Chapter 3
"Stella, seriously, you showed up here dressed like that?" Anisa giggled behind her hand. "This is the Intangible Heritage Expo. Everyone here is some famous master. Aren't you afraid people will think you're just here to clean up?"
Stella just stared at her, not saying a word.
Anisa leaned in, dropping her voice. "Damien's not here. He went to the church with my mom today to pray for a boy."
She flashed a smug smile. "Oh, and my mom said once the baby's born, we'll throw a big wedding. Don't worry. You'll get an invite, Stella."
Stella lowered her gaze, her eyes lingering on the new necklace around Anisa's neck.
This time, Anisha switched to an emerald piece. It was deep, vivid green, crystal clear, truly fine material.
Too bad the craftsmanship was so rough. Such a nice piece of gemstone had turned into something gaudy.
"Anisa." Someone called out from behind.
Anisa turned around and saw her sister, Vera, rushing over, her face brimming with excitement.
She said, "Come on, let's go."
"What's going on?" Anisa asked.
"Tristan from the Clarke family just showed up!" Vera whispered, her excitement barely contained. "He came down from upstairs, and everyone's rushing over to get a glimpse. Let's hurry and see if we can get noticed!"
Anisa's eyes lit up. "Tristan? The Tristan Clarke? The one who..."
"Yes, that's the one!" Vera grabbed Anisa and hurried off. As they passed Stella, Vera tossed her a dismissive look and said, "Why are you standing there? Get out of the way. Don't block the path!"
Stella stayed where she was, watching the sisters rush into the crowd.
Tristan Clarke. That name rang a bell.
The Clarke family in Ingbert was a legendary clan, with a history stretching back a hundred years. Word was, their ancestors had produced an imperial exam champion, and in the early 20th century, they were big-time industrialists who helped save the country through business.
Six generations later, Tristan was the only heir left. But he never bothered with family business.
He spent most of his days in the countryside, living on vegetarian food, and was interested in philosophy, completely detached from the world. People called him the Philosopher Heir.
Stella wondered what he was doing here.
She didn't give it much thought and walked off in the opposite direction.
She wasn't here for gossip. She had real business to handle today.
Reuben's last words to her were about an old friend in Ingbert who had something rare tucked away. He'd told her to go visit that friend once her three years in the world were up.
Over on that side, the crowd had formed a tight circle.
Tristan stood right in the middle, surrounded by a three-foot bubble. Nobody dared step closer. His aura was so intense that people felt suffocated just being near him.
Vera dragged Anisa along, elbowing their way forward, determined to get as close as possible.
"Mr. Clarke!" Vera pushed her way to the front, her face stretched into an eager smile. "I'm Vera Conway, and this is my sister Anisa. I've always admired your reputation, and today I finally get to meet you..."
Tristan didn't even look at her.
He kept his gaze lowered, as if he were scanning the crowd for someone.
Vera's words stuck in her throat, her face going red, then pale.
People nearby were whispering to each other.
"The Conway sisters? Seriously, how do they even have the nerve to push their way in?"
"Right? Mr. Clarke is way out of their league. Like he'd ever bother with them."
Anisa's face fell for a second, but she quickly managed a smile. "Mr. Clarke, are you looking for someone? We know this place pretty well. Maybe we can help."
Tristan finally lifted his gaze.
He gave Anisa a quick look. Just one glance.
Then, without another word, he turned and walked on.
The crowd parted, clearing a path for him.
Anisa stood frozen, her smile still stuck on her face as Tristan strode right past her. He didn't even spare her a sideways glance.
She bit her lip, turning to see where he was headed.
And then, she stopped dead in her tracks.
Tristan came to a halt at a booth 70 feet ahead.
A woman in a white cotton dress was standing right in front of it. It was Stella.
Stella was quietly examining something inside the display case.
It was a porcelain plate.
Blue and white, decorated with scrolling floral vines, the underside marked: "Sevres, Royal Manufactory."
The workmanship was meticulous, the glaze pure and luminous. It was a fine piece. But fine was all it was. Official porcelain from a royal workshop often appeared on the market. It was valuable yet far from rare.
Stella couldn't figure out why Reuben's old friend wanted her to check out this porcelain plate.
"Ms. Barrett." A voice came from behind her.
Stella turned around and saw a young man in a gray suit standing three steps away, his gaze downcast.
Gold-rimmed glasses, a cool and distant aura, and a face that was impossible to forget.
It was Tristan.
Stella arched an eyebrow.
She recognized him. Or rather, she'd seen his photo before.