Chapter 10: My name is Xiao Yan

Genting Pavilion.

The hall glowed under dazzling lights, crystal chandeliers scattering prisms of color, making the crowd of second-generation elites shimmer in their finery.

It was Lu Qingqi’s birthday party, a gathering of familiar faces from Nanbo City’s rich-kid circle. They clustered in threes and fours, champagne flutes in hand, gossiping about the latest cars, watches, or hot spots.

Lu Qingqi, in a flashy burgundy suit with sleeves rolled to his forearms, flashed a limited-edition watch. He held a wine glass, chatting with a few acquaintances.

Catching sight of Tao Cheng entering, he raised a hand. “Yo, you made it! Where’s the gift?”

Tao Cheng, casual with an unlit cigarette dangling from his lips, sauntered over. “Already on the gift table. Mine’s the flashiest package—you’ll spot it instantly.”

He nudged Lu Qingqi’s arm, winking. “You might forget who gave what, but if someone didn’t show with a gift…”

Lu Qingqi raised an eyebrow, then laughed, sipping his wine. “Trying to mess with me, huh? I see through you.”

He clapped Tao Cheng’s shoulder. “Stop standing around. Eat, drink! I hired a dance troupe—gonna have some waist-twisting action later.”

“Oh?” Tao Cheng leaned in, voice low. “Skimpy outfits?”

Lu Qingqi grinned wickedly, drawing out the word: “Bi-ki-nis.”

“Nice! You’re the man!” Tao Cheng whistled.

The surrounding second-gens chuckled.

Lu Qingqi was known for his petty grudges, self-righteous fantasies, and lingering chuunibyou streak—not the most popular guy. Few truly clicked with him, but Tao Cheng was an exception.

Both were rich second-gens, but their lives differed. Lu Qingqi, an only child, was spoiled rotten; Tao Cheng came from a sprawling family—four brothers, three sisters, two younger sisters, and a brother—a chaotic clan of spenders.

As they spoke, upbeat music pulsed from the dance floor. Bikini-clad dancers swayed to the beat, drawing cheers.

Lu Qingqi raised his glass, but his eyes flicked to the entrance, waiting for someone.

“Qingqi, over here!”

He turned toward the voice. Yuki Shirahara glided through the crowd in a sequined halter dress, its hem barely covering her thighs, her long, pale legs catching the light.

She held a pink gift box, smiling brightly.

“Hey, sister-in-law’s here!” The crowd hooted and whistled playfully.

Yuki’s cheeks flushed, but she approached Lu Qingqi and handed him the box. “Happy birthday, Qingqi. I wasn’t sure what you’d like, so I made this soy milk powder myself. Drink it daily. I hope you… grow taller soon.”

Lu Qingqi’s mouth twitched.

His height—1.63 meters—was a sore spot in a circle where most guys towered at 1.67 meters or more. Standing next to Liu Wangjiang’s near-1.8-meter frame always left him craning his neck, feeling like a puffed-up bantam.

“Thanks,” he muttered, grabbing the box and passing it to a waiter. “Put this with the gift pile.”

Just then, the crystal curtain at the entrance parted, and a tall figure stepped in.

Liu Wangjiang, in a tailored black suit, stood upright, his stern face a quiet contrast to the raucous atmosphere.

His calm gaze swept the room, settling on Lu Qingqi.

“Brother Wangjiang,” Yuki greeted first, her smile warm, as if addressing a sibling.

The second-gens nearby froze, their wine glasses still.

Everyone knew Lu Qingqi and Liu Wangjiang were like oil and water.

Rumor had it that in high school, Lu Qingqi caught Liu Wangjiang trying to steal Yuki, sparking their feud. They’d avoided each other ever since.

All eyes locked on Lu Qingqi, expecting an explosion—his temper made Liu’s presence a bold provocation.

But, shockingly, Lu Qingqi’s smile didn’t falter. A complex glint flashed in his eyes before he raised his glass, playing the gracious host. “Thanks for coming.”

Liu Wangjiang approached, his voice steady, audible to those nearby. “Happy birthday.”

Lu Qingqi nodded, gesturing with his glass. “Thanks. Grab a seat, enjoy the food.”

Liu said nothing more, blending into the crowd as acquaintances greeted him.

Only when Liu’s black suit vanished into the throng did Lu Qingqi’s smile fade. He stared at the amber liquid in his glass, malice and venom surging in his eyes.

He’s here.

That bastard rival who dared flaunt himself is here!

Today, I’ll ruin him—shatter his reputation!

“Qingqi.” Yuki tugged his sleeve gently, her tone cautious. “It’s your birthday. Don’t dwell on bad stuff. About back then… it wasn’t what you thought. Wangjiang was just checking my leg after I twisted it dancing.”

“I know,” Lu Qingqi replied lightly, his tone unreadable.

He shoved his empty glass into Yuki’s hand and headed off. “Gotta hit the bathroom.”

Yuki held the glass, her gaze drifting to Liu Wangjiang across the crowd, a strange light in her eyes.

The second-gens, expecting drama, felt let down.

They’d braced for a showdown, given the infamous grudge—childhood friends turned bitter enemies, a story the circle loved to gossip about.

But Lu Qingqi didn’t snap, just headed to the bathroom. Liu Wangjiang chatted elsewhere, their paths diverging without a glance.

Lu Qingqi didn’t go to the bathroom.

He slipped into the underground garage, to a surveillance blind spot where his car waited in the shadows.

Inside, on the passenger seat: a champagne-colored gown, gold high heels, and makeup supplies.

Minutes later, the car door opened. A “socialite” stepped out in heels, holding an invitation marked “Xiao Yan.”

With it, she re-entered the party.

The room’s attention snapped to her like a magnet.

The noisy dance floor hushed; even the bikini dancers dimmed in her presence.

Men’s eyes glued to “Xiao Yan,” awe and curiosity burning, drawn to approach. Women eyed her outfit with envy or wariness, whispering about her origins.

Using her gown and makeup, she subtly wielded [Mental Domination]—planting subconscious suggestions: She’s beautiful. I want to approach her. She’s the center.

No need to fully control anyone—just nudge their thoughts.

“Xiao Yan” lifted her chin, gliding through the crowd in heels.

Liu Wangjiang, aren’t you the noble young master?

Let’s see it all crumble.

If I can’t swap your gender, I’ll ruin your name!

“Hello, Mr. Liu.” Her voice was smooth, confident. “I’m Xiao Yan.”

She extended a delicate hand, clad in a white lace glove.