The Lantern Festival in the city was an affair of glitter and grandeur, hosted annually by the Mayor's office in collaboration with the Municipal Culture Bureau. This year, the Jia family had received a direct invitation from the Mayor's wife—an honor that reaffirmed their long-standing social standing.
The Jia family's arrival was not loud, but it was unforgettable.
Three cars arrived quietly at the entrance of the courtyard-turned-festival garden, lanterns casting a warm golden glow across the jade stone pathway. The main car opened, and out stepped Jia Lan, poised and calm, her moon-white qipao embroidered with blue irises. Jade hairpins peeked from her elegant updo, while a cream velvet shawl rested on her shoulders like mist.
Beside her was Lin Shunhua, her mother, dressed in a rose-red brocade coat over a subtle gold dress. She carried herself like nobility—soft-spoken, yet not to be mistaken for anyone trivial. Jia Chenghai followed, in a navy wool changshan lined with silk, the air around him calm but commanding. Her elder brothers and their wives came behind, chatting quietly among themselves, nodding politely to officials and scholars alike.
Their entrance caused a ripple through the crowd.
Even the Mayor's wife stepped down from the greeting dais to welcome them personally.
"Ah, Lan Lan. I'm so glad your family could attend," she said warmly, lightly touching Jia Lan's arm. "You bring so much grace to the evening."
"You flatter me, Madam Xu. We're honored to be here," Jia Lan replied with a slight bow.
Sister Li and Zhao Meiling, already present at the poetry booth, looked on with smug smiles.
"She really does carry herself like the daughter of a Prime Minister," Sister Li whispered.
Zhao Meiling grinned. "And now watch the fireworks."
Because barely five minutes later, in a rustle of mismatched silks and a slightly too-bright smile—
Liu Fenfang arrived.
She wore a loud vermillion cheongsam dotted with rhinestones, her hair curled in stiff ringlets. Clutching a fake crocodile purse and tripping slightly in gold kitten heels, she looked around expectantly. Shen Yimin followed behind her, his posture too upright, wearing yet another ill-fitted suit.
But what turned heads next was their companion—a man in his early forties, dressed in a subtle grey tunic, clearly from a lesser-known provincial enterprise. He seemed uneasy but hopeful, occasionally whispering something to Shen Yimin and casting glances at the Jia family's table.
"Oh no," Lin Shunhua murmured coolly to her husband. "That's the man they were trying to push onto Lan Lan, isn't it?"
Jia Chenghai's eyes narrowed. "Mm."
He turned to his daughter. "Smile as you like. But you don't need to tolerate much more."
"I won't," Jia Lan said simply, accepting a porcelain cup of tea from a passing attendant.
Soon enough, Liu Fenfang began her desperate dance.
She strutted toward the center poetry stage before anyone could stop her and recited an awkward version of a classic poem—only to be gently corrected by the host for mispronouncing a line.
She attempted to insert herself at the tea appreciation booth near prominent socialites—only to spill hot water on her companion's sleeve, who winced and stepped back from embarrassment.
But the final straw was when she marched up to Jia Lan's table.
"Lan Lan," she said loudly, clearly trying to draw attention. "You must meet Mr. Qian! He's very well connected with provincial arts funding—surely you'd have something in common?"
Jia Lan didn't even rise from her seat. She looked at Mr. Qian—who gave her a nervous smile—then turned to Fenfang.
"I'm not interested. Nor in your suggestions."
Fenfang's face twitched. "It's just an introduction! What harm—"
"My family doesn't need connections, Liu Fenfang," Jia Lan said softly but with unmistakable steel. "And neither you nor Shen Yimin are in any position to decide who I speak to."
Mr. Qian, clearly realizing he had walked into a losing battle, quickly bowed and retreated, mumbling something about the dessert station.
Shen Yimin, standing to the side, looked at Fenfang, then at Jia Lan.
"She didn't mean anything harmful. You could be a little more—"
"Grateful?" Jia Lan raised an eyebrow. "For what? For someone trying to auction off my time to curry favor?"
Shen Yimin frowned. "You're always so proud."
"No," Jia Chenghai said suddenly, stepping up beside his daughter. His voice was calm but like ice under silk. "She's just never been for sale."
There was a silence. People around the courtyard tried to look as though they weren't listening—but they were.
Liu Fenfang flushed. Shen Yimin looked like he wanted to disappear.
---
Later, under the drifting lanterns, Jia Lan stood beside her mother, watching a hundred glowing paper lights rise into the spring sky.
Lin Shunhua handed her daughter a sweet dumpling. "You handled it well."
"I barely lifted a hand," Jia Lan said, amused.
"Oh, they do enough clowning for everyone," her mother replied.
Jia Lan smiled faintly, sipping her plum tea.
Hero and heroine of the 'plot,' hmm? They look more like two jesters tumbling over each other in a puppet show I didn't buy a ticket to.
Just then, Jia Zhe joined them with Xu Li, handing a lantern to his little sister.
"For luck," he said. "Write something on it."
Jia Lan picked up the brush and wrote: May fools continue to reveal themselves so the wise may rest easy.
Xu Li stifled a laugh. "Subtle."
"Why bother hiding the truth?" Jia Lan smiled. "It rises with the lanterns eventually."