It was a warm, honey-dipped afternoon when Liu Fenfang and Shen Yimin arrived at the prestigious Jia residence in the heart of the city. The sunlight glanced off the tiled rooftops of the compound, casting long shadows across the peony-lined stone path. Every corner of the estate whispered wealth, history, and refinement.
In the quiet courtyard of the Jia family's residence, a gentle breeze rustled the bamboo leaves, casting long shadows over the stone path. The serene beauty of the place contrasted starkly with the tension walking through the gates.
Liu Fenfang clutched the hem of her plain cotton blouse, nudging Shen Yimin as they stepped into the compound. "We should be respectful," she murmured, though her eyes scanned everything—from the flower beds to the polished furniture visible through the windows.
Shen Yimin nodded. He wasn't as consumed by ambition as Fenfang, but the idea of comfort, of rising above factory labor, tugged at him too. The house's elegance was suffocating in its quiet wealth.
Old Madam Qiao Meiyun greeted them first, kind-eyed and dignified, her silver hair pinned neatly with a pearl clip. "You're from our old village?" she said with a smile.
"Yes, we heard about you and old General Jia Yuming from our elders. We've just moved to the city and thought to pay respects," Shen Yimin replied, his tone polite but vaguely expectant.
Old General Jia Yuming came out moments later. Though age had slowed him, his upright posture and piercing gaze remained. "Sit. You've come far," he said, motioning them to the wooden chairs under the veranda.
Inside, the courtyard was a miniature world of quiet elegance. The scent of osmanthus blossoms floated gently in the air. Birds chirped atop delicate latticework.
They were soon ushered into the sunroom, where Madam Qiao Meiyun sat gracefully, dressed in a silk jade cheongsam embroidered with magnolia petals. With a refined smile, she greeted them.
Without missing a beat, the housekeeper appeared with a tray of refreshments—steamed lotus seed buns, red bean cakes, crisp melon seeds, and golden chrysanthemum tea served in porcelain cups so fine they seemed translucent in the light.
Tea was served with delicate snacks—crispy lotus cakes, sesame pastries, and pickled plums in crystal bowls. The presentation was so refined that even sitting there made Liu Fenfang feel small.
"We truly didn't mean to trouble you," Fenfang began demurely, folding her hands over her lap. "It's just… the city is much harder to navigate than we imagined. The work, the people…"
As they sipped tea, Shen Yimin commented vaguely, "City work isn't easy. The factory director, he's not very welcoming. Always giving trouble."
Qiao Meiyun gave a mild smile. "City folk can be proud. It takes time to find your footing."
Fenfang nodded quickly. "Yes, yes, we understand. Still, it's difficult not to feel… left behind."
She paused, then glanced around the room with a wistful look.
Liu Fenfang added in a low voice, "Some of us work hard every day just to earn our keep, but it seems others are already enjoying the sweet life." Her tone was calm, but her eyes lingered on the elegant decor and refined atmosphere, a silent contrast to the cramped dormitories of factory workers.
"Seeing Jia Lan's success is truly admirable. She's so young, yet she already has such a good job at the Youth Arts Bureau. She must be blessed."
"She's lucky," Yimin added. "A comfortable home, a stable job. Everything just… works out for her."
Qiao Meiyun's smile remained, but a chill settled behind her eyes.
Fenfang leaned forward slightly. "She's always been smart, of course. But she doesn't know the struggles we're facing. Life seems so easy for her now."
"She's a good child," Old Madam Qiao Meiyun replied with a faint smile. "And she earned her place."
Fenfang forced a soft laugh. "Of course, of course. Just saying… not everyone's journey is the same. Still, it's nice to have connections, even if just from the same village."
They shifted topics after that, chattering about the differences between village and city life, the busyness of the streets, and the strange new rules of urban workplaces. All the while, Qiao Meiyun maintained her grace, offering more tea, nodding in the right places—but her mind was working.
She caught every glance, every carefully veiled jab.
Inwardly, both Shen Yimin and Liu Fenfang thought the same: Shouldn't people from the same village look out for each other? They're respected elders—can't they offer us a little help?
What they didn't realize was that in their previous life, the script of the world had paved the road for them. Villagers had offered kindness before they asked, factory managers had turned a blind eye to mistakes, and Jia Lan's family had been indifferent background characters. But now the script was broken.
And even if it wasn't, Jia Yuming and Qiao Meiyun were not people who placed strangers above blood. Jia Lan, their precious granddaughter, always came first.
They had seen enough of the world to know who was sincere, who worked hard, and who expected shortcuts. Nothing about these two visitors suggested loyalty or potential.
What Liu Fenfang and Shen Yimin failed to understand was this: in the past, they had the protection of the "plot." Their lives were steered by hidden hands toward good fortune. Help came before they could ask for it, jobs opened up without real merit, and kind elders reached out without reason.
But now? The plot had shattered.
And even if the world had remained the same, Qiao Meiyun and Jia Yuming would never place anyone above their granddaughter. Not even for the sake of nostalgia or village kinship.
Time ticked by, and the sky began to fade into a pale blue-gray.As the sun dipped lower in the sky, casting a golden hue across the garden, she finally spoke with a tone as soft as silk but firm as iron.
Meiyun stood with an elegant poise. "It's getting dark. The courtyard gates close early in this district."
The signal was clear.
Fenfang and Yimin bowed politely, though their expressions tightened ever so slightly.
"We're grateful for your time," Yimin said.
"Yes," Fenfang added, her eyes briefly lingering on the smooth stone pillars and expensive screens. "Thank you again."
As they exited, they walked in silence until the gates shut behind them with a soft click.
As they walked out of the compound, Fenfang whispered harshly, "So cold. Not even a single offer of help."
"They gave us snacks," Shen Yimin replied in frustration. "That's all."
Inside the house, Meiyun turned to her husband with narrowed eyes. "Shameless," she said plainly.
Jia Yuming snorted. "They think because we share a village, they're owed something. Our Lan'er got her position easily? Hmph. There's no such thing as easy in the city. Positions like hers aren't handed out—they're earned."
He looked out the window where shadows stretched long and quiet. "She may look effortless, but she's disciplined, careful, and dignified. That child's fortune isn't luck—it's how she carries herself."
Meiyun nodded. "I wouldn't exchange her for ten of those so-called 'hardworking' kids."
Outside, the couple trudged down the street, the glow of the Jia household behind them like a fading mirage. Liu Fenfang bit her lip. "They're from our village. They should've helped. Aren't we hardworking enough?"
But the warmth that once flowed naturally from villagers—the plot-driven charity they once received without asking—was gone.
Now, without the plot shielding them, they were just ordinary people.
And Jia Lan, no matter the world, would always be placed above them.
Even fate couldn't rewrite that.