The weekend sun bathed the city in a mellow golden light as the grand halls of the Municipal Culture Building came alive with activity. Red silk banners fluttered lightly at the entrance, bearing the calligraphy for the weekend's highlight event: Spring Charity Luncheon and Poetry Recitation, hosted by none other than the Mayor's wife herself.
Jia Lan stood beneath a cherry blossom tree near the entrance, her pale blue qipao embroidered with soft cranes a vision of elegance. The sleeves billowed gently in the breeze, her hair twisted in a loose chignon adorned with a simple pearl pin. As attendees filed in—officials, artists, old scholars, and socialites—she greeted them with poise.
Inside the hall, polished floors gleamed under lantern light. Tables had been arranged in a half-moon formation, each covered with pale gold cloth, porcelain tea sets, and scroll centerpieces with painted verses. Soft guzheng music played from a corner as a young girl practiced her recital fingers, nervous but determined.
"Lan Lan!" called Sister Li, bustling over in a vivid floral jacket. "Look at this! We even have name tags like big-shot scholars." She waved hers proudly.
Jia Lan smiled. "Don't forget, it's for charity. We're here to be dignified and generous."
"Oh, I'll be generous—once I've eaten," Sister Li muttered, eyeing the rows of food trays nearby.
The buffet was nothing short of spectacular: stewed duck with osmanthus, cloud-ear fungus salads, flaky lotus cakes, pickled radish rolls, and towers of candied fruit skewers gleaming like little suns. Jia Lan picked up a small porcelain dish and served herself modest portions.
Just as she settled into her seat near the dais, a flutter of whispers spread like wildfire. Heads turned subtly toward the main entrance.
"Is that…" Zhao Meiling's voice trailed off as she adjusted her glasses.
Indeed, walking in—dressed far better than they ever had in the countryside—were Liu Fenfang and Shen Yimin.
Liu Fenfang wore a tailored light green dress, slightly too tight at the seams, paired with heels she hadn't quite mastered. Her makeup was heavier than daytime called for, and her expression flickered with excitement and barely concealed nervousness.
Shen Yimin walked beside her in a grey suit, slightly ill-fitting at the shoulders, but clearly borrowed or recently purchased. His hair was neatly combed and he carried himself stiffly, eyes scanning the room.
"How the hell did they get in?" whispered Sister Li.
Jia Lan remained calm, though her eyes sharpened. Her fingers tightened slightly around her teacup.
She didn't have to wonder long.
Comrade Yu—an overly helpful, overly eager clerk who had recently become acquainted with the Youth Arts Bureau—stood proudly beside them, gesturing toward the registration table.
"They came as my guests," he announced. "From the rural talent exchange initiative."
"Oh," murmured someone nearby, eyebrows raised. "That explains… something."
Jia Lan composed her features and sipped her tea. Her inner thoughts, however, bubbled.
Rural talent exchange? More like rural social climbers' express pass.
The Mayor's wife took the stage, graceful and poised, reciting a poem in flowing cadence. The audience clapped lightly. Jia Lan joined politely, though her mind wandered.
Across the room, Liu Fenfang spotted her and offered a tight-lipped smile and a finger-wave.
"She's acting like we're close friends," muttered Jia Lan under her breath.
Sister Li snorted. "She's acting like she's your long-lost sister from a rich novel."
As luncheon was served, the tables filled with laughter, clinking bowls, and the rustle of silk. Shen Yimin tried to engage with a guest seated beside him, quoting a line of poetry awkwardly. The man smiled politely but turned back to his roast duck.
Liu Fenfang, meanwhile, slowly made her way toward Jia Lan's table, pretending to admire the scroll paintings.
"Oh, Lan Lan! Fancy meeting you here," she said a bit too loudly.
Jia Lan rose slightly. "Comrade Liu. Comrade Shen."
"You look… so refined!" Fenfang's eyes raked over her dress. "This embroidery must've taken weeks."
"Thank you," Jia Lan replied lightly. "It was a gift from my eldest sister-in-law."
Fenfang blinked, lips twitching. "Oh. Lovely."
They lingered awkwardly before a sharp-voiced official called for guests to return to their seats for the next recital.
Jia Lan sat back down, smoothing her skirt. "Some people work hard to be seen," she murmured to herself, "and some are simply seen because they belong."
The poetry continued, rising and falling like waves on the spring wind. Jia Lan clapped gently, laughing at Sister Li's commentary and joking with Zhao Meiling about whose table had hoarded the sweet bean buns.
As the event wound down, she spotted Liu Fenfang and Shen Yimin lingering awkwardly by the dessert table, clearly unsure of what to do next.
"Maybe they thought this would be their golden ticket," Sister Li whispered.
"It's more like a borrowed coat," Jia Lan replied, finishing her tea.
And when she stepped out into the afternoon sunlight, the cherry blossoms rustled above, as if they too were whispering about who truly belonged.