Someone walked past from behind.
Only then did Yu Jinyao realize that Wen Jiayan had been following behind her all along.
His footsteps were so light that she hadn’t even noticed.
The young man bent down to look at the phone in Yu Mingyin’s hand, the two standing extremely close, seemingly on good terms.
“Why are you dressed like that when you come back?”
The middle-aged man’s authoritative, low voice cut through Yu Jinyao’s thoughts.
She looked at her so-called father sitting on the sofa and forced a perfunctory smile: “I dress like this at home all the time. I didn’t have time to change.”
Yu Haochuan saw that she had tidied herself up presentably enough, and that her face had grown even more beautiful than in his memory—at a glance, even more striking than his eldest daughter who was in the entertainment industry…
The anger in his heart subsided somewhat, though his furrowed brow remained tense.
“I give you that much allowance every month, not so you can go out wearing those things and embarrass the Yu family.”
Perhaps mindful of the outsider present, Yu Haochuan softened his tone.
“Even though you don’t live with us, that’s for your studies. You’re still a daughter of the Yu family. Come back and visit more often when you have time.”
“Yes, Father.”
Yu Jinyao lowered her head in obedient agreement.
Yu Haochuan was fairly satisfied with her compliance and introduced: “This is Jiayan. You’ve probably seen him at school. He’s Mingyin’s cousin, so consider him your older brother as well.”
His introduction finally jogged Yu Jinyao’s memory of some obscure plot details.
Her mother, Lin Shuya, was Yu Haochuan’s second wife, while Yu Haochuan’s first wife was from the Wen family—by seniority, she should be Wen Jiayan’s aunt.
Although the Yu family was only a second-tier wealthy household, they managed to do reasonably well in their circle thanks to their connection with the Wen family.
But since Yu Mingyin and Wen Jiayan were the actual cousins, Yu Jinyao had little to do with it, which was why she’d forgotten about this.
In the original plot, she indeed had no real connection with the famous student council president.
At that moment, as Yu Haochuan’s words trailed off, Wen Jiayan straightened up and looked at her with a smile, as if waiting for her to call him brother.
Her lips moved hesitantly, but in the end, Yu Jinyao couldn’t bring herself to say it.
Logically speaking, in this novel about an aristocratic academy, her character was supposed to be vain, shallow, despicable, and malicious—someone who would definitely seize any opportunity to climb the social ladder.
But Yu Jinyao herself wasn’t without sense. She always felt that Wen Jiayan didn’t like her.
“Sister Yaoyao is a bit shy.”
The young man curved his lips, his eyes gentle, his words helping her out of the awkward situation, seemingly not holding it against her.
Just then, Lin Shuya walked out of the kitchen wearing an apron. Seeing her, her eyes lit up.
“Yaoyao’s back?”
When those warm hands touched the back of her hand, the word “Mom” turned out to be not as hard to say as she had imagined.
In her own world, she had been an orphan. Although she was lucky enough to always receive help from kind-hearted people, she had never experienced familial love.
The world in this book was melodramatic and absurd, and she had never intended to place her emotions in these paper-thin characters.
Just playing a role.
She reminded herself silently.
“One last soup, and it’ll be ready soon.”
The woman had a delicate, fair face, and her eyes always carried a timid look. She spoke in a soft, gentle voice.
Yu Haochuan’s stern face would always soften somewhat when facing Lin Shuya.
Yu Mingyin wore a cold, indifferent expression.
Wen Jiayan’s smile remained unchanged as he said politely, “Thank you, Aunt Lin.”
He showed none of the arrogance of a young master from a top-tier conglomerate family.
Lin Shuya let out a relieved breath, cast a speaking glance at Yu Jinyao, patted her hand, and returned to the kitchen.
Although Yu Jinyao had never experienced life among the wealthy, she couldn’t shake the feeling that something was off.
That strange feeling persisted all the way to the dinner table.
The Yu family’s status wasn’t high, but their rules were plenty—they observed the principle of not speaking during meals.
In the silent atmosphere, Yu Jinyao picked up a piece of wasabi shrimp ball—a dish the original owner had loved—when she heard the young man beside her cough violently.
The shrimp ball fell back into her bowl. She turned to look and saw the young man coughing so hard that tears had welled up in his eyes, his lips bright red.
“What’s wrong, Xiao Yan? Did something go down the wrong pipe?”
Yu Mingyin was the first to break the silence, hurriedly pouring him a glass of juice.
Wen Jiayan recovered slightly and smiled: “Auntie’s homemade maoxuewang looked too tempting. I couldn’t resist and took a bite.”
“I overestimated my tolerance for spicy food.”
After saying this, he coughed violently again.
Yu Haochuan turned his gaze to the flustered Lin Shuya: “What’s going on? Don’t you know Jiayan can’t eat spicy food?”
Most of the dishes on the table were made by the chef; only the wasabi shrimp balls, the maoxuewang, and a seafood soup were personally prepared by Lin Shuya.
Usually, Yu Haochuan appreciated her gentle, considerate nature, but now that she’d made a mistake, he found her somewhat incapable of handling herself properly.
“What are you standing there for? Hurry up and pour your brother Jiayan a glass of water?”
This remark from Yu Haochuan was directed at her.
Without time to think, Yu Jinyao hastily poured a glass of water for Wen Jiayan. As she handed it to him, she met those eyes still glistening with tears from the physical reaction.
The young man’s fingertip brushed against her hand.
The cup had already fallen into Wen Jiayan’s hands, so Yu Jinyao naturally let go.
Yet she heard an unexpected, crisp shattering sound.
“Smash—”
Glass shards splattered everywhere, and the maid standing by the dining table let out a low gasp.
Yu Jinyao had no time to worry about the mess on the floor. She stared wide-eyed at Wen Jiayan’s slightly flustered face.
There was not a single flaw.
The always proper and courteous Young Master Wen now looked rather pitiful, with his lips red from the spice and the corners of his eyes flushed.
Tears of physical irritation veiled his gentle eyes, and he seemed just as startled as everyone else.
He looked like an innocent bystander caught in an undeserved misfortune.
Yu Haochuan was furious.
He hadn’t seen how the water had been spilled; he simply felt that this mother-daughter pair had embarrassed him and only ever caused him trouble.
Yu Jinyao was sent to the kitchen to reflect on her actions.
Before leaving the dining room, she still heard Wen Jiayan’s pretentious voice.
“It’s not Sister Jinyao’s fault—I just didn’t hold it steady…”
“Auntie Lin, you don’t need to blame yourself either. I was just too greedy…”
At that moment, she was certain: Wen Jiayan disliked her.
This student council president—who throughout the book had been nothing but gentlemanly and courteous, never discriminating against special admittees, and kind to everyone—harbored an inexplicable malice toward her.
Yu Jinyao sat on the low stool in the kitchen, staring blankly at the branches outside the window that had just begun to sprout green buds.
She had been careless.
She had let her guard down because the plot hadn’t officially begun, because she had blindly trusted Wen Jiayan’s image from the book—and she had paid the price.
She had finally figured out where that strange feeling came from.
In this household, there was a clear hierarchy.
Yu Haochuan stood above Yu Mingyin, and Yu Mingyin stood above Lin Shuya and Yu Jinyao.
From the original owner’s memories, she knew that Lin Shuya had a weak personality, and that Yu Haochuan did seem to hold some genuine affection for her.
But from today’s experience, she understood more clearly why the original owner had chosen to move out rather than stay in the Yu family.
There was no place for her here.