On the hillside of the northern suburbs stood an aged building, its weathered facade marked by a striking sign: "Northern Shore Second Women's Prison."
The heavy, rusted iron gate creaked open, and Xia Nuan stepped outside, squinting at the unfamiliar brightness after years of darkness. A lone wild goose flapped its wings across the overcast sky, while fallen leaves swirled in the autumn wind along the roadside. A pang of desolation rose in her chest.
"Xia Nuan, due to good behavior, you’ve been granted early release by one year. You’re still young—make the most of this second chance," the female prison guard said, eyeing the beautiful woman before her with a sigh of pity.
Xia Nuan offered her a faint, perfunctory smile and nodded before striding out without hesitation. *Good behavior?* she scoffed inwardly. *What did it ever get me but injustice? Meanwhile, those who played dirty are still out there, living it up.*
The wind bit through her thin coat, and she pulled it tighter. This autumn felt especially lifeless—nothing but brittle leaves and a chill that seeped into her bones. Three years ago, she had learned the truth behind his marriage to her. Heartbroken and desperate, she had wished for death, only to be handed a three-year prison sentence instead.
And him? He never showed. All she got was a divorce agreement delivered to her cell. Signing it had severed their ties, and to her surprise, she felt a flicker of relief. The only regret? Not ending him when she had the chance. She’d have gladly paid the price. But now, she was the only one suffering.
She walked farther down the road, greedily inhaling the crisp air. Three years… Rubbing her rough hands together, she winced at the calloused texture—proof of how prison had worn down her once-prideful spirit.
Yet, though everything had changed, she had also been reborn. Xia Nuan lifted her gaze to the sky, where sunlight stubbornly pierced through the thick clouds.
A Maserati suddenly screeched to a halt in front of her. The door swung open, and a bespectacled man in a tailored suit stepped out, his tone polite but detached. "Miss Xia, please get in."
*Miss Xia?* A cold laugh echoed in her mind. Three years ago, Jian Haoyang had always addressed her as *Mrs. Ji*. Now, it was *Miss Xia*.
She made no move to enter. "Where is he?" she asked softly, her clear eyes betraying no emotion.
Jian Haoyang remained deferential. "Mr. Ji is occupied and unable to come."
*Occupied,* she thought bitterly. *Probably wrapped up with his beloved—my own half-sister, Xia Meisi.*
"Haoyang," she pressed, "where’s Yu’ang? I want to see him." When she was imprisoned, her son had been less than a hundred days old—just a tiny, pink-cheeked baby. How tall was he now? Could he say "Mom"? What did he like to eat?
Jian Haoyang lowered his gaze, answering carefully, "The young master is doing well—bright and obedient. Mr. Ji dotes on him."
"Is that so? Love and care?" Her eyes brimmed with biting sarcasm. Back when they married and she became pregnant, she had been so naively overjoyed. Little did she know he only wanted their child's umbilical cord blood to treat Xia Meisi's leukemia. Even when doctors said the match rate was a mere 20%, he was still willing to gamble for Xia Meisi's sake. Would he ever truly cherish a child conceived as a medical tool?
After years of separation, Xia Nuan could no longer suppress her longing. "I want to see my son!"
Jian Haoyang hesitated before replying, "Well... you'll have to ask Mr. Ji about that."
Xia Nuan shot him a cold glance. "I will." Through all those endless days and nights in prison, beyond the heartache, one conviction had taken root—no matter how difficult, she would fight to reclaim custody of her child. Otherwise, would she let that wolf-in-sheep's-clothing stepsister of hers play stepmother?
The thought prompted her to ask abruptly, "Has Ji Mingze remarried?"
The moment the words left her lips, she frowned at her own absurdity. Of course he had. Once divorced from her, he would have rushed back to Xia Meisi without hesitation. The question was nothing but self-inflicted humiliation.
Jian Haoyang answered flatly, "Mr. Ji is getting married today."
Today.
How ironic. The corner of Xia Nuan's lips twitched—whether in a smile or something else, it was hard to tell. She lifted her gaze to the distant mountains and said softly, "Thank you, Haoyang. Tell your boss I appreciate him sending someone to pick me up upon my release."
Without waiting for his response, she turned on her heel, luggage in hand. The autumn wind swept fallen leaves behind her, adding a touch of desolation to her slender, solitary figure, her back radiating an endless bleakness.
Jian Haoyang sighed. He knew Xia Nuan was stubborn to the core. Even if she was no longer the lofty Xia family heiress, the pride and resilience woven into her bones would never let her accept any charity tied to Mr. Ji.
***
Beian City.
The liveliest place in town today was undoubtedly the Ji family mansion, where the wedding of the renowned Ji Group's CEO and the Xia family's beloved daughter was underway. The guests were all prominent figures of Beian.
The banquet hall was lavishly adorned with pink roses, their intoxicating fragrance permeating the air. Everyone knew roses were Xia Meisi's favorite—proof of how highly Ji Mingze valued her. And with her already over a month pregnant, this joyous occasion called for nothing less than a grand celebration.
The grand hall buzzed with lively chatter and clinking glasses, the soft ambient light casting a warm glow on every face. As the spotlight shifted to the stage, the officiant was delivering the meticulously prepared wedding vows, while reporters below snapped away furiously—today's headlines were practically guaranteed.
The groom, clad in an impeccably tailored French suit, exuded an air of aristocratic aloofness. Beside him stood the bride, radiant in a floor-length white gown adorned with a delicate bow at the waist, her collarbones elegantly exposed—a vision of sweetness laced with allure. Together, they were the undisputed stars of the evening, a picture-perfect match.
"Mr. Ji Mingze," the officiant intoned, "do you take this beautiful woman as your lawfully wedded wife, promising to cherish, respect, and stand by her for all the days of your life?"
Ji Mingze's obsidian eyes gleamed with sharp intensity, his sculpted features betraying no emotion. As his perfectly shaped lips parted, an unexpected image flashed through his mind—another woman in white bridal silk. For a fleeting moment, he froze.
The entire room held its breath for the groom's response, only to be met with his sudden silence. Xia Meisi's cheeks flushed pink as she nudged him discreetly. "Mingze..."
Meeting her gaze, he curved his lips into a practiced smile, eyes softening with performative tenderness. "I do—" His response was abruptly severed by the creak of the grand doors swinging open.
All heads turned toward the figure striding down the red carpet—a willowy woman draped in jade-green silk, her ink-black hair cascading freely. Beneath long lashes shone luminous eyes, her porcelain face hauntingly pale yet unchanged from three years prior, as if time had stood still.
She absorbed the stares without flinching.
How perfect. Their joyous occasion. Look at these decorations—so warm, so happy. Xia Wan's lips curved into a smile that didn't reach her eyes, the expression tinged with quiet desolation.
Murmurs rippled through the crowd as recognition dawned.
"Isn't that the eldest Xia daughter?"
"The one who went to prison for assault? How's she out already?"
"Crashing her ex-husband's wedding to her own sister—this ought to be good..."
A circus atmosphere descended. Reporters abandoned all decorum, zooming in on Xia Wan—simply dressed yet radiating an otherworldly grace. Microphones thrust toward her like weapons; everyone knew her history. What was already the scandal of the season had just detonated into something far more explosive.
An invisible frost seemed to crystallize in the air as Xia Wan advanced. Ji Mingze's jaw tightened, his gaze sliding away from that achingly familiar face with barely concealed revulsion.
Xia Meisi's manicured fingers curled into fists beneath her lace sleeves. Xia Wan... How dare she? She should still be behind bars! Though panic clawed at her throat, the socialite maintained her practiced poise—the picture of aristocratic composure, even as her eyes turned glacial.
