2017.Country M.
An afternoon downpour had soaked the soil, and a damp, cool breeze carrying the faint scent of jasmine drifted through the window. Wen Ran twitched her nose slightly, her carving tools meticulously replicating the lifelike white blossoms in her mind.
Wen Ran was one of the two closed-door disciples of Bai Weiliang, the most renowned Chinese master jeweler in the international arena. The other disciple was her senior brother, Zhai Chengjing.
Ten years ago, as Wen Ran's grandfather lay critically ill, his final wish was to entrust his talented granddaughter to his old friend Bai Weiliang for mentorship, fearing her parents' harsh living conditions would stifle her potential. And so, Wen Ran arrived in the unfamiliar land of Country M.
Knock, knock, knock—
The sudden rapping at the door broke her focus. Her hand slipped, and a carved petal snapped off, falling onto the worktable.
Wen Ran exhaled softly. She still hadn't mastered the art of blocking out distractions. Setting down her tools, she flexed her stiff wrists.
The door swung open without waiting for a response.
It was Zhai Xinyi, Zhai Chengjing's younger sister and Wen Ran's only friend.
Zhai Xinyi wore a blush-pink tulle dress that gave her an ethereal aura, though it did little to temper her restless energy. Clicking her heels loudly, she hurried in. "Ran Ran, why aren't you dressed yet? The banquet started ages ago!"
Wen Ran glanced outside. The sky had darkened without her noticing, a bright moon now hanging in the upper right corner. She looked down at the delicate, paper-thin petal on the table and said pointedly, "I spent three hours carving this. Now, because of you…"
Zhai Xinyi immediately raised her hands in surrender. "My fault! I'll do anything to make it up to you—climb mountains, dive into fire, whatever! But right now," she tugged Wen Ran up from her chair, "you need to change and come downstairs with me."
As she was pushed toward her room, Wen Ran turned her head halfway. "Why do I have to go?"
"Just come down first!" Zhai Xinyi avoided the question.
In her room, Wen Ran opened her closet and chose a cream-white satin dress that fell to mid-calf. Its waist was cinched with pleats, accented by a ruffled bodice and a single asymmetric bow strap—elegant yet playful.
The dress had been a birthday gift from her mother.
Zhai Xinyi sat on the bed, clicking her tongue in admiration. "See? I've always said white looks best on me."
Wen Ran ignored the familiar boast. She opened her jewelry box and fastened a pair of pearl earrings—a gift from her father.
Zhai Xinyi walked over, studying Wen Ran's reflection.
Wen Ran had an elongated oval face with soft, flowing lines—youthful yet imbued with classical grace. Her eyes were not large, with faint double eyelids and rounded corners that sloped slightly downward, often giving her a drowsy, innocent appearance. Her nose was delicate, hinting at cool elegance, but her small, rounded lips softened this into shyness.
She wasn't strikingly beautiful at first glance, even appearing somewhat plain. Yet there was an undeniable air of classical gentleness, quiet melancholy, and scholarly poise about her—a fragility that invited protectiveness.
Zhai Xinyi sighed dramatically. "When will my dear friend finally fall in love?"
Wen Ran paused while adjusting her earring. "Why bring this up again?"
"It's a waste if you don't!" Zhai Xinyi began brushing Wen Ran's hair. "If I were a man, I'd date you. I'd let you bewitch me completely."
"..."
Leaning closer, Zhai Xinyi rested her chin on Wen Ran's shoulder. "Ran Ran, do you know? With this face of yours, I'd believe anything you say."
Wen Ran lowered her lashes and flicked Zhai Xinyi's forehead. "Be serious."
Chuckling, Zhai Xinyi noticed Wen Ran closing her jewelry box. "Just earrings? No other accessories?"
"I want to blend in, not stand out."
"Come on, 'invisible girl.'" Zhai Xinyi pulled her toward the door. "Hurry!"
The banquet was in full swing. From the staircase landing, the crystal chandelier cast prismatic light over the scene below.
Wen Ran's gaze swept the hall, quickly finding its focal point: Bai Weiliang seated on a mahogany chair, wearing a traditional Chinese robe. A dazzling ice-jade Guanyin pendant adorned his chest, complemented by emerald cabochon diamond drops. His white beard framed a kindly smile as industry elites—established jewelers and designers—flanked him, while younger aspirants hovered nearby, raising glasses in deference.
Wen Ran noted their lavish accessories, impressive yet uninspired.
A man in his fifties beside Bai Weiliang gestured, summoning a young woman. "Master Bai, this is Wu Yanshan—this year's BrightPearl Bronze Award winner. A promising overseas Chinese designer."
BrightPearl was a prestigious international jewelry design competition.
Wu Yanshan dipped respectfully. "Master Bai, it's an honor."
Bai Weiliang nodded. "I've seen your work. Innovative concepts."
The man pressed on: "She hopes to learn from you."
With a wave, Bai Weiliang declined. "At sixty, I'm halfway to the grave. My two disciples already give me white hairs. I'd like to live a few more years."
The crowd laughed, praising Zhai Chengjing's recent achievements while ignoring Wen Ran.
The master's disciples were well-known: Zhai Chengjing, 24, was a rising star. The other—Cynthia, a Chinese girl—remained shrouded in mystery. Some whispered she was a genius awaiting her debut; others speculated Bai Weiliang hid her out of shame.
Hearing her mentor's "underachieving" comment, Zhai Xinyi elbowed Wen Ran, snickering. "Hear that? You're his biggest failure! He's your anti-fan!"
Wen Ran sighed.
Backpedaling, Zhai Xinyi added, "He's just rejecting Wu Yanshan! You're brilliant!" She hooked arms with Wen Ran. "Look at her necklace—what do you think?"
After a glance, Wen Ran frowned. "Overdesigned. Not to my taste."
Zhai Xinyi beamed. "See? She's nothing special."
Rolling her eyes, Wen Ran turned to leave. "If you're done playing, I'll return to work."
"Wait!" Zhai Xinyi grabbed her. "My brother's looking for you. Stay!"
"It's too noisy here. I'll wait in the garden."
Wen Ran remembered leaving a pencil in the pavilion earlier—part of a set her mother had sent. She needed to retrieve it.
The garden, lush with jasmine, glistened under moonlight. Avoiding slick stone steps, Wen Ran lifted her hem as she approached the pavilion—and froze.
A man sat inside, lighting a cigarette with a match.
The flame briefly illuminated sharp features before he shook it out, leaving only ember glow and trailing smoke.
Matches? He needs a lighter, Wen Ran thought.
Meeting his gaze felt like stumbling into a frozen forest, where even the imagined warmth behind closed doors was extinguished. His aloofness was palpable.
"Excuse me," she said politely in Chinese, unsure if he understood. "I'm looking for something. I hope I'm not disturbing you."
The man—not fully Asian—watched as she knelt to search. His cigarette rested on the table, fingers tapping idly.
After a fruitless search, Wen Ran stood and noticed the onyx diamond brooch on his lapel.
"Do you need a lighter?" she ventured.
"No." His voice was cool.
"Are you a guest here?"
He exhaled smoke. "I came to see Master Bai's jasmine garden."
Jasmine lover? Perfect.
Wen Ran stepped into the flowerbed, mud staining her heels. Bathed in moonlight, she plucked two jasmine sprigs and offered them with a smile.
"Master Bai treasures these," the man remarked drily.
"I know."
"Yet you picked them anyway?"
Her smile deepened. "I'll be fine. As long as you enjoy them."