She’s Being Naughty - Chapter 1

The Xu family’s wedding today was quite a grand affair.

A red carpet stretched from the villa’s entrance all the way to the end of the garden, flanked on both sides by white roses. The air was thick with the cloying scent of flowers. A band played soothing melodies while guests chatted and laughed over glasses of wine. Occasionally, children dashed through the crowd, nearly colliding with waiters carrying trays.

Xu Zhaoyi stood by the second floor window watching it all, her expression blank.

She wore a black slip dress that hit just above her knees, revealing a stretch of porcelain white calves. On her feet were matching stiletto heels, their tips lightly tapping against the windowsill. Her long hair was pulled into a messy low ponytail. She hadn’t even applied lipstick, her bare face looked as though she were attending a funeral.

The glare of headlights flashed below. She squinted, seeing the wedding car return.

A white stretch Lincoln pulled up to the red carpet. The driver stepped out to open the rear door. First came a high heel, silver, thin-stemmed and encrusted with crushed diamonds that sparkled blindingly in the sunlight. Then came a slender leg, white as mutton-fat jade, followed by the hem of a red qipao. The slit was neither too high nor too low, revealing exactly one inch above the knee.

When Jiang Yao stepped out of the car, the surroundings fell silent for a moment.

Xu Zhaoyi heard someone downstairs whisper, “No wonder Old Xu was in such a hurry to bring her home. She really is…”

She didn’t hear the rest. Turning away from the window, she fished her phone out of her bag to check the time.

Five seventeen.

Seventeen minutes late.

The corners of her mouth curled into a cold smirk as she slowly made her way down the stairs.

The living room was already packed. There were relatives of the Xu family, business associates, and a few of Xu Zhaoyi’s close friends. Seeing her descend, the girls exchanged glances and secretly beckoned her over.

Xu Zhaoyi ignored them, walking straight toward the front door.

Two figures were walking up the red carpet. Her father, Xu Jiancheng, was rarely seen in such formal attire, his hair slicked back perfectly. One hand held Jiang Yao’s, while the other waved to the guests, his face beaming with joy.

It was the first time Xu Zhaoyi had seen him this happy.

Her mother had been dead for nearly ten years. In that decade, other women had appeared around Xu Jiancheng, but this was the first one he had ever brought home.

And he had moved so quickly to hold a wedding.

“Zhaoyi!” Xu Jiancheng saw her. His smile stiffened for a fraction of a second before he forced it back up. “Why are you just coming down now? Quick, come over and meet your Auntie Jiang.”

He deliberately emphasized the word “Auntie,” as if issuing a reminder.

Xu Zhaoyi didn’t budge.

She stood her ground, arms crossed over her chest. Her gaze shifted from Xu Jiancheng’s face to Jiang Yao’s, then back again.

“Dad,” she spoke. Her voice wasn’t loud, yet the surrounding noise somehow died down. “Since you’re getting married today, I prepared a gift for you.”

Xu Jiancheng blinked, startled. “A gift?”

Xu Zhaoyi tilted her chin toward the side.

Two young men in black suits walked in through the main entrance, each carrying a large object. They were over a meter tall, circular, and white, with a large character in the center: Dian – Libation/To the Dead.

Funeral wreaths.

A matching pair, no less.

The living room fell into a deathly silence. The band stopped playing. Parents muffled the mouths of their playing children. Every gaze fell upon the two wreaths, then shifted to Xu Zhaoyi, and finally landed on Xu Jiancheng and Jiang Yao.

Xu Jiancheng’s face went beyond mere “unpleasant.” He stared at the wreaths, his mouth twitching. His fists clenched and unclenched repeatedly.

“Xu Zhaoyi!” he hissed, every word squeezed from between his teeth. “What is the meaning of this?”

“It’s a gift,” Xu Zhaoyi tilted her head, her expression feigning innocence. “It’s a wedding, so naturally, I had to send something celebratory. ‘A hundred years of harmony, two hearts joined forever’, it’s a wonderful sentiment.”

She pointed specifically to the white silk banners hanging on the sides of the wreaths. They did indeed bear the words “A Hundred Years of Harmony,” but the context was entirely wrong.

Xu Jiancheng’s face turned livid. Just as he was about to erupt, a light chuckle sounded from beside him.

It was soft and gentle, like a feather brushing across the surface of water.

Jiang Yao took half a step forward.

She was wearing a modified wine-red qipao today, made of high-quality silk embroidered with dark gold peonies. Her hair was swept back into a bun secured by a white jade hairpin, with two small pearl earrings dangling from her lobes. She wore light makeup, her eyebrows were long and thin, and her eyes curved into crescent moons when she smiled.

She looked at Xu Zhaoyi. There was no anger, no embarrassment not even a hint of displeasure. Her gaze was warm and tinged with a smile, as if the funeral wreaths before her weren’t ominous omens, but rather some cute little trinket brought by a child.

“Zhaoyi is so thoughtful,” she spoke, her voice like her persona, soft and mellow. “She even prepared a pair.”

She walked forward a few steps, reaching out to touch the white flowers on the wreaths.

“What kind of flowers are these?” she turned back to ask Xu Zhaoyi, her expression earnest. “I don’t know much about flowers. Are they daisies?”

Xu Zhaoyi said nothing.

All the barbs she had prepared, the sharp stinging words she intended to use once Jiang Yao lost her temper, remained stuck in her throat.

Why is she reacting like this?

“They’re daisies,” a relative whispered awkwardly. “Uh… Miss Jiang, don’t take it to heart, Zhaoyi is just…”

“Daisies are lovely,” Jiang Yao turned and smiled at Xu Jiancheng. “Clean and simple. They look much better than those tacky, bright red flower baskets.”

The fury on Xu Jiancheng’s face froze. For a moment, he didn’t know how to respond.

Jiang Yao looked back at Xu Zhaoyi and extended her hand. “Thank you, Zhaoyi. I’ll accept the gift. Where should we put them? The living room doesn’t seem quite right. How about the garden?”

Xu Zhaoyi stared at the outstretched hand.

The fingers were long, the nails neatly trimmed and coated in clear polish that shimmered under the lights.

She didn’t take it.

“Whatever,” she turned and headed upstairs, her heels clicking sharply against the floor. “Put them wherever you want.”

“Zhaoyi!” Xu Jiancheng called after her.

She didn’t look back. She went straight to her room and slammed the door.

The door frame gave a dull thud.

She leaned against the door, taking a deep breath and slowly letting it out. Her chest felt constricted.

The scene hadn’t gone as planned. She thought Jiang Yao would cry, scream, or lose her composure in front of the guests, making her father look foolish. Then, Zhaoyi would have taken the opportunity to tear the mask off this intruder and show her who really owned this house.

But Jiang Yao didn’t cry. She didn’t rage. She didn’t even frown.

She accepted the funeral wreaths.

She even praised the flowers.

Xu Zhaoyi sat on the edge of her bed, grabbed a pack of cigarettes from her nightstand, and lit one.

Through the drifting smoke, she remembered Jiang Yao’s gaze.

It was gentle, tolerant… even somewhat doting?

Like an adult watching a child throw a tantrum.

She took a sharp drag, causing her to cough violently.

Downstairs, the music started up again. The sounds of laughter and chatter drifted back up. The wedding continued.

It was as if the funeral wreaths had never existed.