was. Still, she wore a perfect look of polite confusion.
“And you are?”
“Lin Wanqing.” She tilted her chin up. “Lu Zhanye’s fiancée.”
She enunciated the last two words clearly. The other youths carrying firewood all froze. Fiancée—the word dropped like a stone in a pond, rippling through the yard.
Su Qing didn’t flinch. She even smiled.
“Hello, Miss Lin. You’ve had a long journey. Would you like to come in for some water?”
Lin Wanqing hadn’t expected warmth. No shock, no panic, no hurt—only courtesy? Either she was foolish… or dangerous.
“No need.” She cut straight through the pleasantries. “I simply came to see you.”
She stepped closer, looking down deliberately—her heels put her nearly half a head taller. “You know, I assume, of my history with Zhanye. Our families have been close for generations. We grew up together. Our marriage was agreed long ago by our elders.”
Slow, measured words—each one designed to put Su Qing in her place, to show her the impossible gap between them, to make her step back on her own.
Su Qing listened quietly, then tilted her head.
“Miss Lin.”
“Mhm?”
“You came all this way just to tell me that?”
Lin Wanqing narrowed her eyes. “What do you mean?”
Su Qing’s smile stayed soft, her voice gentle as a breeze—yet her next words made Lin Wanqing’s blood run cold.
“If Commander Lu were truly your fiancé—you would be speaking to him, not me.”
“Coming here to me… means he has never accepted this arrangement.”
A beat.
“Isn’t that right?”
The yard fell dead silent. Snow settled light on their shoulders. Lin Wanqing went pale. Su Qing had hit the mark—there was no formal engagement. The “agreement” was the Lin family’s wish alone; Lu Zhanye had never given his consent. Everyone knew it, but no one dared say it to her face—least of all a village girl.
And she’d said it smiling. Sweet as honey, sharp as a blade.
Lin Wanqing forced a tight, elegant smile. “Comrade Su—you certainly know how to speak.”
“Far from it.” Su Qing lowered her gaze, then lifted those knowing eyes, glinting with a hint of mischief and challenge. “I only speak the truth. I wouldn’t want you to misunderstand.”
“Commander Lu and I share a strictly professional relationship. Nothing more.”
The last three words hung light as a feather—yet Lin Wanqing heard the unspoken reply: Our business is none of yours.
Lin Wanqing’s nails dug into her palms. She turned without another word, heels striking the frozen earth in sharp, steady rhythm. Her back stayed straight and proud—but Su Qing saw her stumble once as she rounded the corner. That single slip was all the victory she needed.
Su Qing stood still, looking down at her hand holding the mug. It was steady. Not a tremor. Yet her heart had raced—just a little. Not from fear of Lin Wanqing. But because when she’d heard fiancée, something had pricked her chest. Softly. But it was there.
She frowned. She didn’t like the feeling. It was too irrational.
Half an hour later, Lin Wanqing walked into Lu Zhanye’s office. She’d composed herself perfectly—flawless makeup, poised smile, the very picture of grace.
“Zhanye!” She beamed, stepping forward. “I’ve come to see you! You have no idea how much I’ve—”
Her voice died. Lu Zhanye wasn’t looking at her. He sat behind his desk, pen in hand, papers spread open—but his gaze drifted past everything, past her, toward the window. The window faced the road leading to the educated youths’ compound.
“Zhanye?” She tried again.
He finally looked over. Just one glance.
“Why are you here.”
No delight. No surprise. Only mild irritation.
Lin Wanqing’s heart sank, though her smile held. “To see you! You’ve been away so long and never wrote—”
“Busy.”
One word.
“Then are you free tonight? I could have someone—”
“Not free.”
Another.
Her smile faltered. She moved closer, leaning forward deliberately to show the line of her collarbone—an angle she’d practiced a hundred times.
“Have you forgotten? Next month is my birthday—”
“Lin Wanqing.”
He looked straight at her at last. His eyes were cold as steel.
“I am not free. Not now, not tonight, not next month. Go back to the capital.”
Lin Wanqing froze. She wanted to snap—but she couldn’t. She was the Lin family’s eldest daughter, the troupe’s star, the most poised young lady in the capital. She would not lose her dignity.
“Very well.” She straightened, smiling perfectly. “I won’t disturb you further. But I’m not leaving. I’ve taken leave to stay here for a while—I’ve always been curious about the northwest.”
She stepped out. The moment the door clicked shut, her smile vanished, replaced by sharp, biting rage.
It’s her. That Su Qing. She’s bewitched him. Before, he was cold—but he’d at least replied. Now he won’t even pretend.
She clenched her fists. She wouldn’t give up. Wouldn’t back down. You think you’ve won? This is only the beginning.
That night, Su Qing sat on her bunk reading her ancient texts. The window tapped—three short, two long.
She smiled and pushed it open. Lu Zhanye stood outside in the moonlight, in that same faded grey coat, wearing that same unconvincing just passing by look. But tonight there was something else—almost guilt?
“Lin Wanqing came to see you,” he said. Not a question.
“Mhm.” Su Qing leaned against the frame, folding her arms against the chill.
“She is not my fiancée.” He spoke to the dark fields, not to her—yet his voice held a desperate edge, almost nervousness.
“I know.”
He turned sharply. “You know?”
“Mhm.”
“How?”
Su Qing tilted her head, eyes crinkling. “If she really were—you wouldn’t be standing under my window right now.”
Lu Zhanye went quiet for three seconds. Then his ears turned bright red—again.
“Go inside,” he mumbled. “It’s cold.”
“Aren’t you cold too?”
“I’m fine.”
“Then why are you here?”
“…Passing by.”
Su Qing laughed—soft, light, carried away by the wind. He heard it anyway, ducking his head and rubbing his thumb over his nose to hide a smile. Then he pulled something from his pocket and held it out: a thick military-green wool scarf, neatly folded, well-used but clean.
“It’s getting colder,” he said. “Wrap this around.”
Su Qing took it. Her fingers brushed the wool—and caught a faint scent of pine and gunpowder. His scent. He’d worn it first.
She draped it around her neck. It was rough, a little scratchy against her chin—but warm.
“Thank you.”
“Mhm.”
“…Goodnight, Lu Zhanye.”
“Goodnight.”
He turned to go, then paused.
“Su Qing?”
“Mhm?”
“If she comes again—” He didn’t say tell me, or I’ll handle it. He said: “Ignore her. She is not worth comparing to you.”
Su Qing stood there, wrapped in his scarf, stunned for a moment. Then she slowly closed the window, running her fingers over the rough wool. Her heart raced faster than before.
This time, she didn’t tell herself don’t take it seriously.
Because for the first time—she thought maybe she could take it seriously. Just a little.