Chapter 2 — The Fateful Flight Ends

3A few years ago, when I followed my parents to a social event, I met Mrs. Ky Man. That day she wore a long dark red dress, her jet black curly hair falling loosely over her left shoulder. Long, slender fingers gently rotated the wine glass, then gently took a sip — all movements exuding elegance. Mrs. Ky Man has a very similar temperament to my mother, making me unable to help but secretly observe her many times. That night, almost no one came to the Ky family's table to start a conversation. Maybe out of politeness, or maybe out of sympathy, I proactively walked over to talk to her a few words. She speaks elegantly, behaves properly, and is friendly and approachable — completely unlike the "nouveau riche" rumor. When she was coldly treated by the whole audience, she was still like a red apricot branch in the snow - lonely but brilliant, shining on her own. A few months after returning home, my parents and I organized an auction, inviting the country's top auction experts. Among the works up for auction, there is a painting I painted of Ms. Ky Man's portrait — but I intentionally blurred her facial expressions, creating a vague, unreal feeling. Under the guidance of the auction expert, my painting became the highest priced work that day. After the auction ended, in an interview with a reporter, I openly shared the inspiration for the painting. The art world began to be curious about the relationship between me and Ms. Ky Man. At that time, Mrs. Ky Man proactively made an appointment to meet me. She asked me why, after only a brief meeting, I could use her as inspiration for writing. I won't lie: "Maybe that's Ms. Ky's unique charm. Just one meeting is enough to leave a deep impression on others - like a muse in the eyes of an artist." She smiled softly, a smile as if she was pleased by something interesting. It turns out she can smile like that too — so beautiful. Just a few days later, someone "dug up" a blog post I wrote on a foreign website a few years ago. The article has the content: "Remembering the person in the picture, that person is like in the picture but can't be there." The illustration is a picture I drew, the male character only has half a profile face, but his physique and temperament are eight or nine parts similar to Ky Ngon Xuyen. This time I lied — the picture I drew the day before yesterday, and the paragraph I thought of this morning. Entertainment magazines competed to report on the ambiguous relationship between me and Ky Ngon Xuyen. The magazine's cover is filled with headlines such as "The young lady, in pursuit of Ky Ngon Xuyen, plans to type in the word future mother-in-law." I'm sure Ky Ngon Xuyen will quickly issue a correction. So I made the first move, openly admitting that I had secretly had a crush on him for many years. That evening, I saw Ky Ngon Xuyen's social network account suddenly online. I thought he would immediately clarify the rumors, but unexpectedly he would proactively delete that account. Not long after, my parents received a call from Mrs. Ky Man. They hid in the room and talked for a long time. To this day I still don't know what the three of them said that night. But I was informed that I could start preparing for the wedding between me and Ky Ngon Xuyen - a year later we would get married. 4 Because of the wedding, Ky Ngon Xuyen - a person who has always been considered "in love" - almost turned against his biological mother. At the engagement party between the Giang family and the Ky family, he didn't even bother to appear. The tree has become a boat, Ky Man has recognized me as her daughter-in-law, not allowing Ky Ngon Xuyen to play tricks. After the engagement, the Ky family quickly transferred a large amount of money, promptly resolving my family's financial crisis. When the goal was achieved, the heavy rock in my heart seemed to fall loudly, and I breathed a sigh of relief. Position

But, my parents sat on the sofa, their faces heavy with confidence. Mom held my hand, her eyes were red: "Daughter... today you've suffered a lot of anger... it's actually our fault..."