Back at the Fu mansion, things were quiet and peaceful.

The mansion sat in Golden Gates, one of the most expensive and private neighborhoods in the capital. There were only five villas in the whole place, and every single one was huge, but the Fu family’s villa was the most eye-catching.

Inside, everything was decorated in an oriental style. Expensive antiques filled the rooms, each one worth a fortune. The sitting room especially looked like a mini-museum. Porcelain vases lined the shelves, and carved wooden furniture sat neatly polished under the warm lights.

In the middle of the room sat Mrs. Fu. She wore a velvety blue cheongsam that made her look elegant and graceful. Even though she was already in her late fifties, she didn’t look like it at all. Her charm was still there, and compared to other women her age, she looked younger, prettier, and far more regal.

Sitting opposite her were Miss Qin and Mrs. Qin. They had rushed over the moment they heard that Fu Jing Rong had finally woken up. They had expected to see him here as well, but to their surprise, the only person in the house was Mrs. Fu herself.

They sat with teacups in hand, chatting politely, though everyone in the room already knew why they had come. Their real purpose wasn’t said out loud, but it didn’t need to be.

Mrs. Fu smiled softly, her eyes calm, hiding every thought she had behind that serene expression.

Mrs. Fu grew tired of the heavy silence that was hanging in the air. She set her teacup down gently and turned her gaze toward the guests, her lips curling into a soft smile.

"Mrs. Qin," she said lightly, "what brings you here today?"

Mrs. Qin straightened her posture, her eyes gleaming as though she had been waiting for that question. She returned the smile, though hers carried a hidden sharpness.

"I heard that your son is already awake," Mrs. Qin replied smoothly. "So we came to congratulate you. Jing Rong has been in a coma for so long—it must have been very hard for you as a mother."

Her voice was dripping with sympathy, but her heart was brimming with gloating and deceit.

Mrs. Fu’s smile didn’t waver. In fact, it deepened ever so slightly, though there was no warmth in it. She could see right through Mrs. Qin’s false concern.

These two—mother and daughter—had never once set foot inside this house during the long days when Fu Jing Rong lay in a coma. Yet, the very moment they heard he was awake, they rushed over as though they had always been concerned.

The reason for their visit was not at all hidden in their eyes.

Mrs. Fu lifted her teacup again, sipping gracefully, hiding the cold amusement in her eyes.

Qin Rulan straightened in her seat, her face still carrying that polite smile, though it was a little stiff now.

"My mother and I have been meaning to come and comfort you for a long time, Mrs. Fu," she said sweetly. "But we were worried that our presence might bring you more pain instead of comfort. You know... it’s not always easy to say the right words at such a time. So now that we heard Jing Rong is awake, we thought we could finally share in your happiness."

Mrs. Fu’s lips curved slowly into a smile, but her eyes were sharp as blades. She leaned back against the armrest of her chair, her voice calm, almost too calm.

"If he had died," she asked softly, "would you have come to offer your condolences then?"

The teacups on the table seemed louder in the silence that followed.

Both Mrs. Qin and Qin Rulan froze, utterly stupefied. They had not expected Mrs. Fu to be this direct, to so effortlessly pierce through their carefully constructed facade.

Qin Rulan’s face paled, her composure cracking as she hurriedly stammered, "N-no, no, that’s not it, Mrs. Fu. Please don’t misunderstand, we—we truly care. That’s not what I meant at all."

Her words tumbled over each other, desperate to patch the hole Mrs. Fu had ripped open.

Mrs. Qin’s fingers tightened slightly on her daughter’s arm. Her trembling smile tried to conceal the sudden tension.

In their social circle, everyone knew that Mrs. Fu was not a woman to trifle with. Her words might be wrapped in velvet, but her tongue was sharp enough to cut glass.

The Qin family was wealthy—undeniably so. But compared to the Fu family, they were little more than ripples against an ocean.

The Fu family’s name had been tied to emperors for generations. Their history was practically woven into the very foundation of the capital.

To cross them was to play with fire.

And so, the Qin women sat, smiling tightly, pretending not to notice the cold edge beneath Mrs. Fu’s words.

Their real purpose today was never about Fu Jing Rong’s health. His coma, his recovery—it was all irrelevant to them.

What mattered was opportunity.

Qin Rulan’s presence in this very room was already a statement. Dressed in her soft pastels, with her carefully groomed demeanor, she was here not just as a visitor, but as an offering.

An unspoken bid.

They wanted a union. The Qin family wanted to tie their name to the Fu family, to secure a foothold that would lift their already comfortable lives into untouchable heights.

Mrs. Qin’s jaw was tight, but she forced her lips into a gracious smile. To get what she wanted, she had no choice but to bow her head before Mrs. Fu.

Inside, her resentment boiled. How dare this woman put on such airs? How dare she humiliate her daughter with such pointed words?

But the Qin family needed this union.

So she swallowed the bitterness and lowered her voice, her tone dripping with forced humility.

"Mrs. Fu, forgive us if our words came out wrong. We truly care about Jing Rong’s health. Rulan and Jing Rong have interacted since their college days, you know. So I thought it would be best if she came to offer her own congratulations. That is all. Nothing else."