Performance

Her high heels struck the polished marble stairs with a crisp click.

That single sound was like a pebble thrown into a calm lake. The murmuring conversations downstairs paused briefly, almost imperceptibly. Countless gazes—some overt, some covert—swept over her like searchlights. Scrutiny, curiosity, jealousy, and undisguised contempt.

Shen Zhi straightened her back even more. Her ivory fishtail dress traced an elegant arc behind her as she moved, like a white lotus blooming slowly in the deep sea. The smile on her face didn't waver by a fraction. The two dimples, meticulously painted with shadow makeup at the corners of her mouth, were sweet yet distant.

She walked down step by step, each stride measured as if by a ruler. This was Lin Shi's gait—elegant with a touch of deliberate arrogance, as if she were stepping not on stairs, but on the admiration of mortals below.

Lu Jingnian stood at the center of the crowd. Only when she reached him did he seem to awaken from a long dream. He reached out, his movement practiced, and wrapped an arm around her waist, drawing her into his embrace. A cold, crisp cedar scent enveloped her—familiar yet foreign.

"Let me introduce you," Lu Jingnian said, turning to an elderly man with graying hair but a vigorous spirit standing before them. "This is my wife, Shen Zhi."

His voice was deep and pleasant, betraying no emotion. But Shen Zhi knew—when he said the word "wife," his fingers tightened momentarily around her waist. It was a gesture of claiming ownership, and also an impatient warning.

"President Lu is fortunate. Your wife is truly beautiful," the old man said, raising his glass with a cheerful smile.

Shen Zhi took a glass of champagne from the waiter's tray, delicately pinching the stem between her fingers. She tilted her wrist slightly and raised the glass in a light toast toward the old man. Parting her red lips, her voice was as soft as the spring breeze in March: "You flatter me, Chairman Zhou. I've heard Jingnian speak of you often—he says you're the senior he admires most."

When she spoke, she unconsciously tilted her head fifteen degrees to the left, her gaze fixed attentively on the other person. It conveyed sincerity without being overly familiar. This, too, was one of Lin Shi's habits. Flawless.

Chairman Zhou was clearly pleased, his smile deepening.

Throughout the evening, Shen Zhi was like a robot following a preset program. Arm in arm with Lu Jingnian, she moved through the crowd of elegantly dressed guests, smiling and exchanging pleasantries with everyone who came up to talk. Her smile was impenetrable, her manners impeccable. Standing beside Lu Jingnian, she was the picture of the perfect, loving couple in everyone's eyes.

"Mrs. Lu, your dress is gorgeous. It's a couture piece, isn't it?" A well-dressed woman in a sapphire blue gown sidled up, her eyes sweeping over Shen Zhi.

"Thank you, Madam Wang," Shen Zhi replied, maintaining her smile, her voice gentle. "Jingnian chose it. He has excellent taste, doesn't he?" She deflected the question back, having answered without actually revealing anything.

A flicker of stiffness crossed Madam Wang's face before she laughed again, though the smile didn't reach her eyes.

Just then, Lu Jingnian suddenly leaned down, his lips brushing against Shen Zhi's ear. His breath, tinged with alcohol, warmed her earlobe, sending a faint tickle. To outsiders, this intimate gesture was the envy of all.

But what he said was: "She doesn't like being called 'Madam Wang.' Her husband married into the Wang family. You should call her 'President Wang.'"

His voice was extremely low, like a lover's whisper, but the content was as cold as a scalpel.

The smile on Shen Zhi's face didn't change. Not even her eyelashes fluttered. She simply gave a soft "mm" in acknowledgment, nodded docilely, and said quietly, "I'm sorry, I'll remember."

The fingers around her waist tightened again. Punishment. And a reminder.

She counted silently in her mind. This was the seventh time this month. Corrected for various trivial details—using the wrong fork for a particular brand, or having an opinion on a painting that didn't match "Lin Shi's taste." Each time, it was like cutting a small slit in her perfectly disguised heart. It didn't hurt, but it was humiliating.

The climax of the evening came with the charity auction.

The guests took their seats one after another. The lights in the banquet hall dimmed, leaving only a single spotlight shining on the small stage at the front. The items up for auction began scrolling across the large screen—from antique calligraphy and paintings to jewelry, each piece priceless.

Shen Zhi sat quietly beside Lu Jingnian, her back straight, her hands folded on her lap, like an exquisitely beautiful porcelain doll.

With the surrounding light dimmed, her senses grew sharper. She could smell the cedar mixed with a faint hint of tobacco on the man beside her; she could hear his steady breathing.

The auctioneer's impassioned voice echoed through the hall as item after item was sold at high prices. Lu Jingnian never once raised his paddle. He simply leaned back in his chair, one long leg crossed over the other, his posture both languid and oppressive.

He picked up the champagne glass from the table.

Shen Zhi's peripheral vision caught the movement. His long, well-defined fingers wrapped around the crystal-clear glass. Then she saw it—his pinky finger began tracing unconscious circles on the cool surface, round after round.

Shen Zhi's breath stopped for half a second.

This gesture...

In three years, she had seen it countless times. Always when he was in front of Lin Shi's photo. Whenever Lu Jingnian looked at Lin Shi's picture and fell into a daze, he would unconsciously make this motion. The butler said it was a little signal between the two of them when Lin Shi was still alive. Lin Shi loved watching him drink and would playfully tickle his pinky finger, and over time, it became his habit.

A habit that belonged only to Lin Shi.

But Lin Shi had been dead for five years. And today, here, in this public setting, he had made that gesture again.

Why?

Shen Zhi maintained a proper smile on her face, but beneath her folded hands on her lap, her nails had already dug deep into the soft flesh of her palms. Her stomach began to tighten in waves, as if an invisible hand was wringing it from the inside—cold and painful.

This wasn't longing. She knew that well. If it were simple longing, Lu Jingnian would only lock himself in his study and stare at that photo all night. He wouldn't reveal such a private, vulnerable habit in a setting like this, in front of so many people.

This felt more like... an omen.

An alarm triggered by his body before his mind could catch up.

"Next up for bidding is a sapphire necklace called the 'Heart of the Deep Sea,'" the auctioneer's voice was hypnotic. "The last piece designed by the late renowned jewelry designer Miss Lin Shi. Starting bid: fifty million."

A close-up of the necklace appeared on the large screen. The enormous sapphire refracted deep, dazzling light under the spotlights, like a tear fallen from the depths of the ocean.

Shen Zhi's heart jolted.

Here it was.

She turned her face to look at the man beside her. In the dim lighting, Lu Jingnian's profile was as hard and unyielding as a rock, revealing nothing. But the pinky finger that had been drawing circles on the glass stopped.

A ripple of soft gasps and murmurs spread through the auction hall. Everyone knew who Lin Shi was. Everyone knew her relationship with Lu Jingnian. Bringing out her posthumous work at an occasion like this was practically holding Lu Jingnian over an open flame.

Shen Zhi saw He Chuan, the young master of He Group, lazily raise his paddle from a seat not far in the front row.

"Sixty million."

A faint, barely perceptible frown creased Lu Jingnian's brow.

Shen Zhi lowered her eyes, her long lashes casting shadows beneath them. She knew He Chuan—Lu Jingnian's archrival, a man who took pleasure in opposing Lu Jingnian at every turn.

"Eighty million." A cool, clear male voice rang out.

Not He Chuan. Not anyone else.

It was Lu Jingnian.

He had finally moved. Without the slightest hesitation, he had driven the price to an astonishing height. His voice wasn't loud, but it fell like a thunderclap, instantly silencing the entire hall.

Shen Zhi's palms turned cold with sweat. She knew—Lu Jingnian wasn't trying to win the necklace. He was defending a kind of ownership, a claim over the name Lin Shi that no one else was allowed to touch.

He Chuan let out a soft laugh from his seat, as if he found the whole thing amusing. Slowly, lazily, he raised his paddle again. "Eighty-five million."

"One hundred million." Lu Jingnian didn't even blink.

The entire hall erupted.

For a necklace. For someone who had been dead for five years. Throwing around a hundred million. What profound devotion. What utter madness. The well-dressed women around them began whispering, their glances at Shen Zhi filled with sympathy and the gleeful anticipation of watching a train wreck.

See? Even dead, the original is always the original. You—a substitute—no matter how well you pretend, no matter how well you dress, you'll never be on the same level.

Shen Zhi's stomach ached even more. She took a quiet, deep breath, trying to suppress the churning nausea rising within her. She couldn't lose composure here.

"Jingnian," she reached out, gently placing her hand over his on the armrest. Her voice was soft and light, carrying a barely perceptible tremor. "Let it go."

Her hand was very cold.

Lu Jingnian seemed startled by her coldness. He looked down, his gaze falling on her hand. It was a beautiful hand—slender fingers, fair skin. Almost exactly like the hand he remembered from years ago.

He was silent for a few seconds. Then, he turned his hand over and held hers.

His palm was dry and warm, carrying an unyielding force.

Then, he spoke to the auctioneer on stage, his voice clear and firm.

"Two hundred million."

At that moment, Shen Zhi felt something inside her break.

Not her heart.

It was the perfect shell of "Lin Shi" that she had painstakingly built over three years—through countless days and nights of obedience and imitation. In that instant, it cracked with a fissure that could never be repaired.

Through that crack, she looked at the man before her, watching his frenzy of throwing a fortune for another woman, seeing the sympathetic and mocking glances thrown her way from those around her. A thought, like a poisoned vine, began to sprout wildly from the depths of her heart.

He wasn't missing Lin Shi.

He was using this to tell everyone—and to tell someone else—

That he was waiting for her to come back.