Prelude to the Banquet

The cloakroom of Yunqi Villa was as large as a small shopping mall, but in three years, Shen Zhi only ever walked toward the farthest corner.

The clothes hanging there—she only touched them once a year.

Today was that day.

She pulled off the dust cover, her fingertips brushing against the ivory-white mermaid gown. The satin was icy cold, like the skin of a snake.

This was her battle armor, and also her prison uniform.

Three years ago, Lin Shi had worn this very same gown to attend the last charity banquet of her life, and then vanished from everyone's world.

And Shen Zhi, as her replacement, had to wear this perfect replica every year on this day, appearing at the banquet Lu Jingnian held in Lin Shi's memory.

The first time she put it on, Lu Jingnian stared at her for a full ten seconds.

In those eyes that were always so devoid of warmth, there was, for once, a flicker of human emotion. It was daze, it was satisfaction, it was... the absent-mindedness of seeing another person through her.

For those ten seconds alone, Shen Zhi felt that these three years of being a stand-in weren't such a bad deal.

After all, Lu Jingnian wouldn't even look at a dog for more than three seconds.

She laid the gown flat on the bed, then sat down at the vanity.

Her phone screen lit up. It took her three tries to unlock it; her fingers were a little cold. There was an encrypted folder in her photo album. She opened it—it contained only one picture.

The woman in the photo was smiling brightly and confidently, her hair loosely tied in a low bun, a few stray strands falling perfectly by her ears, exuding an effortless elegance.

Shen Zhi picked up a comb and, facing the mirror, began to replicate that hairstyle.

Every strand of hair, every hidden angle of each bobby pin, had to be precise to the last detail.

She was already very skilled at this—so skilled that she was like an emotionless robot. Once her hair was done, she tilted her head slightly toward the mirror. The curve was exactly the same as in the photo.

Next came the makeup.

The base had to be light, letting the skin's natural glow show through. Lin Shi's skin was so good it seemed to radiate light.

Shen Zhi's own skin wasn't bad either, but to look more like her, she would mix two drops of squalane oil into her foundation. It was a secret formula she had figured out herself, making the makeup look more dewy and natural, so that even under the harsh overhead lighting of the banquet hall, it wouldn't look like a mask.

The hardest part was the dimple on her right cheek.

When Lin Shi smiled, a very shallow dimple appeared on her right cheek, as if holding a tiny sip of honey.

Shen Zhi didn't have one.

She could only use a makeup brush dipped in the lightest contour powder and sweep it gently across her right cheek. Too deep, and it looked like a pit. Too light, and it was barely visible. She had practiced in front of that photo on her phone over a thousand times before finally calibrating the perfect curve.

A dimple that belonged to Lin Shi, but had to grow on Shen Zhi's face.

She looked at herself in the mirror, pulled at the corners of her mouth, and practiced that smile. The person in the mirror was both unfamiliar and familiar.

Everything was ready. She stood up and slipped into the ivory-white gown.

The silk slid over her skin, bringing a faint tickle.

She reached behind her back to pull up the zipper.

Halfway up, it got stuck.

The fabric pulled tight across her shoulder blades, making her breath catch.

Damn.

She cursed under her breath, but her face showed no expression.

She was thinner than Lin Shi. About half an inch thinner. For three years, she had tried to fill that half-inch gap with trotter soup and bird's nest, but never could. The Lu family's nutritionist adjusted her meal plan every single week just to make up for that half-inch difference, precise down to every gram of protein and fat.

But her body seemed to have a mind of its own, stubbornly refusing to become someone else.

This was probably the last and most powerless resistance of Shen Zhi's skin and bones.

She took a deep breath, forcefully tightened her shoulder blades, her fingertips turning white, and finally pulled the zipper all the way up with a click.

In the mirror, the woman in the ivory-white gown had a slender figure and a curvaceous silhouette. Except for the almost imperceptible tightness at her back, everything was perfect.

A perfect replica.

She took out the pair of teardrop pearl earrings from her jewelry box.

This was the first gift Lu Jingnian had ever given her.

Back then, she had foolishly been happy about it for days, thinking he had finally noticed her. Only later did she learn that these were also replicas of a pair of earrings Lin Shi had loved most. The originals had disappeared along with Lin Shi.

She put on the earrings. The cold metal against her earlobes made her shiver.

The person in the mirror—from hairstyle, to makeup, to clothes and accessories—no longer bore any trace of Shen Zhi.

She had become Lin Shi's ghost.

One final step.

She picked up the bottle of perfume on the vanity—tuberose.

Lin Shi's favorite scent. Rich, overpowering, carrying an aggressive nighttime presence.

Shen Zhi herself actually preferred lighter woody scents, but no one cared about what she liked.

She unscrewed the cap, as if performing some kind of ritual offering, and dabbed the perfume behind her ears and on her wrist pulse points.

Scent is the most faithful dog of memory.

As long as he smelled this fragrance, Lu Jingnian would think of Lin Shi, and then he would look at her a little longer.

Even if that look was filled entirely with someone else.

When she stood up, her body swayed from the effort of pulling up the zipper, and she steadied herself by gripping the edge of the vanity.

Yunqi Villa was too big, and too empty.

Aside from the maids who came regularly to clean and the butler who always wore a stern face, only she and Lu Jingnian lived here.

No—Lu Jingnian rarely came back either.

This place was more like a magnificent mausoleum he had built for "Lin Shi," and she, Shen Zhi, was the keeper of the tomb.

She was also the only living sacrifice imprisoned inside.

The bedroom door had good soundproofing, but when her hand grasped the doorknob, she could still faintly hear the sounds of elegant chatter and clinking glasses drifting up from downstairs.

The guests should all be here by now.

They would size her up with that probing, slightly contemptuous look, compare her in their minds to the legendary Lin Shi, and then conclude that she was, after all, just a counterfeit.

Shen Zhi was long used to all of this.

She pushed open the bedroom door.

The noise of the banquet hall downstairs washed over her like warm seawater, engulfing her in an instant. The chandelier cast a dazzling light that stung her eyes a little.

Her husband, Lu Jingnian, stood in the middle of the crowd, a glass of champagne in his hand, his face turned to the side as he spoke to someone. Today he wore a black suit, his figure tall and straight, the lines of his profile as cold and sharp as a blade.

He seemed to sense something and looked toward the staircase.

Their eyes met.

Shen Zhi saw a flash of astonishment in his eyes—followed by an even deeper emptiness.

She knew he was seeing someone else through her again.

Shen Zhi lifted the corners of her lips into the smile she had practiced a thousand times, the one with the shallow dimple, then picked up her skirt and walked toward him, step by step.

The show had begun.