The opulent banquet hall shimmered under the glow of crystal chandeliers and champagne towers. Guests mingled in small clusters, clinking glasses and exchanging pleasantries in hushed tones.
Today marked the sixtieth birthday celebration of the Han family patriarch. Regardless of their hidden motives, every attendee wore a mask of cordiality, offering their well-wishes and lavish gifts to the elderly but spirited man seated at the head of the room.
Qin Ranran surveyed the scene of revelry, her crimson lips pressed into a tight line. Her gaze, sharp as a poisoned blade, pierced through the crowd and fixed onto the so-called "birthday star" at the center.
The Han family… How dare they? After what they did to her mother, how could they sit there so comfortably, basking in hollow wishes for longevity?
She tightened the mourning robe around her shoulders and clutched her mother’s memorial tablet closer to her chest. Without hesitation, she strode toward the heart of the gathering.
Unbeknownst to her, a pair of cold, calculating eyes had been tracking her every move since she entered.
In such social settings, most attendees were vying for connections with the elite—but tonight was different.
The youngest son of the prestigious Gu family, though frail in health, was anything but approachable. His icy demeanor kept even the boldest social climbers at bay.
Gu Lingfeng had been lounging indifferently in a corner, idly sipping red wine, when a familiar figure in white flickered at the edge of his vision.
Qin Ranran? She was out of prison already?
As the figure stepped into the light, he confirmed it was indeed her.
Though thinner than he remembered, her delicate features, alluring lips, and signature waist-length waves were unmistakable.
But why was she here?
His fingers tightened imperceptibly around the stem of his glass. Given her attire and the past events, her intentions were clear—she had come for revenge against the Han family.
Taking on the Han family alone? Now this was interesting.
His dark eyes flickered with interest as he watched her retreating figure, making no move to stop her.
What happened to the Han family meant nothing to him. He was simply curious—what exactly was she planning to do?
Qin Ranran emerged from the crowd, clutching a memorial tablet. The guests recoiled in shock, scattering as if she carried some contagious plague.
"What’s this? Wearing mourning clothes at a birthday celebration?"
"Look, she’s holding a spirit tablet—isn’t that like cursing the old man to die?"
The usually dignified guests, sensing the storm brewing in the air, instantly shed their refined facades, erupting into hushed, scandalized chatter.
Old Master Han, who had been the center of attention moments ago, finally noticed the disturbance. His jovial expression darkened as he rose to his feet, glaring at her with barely contained fury. "Who are you? Today is my joyous occasion—what is the meaning of this?"
Qin Ranran didn’t answer immediately. She walked steadily toward him along the path the crowd had cleared, then bowed stiffly, her voice dripping with icy precision. "Ranran has come with my late mother to offer birthday wishes to Master Han. May you be surrounded by descendants and blessed with prosperity."
Though her words were ostensibly well-wishes, anyone with eyes could see that her bow was the kind reserved for the dead—a deliberate, venomous mockery.
It was an outright curse, delivered in broad daylight.
Ignoring the murmurs around her, Qin Ranran met Old Master Han’s gaze and continued, "But there’s one more thing—they say a life must be repaid with a life. I wonder if Master Han can give me a satisfactory explanation for my mother’s wrongful death?"
A demand for justice? Did the Han family have blood on their hands? The guests craned their necks, curiosity burning.
"Nonsense!" Old Master Han, well into his years, trembled with rage at the accusation. He barked at the security, "What are you useless fools doing? How did this troublemaker get in? Drag her out!"
"Nonsense?" Qin Ranran’s voice sharpened as she stared at the gray-haired man before her, her gaze so intense it seemed she could flay him alive. "My mother was healthy, never harmed a soul—yet after visiting your Han family, she suddenly died. And you dare claim your hands are clean?"
The moment the words left her lips, the whispers among the guests swelled into an uproar.
Old Man Han extended a trembling finger, pointing at her with unsteady fury. "Nonsense! I don't know you at all! Security! Drag her out and call the police!"
Qin Ranran let out a chilling laugh, her face darkening as she took a deliberate step forward. "Don't know me? Then do you remember Qin Yujiao from 'Nightfall'?"
"You—" The words struck like a thunderbolt, freezing Old Man Han in place. The gleeful stares of the guests only made him tremble harder. His breath came in ragged gasps, and before he could steady himself, his eyes rolled back as he collapsed in a dead faint.
Instantly, chaos erupted among the Han family.
Qin Ranran watched with grim satisfaction as the household staff scrambled to call an ambulance and administer first aid, her heart cold as ice.
This was only the beginning. She would make the Han family crumble piece by piece—make them suffer tenfold, a hundredfold, for every ounce of pain they had inflicted on her.
Suddenly, a security guard wrenched her arm with brutal force. Pain shot through her, and the sign she had been clutching clattered to the floor.
"Let go of me!" Qin Ranran instinctively struggled, but she was no match for the combined strength of the men. Flames of fury burned in her eyes as she glared at the indifferent security. "I can walk on my own!"
Before the words fully left her lips, a deep, icy voice cut through the air from behind her—distant, as if echoing across mountains and rivers.
"Release her. I'll handle this on Old Man Han's behalf."
