---
Lin Yue froze, her eyes locked onto the shadowy figure at the corner of the gallery.
The figure wore a simple black hat and a mask, standing near the abstract corner where her newer pieces were displayed.
Something about the way they stood... the posture, the slight tilt of the head.
Why do I feel like I know this person? she wondered.
She stepped forward, weaving through the crowd.
Before she could call out, the figure turned sharply on their heel and bolted out of the gallery.
"Hey!" Lin Yue called out, heart pounding as she chased after them.
The figure sprinted through the doors, slipping into the crowd outside.
Lin Yue followed running after them.
But the figure was fast.
---
Turning down an alley, the figure stopped for a moment, breathing heavily and then yanked off the hat and mask, leaning against the wall.
Long waves of chestnut brown hair spilled down clinging her damp forehead as Lin Xingyan exhaled, hands on her knees.
"Damn it... that was close," she muttered.
Her heart was pounding.
She hadn't planned to confront Lin Yue—or be seen.
She just wanted to see what kind of art had been making waves across social media.
And yet, seeing Lin Yue in person again, the anger had flared up instantly.
She clenched her fists, her sharp nails digging into her palms until she drew a thin line of blood.
The media storm the past two days had ignited something she couldn't control.
The moment she'd seen the clips—Master Fu and Master Lu practically fighting over one of Lin Yue's paintings—she'd lost all peace.
The clips were all over Weibo and art forums.
Lin Xingyan bit her lip until it nearly bled.
She had come here to see what all the fuss was about.
Just what kind of work could that useless, adopted trash be creating that impressed masters?
Reluctantly, she had to admit the paintings were stunning.
Alive. Beautiful. Each piece felt like it had a soul.
How? How could she have possibly learned to paint like that?
Lin Xingyan's nails dug deeper into her palm until blood trickled.
But she didn't feel the pain.
Only rage.
Hatred.
Lin Yue... you were supposed to be beneath me... Always.
Trash.
Lin Xingyan clenched her fists tighter.
"She's just a piece of trash we threw away!" she hissed, trembling.
Bitter resentment twisted in her chest.
---
Back at the gallery, Lin Yue had seen the figure disappear into the alley.
Lin Yue rounded the corner, her sharp gaze scanning the area.
Her feet slowed as she caught sight of a familiar figure, back turned, shoulders stiff and fists clenched.
Lin Xingyan.
Of course.
Lin Yue's voice was low, firm, cold. "Lin Xingyan."
Slowly, Lin Xingyan turned around.
Her eyes met Lin Yue's—clear, calm, and unwavering.
That same face that had haunted her for years.
Even now, Lin Yue still had that serene, almost angelic look.
It made her sick.
Lin Yue's eyes were big, round, and clear.
They held no malice. No fear.
But for Lin Xingyan, they were like blades slicing into her pride.
"Why are you at my gallery?" Lin Yue asked, her voice cold.
Lin Xingyan bit her lip hard.
She straightened her back, feigning superiority.
"When did you learn how to paint?" she demanded, jaw tight.
Lin Yue raised a brow and crossed her arms. "What does it have to do with you?"
"You—" Lin Xingyan's fury boiled over.
"Don't act like you're better than me!" She shouted, stepping forward and raising her hand out of old habit, aiming for Lin Yue's cheek.
But Lin Yue caught her wrist mid-air.
Her grip was firm and unflinching.
Lin Xingyan's eyes widened in disbelief.
"Put away those stupid thoughts," Lin Yue said, voice laced with steel. "We severed our ties. You're not my sister. You have no right to raise your hand to me."
With a sharp movement, Lin Yue pushed her hand aside, sending Lin Xingyan stumbling back a step.
Lin Yue didn't wait—she turned and walked away.
Lin Xingyan stood there trembling, rage building inside her.
"What does this little bitch mean?!" she muttered under her breath, stamping her foot on the concrete.
---
In a filthy yard deep within one of the district's oldest homesteads, Lin Chengbi sat on a broken stool, one leg on a stone, smoking a cheap cigarette, shirt half-buttoned, belly bulging. A bottle of stale beer sat nearby.
He squinted into the hot sun.
Beside him, his wife Li Meihua munched loudly on melon seeds, spitting the husks in all directions.
"I'm telling you, you useless drunkard," she snapped, "you still haven't found that little bastard?"
Lin Chengbi exhaled smoke through his nose, scratching his belly. "No. Her neighbour said she moved. Even her phone number's dead."
She spat again, shaking her head. "Damn rat."
After Lin Yue had forced them to sign the Severing Agreement, they'd removed her name from the household registry when some stern-looking men in suits appeared at their door, issuing veiled threats.
They'd cursed her out for days, but eventually, they moved on.
She was no longer a source of money, so she wasn't worth thinking about.
But now...
Just last week, Lin Chengbi had fallen into gambling again, and his debts were mounting fast.
His creditors had even come by and broken a window.
They've been looking for Lin Yue to pay the depts but they'd not found her.
They were angry but there was nothing they could do.
Just then, their son, Lin Rui, burst through the gate, nearly tripping over the uneven floor.
"Dad! Mom!" he shouted.
Li Meihua jumped. "What are you screaming for? You trying to give me a heart attack?"
But Lin Rui was panting, his eyes wide with excitement. "I found her! I finally found her!"
He shoved his phone toward them.
"Look! Look at this video!"
Li Meihua snatched the phone, "What now?"
Both parents leaned forward, frowning.
---