The summer sun had dipped low by the time the black Hongqi sedan glided smoothly through the gates of the elite compound, its tires barely whispering against the stone-paved drive. Jia Lan sat gracefully in the back seat, her slender fingers resting in her lap, the soft blue fabric of her summer blouse catching the gold of the last rays. Her skin, radiant with that translucent glow like fine porcelain, shimmered under the shifting light — a grace gifted by the system's first check-in. Her posture, relaxed yet elegant, carried the quiet confidence of a girl born to be admired.
As the car came to a gentle stop in front of the grand camphorwood doors of the Jia residence, Xiao Qin quickly stepped out from the passenger side to open the door for her.
"Miss Lan, we're home," she said with a beaming smile.
Jia Lan smiled in return, her serene aura naturally drawing warmth from those around her. Her steps were poised as she stepped out of the vehicle, her presence framed by the elegant curve of the doorway behind her. The delicate sway of her movement, soft and composed, revealed the constant influence of her Elegant Temperament Aura — the second check-in gift that had turned her every gesture into quiet poetry.
Inside the house, the atmosphere was a gentle storm of anticipation. Lin Shunhua stood by the window, dressed in an embroidered muslin home robe, her face serene but her eyes locked on the entrance gate. Her husband, Jia Chenghai, was seated in the main hall, trying to read the newspaper but glancing up at every small sound.
"She's late by ten minutes," Lin Shunhua murmured, her brow furrowed slightly. "You don't think she forgot something, do you?"
"She has Xiao Qin with her," Jia Chenghai replied evenly, though his fingers had paused mid-turn on the page.
Before another thought could fester, the front doors opened, and a light breeze, warm with the scent of sun-warmed roses and evening dew, swept in along with their daughter.
"Lan'er!" Lin Shunhua called out, stepping forward with a mixture of relief and maternal urgency.
"Mama, I'm home," Jia Lan said softly, her voice like water flowing over smooth stones — clear, pleasant, and calm.
Her mother approached and gently touched her arms, looking her up and down as if checking for signs of wear or trouble. "How was it? Were they respectful? Did you eat well? No one made things difficult for you, did they?"
"It was fine, really. Everything was... comfortable," Jia Lan replied with a light smile.
But her father was already rising. "Comfortable isn't detailed, Lan'er. Come here, sit. Your mother made bird's nest soup for you. You must be tired."
Jia Lan laughed gently and moved toward the family sitting room, the cool evening breeze brushing the fine hairs at her nape as she sat gracefully on the rattan couch embroidered with silk cushions. Xiao Qin quietly took her satchel and headed off to prepare her bath.
Lin Shunhua quickly returned with a porcelain bowl of delicately steamed bird's nest soup laced with jujube and longan. She set it down gently before Jia Lan. "It's slightly sweet. Just right for this kind of day."
Jia Lan accepted it with a nod. "Thank you, Mama."
Jia Chenghai's keen eyes never left her face. "Did you get along with the other staff? Your supervisor—was she the one your uncle recommended?"
"Yes. Aunt Ru spoke to her about me. She's a bit strict, but not unreasonable. The office atmosphere is very… quiet, very proper. I think I'll do well there." Jia Lan answered honestly, stirring the soup slowly.
With the Artistic Insight and Steady Hand granted by her third check-in, even her simple description held an artistic rhythm — every word carefully chosen, as if the world around her had begun to tune into an unseen harmony only she could hear.
"Did you show them anything?" Lin Shunhua asked gently.
Jia Lan gave a graceful nod. "A few posters, title arrangements, and some drafts. I kept it light. Just enough to make a good impression without drawing too much attention."
Jia Chenghai nodded in approval. "Smart. Don't show all your cards at once. Just enough to let them see you're not someone to be dismissed."
Outside, the summer crickets had begun their twilight chorus, and the jasmine from the garden swirled into the air. The sky was now streaked with orange and violet as if an invisible artist were painting the heavens — just like the one quietly sipping soup inside their home.
"By the way," Lin Shunhua said with a sly smile, "Madam Zhou came by earlier."
Jia Lan paused mid-sip. "That gossip auntie from the western courtyard?"
"She was trying to peek over the fence again. Said something about hearing the young miss from our family started working. She even asked if you were sent to some factory," her mother snorted softly.
"Let me guess," Jia Lan said, setting down the spoon with mock solemnity, "You told her I was hand-painting matchboxes in a basement workshop, didn't you?"
Even Jia Chenghai chuckled at that. "I told her nothing. Let her wonder."
Jia Lan leaned back slightly and stretched, her every motion naturally fluid, even languid — another result of the Elegant Aura and her self-discipline. It wasn't that she was performing, it was simply how she had become: serene, composed, and utterly magnetic.
Jia Ruiyu soon entered, having returned from her own class prep at the Conservatory, and she stood leaning against the doorframe, watching her sister with a smile.
"You really do look like you've been working at the Bureau for years," she said, teasing. "There's something about your expression now… more composed. Are they feeding you wisdom pills over there?"
"I just smiled and nodded my way through half a day's worth of form-filling and typing," Jia Lan replied. "Nothing very magical."
"Don't let her fool you," her father said, clearly pleased. "She absorbs environments like a sponge. Put her in a field, and she'll become a farmer. Put her in a studio, and she'll be an artist."
"Papa is exaggerating," Jia Lan said softly, though her cheeks held a faint pink bloom under the lamplight.
The family sat together in the soft hum of evening, the conversation dipping into light topics—what Jia Wei had done that afternoon, a mishap Xu Li had while ordering fabric bolts, and how Yao Jing had run into trouble at the department store over coupons.
As the night deepened, lanterns were lit outside, casting warm glows over the patterned walkway tiles, and the occasional clink of porcelain echoed from the kitchen. The warmth of the camphorwood structure, the subtle scent of sandalwood, and the mingled voices of her family created a comforting harmony.
When Jia Lan finally stood to return to her room, Lin Shunhua followed, her gaze soft.
"Tomorrow's another long day, but I'll prepare a few rice dumplings in the morning. You can take some to eat during your break."
Jia Lan smiled and leaned into her mother briefly. "Thanks, Mama."
In her room, Xiao Qin had already laid out her sleeping robe, and a mild chrysanthemum tea steeped gently on her desk. She changed into the soft silk robe, brushed her hair, and sat by the window, gazing at the stars peeking through the indigo sky.
'Three days,' she thought. 'And already, I feel more myself here than I ever did before.'
The system remained silent, as it usually did until the next day's check-in, but Jia Lan knew it was quietly watching, gently guiding. Her rewards had changed more than her appearance or poise — they'd reshaped her presence in the world. People listened more closely, noticed her more sincerely. But more than that, they respected her without realizing why.
She looked down at her hands — smooth, steady, full of intent. With her Artistic Insight, even the slight twitch of her finger felt like it carried purpose. Her thoughts were clearer now, her body more in sync with her mind.
The evening was quiet.
But her heart — filled with purpose, rhythm, and grace — was already moving with the steady beat of tomorrow.