Chapter 10: Marry Me

Chloe met her gaze. "It’s your home now, too."

"Do you want to go in and see? My parents aren't home right now, though."

"No need." Clara took a moment to compose herself. Having studied history, she remembered this area; she knew exactly what kind of people possessed the ancestral right to live here.

"So, your parents' current line of work is..."

"Confidential."

Clara looked at her for a while, as if processing this information. Once she had digested it, she didn't ask further. Finally, it made sense why Chloe’s father’s profession was untraceable and her mother’s history was a jumble. The reason there wasn't a single word of truth online was because there

couldn't

be.

Clara remained silent for a long time. After walking a short distance, she nodded. "Then it really wasn't suitable to send me back here."

Chloe couldn't quite read her emotions. "There are many requirements and rules here. You might not adapt; it’s normal not to like it."

Clara adjusted the sunglasses on the bridge of her nose. "I'm hungry. I want to eat the Lychee shrimp at the Bai Family Mansion. Are you coming?"

Chloe was puzzled. "You’ve been here before?"

Clara smiled and pulled her along. "I went to university at Peking University."

In the classical courtyard, the pavilions, corridors, and flora were steeped in antique charm. Clara sat at the table, listening to the wind and the birds in the garden.

She thought to herself: It really wasn't suitable for her to be sent here. She had a temperament that attracted storms. Wherever she went, there were cameras; whatever she did was easily photographed. In a way, Howard was right to bring Chloe to Hong Kong as quickly as possible and keep Clara there as well. Otherwise, those unscrupulous media outlets might have affected others—like Chloe’s parents. Keeping them apart was a form of protection. No wonder Howard remained tight-lipped about them.

In times like these, Clara knew the further she stayed from them, the better. It prevented the infamy attached to her name from splashing onto others. She knew exactly how serious such media interference could be for people in confidential work.

Speaking of which, she had never wanted fame. Nor did she think she needed it. Everyone said she was flamboyant, but she never tried to be. When she was born, the family was overjoyed and held several celebrations, which the media covered extensively. Later, some in the group got a taste of the benefits.

Represented by the Third Uncle, those in charge of the group's PR would buy promotional pieces whenever they found an event worth publicizing—like the auction when she was nine, or her later attendance at European royal galas. The image of "Howard Wen Ni" was used countless times to shield the group from negative influence. After all, using an excellent, sophisticated child to represent the company was the most tolerant, harmless, and effective tactic.

Penelope had been reluctant to let her be in the public eye, but during family gatherings, those people would always say, "You two can't keep Wen Ni hidden forever." "With Wen Ni’s status, the people she meets are bound to be extraordinary; she’ll be photographed regardless."

Her uncles always praised her for bringing honor to the family, acting as if they wanted the whole world to know how brilliant their young niece was. It made them seem like loving elders who were truly happy for her. They even claimed that if Clara entered the group in the future, building public credibility early would be highly beneficial.

But Clara didn't want to enter the group. After she turned thirteen, Howard and Penelope stopped letting her appear in public. Clara even changed her name once—before she entered the School of Archaeology and Museology at PKU to be groomed as a successor for confidential restoration projects. She changed her name and her household registration, becoming an ordinary student with an unknown background.

Yet, in the third year of her training, on the eve of finishing her studies and entering a confidential project, it all crumbled because of a single paparazzi photo. Clara still remembered that day, sitting at the long table of the National Museum working group's review meeting. Facing the mentors who had trained her for three years, she watched them express their regrets. Meanwhile, outside the conference room, the whole world was buzzing about the beauty of the Harrison family's princess now that she was grown.

Clara was pushed back into her original life by the weight of public opinion. She admitted there was an element of revenge spending in her lifestyle. Even so, her largest expenses over the years had only ever been at auctions. She could ignore the numbers on a check just to acquire a specific artifact she desired. It was a form of compensation this identity gave her.

The most ridiculous part, however, was that she wasn't even the Harrisons' biological daughter.

After lunch, Clara slept in the hotel for an entire day. Unusually, she woke up at six the next morning. At eight o'clock, she made an appointment to meet someone.

In a cafe outside the Institute of Cultural Heritage, a white-haired gentleman sat down and said with a smile, "A while ago, the Hong Kong Museum invited me to appraise a Ming/Qing seal box. They said the donor, a Miss Jiang, was certain it was a Tang or Song artifact. I guessed it was you; no one else has such keen eyes."

Clara picked up the thread. "I wouldn't have been able to tell if it weren't for the teacher's excellent instruction."

Mr. Yuan waved his hand. "Is everything going smoothly over there?"

"Smoothly."

Mr. Yuan seemed to know what she was worried about. "Don't be afraid. A standard restoration post won't be denied to you because of this."

Clara asked him, "You saw the news?"

Seeing Clara’s light tone, Mr. Yuan tried his best not to show concern and keep the atmosphere from turning stiff. "I wish I could have missed it, haha." But it wasn't a light matter after all. He gave a forced laugh for a while before his smile faded. "It's just that this whole situation is truly extraordinary."

Clara didn't beat around the bush. "I came today because I wanted to ask you a question. The initial reason for rejecting my entry into the confidential group was that my identity attracted too much attention. What about now?"

Mr. Yuan remained silent for a long time as people passed by. It wasn't until the glass of water in his hand was empty that he was forced to speak. "Child, let it go. That matter is in the past."

Clara didn't follow his lead. "If I hadn't been Howard Wen Ni from the start—if I hadn't been born in Hong Kong, but in Beijing, into an ordinary family, a family that wouldn't be disturbed by the media—would the result have been different?"

She wanted an answer. But Mr. Yuan didn't give her one, nor did he want her to believe her past was a series of absurd mistakes. "It is hard to argue 'ifs' in this world. Because you were Howard Wen Ni, every person and event you encountered shaped who you are now and the paths you chose. It may also be because you are you that some paths, though chosen, cannot be walked."

Mr. Yuan told her to look on the bright side. Clara sat in the cafe alone for a while longer. She understood his well-meaning intentions. She also understood that no answer

was

the answer.

The family gathering was held as scheduled, the day after the board resolution took effect. Everyone got the result they wanted—except for Clara, who was being removed from the family.

Early in the morning, someone delivered the cake for the gathering, placing it on the outdoor dessert table. Long tables were set up in the garden, covered in silk cloths and adorned with fresh floral arrangements and fruit. The roses on the flower wall bloomed in massive clusters, their petals falling to the ground to form a floral velvet carpet laid by the servants.

The gifts from the uncles and aunts arrived with them, piling up in half the living room. These were welcoming gifts for Chloe. This counted as Chloe’s first official meeting with them. After today, Chloe would be a legitimate member of the family.

Howard, putting on a brave face, had to engage in pleasantries with the brothers he had clashed with just recently. The Fourth Uncle was in an especially good mood, enthusiastically chatting with Howard about Chloe. "I heard she’s a top student who just graduated from HKU. That’s wonderful." He looked around. "Is Chloe here yet? Let us see her."

Howard was at a loss for words and could only send someone to hurry her. "Wait a moment, the child is shy."

The Fourth Aunt added, "Why hasn't the Eldest Sister-in-law come out either?" Howard could only send someone else to check.

Nearby, a younger cousin from the Fifth Aunt’s family listened to the adults' chatter and noticed not a single person mentioned Clara. She leaned toward Howard and whispered, "Uncle, is Sister Wen Ni not coming today?"

Howard couldn't send someone to hurry her. "She’s not feeling well."

"Oh, I see. Okay."

Taking the opportunity, Howard messaged Quentin: [Go check on Wen Ni.]

Of his three sons, Quentin was the one Howard trusted most. Zander would likely take her out to mess around. Elliot would undoubtedly stir the pot. The eldest was the most reliable.

The elevator stopped at the top floor. Quentin saw Clara sitting in the rooftop garden of the main Cloud Bay villa. The curved sofa faced the garden, and in the distance lay the magnificent, surging sea. Quentin walked toward her.

Clara heard him but didn't turn around. On the table before her was a bottle of champagne and snacks. Through the railing, she watched the bustling scene of the lawn party below. It was just as lively with or without her.

Clara swirled the champagne in her flute and took a small sip. The sea breeze brushed past her ear, clearing the stray hairs from her forehead, allowing her to see more clearly. Except for her aunt and a few cousins she often played with, no one else cared whether she belonged to this home.

As evening fell and the lights in the courtyard came on, Chloe finally emerged. Her attire was still simple and casual; the only difference was likely the silk scarf tying her hair—the one Clara had helped her choose. The people in the courtyard swarmed around her. She was the center of attention, the star of the show. People warmly took Chloe’s hand, chatting about this and that.

Clara realized then that no matter who stood in that position, they could all wear the same expressions and say the same words.

The sound of footsteps came from behind her. Quentin sat down, following her gaze to the harmonious scene in the garden. He spoke of something seemingly trivial: "Was Beijing fun?"

Clara only then mentioned slowly, "I saw Mr. Yuan."

Quentin actually knew. "Whenever I run into him on business at PKU, he always asks how you’re doing."

Clara lowered her eyes, toying with the flute in her hand as she told Quentin about her conversation with Mr. Yuan. He had told her to look on the bright side. "Because of the people in that courtyard, I tried to look on the bright side once. Before, I thought even my uncles and aunts were good to me, so I figured I’d let it go—a person can’t have everything. But it turns out I was the only one who thought that way; they want everything." Clara put down the glass. "They even want to take away the paperweight Grandfather left me."

This time, she couldn't let it go.

Quentin remembered the time when the Old Patriarch passed away. While every branch of the family was calculating their inheritance and doing everything possible to get more, only Clara had been truly, deeply heartbroken for a long time. She was eight that year. She would wake up and go to her grandfather’s bedside to tell him stories, and at night, she insisted on placing a small cot by his bed to accompany him.

Before he died, the Old Patriarch allocated a large portion of the estate to the eldest branch. Among all the grandchildren, Clara received the most; since he couldn't give her more official equity, he gave her jewelry, antiques, and other precious items. Clara had no concept of property; she was just sad. On the day of the funeral, she couldn't understand the adults laughing and chatting at the table and asked, "Brother, are they not sad anymore?"

Quentin saw clearly that many people simply didn't care about anything other than the division of assets. When he went out, he had overheard someone scolding their own child: "Look at how calculating Howard Wen Ni is; you should learn from her."

Now, the things the Old Patriarch had given Clara were being seized. They weren't short on these items; Clara knew that. "It’s just a memento, but even that isn't allowed." There was no "why." Quentin knew it, and Clara knew it. When people want to abuse their power for personal gain, to suppress you, or to bully you, they don't need a reason. They weren't just bullying Clara; they were targeting the eldest branch that had held power for so long—desperate to prove that the tables had turned and no one could stay on top forever.

Quentin leaned forward slightly, drawing a handkerchief from his breast pocket. Clara dodged before it could touch her cheek. She looked down at the lawn. "I'm fine. I'm not crying; I'm just angry."

As she spoke, her eyes grew redder. She added, "I’m certainly not crying because of them. I’m..." Clara wanted to say more, but her arm was suddenly grasped and pulled. Quentin pressed the handkerchief over her eyes. "You don't need a reason to cry."

Clara’s eyelashes fluttered against his palm. The handkerchief was dampened by layers of warmth. Clara closed her eyes. "I know I can't have everything. That's why when I left Beijing, there was nothing I couldn't accept. I can leave here, too." Her voice was thick with tears. "But I still want the paperweight Grandfather left me. I can give up on having everything, but they want to take everything away."

Everything before Clara was pitch black. Quentin’s deep, magnetic voice rose in the darkness. "You

can

have everything."

The sea breeze carried the noise of the garden party into her ears. Beyond the clamor, their surroundings felt exceptionally still. Quentin spoke again. "Clara can have whatever she wants. You don't need to sacrifice. You only need to take."

Clara was dazed for a moment. She turned her head away. "What else would they let me have? Even my cards have been stopped." At the mention of this, she grew aggrieved again. "I’ve received so many messages and calls lately, telling me this is expiring and that is being deactivated. They know it's all expiring, yet they specifically send messages to remind me. They’re all just here to see me fall."

Clara remembered her previous birthday plans probably wouldn't work out either. She fell silent for a moment. "Big Brother, will it also affect me going to Paris for the fashion shows next month, vacationing in Dubai, and my custom Hermes Kellydoll and butterfly diamond cake?"

As she spoke, she grew quiet again, whispering, "I hate them so much. Why aren't their cards the ones being stopped? Why aren't they the ones losing their jobs and being cursed at? Why do they get more instead?"

In this world, those who are not greedy are always sacrificing for those who are. So why not become a greedy person?

"You want to get back at them?" Quentin, his shoulders broad and imposing, sat on the leather sofa. His large hand, veins slightly prominent, patted her back gently. "I have a way."

Clara looked up at him with tearful eyes. She saw Quentin’s gaze—deep, dark, and inscrutable.

"Marry me."