The news of Mu Feichi's attendance at the socialite ball soon travelled to Qi Siyu's ears from the organizers.
It was a coincidence that when Qiao Ximin had approached her to share her misery about the competition, the two had caught wind of the news in the middle of their venting. The news of the Young Commander's attendance had given Qiao Ximin a sudden boost of hope.
However, Qi Siyu eyed Qiao Ximin's naive excitement with condescension. "Did you know...?" she asked rhetorically, "...the first dance the Young Commander will have is with the number one first-class socialite?" She explained this to Qiao Ximin with a crooked smile. "What are you so excited about?"
Her words were like a hailstorm that had crashed down on Qiao Ximin's parade. "I..." Qiao Ximin froze, the smile on her face twisted into an unbearably sour expression as she bit down on her lips, her hands gripping so tightly onto the teacup in her hands that it almost broke.