The Mu family was widely acknowledged as a formidable powerhouse—but only within the commercial world. Their influence was loud and visible, built on money, contracts, and reputation.
Yet the Mo family of the capital, the Xiao family of Ning City—these were something else entirely.
They were ancient lineages that had endured for centuries, families whose roots ran so deep they touched every sphere: politics, finance, academia, the military, culture—fields where true authority was often hidden behind quiet doors. In front of such houses, even the head of the Mu family could not afford arrogance. He would have to lower his head, measure his words, and behave with painstaking respect.
So when the names "Mo" and "Xiao" were spoken, the atmosphere shifted instantly—like a ballroom suddenly struck by thunder.
Mu Lei's first reaction was disbelief.
He had never imagined Mu Xiaonan could command such prestige. An eighteenth birthday—an adult ceremony—and these colossal families were sending congratulatory gifts?
It could only mean one thing: Mu Xiaonan had enough "face" to draw their attention.
Or so he assumed.
A surge of exhilaration rose in Mu Lei's chest. He quickly gathered his wife and hurried forward to greet the guests, smoothing away the impatience he had just shown Mu Qingyue. In a heartbeat, his expression transformed into a radiant smile—warm, respectful, almost eager.
"Thank you for honoring us with your presence," he said with polished enthusiasm. "Your attendance brings great light to our humble home."
The men who entered did not respond with corresponding warmth.
They were dressed in black suits, tall and stern, their faces expressionless. Their eyes swept the scene with professional detachment, like people accustomed to being in charge of security rather than conversation.
"We're only bodyguards," one of them said flatly. "We're here under orders."
As he spoke, the group directed their subordinates to carry in several large chests.
The chests were not ordinary luggage. They were ornate, heavy, and magnificent—edged in gold, inlaid with silver, their surfaces engraved with subtle patterns that caught the light. Even before the contents were revealed, their craftsmanship alone radiated an extravagant sense of value.
The crowd's eyes widened.
Whispers erupted like sparks.
"Top-tier families really are different… what a grand gesture!"
"Just those gift chests alone must cost millions…"
"They must truly favor Miss Xiaonan!"
Mu Xiaonan listened to the flattery with a restrained smile, the kind of humility she had practiced until it became second nature. She lowered her gaze modestly, her posture delicate, her expression composed.
But in the depths of her eyes, confidence glimmered.
She was outstanding. She had always believed that.
And the identity of a noble heiress suited her far better than it suited Mu Qingyue—the loud, rebellious girl who never knew how to behave properly.
If these great families had sent gifts today, perhaps it was because they had taken notice of her. Perhaps they were testing her, evaluating her, preparing to draw her into their own circles.
After all—marriage alliances were still the quiet currency of powerful families.
If she married into a house like the Mo family or the Xiao family, her status would soar. Her standing would become untouchable. Perhaps, one day, even the Mu family would have to rely on her face to survive in higher circles.
As these thoughts unfurled in her mind, Mu Xiaonan's heart grew increasingly buoyant. She began silently reviewing the prominent young men of the Mo and Xiao families—faces she had seen in magazines, names she had heard whispered at gatherings—and she found herself already weighing possibilities, already selecting which "young master" might be most suitable as her future partner.
And the gifts did not stop.
Beyond the Mo and Xiao families, several other nationally renowned magnates sent representatives as well. One by one, glittering chests were carried in and lined up before the cake table in a radiant row, their metalwork catching the garden lights until the display looked almost blinding.
The guests grew visibly envious.
Mu Xiaonan's circle of close friends clustered around her, voices brimming with admiration.
"Nan Nan, you're truly adored."
"Compared to you, the birthday gifts I used to receive were so shabby."
"I heard the Xiao family's eldest son is incredibly handsome—could it be he's trying to pursue you?"
Mu Xiaonan smiled and scolded lightly, as though embarrassed by the suggestion. "Don't talk nonsense."
But inside, she was delighted. Sweet satisfaction curled through her chest like warm wine.
She walked toward the men who had delivered the gifts, her manner gentle and gracious. She offered them a smile designed to disarm.
"Thank you for making the trip," she said warmly. "Please help me convey my gratitude. I'm very happy to receive these gifts."
She bent slightly, reaching for the ribbon tied around one of the chests, intending to undo the bow with elegant hands.
Slap!
A hand shot out.
The bodyguard in front struck her hand away with brisk, unyielding force.
Mu Xiaonan froze.
Her fingers hovered in midair as if her brain had momentarily stopped working.
The bodyguard looked at her with ice-cold indifference. His voice was flat, sharp, and merciless.
"Don't touch them. These gifts aren't for you."
"…What?" Mu Xiaonan's eyes widened, blank with disbelief.
Not for her?
Then who on earth could they possibly be for?
The bodyguard's patience visibly thinned. He didn't even try to soften the humiliation.
"These are birthday gifts for the Mu family's eldest young lady."
Ning Xi stepped forward immediately, face tightening. "That's right," she said sharply. "Nan Nan is the Mu family's eldest young lady."
"Is she?" Another bodyguard chuckled, the sound openly mocking. His eyes swept over Mu Xiaonan with blatant contempt. "I heard the Mu family once didn't even recognize their own daughter—raised a counterfeit for seven years before finally bringing the real daughter back. So you're the adopted one who borrowed her identity, aren't you? Since when did a fake become the eldest Miss Mu?"
Mu Xiaonan's face turned a sickly shade of green, then drained toward white. Her throat tightened as if the words had physically strangled her. She stood there, humiliated, unable to respond—because any defense would only confirm the truth.
And then, from behind them, a languid voice drifted forward—cool, lazy, and faintly amused, as though the speaker were watching a play and had finally decided to step onto the stage.
"So," Mu Qingyue drawled, "you're looking for me?"