Time has its own manner of flowing: never loud, never declarative, yet powerful enough to redirect entire lives.
From those afternoons spent on the veranda overlooking the sea, the childhood years of the three were quietly carved into delicate grooves, guiding them toward choices that seemed natural — yet were, in truth, carefully arranged.
As Dĩ Yến entered adolescence, her gift became increasingly undeniable.
The once careless sketches drawn along the margins of her books grew balanced, refined — sophisticated enough to command the respect of adults. She did not merely perceive color; she understood proportion, sensed how a single cut could alter a woman's movement, grasped the intimate relationship between light, fabric, and emotion.
Every well-timed word of praise from Ngạo Thiên sank like a chisel into stone, laying layer upon layer of the person she would become. She believed this talent was entirely her own — an innate blessing, a gift bestowed by heaven.
Yet life rarely grants anything without complication.
Behind every affirmation, Ngạo Thiên had already cleared the path.
Not forcefully. Not conspicuously.
He did not compel — he calibrated.
From London, his calls carried suggestions as light as passing air.
"You should try the textile masterclass at the Fashion Cultural Institute."
A harmless recommendation on the surface.
But it drew Dĩ Yến into an enclosed circle of professors, young designers, and critics perpetually searching for new talent. As Ngạo Thiên had anticipated, the class ignited something profound within her — a sharpened sense of professional identity.
A letter of introduction soon opened the door to part-time work at a boutique atelier. The owner, incidentally, was a longstanding partner of the Tống family, who discreetly transferred a "minor sponsorship" to secure Dĩ Yến's internship.
Such "coincidences" continued to unfold.
A postgraduate scholarship in fashion appeared like a miracle — yet unseen hands had already moved: her application subtly endorsed, her portfolio delivered to selection committees, recommendation emails dispatched past midnight.
Everything advanced with uncanny smoothness.
Even Dĩ Yến herself could scarcely explain it.
Her father, Tống Hành, regarded her with quiet satisfaction.
He never imposed the rigid expectations of corporate succession upon her. In his heart, allowing his daughter to pursue a "creative path" seemed safer than casting her into the brutal arenas of conglomerate governance. He believed indulgence was protection.
Ngạo Thiên understood this perfectly.
And so he constructed further contexts ensuring Tống Hành perceived fashion not merely as natural — but as wise.
From London came a meticulously prepared "market research report" — authored by a credible third party arranged by Ngạo Thiên — outlining the strategic potential of a fashion brand within a Vũ–Tống alliance. The logic was elegant: if Dĩ Yến pursued design, ÉCLAT could evolve beyond aesthetics into a gateway for lifestyle market expansion.
Tống Hành, captivated by the notion of a venture both "safe" and lucrative, accepted without hesitation.
"My daughter has her own inclinations. Let her choose her path — I support her."
On another front, Ngạo Thần observed everything through different eyes.
Standing upon the rooftop terrace of a Mayfair townhouse, he once joked that Dĩ Yến was fortunate to receive more attention from his elder brother than even a blood sibling.
But beneath that humor lay an emotion no longer childish.
His affection had matured — growing with every shared glance, every quiet smile.
He never voiced it.
Instead, he immersed himself in studies of finance and governance, driven by duty to the family empire and by a silent resolve: to one day protect the girl he cherished, through intellect and invisible strength.
Ngạo Thiên, meanwhile, revealed nothing of his backstage maneuvers.
He existed flawlessly within the guise of a "silent patron."
Discreet sponsorships. Minor transfers to academic funds. Carefully arranged encounters with renowned designers — each perceived by Dĩ Yến as extraordinary fortune.
Each reaction of hers — each unguarded smile — served Ngạo Thiên as both reward and fuel, sharpening the architecture of his designs.
Once, Dĩ Yến nearly strayed from the trajectory he had constructed.
An international executive training program emerged — understated yet prestigious, designed for heirs of financial dynasties. For a brief moment, she considered it.
But just as her application neared completion, a minor disruption intervened: a technical error within the submission portal, an abruptly altered deadline.
In place of application, she was redirected toward a private seminar on "Creative Aesthetics," personally recommended by one of the program's evaluators.
That seminar, unexpectedly, helped her rebuild her portfolio.
A portfolio now entirely devoted to fashion.
All alternate paths were gently corrected back toward a singular axis:
Fashion.
Dĩ Yến harbored no suspicion.
She believed herself favored by fate.
Every fabric sample, every compliment, every opportunity felt like a coherent fragment of destiny: ÉCLAT, runways, brilliance.
She never perceived the vast chessboard beneath her steps.
Within his study, Ngạo Thiên typed yet another email.
Its wording was precise, unembellished:
"I wish to recommend a promising student. I am prepared to support her internship and introduce her to a designer."
Sent past midnight.
His fingers trembled slightly — not from fear, but from something colder, more complex:
The quiet persistence of vengeance.
He needed Dĩ Yến positioned precisely where her radiance would one day serve purposes far beyond her comprehension.
And Dĩ Yến, all the while, believed every decision entirely her own.
That belief strengthened her.
Yet beneath the surface, an unseen hand had already inscribed the route she followed — destiny drawn not with spectacle, but with certainty.
Within the Vũ estate, where the sounds of childhood had long since faded, the footsteps of the future advanced relentlessly along rails invisible to all.
Message of Chapter 2
Destiny is not always accident.
Often, it is an edifice constructed through silent calculation.
What we call "talent" may be both genuine and shaped by another's design.
And whether aware or not, human beings continue forward along paths long prepared for them.