Chapter 2

Mei Yang stepped into the dining room, the soft morning light spilling through the tall windows and painting long, golden streaks across the polished wooden floor. The aroma of freshly steamed buns and sizzling eggs mingled with the gentle scent of brewed tea, wrapping the room in the illusion of a tranquil morning.

Everything seemed calm. Ordinary even. But Mei Yang knew better. She had learned in her last life that appearances were often the deadliest lies.

"Wow, Sister, the makeup really suits you," Yan Yang said casually, her tone light, almost playful. Yet Mei Yang’s sharp gaze caught the subtle knife hidden beneath the words. Yan Yang’s eyes lingered too long on her face, tracing every curve, every nuance, calculating, as if hunting for some hidden flaw.

Mei Yang smiled politely, lips curving just enough to suggest warmth. She let the silence stretch, thin and taut like a wire ready to snap.

Was I blind in my last life… or just stupid? she thought. Every faint, hidden jab in Yan Yang’s voice—the veiled mockery she had failed to detect before—now shone as clearly as a blade aimed straight at her chest.

"Mei Yang," Hao Yang’s voice rang out, calm and deliberate as he set down his chopsticks. Authority lingered in every syllable, but it was not anger—only measured expectation. "Your sister's birthday is coming soon. Take her shopping. Pick out something nice for her. As for you, just get something simple. Nothing flashy. Nothing eye-catching."

"Sure, Dad," Mei Yang said softly. Her voice was calm, serene, the perfect still lake that concealed a hidden current. Every word, every pause, was carefully weighted.

"But… what about the money? Or do you expect me to pay with my own?" she asked, tilting her head slightly, innocently.

Hao Yang waved a hand lazily, almost dismissively. "Ah, don't worry. I'll pay you back."

Her lips twitched into a small, knowing smile. Those words… they rang echoes from her previous life. Right before he had drained her dry, left her bankrupt, and didn’t even spare a backward glance. This time, she had the memory, and with it, the advantage.

"Okay," she said, nodding once, tone neutral as stone.

Breakfast passed swiftly, the clatter of utensils and low murmur of conversation fading into the background. Within ten minutes, Mei Yang had finished her meal and stood, graceful, deliberate, every movement controlled, every step echoing quiet authority.

"Dad, I’ll be heading out. I have something important to take care of," she said lightly, her tone carrying the effortless composure honed over her reborn life.

Yan Yang, ever the shadow at her heels, reached out, hand brushing against Mei Yang’s.

"I'm done too, Dad. I’ll go with Sister Mei," she said, smiling brightly. Too brightly. It was the kind of smile that hid more than it revealed, but Mei Yang knew the truth of it now.

Outside, Yan Yang followed close, stepping lightly, ever observant.

"Sister Mei, why don’t we stop by the mall first before heading to Brother Li's place?" she suggested, voice casual, practiced.

Mei Yang tilted her head, lips curling into a faint, calculating smirk. "Oh? And how did you know I was going to Li Xiao’s place? I never mentioned it."

"Sister Mei, you don’t need to," Yan Yang laughed, soft and measured, like a song rehearsed a thousand times. "You go there almost every day."

"If you say so," Mei Yang replied, voice smooth as silk. She slid into the passenger seat with effortless elegance. Another day, another attempt to manipulate her. But this time… this time, the game would be hers.

The drive to SKP Mall in Beijing was smooth, the city sprawling outside the tinted windows in a haze of motion and life. Mei Yang’s mind was calm, calculating, and patient. She watched Yan Yang chatter idly, noting the subtle twitches, the glimmer of entitlement, every imperceptible flash of triumph in her expressions.

"Wow, Sister! I think this dress would look perfect on me!" Yan Yang exclaimed, holding a sparkling gown to her body and twirling, performing for an invisible audience.

"Yes, it would," Mei Yang said softly, warm, affectionate even. Her voice carried comfort and approval, though each word was carefully chosen—a thread in the web she was weaving. I need them relaxed. I can’t afford mistakes.

"But sis, this dress costs ten million yuan," Yan Yang added, blinking with innocent mischief. "Should I take it?"

"Of course," Mei Yang replied, gentle, inviting, her smile a soft trap. "Take anything you like."

Yan Yang’s eyes gleamed, triumph sparkling in her expression. She began piling gowns into her arms with reckless abandon, each one more extravagant than the last. Fifteen million… twenty million… the numbers were absurd, yet she clutched each gown like a prized treasure.

In my last life, I believed she loved these clothes, Mei Yang thought, observing silently. Now I see the truth—she thrives on the thrill of wasting money, on the dominance of spending recklessly at someone else’s expense. And once, I had fallen right into her trap.

Mei Yang approached a nearby sales assistant, voice low, soft, but carrying an unmistakable authority. "I have something important to handle. I’ll be leaving now. And just to be clear… she’s paying."

Without waiting for a reply, she pivoted and exited the mall. Her heels clicked against the polished marble floor like the ticking of a clock, each step a silent countdown in Yan Yang’s mind.

"Sis, how does this lo—" Yan Yang started, only to freeze mid-sentence, eyes wide with panic.

"Where’s my sister?"

"She said she had urgent work and left," the sales assistant replied calmly, serene as if announcing the weather.

Yan Yang’s frown deepened. "She already paid, right?"

The assistant shook her head. "No. She said you would be paying."

A shiver ran through Yan Yang, icy and suffocating. She looked down at the dresses, glittering piles in her arms, their price tags sharp as knives. Fifteen million… twenty million… numbers that pressed like weights on her chest. She hadn’t even considered the cost, hadn’t even prepared for this level of expenditure.

For a heartbeat, the mall seemed to hold its breath. Then a soft, confident laugh reached her ears—Mei Yang’s. Quiet, composed, carrying an invisible power that made those around instinctively shift.

So this is what it feels like… Yan Yang thought, chest tightening, pulse quickening. The tables had turned.

Her fingers trembled slightly, clutching the dresses. Each gown suddenly felt heavy, suffocating, a chain around her wrists. The sparkle of the sequins no longer delighted her—it mocked her.

Beyond the glass doors of SKP Mall, Mei Yang’s smirk lingered like smoke in the air, unseen yet deeply felt. She was no longer the pawn, no longer the one being manipulated or drained. She had taken control. And it was intoxicating.

As she walked away, the sprawling city before her felt like a stage set for her vengeance. Every memory of betrayal, every sting of humiliation from her past life, fueled the fire within. She would never be the same again.

Mei Yang’s thoughts sharpened like a blade. Every insult, every lie, every act of cruelty she had endured was now ammunition for the game she was about to play. Li Xiao, Yan Yang, Hao Yang… every one of them had underestimated her once. Not anymore.

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