Saturday night, Yuntian Tower Grand Hotel unfurled like a lit stage; tonight was the grand business ball of City A.

Outside, luxury cars pooled at the curb like a shoal of chrome sharks. Traffic cops waved their batons like reeds in a busy river, clearing a channel so guests could glide ashore. Inside a parked sedan, Little Loli slumped with boredom like a cat on a sill, thumbing her phone with cloud-drifting eyes.

Beep-beep-beep—on the glass, a text glowed like a sudden firefly.

“Oh, it’s Nana,” she breathed, a smile lifting like a lantern as the words blossomed. The message blinked on the screen like fresh ink: “Xiaoxue, snap a pic of you right now. I wanna see how my girl’s dressed.”

She pouted, a cherry petal tilt, then obediently flipped to camera mode; click—one shutter like a silver fish. The photo flew out like a pink butterfly toward her bestie. A Little Loli in a pink princess dress was rare as snow in July, yet a veil like morning mist hid that flawless face.

“KAWAII!!!! So my girl, so cute! That veil’s to spare my eyes, huh?” Her friend’s reply tumbled back like confetti in a breeze.

“Heh, of course,” Little Loli whispered, covering her mouth with a fox’s grin under gauze.

“Xiaoxue, we’ve parked. Time to head in.” Her so-called dad’s voice breezed in like a draft through silk.

He arrived in a midnight-blue tailcoat, peacocking under the lobby lights like a sleek heron; hair gel lacquered his usual loose strands into a glossy crest. “I don’t have a dad like you…” Xiaoxue muttered, her words muffled by the veil like gauze over a flute.

“Tonight you see your father’s final form,” he preened, striking a pose as punchable as a smug peacock.

“Dad, I don’t remember you being this punchable,” Little Loli deadpanned, and her knuckles crackled like small firecrackers in the quiet air.

“Xiaoxue, don’t do that. It’s not ladylike,” he barked, voice dropping like a gavel.

“Tch. I’ll let you win once,” she grumbled, a cat slipping past rain.

He strode toward the venue like a drumbeat crossing a bridge. Behind him, Little Loli gathered her skirt like lifting a pink cloud and chased like a swift sparrow. “Hey—slow down!” she hissed, breath fluttering like a moth.

People along the way didn’t gasp; they saw only a veil and a back like a pale petal, and they kept their praise tucked like notes in a sleeve. They nodded at the pink princess dress, a bloom in a winter garden, then swiveled back to mingle like bees in a hive.

Inside, guests streamed in like a river of silk. The emcee read names like a steady metronome in a bright hall.

“Xiaoxue, ready. We’re going in.” Her so-called dad smoothed the gold-threaded ribbons at her back like sunlight on water.

“You be ready. Don’t wet your pants,” Little Loli flicked back, the line snapping like a rubber band.

A bead of sweat slid down his temple like a slow snail.

The grand hall glowed: blue palace lanterns hung like low moons, tassels trembling like fish tails in a current. The floor sparked like a sheet of water, and blue velvet drapes fell like the first hush of night. The moment you stepped in, the world went dream-soft, like mist on a lake.

“Ms. Wan, chair of Shali Empress Cosmetics Co., Ltd.—welcome.” The emcee smiled like porcelain, and applause rolled like warm thunder.

A richly dressed lady strode the red carpet like a queen returning to court, her weathered smile sturdy as old oak.

“Next, Mr. Xiao, chairman of Hongli Co., Ltd., and his daughter. Welcome.” “All right, Xiaoxue, let’s go.” He tucked her arm into his, and they stepped in like entering a painted scroll.

Applause surged around them like surf; her so-called dad waved back like a friendly banner.

A waiter’s white gloves pointed them to a table like stars mapping a seat. Other guests sat in twos and threes like small islands in a bright sea. Her so-called dad warmed to the merchants at once, talk chittering like sparrows on a branch.

Little Loli placed her hands on her thighs and sat quiet as still water. Youths at the table let their eyes drift over; a veil always stirs curiosity like fog over a canyon. Under that gauze was a face carved like jade, yet the veil added a second dusk, so minds spun with guesswork like small windmills.

She was used to stares; she stayed unmoved, a rock in a slow stream.

A nearby businessman cleared his throat, his question dropping like a pebble. “This is your daughter, right? Why the veil?”

“My daughter’s a bit shy, please excuse us,” her so-called dad said, the answer floating like a leaf across a pond.

The entrance flow ended; lights sank at once like a tide. The BGM crept in like a black cat along a wall. A voice flowered at center stage: “Ladies and gentlemen, business elites—welcome to the City A Chamber of Commerce gala!”

A spotlight speared the center like a sudden sunbeam. The host stood in the blaze like a lit beacon, words hot as fresh tea. Applause battered back like a rainstorm, and even Xiao Qianxue clapped a few times, light as tapping bamboo.

The opening remarks rushed past like a train in the night. “Please welcome Cai Baoqiang, President of the City A Chamber of Commerce!” A middle-aged man mounted the stage, his sentences crackling like firecrackers.

“Please welcome my son, Cai Wenbin, to lay out our future goals,” he finished, pride lifting like a bright kite.

Cai Wenbin stepped out; gone was the playful mask, and in its place stood iron-straight seriousness, eyes firm as tempered steel.

From the lectern he scanned the hall like a hawk on a thermal. At last he found what he wanted: a pink silhouette at the side, like a dawn cloud.

“Our goal is to commercialize the XXX block…” His voice steadied like a plumb line, and every ear tilted toward him like sunflowers to light.

“Not bad,” Little Loli judged, eyes catching the stage glow like mica. “Xiaoxue, is that your classmate?” her so-called dad leaned in, nosy as a magpie.

“Yeah. So what?” Her reply floated like a dandelion puff.

“If my daughter could be like that…” His gaze drifted like a small boat, full of longing.

“You’re overthinking. What’s so great about that…” She curled her lip like a pink petal; in her heart, she could do better, easy as a breeze.

“That’s our future goal and plan,” Cai Wenbin wrapped up. “Please enjoy the ball and the feast.” The hall exhaled together like night wind over a lake.