Não é tarde.

Inside the resplendent banquet hall of the Grand Yunmeng Palace, lights blazed brilliantly and every seat was filled with distinguished guests. At the center stage, Yun Qiuya, radiant in a crimson tailcoat gown, stood arm in arm with He Lingfeng, who was impeccably dressed in a suit. Both held glasses of fine wine, smiling graciously as they received congratulations from those gathered.

Yun Qiuya’s appearance that evening was especially dazzling. Her figure was accentuated perfectly by the form-fitting red gown—a striking contrast to her usual loose t-shirts. Tonight, her curves drew admiring glances from all around. The diamonds at her ears sparkled under the chandeliers, lending her an air of elegant nobility.

“Qiuya, you look absolutely stunning tonight!” Wen Wan’er exclaimed in admiration.

“That’s right, that’s right. Lingfeng, you lucky devil,” one of He Lingfeng’s friends chimed in, raising his glass and looking at Qiuya with genuine appreciation.

Those nearby echoed their praise, their murmured conversations filled with compliments for Yun Qiuya.

He Lingfeng, holding a microphone, stood by Yun Qiuya’s side. “Thank you all for taking time out of your busy lives to join our celebration. I hope you enjoy a wonderful evening,” he announced.

Though his face bore a smile, his eyes betrayed a hint of anxiety as he glanced around the room, searching for someone.

Then, as everyone raised their glasses in a toast, He Lingfeng’s hand trembled—the wine spilled across his shirt, leaving a dark stain.

Yun Qiuya immediately leaned