115: Recognition

---

Master Fu and Master Lu were half-bickering, half-laughing like two old scholars debating calligraphy strokes.

Lin Yue stood between them awkwardly, feeling like a vase caught between two collectors.

"Are you staying long at the Liang Conglomerate?" Master Fu asked, his smile never fading.

"I'm just here for the Chenhua Project," Lin Yue replied gently, her hands folded politely. "Once the project is launched, I'll leave. I'm only here as an artist."

Master Fu nodded, amused. "Good. Artists like you shouldn't be tied down too long."

But Master Lu's expression turned more serious. "After the project, come find me," he said, locking eyes with her.

Lin Yue blinked. "Eh?"

Master Fu raised a brow. "What do you want to give her?"

Master Lu rolled his eyes. "What business is that of yours?"

"Don't you start again!" Master Fu snapped. "She's in the Capital now, isn't she? That makes her our talent."

"She's from my district," Master Lu declared. "She'll join our Artists' Association."

"You wish!" Master Fu shot back. "She hasn't promised anyone yet."

The atmosphere heated rapidly between the two old masters as Lin Yue stood there helplessly, unsure whether to laugh or run.

Just as Master Fu clenched his fists dramatically, a knock came at the door.

Two men entered, each bowing to their respective masters.

"Master Fu, Young Miss is calling."

"Old Master Lu, there's an urgent call for you."

Master Fu turned to Lin Yue. "I'll call you soon."

Master Lu nodded with finality. "Me too. Before I leave the Capital."

—

And just like that, the two legendary men exited in dramatic fashion, throwing glares at each other and muttering all the way out.

Lin Yue finally let out a breath she didn't realize she was holding.

Then her phone buzzed quietly in her hoodie pocket.

Uncle Song.

"Xiao Yue, how are you?" His voice warm.

"I'm fine, Uncle Song," she said with a soft smile.

"If people didn't know better, they'd think I'm the gallery owner and not you!" he chuckled.

Lin Yue laughed quietly. "I've been busy, but I'll try to visit next week. I sent over some paintings."

"How many?"

"Twenty."

"Twenty!?" he laughed so loudly she had to pull the phone away. "You'll make me live to a hundred!"

They chatted a while longer before Uncle Song grew serious.

"Oh—and Xu Group came by asking for you. Said they'd give you anything if you joined them."

Lin Yue's brows furrowed. "And?"

"I told them you were out of town indefinitely. But they didn't look like they were giving up anytime soon."

Lin Yue said nothing.

Uncle Song continued, "Also—Master Fu and Master Lu dropped by. I gave them your number."

Lin Yue smiled. "We've already met. Just now, actually."

They spoke a little more before hanging up.

—

She stepped outside the conference room—and found Zhang Qian waiting.

Zhang Qian was kicking herself inside as she replayed the meeting moment.

How could she have doubted Lin Yue?

How had she forgotten she was the Yue? The Dreamlight Gallery owner? That prodigy?

Even though HR hadn't said much about Lin Yue's background, the way the old masters surrounded her, how they'd flooded to her gallery opening ceremony—it wasn't ordinary.

But then… what was with the gossip about Lin Yue being pregnant and living alone?

Something didn't add up.

—

As she stood lost in thought, the door opened.

Lin Yue stepped out and Zhang Qian startled, immediately grabbing her wrist.

"You really do know all those masters?" Zhang Qian asked hesitantly.

Lin Yue just smiled without answering.

Should she tell her that today wasn the second time she'd met them?

Zhang Qian seemed to get the message. She nodded slowly. "You've done a good job."

Before she could say more, Jin Shu arrived, looking flustered. "CEO wants everyone on the design floor."

They followed him silently.

—

The three moved toward the elevator in silence. Zhang Qian couldn't stop stealing glances at Lin Yue.

This woman… she was definitely not what she seemed. Quiet and modest on the surface, but her roots ran deep.

Who exactly are you, Lin Yue?

—

When they arrived, the design floor was as silent as a shrine.

Liang Yexuan stood at the front, black suit pristine, hands tucked into his pockets.

His tall frame gave off a cold, unapproachable energy, the room's temperature dropping just from his presence alone.

Lin Yue moved to her desk quietly. Zhang Qian took her place beside Qin Ke.

Jin Shu took his place behind Liang Yexuan.

Liang Yexuan scanned the team.

Then, his eyes landed on Lin Yue.

Her eyes met his, and for a second, she felt breathless.

However, his expression didn't change.

Not a bit.

Instead, he looked away.

"Everyone has done an excellent job," he finally said, voice calm and sharp. "You've all proven yourselves. We're qualified to enter the bidding round, and our chances of winning are high."

The room erupted in applause.

However, Song Ziyan watched the scene with gritted teeth.

Wasn't Lin Yue called because she was accused of plagiarism? What happened? Why was everyone clapping happily?

She forced a brittle smile and clapped along with everyone else, eyes burning holes into Lin Yue's back.

Liang Yexuan continued. "Special recognition goes to our new artist. She joined less than a month ago, and yet, when the project timeline was cut short, she delivered a concept that captured everything we needed."

Everyone turned to look at Lin Yue. She gave a small smile, humble and quiet.

Song Ziyan's blood boiled. That face… that smile. It made her want to tear her apart.

Liang Yexuan ended the briefing. "We'll be working overtime until the bid. Your team leaders will issue schedules."

—

As he turned and walked away, followed by Jin Shu, Qin Ke, and Zhang Qian, Lin Yue's gaze lingered on his back.

Her heart ached.

He still didn't remember.

The man she'd once loved. The father of her unborn child.

Gone—replaced by this cold, unreachable version of him.

Lost in her thoughts, a voice snapped her out of it.

"So… the weekend is tomorrow. Are we still going to your place?""

Lin Yue looked up.

Song Ziyan stood in front of her, that same smug smile painted on her lips, as she twirled a pen in her hand.

This girl never ran out of ways to stir trouble.

---