The envelope was heavier than it looked. Cream-colored, thick with texture, and sealed in deep gold wax shaped like a helianthus blossom surrounded by laurel leaves. Lin Feng hadn't opened it yet. It sat quietly on his desk, untouched for two days, demanding his attention without speaking a word.
He knew exactly what it was.
Not just an invitation—an evaluation. A formal gesture from a world that had finally taken notice. The Heliantheas Assembly was one of the city's most exclusive private events. Not a gala. Not a charity showcase. It was a theater where power drank from crystal and weighed new blood in silence.
If you were invited, it meant someone had noticed your climb. If you were seated, it meant someone was betting you wouldn't fall.
And if you didn't show?
They'd write you off before your name ever finished forming in their memory.
