They sealed the partnership with a few clipped agreements, but Jiang Qiwei still felt uneasy. She kept stealing glances at Lin Chuluo sitting in the room as if trying to read him like a page.
"Mr. Lin isn't going to accompany Mrs. Lin?" Her tone was thinly veiled—an invitation to leave.
"Do you really think Jiang Xixi would come here in person if she knew she might get burned?" Lin Chuluo said. He lifted an eyebrow. "She's not stupid enough for that."
Jiang Qiwei's lips curved. "If she agreed to work with you on the spot, she may not be utterly dense, but she's certainly foolish."
Still, if Jiang Xixi hadn't been that kind of fool, Lin might never have gotten his chance to turn things around. This time, he intended to make the Jiang family bend to his will.
"You said you planned to protect Ning Anmiao," she pressed. "But you don't look like you intend to stop me at all. Changed your mind?"
Lin indicated with a faint lift of his chin. "They changed the award ceremony flow at the last minute. The VIPs were added to present the awards themselves."
Jiang Qiwei hesitated. "Yes. That extra segment was added."
She had assumed the organizers wanted to curry favor with the tycoons in the room, to open doors for future deals. Lin's next words made her freeze.
"I'll present your award. Jiang will give the Best Newcomer. Lu Yan will hand the award to Ning Anmiao."
A playful light danced in Lin's eyes. "So tell me—if your plan goes ahead, who dies that night? Ning Anmiao, or…"
Her pupils constricted, a cold shiver running down her spine. There was something bottomless and calculated about the man before her; his scheming felt like a chill that crept into the bones.
"Want to change the plan?" Lin asked with a thin smile. "I'll bet on whether it's Lu Yan who has an accident, or Ning Anmiao."
His smile had teeth. It sent a cold through her that made the world narrow and soundless.
—
In the corridor, Lu Yan moved with the casual nonchalance of someone with nothing to hide. When he found the hallway empty, he quickened his pace and slipped into Ning Anmiao's dressing room before anyone noticed.
She shut the door behind him and finally let out the breath she had been holding. "Good thing no one saw."
"You're acting like a thief," Lu Yan said from behind her, voice low and amused. His eyes were darker than the light allowed.
Ning Anmiao rolled her eyes without turning. "If I weren't worried you'd fumble with the gown, I wouldn't have come."
The evening gown meant for the awards had been the product of her blood and sleepless nights—every detail hammered out until it felt inevitable. She opened the heavy box and revealed the dress folded inside: a gown so finely made the craftsmanship alone spoke of value.
It was unmistakably Yin Yiyan's work—bold yet restrained, luxurious. The silk was the kind that breathed; sparing organza accents kept the silhouette opulent without weight. Cutaway panels at the hem allowed a teasing glimpse of calf as the wearer moved, a half-veiled, half-revealed grace. The back borrowed the seam lines of a traditional qipao, an elegant nod to heritage that lent the piece a warm, classical poise as well as grandeur.
This was exactly the effect Ning Anmiao had wanted. She was certain the moment she stepped out in it, every eye in the room would be captured.
"Come here," she said and tugged him forward. "Let me help you into it."
Lu Yan inclined his head. He almost protested that he could dress himself, but when he saw the maze of silk and ribbon, the way the layers fell and tangled, he paused and walked over. A few minutes later the gown settled on her like it had been born to her frame.
"How is it?" Ning Anmiao's eyes shone; she hung on his approval.
Lu Yan stared at the mirror, then frowned. "Isn't it a little revealing?"
It was beautiful, undeniably so—the hint of slender calves stepping free from the skirt, the exposed nape of her neck. Those glimpses made something behind his ribs tighten with an odd, possessive ache.
When she said nothing, he panicked a little and fumbled for a softer tone—something he'd read in those inane relationship guides. You praise first, he'd remembered. Negative remarks crush the mood.
"It's very pretty," he added quickly. "But I think it looks best when I'm there to see it."
His meaning was possessive and protective in the same breath: when he stood beside her, no one could stare with impunity; when he wasn't, he feared those looks would profane what was his.
Ning Anmiao disregarded the comment, her gaze fixed on the gown without wanting to look away. It was her masterpiece; the thought of wearing it that night filled her with a simple, fierce satisfaction.
—
The auditorium filled. Guests took their seats; the invited giants of industry settled into their reserved places. Jiang Zhou sat at the host's table and motioned to his assistant with a glance.
"Okay, Mr. Jiang. I'll have the team do one last sweep of the venue."
At an event this packed, safety was everything. Any incident would not only cause panic but drag the Jiang family into a storm of public scrutiny—an unforgivable risk.
Only after the team confirmed everything was in order did the assistant radio the cue: the ceremony could begin.
"The 22nd National Design Gold Awards ceremony is now officially open!"
The host's voice rang out and applause thundered through the hall. Anticipation pulsed in the air—this night was about more than trophies. It was a preview of the future of design, a moment to see the gowns designers had poured themselves into. For many in the room, the real show would be seeing those creations come to life onstage.