Chapter One: The Dance Troupe

After finishing her dance, Jiang Mugu returned to her seat and, right in the center of the front row, spotted a man in a black suit.

His presence was utterly unexpected.

But when the curtain fell and she saw Fang Muqing, the “White Swan,” run up to him with a radiant smile and take his arm, everything suddenly made sense.

Jiang Mugu wondered whether it had been deliberate. She had always known her own place, but never had it been laid bare like this.

She waited a long while for Fang Muqing in the changing room before the latter, humming a tune, finally returned.

Fang Muqing looked surprised, arching her brows. “Did you need something?”

“Stay away from my father.” Jiang Mugu didn’t bother with pretense, her tone cold.

Her heavy stage makeup was still on, and clad in her black gown, she looked every inch the villainous Black Swan.

Fang Muqing was taken aback, but then let out a laugh. “Did your mother put you up to this?”

Jiang Mugu’s lashes flickered. “No.”

Fang Muqing curled her lips. “We’ve been in the same dance troupe for ages now. I’m surprised you managed to hold back until today before coming to me…”

She slowed her words, drawing closer to Jiang Mugu. “Or is it because you finally saw your father come to pick me up, and couldn’t stand it any longer?”

Jiang Mugu gave a cold laugh. “He has a wife and a family. Do you know what that makes you?”

Fang Muqing blinked. “That’s a question for your father, isn’t it? He’s the one who wants me by his side.”

Seeing the smile fade from Jiang Mugu’s lips, Fang Muqing’s tone shifted, becoming drawn-out and taunting. “Or is it that you never even see him yourself?”

Jiang Mugu’s nails dug into her palm, her face growing pale.

Though she hid her emotions well, Fang Muqing caught the subtle change. She let out a faint, almost sympathetic laugh. “Don’t worry. I’ll talk to your father. I’ll tell him to find more time to visit you all when he’s not busy.”

Smack.

Jiang Mugu’s hand flew up, slapping her across the face.

Fang Muqing’s eyes filled with tears; clutching her cheek, she stared at Jiang Mugu in disbelief. “You hit me?”

Jiang Mugu produced a black card and thrust it toward her, her manner imperious. “Whatever he gives you, I can give you as well. I know how much you need money—besides our troupe, you’re always juggling side jobs. I can fulfill any amount you want.”

Fang Muqing lost her composure. “Don’t insult me with money. I love him—truly!”

Jiang Mugu gave a cold laugh. “Is that so?”

But Fang Muqing didn’t back down. Jiang Mugu understood—it was the confidence of someone favored by a man.

Fang Muqing lowered her hand from her cheek, her voice sharpening. “And you’d best know your place. He’s just outside. When he sees my face, he’ll be worried about me.”

At this, a hint of malicious amusement flickered across Fang Muqing’s face. “If you really care for your broken little family, you’d do best to turn a blind eye, just like your muddle-headed mother. That way, I won’t mention today’s little incident to your father. We might even get along as sisters, who knows?”

A sharp pain stabbed through Jiang Mugu’s chest.

Her nose stung, her heart sank, and the words she had prepared to throw back at Fang Muqing stuck in her throat.

Catching her in that moment of dazed vulnerability, Fang Muqing let out a cold laugh, turned, and walked away.

By the time Jiang Mugu composed herself, blinking back the sting in her eyes, and slowly made her way out of the theater, she caught sight of Fang Muqing departing in a low-key but luxurious black car.

In the earlier years, Mu Anyan would still make time to return home a few times, often driving that very black car.

But Jiang Mugu had never ridden in it, not even once.