On the third floor of the association building, there was a moderately sized meeting room that could comfortably accommodate twenty people for a gathering. Today, Yang Xueyan had called all the project members together, saying she had an announcement to make.
As the appointed time approached, nearly everyone had arrived. Since the meeting hadn’t started yet, those who knew each other clustered together in conversation, mostly chatting about everyday matters, though some were discussing project-related details.
Jiang Run sat near the front, absently toying with the teacup in his hand, occasionally glancing up at the clock on the wall. Finally, the second hand crossed the nine o’clock mark and swept into a new circle.
“Have I kept you all waiting long?” Yang Xueyan was dressed in a formal gray women’s Zhongshan suit today, with a delicate, exquisite brooch pinned to her chest—a commemorative piece distributed by the association years ago. Everyone had one, but the president’s and vice president’s were the most distinctive, engraved with their names.
A single brooch was enough to establish her status.
“We’ve only just arrived—hardly kept waiting at all!” An association member seated to the right of the head of the table smiled and deftly brushed aside the remark. Yang Xueyan smiled as well and didn’t linger on it, cutting straight to the chase: “Today, we’re adding a new member to the project. You all know her. Come on in, Aiyun.”
As she spoke, she beckoned toward the door.
Everyone instinctively looked toward the open doorway. The moment Yang Xueyan’s words fell, a woman in a white blouse and a pale yellow jacket stepped in from outside. Two steps in, her posture was impeccable, her back straight as a ramrod, carrying herself like a refined young lady.
Her black hair was pinned up at the back of her head, and she wore two pearl earrings that made her look gentle and demure. In reality, that was indeed the case—she greeted everyone the moment she spoke, her waist bending slightly, her smile perfectly proper.
“Hello, seniors. I’m Lin Aiyun, a member of the association. I’m very pleased and honored to have this opportunity to work with all of you on this project.”
Lin Aiyun had a lovely voice—both poised and carrying the soft, sweet lilt of the south. When she softened her tone just slightly, it took on a hint of coaxing, but just the right amount—not cloying or off-putting, but enough to make people’s hearts soften and want to give in to her.
Most of the people in the room were older women who looked at her the same way they’d look at their own junior—how could they say anything harsh? Plus, Lin Aiyun was standing right next to Yang Xueyan, the association’s vice president—clearly there to back her up.
Aside from the president herself, no one wielded more authority.
Who would dare raise an objection?
“Ah, good, good, good. I remember now—you and Jiang Run came up with the idea for that grand ceremony project last time, didn’t you? The younger generation these days are so full of ideas and talent. With successors like you, we can rest easy about the association’s future.”
“Exactly. With fresh blood stepping up, we feel all the more at ease.”
Xiao Wenjuan was part of this project too, and she was the loudest in her support, heaping so much praise on Lin Aiyun she might as well have been lifting her up to the skies.
Jiang Run was seated close to Lin Aiyun—one glance up and he could see her trembling lashes. At that, the corners of his mouth lifted unconsciously. So she wasn’t as composed as she appeared—she was nervous too?
But after the smile came an intrusive thought, the image of Xiao Cheng from this morning. Hah. There was no way Lin Aiyun had anything to do with a man like that.
How to put it? A little white rabbit and a big bad wolf that devoured people without spitting out the bones—they just didn’t match at all.
Having reasoned it out, the smile on Jiang Run’s lips deepened. The weight that had been pressing on his chest loosened. He rested his hand on the back of his chair and waited quietly for Yang Xueyan to seat Lin Aiyun. In his mind, this was already a done deal.
But unexpectedly, at that very moment, something went wrong.
“I object. What right does a young girl who just joined the association not long ago have to participate in such an important project?” The speaker was an association member seated to the left of the head of the table. Her eyes burned with anger as she slammed her fountain pen onto the table with a loud crack, the harsh sound cutting through the room.
Instantly, all eyes turned to her.
Yang Xueyan’s smile froze on her face as she looked at the woman, her tone flat. “Sister Hongxia, at the association, what matters is ability, not seniority.”
At that, others nodded in agreement.
“Hmph. Of course I know that. But what abilities does she have? She’s barely in her early twenties, isn’t she? Just because she used a little clever trick at the grand ceremony last time, that counts as ability? Then any Tom, Dick, or Harry could waltz into the association and join our projects?”
Chen Hongxia crossed her legs, both hands planted on the table as her gaze swept over Yang Xueyan before finally landing on Lin Aiyun, dripping with contempt and scrutiny.
“Yeah, Sister Hongxia has a point. Our association has always been fair and impartial. If everyone just got in through connections, things would be a mess—what deterrent would there be?”
“Exactly. A while back, even the top leader praised our association personally. Breaking the rules like this would be slapping him in the face, wouldn’t it?”
Chen Hongxia had been at the association longer than even the president herself, and she had naturally cultivated many close allies over the years. The ones speaking up for her now were all senior members whose seniority and abilities spoke for themselves—for a moment, no one dared to chime in.
Seeing them escalate the matter to an entirely different level, Yang Xueyan was nearly amused into laughter. Her gaze shifted to the instigator, Chen Hongxia. Ever since she’d become a full member years ago, perhaps thinking she’d secured an iron rice bowl, she’d started slacking off. Her embroidery skills had remained stagnant for a decade, with not a trace of improvement—which was precisely why she’d never managed to land even a president or vice president position.
She had ability, sure, but she was also fond of petty gains. Relying on her seniority, she often threw her weight around at the association, scheming to squeeze various benefits out of ordinary members.
Yet she’d never committed any major offenses that would give people a solid reason to discipline her. She was a notorious rotten egg hidden within the association—one that everyone knew about but could do nothing about, serving only to make everyone’s stomach turn.
This wasn’t really about Chen Hongxia targeting Lin Aiyun, or even Yang Xueyan as vice president. The real issue was that last week, Chen Hongxia had taken a bribe and tried to shoehorn an ordinary member into the project, but had failed. Now, humiliated and enraged, she was looking for a way to make her presence felt.
But as they themselves had said, the association was a place of fairness and justice. The person Chen Hongxia tried to push in lacked the skill and embroidering ability, and had embarrassed herself on the spot in her panic—which was why she hadn’t made the cut.
Who was there to blame?
If she’d had sufficient ability, then even if Chen Hongxia had tried to sneak her in, others would have turned a blind eye—and might even have thanked her for unearthing a rare talent for the association.
But reality often failed to align with expectations.
Everyone involved in this project were full association members, with the rest being ordinary members who were just shy of meeting the membership threshold—their abilities and seniority were beyond question.
If Yang Xueyan hadn’t had complete confidence in Lin Aiyun’s capabilities, and if Lin Aiyun hadn’t delivered such an outstanding performance at the grand ceremony, she would never have dared to bring her in.
Everyone had their private inclinations. Such a prestigious project was a rare opportunity, and Yang Xueyan wanted to secure it for Lin Aiyun. With this chance in hand, when Lin Aiyun formally became the president’s disciple, it would be all the more legitimate and no one would look down on her.
“The vice president recommended this girl into the association, fine. Now you’re recommending her for the project? Next, are you going to recommend her for membership, and then for president?” Chen Hongxia had been simmering with anger with nowhere to vent. Now that Lin Aiyun and Yang Xueyan had walked right into her crosshairs, she wasn’t going to go easy on them.
And if it weren’t for Wan Tingzhi and Yang Xueyan, that member would have already gotten into the project—and that treasure would already be in her pocket!
That was a priceless rarity, a treasure money couldn’t buy! How much money had they cost her!
As soon as Chen Hongxia said this, everyone fell silent, not daring to even breathe loudly. This was a direct challenge to Vice President Yang Xueyan. Chen Hongxia had the nerve to do it—they certainly didn’t. Having thrown in a couple of cutting remarks was already more than enough.
“Sister Hongxia, you jest. Lin Aiyun earned her place in the association through real skill. Everyone has seen and acknowledged the peony painting and the lotus and koi embroidery. What, have you all forgotten so soon?” Yang Xueyan braced her hands on the table, her sharp gaze sweeping across everyone’s faces one by one.
A flash of embarrassment crossed Chen Hongxia’s face, and her eyes darted away for a moment. Of course she hadn’t forgotten—she’d even praised them in front of all the members back then. Those words of admiration now felt like slaps to her face, stinging badly.
But that didn’t mean she would let Lin Aiyun waltz into the project so easily.
“So what? Every single one of us here has enough merit points to crush her to death. What qualifies her to join this project? The association has no shortage of talented members with impressive portfolios. If everyone clamored to join projects, we’d be packed to the brim.”
“Surely you don’t actually think the points she earned from the grand ceremony are enough to make her leap through the dragon’s gate? What’s that even worth…”
Before Chen Hongxia could finish her sentence, a harsh “scrape” of a chair against the floor cut her off. She looked up to see Jiang Run—who usually wore a genial smile—now wearing a cold expression, unhurriedly buttoning up his suit jacket.
“Member Chen, is the grand ceremony really so worthless in your mouth?” Jiang Run stood ramrod straight, tilting his head with a knowing smirk, as if genuinely perplexed.
Chen Hongxia’s heart plummeted at his words, almost leaping out of her chest. She instinctively stood up as well, stammering: “I never said that.”
“Oh? Is that so?” Jiang Run was smiling, but the coldness in his eyes was unmistakable. “The grand ceremony project was handled by Miss Lin and myself. I thought it was quite important, actually?”
“Of course, of course it’s important.” Chen Hongxia let out a dry laugh. What else could she do but agree? Besides, Jiang Run was formidable—not only the youngest male member in history, but also the current president’s son.
With all those identities stacked up, even she—old enough and senior enough to be his grandmother—had to show him some respect. But why was he stepping up to defend Yang Xueyan? No, Lin Aiyun?
“This is exactly right—I was starting to think Member Chen really meant it.” Jiang Run turned to straighten his chair, his tone casual, before dropping a bombshell: “And this decision today wasn’t just made by Vice President Yang—it was also instructed by the president herself before she left on her business trip.”
“The president?” Chen Hongxia narrowed her eyes, clearly skeptical.
“The president said this project still has a critical gap that needs filling. Does anyone here think there’s anyone more suitable than Lin Aiyun?” Yang Xueyan tapped the table with her knuckle, the crisp sound cutting through the room.
A gap? It dawned on everyone at once, and they all turned to look at Lin Aiyun, who had been standing obediently beside the head of the table without saying a word.
Yes—who else but her?
There were plenty of people at the association skilled at embroidery, but those who could make flowers “come alive” were few and far between. Both spirit and vitality had to reach a certain level before one could even touch the fabric of this project—otherwise, don’t even bother.
And Lin Aiyun had made her mark twice now, both times through her “flowers.” Everyone had seen it with their own eyes—she was a true embroiderer who had mastered that very essence.
“I support Lin Aiyun joining the project.” Xiao Wenjuan was the first to raise her hand. One by one, the others followed, including Chen Hongxia at the very end.
The decision was sealed—no objections remained.
“Go on, that’s your seat.” Yang Xueyan smiled and pointed to an empty spot toward the back of the conference room.
Lin Aiyun nodded, flashing Yang Xueyan a grateful smile where no one else could see. As she passed Jiang Run, she gave him a polite, curving glance of acknowledgment. He looked back at her deeply and smiled.
After she sat down, Yang Xueyan turned and wrote two large characters on the blackboard with chalk—”OFFICIALLY BEGIN.”
But just as she finished writing, as if suddenly remembering something, she raised an eyebrow. “Oh, by the way, Sister Hongxia mentioned merit points earlier?”
Chen Hongxia didn’t want to revisit that topic, but with Yang Xueyan’s eyes fixed on her, she had no choice but to reluctantly nod.
“Everyone might not have been paying attention, but our Comrade Aiyun, as a newcomer, now has a frighteningly high number of merit points.” Yang Xueyan tossed the chalk back into the box, sending up a puff of white dust, and let a number roll off her tongue.
“What?” Xiao Wenjuan gasped, covering her mouth, and leaned forward in disbelief to look at Lin Aiyun. This girl had kept a low profile since joining the association, yet she’d been quietly building up a massive advantage all along?
Hadn’t it taken even Jiang Run a full year to reach that many points back then?
Now even those who had harbored lingering doubts were thoroughly convinced, and their gazes toward Lin Aiyun carried a new measure of recognition.
This was the beauty of an industry where ability and skill spoke for themselves.
Lin Aiyun maintained a gentle smile throughout. She hadn’t spoken up not because she was timid or weak, but because in a setting like this—first, she lacked the seniority to speak, and second, speaking up would only backfire. It was better to leverage others’ support. She knew that with Auntie Yang looking out for her, there was no way she’d be left to suffer any injustice under her watch.
But…
Her gaze unconsciously drifted toward Jiang Run, who was seated diagonally ahead of her. The moment she looked, she met those phoenix eyes, the tear mole at the corner swaying with charm—a face that was every bit a male fox spirit.
Lin Aiyun was the first to look away. The only thing she couldn’t figure out was why Jiang Run had helped her, and so openly, without fear of offending Chen Hongxia.
Was it out of consideration for the president’s sake? That made sense—as the president’s son, he certainly knew she would be taken on as a disciple soon. When that happened, they would become legitimate martial siblings.
There was nothing wrong with a senior martial brother helping out his junior martial sister.
Having convinced herself she’d fully understood the reasoning, Lin Aiyun was already mulling over how to thank Yang Xueyan and Jiang Run. What she didn’t know was that Jiang Run was the kind of person who always sided with those he cared about—not by blood or closeness, but by affection.
Only when he liked someone did he make a move.
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