A ripple of surprise swept through the garden.
Laughter faltered. Conversations broke mid-sentence. One by one, guests turned their heads, drawn by the sudden voice from behind—clear, resonant, crystalline, like water running over jade.
There, striding toward them with a suitcase rolling at her side, was a girl.
She wore a face mask that concealed most of her features. A loose, slightly rumpled white shirt hung on her frame with deliberate nonchalance, paired with denim shorts that made her look almost casually unprepared for a grand banquet. Yet that very carelessness carried a strange authority, as though she had walked into this gilded world without needing permission.
Her eyes held a faint smile as she approached—an expression that was neither timid nor deferential, but lightly amused, as if she were stepping into a scene she already understood.
Mu Xiaonan reacted first.
Her pupils tightened, her breath catching as recognition hit her like a slap. "Y-you… you are…"
The missing one.
Mu Qingyue—gone for two years, vanished without trace, a name that had become both taboo and rumor.
The girl's long black hair lifted in the breeze, ink-dark and untamed. She was slender, but not frail; her build carried quiet strength rather than weakness. She walked as if she had all the time in the world—lazy, almost languid—yet an invisible pressure radiated from her, a force so assertive it made people unconsciously straighten their backs.
In an instant, she became the center of the entire gathering.
Although her mask hid her face, her voice was unforgettable—clear as a lark's song, bright and penetrating. And more distinctive still was the faint, careless lilt at the end of her sentences, a tone that suggested effortless confidence. Mu Xiaonan knew that voice too well. She had heard it in childhood. She had heard it in the years when she played "sister." She had heard it in the days when her own lies still needed gentle camouflage.
It was Mu Qingyue.
Ning Xi's face twisted at once, and her shrill voice cut through the stunned silence. "Security! How did you let some random person in?!"
The security guard behind Mu Qingyue wiped sweat from his forehead, clearly flustered. "Madam, she… she said she was the eldest young lady…"
"Mu Qingyue?!" Ning Xi blurted, startled despite herself.
Around them, shock spread like a stain.
Old Master Mu, Mu Lei, Qin Ziqiao—everyone, without exception, stared at the masked girl as though she were an apparition that had stepped out of a ghost story.
Mu Qingyue stopped at the table where the enormous cake was displayed. Without ceremony, she extended a finger, scooped a bit of cream, and tasted it with a calm that bordered on insolence.
"Oh?" she said, eyebrows lifting. "You prepared such a huge birthday cake for me? How thoughtful."
Ning Xi's eyes sharpened. "That cake isn't for you! Today is Nan Nan's eighteenth birthday—her coming-of-age ceremony. Since you're back, go change into something decent and come out to congratulate her properly. Don't stand here making a spectacle of yourself!"
"Ah." Mu Qingyue chuckled.
It was a small sound, but it drew every gaze.
When she smiled, her eyes curved beautifully, like a new moon mirrored in an autumn pool—bright, clear, and impossible to look away from. Even with her face hidden, those catlike eyes alone were enough to unsettle the heart.
Under the feverish attention of the crowd, Mu Qingyue lifted her hand, brushed her bangs aside with casual grace, and looked toward Mu Xiaonan as though she were examining an amusing curiosity.
"How strange," she said lightly. "Isn't your birthday March sixth? Or have you grown so accustomed to using my birthday that you don't want to change it back?"
"I…" Mu Xiaonan's face flickered—blue, then white, then an ugly shade somewhere in between.
Because Mu Qingyue was right.
Mu Xiaonan's real birth date was not today.
Back then, when she had been mistakenly taken as the Mu family's lost daughter, she had stepped seamlessly into Mu Qingyue's life—name, identity, and even birthday. For years, she had celebrated "her" birthdays on Mu Qingyue's date, accepting gifts and praise without hesitation, wearing stolen glory like a crown.
Most of the guests had never thought about this detail.
But the moment Mu Qingyue spoke it aloud, the air shifted. Expressions turned subtle. Smiles grew strained. People exchanged glances heavy with meaning, then looked at Mu Xiaonan with strange, questioning eyes.
"So this grand banquet…" someone murmured under their breath, "isn't even on her actual birthday?"
"And she can still look that happy," another whispered, faintly incredulous. "That's… impressive."
Mu Xiaonan's embarrassment threatened to crack her composure.
Her eyes immediately filled with tears, shimmering as if she could summon sorrow on command. She hurried forward, clasped Mu Qingyue's hand with both of hers, and spoke in a voice so gentle it might have melted stone.
"I know you've always held resentment toward me," she said softly. "But I truly didn't do it on purpose back then. And today's banquet… it's also because Grandfather's health hasn't been good. We wanted to bring him joy—something auspicious—to lift his spirits."
The effect was immediate.
Seeing Mu Xiaonan's fragile, pitiful expression, many guests felt their hearts soften. Sympathy rose quickly, spreading through the crowd. Voices began to overlap as people hurried to comfort her—one saying she was innocent, another saying she shouldn't blame herself, another insisting Mu Qingyue was being too harsh.
Mu Qingyue watched the performance in silence, her eyes cool.
Then, slowly, her lips curved into a faint, knowing smile.
Once upon a time, she had been fooled by this very act. She had believed Mu Xiaonan's sweet sincerity. She had offered her true heart, thinking they were the closest of friends—only to be rewarded with betrayal, manipulation, and the knife hidden behind a sister's embrace.
Mu Lei stepped forward as well, murmured a few soothing words to Mu Xiaonan, then turned his gaze toward Mu Qingyue with visible impatience.
"Enough," he snapped. "The moment you return, you turn everything upside down. When will you finally learn to behave like Nan Nan—obedient, sensible, and well-mannered?"
The thought flashed through his mind with bitter clarity:
He truly wished the mistake had never been discovered.
He wished Mu Xiaonan had been his biological daughter after all.
Because, to him, the Mu family's eldest young lady should never have been a rebellious, ill-fitting girl who refused to bow her head—even if that girl carried his blood.