Outside the Municipal Culture Building, the scent of roasted sesame and spring cherry blossoms mingled on the breeze. The luncheon had ended, guests were beginning to drift away in groups of polite chatter and powdered laughter, but Jia Lan lingered by the east garden terrace, her teacup half-full and eyes watching koi swim in the small ornamental pond.
She was savoring the quiet when a pair of heels clicked behind her.
"Lan Lan! Just the person I was looking for."
Jia Lan didn't need to turn. That cloying chirp—Liu Fenfang. She slowly turned with perfect grace, lips neutral.
"Comrade Liu."
Fenfang teetered toward her in now slightly-wrinkled heels, her tailored green dress still trying to scream refinement despite the way the fabric pulled at her shoulders.
"Wasn't this event lovely?" she gushed. "You looked so elegant up there near the dais! I told Yimin—you really do know how to make an impression."
Jia Lan gave her a soft, noncommittal smile. "Thank you."
Fenfang leaned closer, lowering her voice. "Actually, I wanted to talk to you about something… personal. Did you notice Comrade Zheng? From the Ministry?"
"The one who recited Su Shi with a northern accent?" Jia Lan replied lightly. "Hard to miss."
Fenfang beamed. "Exactly! He's from City Planning, very promising. He… asked about you."
Jia Lan's brow lifted ever so slightly. "Did he?"
"Yes! And—well, Yimin and I thought… maybe a proper introduction would be in order."
Before Jia Lan could respond, Shen Yimin joined them, holding two lacquered food boxes. His ill-fitting suit was beginning to crease at the elbows, and his collar was slightly askew.
"Fenfang, they were handing out extra cakes—" He stopped short, seeing Jia Lan. "Oh. Comrade Jia."
"Comrade Shen."
"Fenfang was saying how you and Comrade Zheng might… be a good match," he said with a stiff smile. "We just wanted to help. He's got a good future ahead."
Jia Lan tilted her head, her expression composed. "So you've decided matchmaking is your new calling?"
"It's not like that," Fenfang laughed awkwardly. "We just thought, given your situation—"
"My situation?" Jia Lan's smile sharpened.
"You're always so… independent," Fenfang rushed. "We thought maybe you wouldn't reach out for this sort of opportunity yourself."
"You're right," Jia Lan said coolly. "I wouldn't. Especially not behind my back."
There was a pause. The koi in the pond below stirred lazily.
Fenfang fidgeted with the strap of her purse. "We only meant well."
"And that's what concerns me," Jia Lan said, stepping forward. Her voice was low but firm. "You and Comrade Shen are neither my family nor my friends. You have no place making decisions about my personal life."
Shen Yimin opened his mouth, then closed it again.
Jia Lan continued, her tone even colder. "If I wanted to marry a Ministry clerk for advancement, I would have had better options arranged by my family long ago. I don't lack connections. I was raised in a household where I watched officials visit for tea and calligraphy lessons before I even turned ten."
Fenfang's smile faltered, eyes darting.
"And while I'm sure Comrade Zheng is very promising," Jia Lan added, "I don't need your help—especially not when it comes wrapped in flattery and self-interest."
"We're not being selfish—" Shen Yimin began.
"You aren't?" Jia Lan's voice finally rose, like steel beneath silk. "Then why bring him to me instead of introducing him to yourself, Fenfang?"
Fenfang's face flushed. "I thought you'd be grateful."
"Grateful," Jia Lan repeated slowly. "For being pushed into an awkward setup like I'm a pawn on a game board?"
She took a slow step closer, looking between them. "I suggest next time, if you wish to climb society's ladder, you don't use me as the rung. You may not lack ambition, but clearly, you lack manners."
Shen Yimin bristled. "You've always thought yourself above everyone, haven't you?"
Jia Lan smiled, genuinely this time. "No, Comrade Shen. I've never had to think it."
There was a brief silence after Jia Lan's parting words. For a heartbeat, even the light plucking of the guzheng seemed to falter.
Across from her, Liu Fenfang's smile stiffened, the corners twitching as if uncertain whether to maintain her fake composure or let the irritation show. Shen Yimin's expression was unreadable, but the way his jaw tightened said enough.
The man Liu Fenfang had tried to push toward Jia Lan—a lean, suited gentleman with neatly combed hair and a Ministry badge gleaming on his lapel—shifted uncomfortably.
He gave a polite nod. "Apologies, Miss Jia. I didn't know this meeting wasn't… arranged with your consent."
Jia Lan gave him the barest smile. "No offense taken. I suppose we were both unwilling guests at this little play."
Liu Fenfang let out a too-loud laugh. "Oh, Lan Lan! Always joking. I thought since we're all from similar circles now—"
"We're not," Jia Lan interrupted quietly, without heat. "You're here as someone's guest. I was invited. That's not the same."
Sister Li, sipping her tea nearby with great interest, nearly choked.
Fenfang's cheeks burned red. "I meant no harm. We were just trying to connect people, you know? Build mutual benefits—"
"Build connections?" Jia Lan tilted her head slightly. "That's a lovely thought. But I don't lack connections, Comrade Liu. My family has them. Respectfully, perhaps what's lacking here… is manners."
That one landed. Even Shen Yimin looked away.
The mayor's wife was beginning her final closing remarks on stage, her voice elegant and practiced, but a few heads nearby had clearly turned toward Jia Lan's table. Their expressions were difficult to read—some surprised, others entertained.
Fenfang's voice turned sweet, like honey hiding vinegar. "Well, it's not like we meant to offend—"
"But you did," Jia Lan said evenly, lifting her teacup. "In the future, I hope you'll remember that not everyone is waiting for someone to hand them value. Some of us are born with it. And others of us earn it the proper way."
She took a delicate sip, her posture elegant and unshaken.
Shen Yimin stood awkwardly, brushing imaginary dust from his sleeve. "We should probably return to our table."
"Yes," Fenfang muttered. "Let's not cause a scene."
"You already did," Sister Li whispered gleefully behind her teacup.
She turned gracefully, skirt swaying as she walked away without another word.
Fenfang stood frozen, breath shallow, chest tight.
Shen Yimin muttered, "What a waste of kindness."
Fenfang's jaw trembled. "She's forgotten where she came from."
"No," he replied, watching Jia Lan vanish around the flowering hedge. "She just knows where she's going."
---
Back inside the car, Sister Li was cradling a paper box of pastries like it contained imperial treasure.
"Lan Lan! You took your sweet time. Don't tell me that overdressed pair pulled you aside?"
"They did," Jia Lan replied, slipping into the seat with barely a wrinkle on her qipao.
"Well?" Sister Li leaned in, curious. "Was it scandalous or just pathetic?"
"Both," Jia Lan said smoothly. "Apparently, I was being gifted like a fruit basket to some Ministry clerk."
Sister Li gasped. "Lan Lan!"
"Oh, don't worry." She reached for a candied plum. "I declined. Politely. Then not so politely."
"They have nerve," Sister Li muttered. "Trying to use you like their personal calling card. Tch! What do they think—just because you don't strut around bragging about your family background, you must be some lonely poor maiden?"
Jia Lan smirked. "Let them think so. It makes the fallout more theatrical."
Sister Li let out a wheezy laugh. "Now that's the Jia Lan I know."
Jia Lan popped the plum into her mouth and leaned back, watching the city trees blur past the window.
Her family didn't need to show off. Their name opened doors without noise.
And she? She walked through those doors alone—and never owed anyone a thank-you for it.