Chapter 300: The comparison was brutal
The shout from the crowd echoed like thunder, pulling every camera in that direction.
The door of a sleek black van swung open.
And out stepped Lin Qian.
The collective gasp that followed was deafening.
Her baby-blue gown shimmered like water under moonlight, each step making the fabric ripple as though the dress itself was alive. The delicate chiffon layers floated around her legs, light as air, while a subtle silver embroidery caught the floodlights and reflected them in dazzling glimmers.
The neckline was neither too bold nor too modest, structured perfectly to show her elegant collarbones. Her waist was cinched just right, flowing into a skirt that hugged her figure before flaring gracefully, accentuating her lithe yet undeniably voluptuous form.
Her makeup was soft but meticulous. A faint blush graced her cheeks, her lips a delicate shade of rose, her eyes lined just enough to make them gleam like the brightest stars.
Her hair had been pulled back into a sleek bun, adorned with a thin sapphire pin that tied the entire look together.
Lin Qian looked ethereal. Untouchable. The kind of beauty that stopped breaths and forced cameras to linger.
Reporters froze mid-step, momentarily forgetting their questions.
Even the fans who had been screaming themselves hoarse for others fell into silence before the stadium erupted again, louder, wilder than before.
"Is that—?! Is that Lin Qian?"
"No way! She actually came?!"
"My goddess looks unreal! Unreal!"
"I thought she wouldn’t show up tonight—oh my god, I can’t breathe!"
"Blue dress... baby-blue dress... she looks like a dream! My eyes are blessed!"
Phones shot up instantly, livestreams began buzzing with frantic comments.
"HOLY—look at her! Who gave her the right to be this pretty?!"
"She didn’t just come, she came to SLAY!"
"She’s glowing... Lin Qian is glowing!"
Across the carpet, Hua Ling’s smile froze.
It had been wide and triumphant seconds ago.
Now it looked stiff. Strained.
The cheers ringing out weren’t hers anymore.
They belonged to Lin Qian.
And worse... they were louder than any she had received tonight.
Hua Ling’s fans tried to counter. They shouted her name, screamed even louder. But the sound of "Lin Qian! Lin Qian!" cut through like knives, raw and unstoppable.
Online, chaos was brewing.
"Wait—is this for real? Lin Qian came?!"
"Didn’t they say she wasn’t going to walk the red carpet?"
"Oh my god... Hua Ling must be fuming right now, hahaha!"
"This is insane. Look at the dress! The elegance! The confidence!"
But to Hua Ling, none of that mattered.
She stood beside Zhou Ming, answering half-heartedly as reporters continued firing questions. But her gaze kept darting toward that figure in blue.
That dress. That radiant glow. That smile that seemed to outshine everything.
Hua Ling’s chest tightened.
She had made sure no designer would accept Lin Qian. She had pulled strings, whispered warnings, even threatened those who dared.
And yet here she was.
And the dress—damn that dress!
Eliot Vance’s masterpiece suddenly didn’t feel so unrivaled. Compared to Lin Qian’s gown, hers looked gaudy, loud, like a desperate attempt at grandeur.
The bitterness crept up her throat, sharp and choking. She wanted to shred that chiffon with her bare hands. Tear it apart until nothing remained.
Her nails dug into her palm, the practiced smile on her lips trembling.
She had been certain tonight was hers.
But Lin Qian had stolen the moment effortlessly, without a word.
Lin Qian, meanwhile, could feel the weight of Hua Ling’s glare.
She didn’t need to look twice to know how much hatred was being directed at her.
But she didn’t care.
After all, wasn’t this the sweetest revenge?
Hua Ling had tried so hard to erase her. Tried so hard to make her disappear.
And yet, here she was.
Standing. Dazzling. Unstoppable.
Her fans screamed her name like a chorus of victory.
"Lin Qian! My queen, my queen!"
"She’s shining brighter than the lights!"
"That dress... I’m crying. She looks too perfect."
Online, the war had begun.
"Lin Qian’s dress > Hua Ling’s, don’t even argue!"
"Excuse me? Hua Ling is the best dressed, what are you saying?!"
"No, no, NO—Lin Qian just won the red carpet. Case closed."
"Hua Ling looks like she tried too hard, Lin Qian looks effortless. That’s true beauty!"
"Stop fighting, they both look great."
"Shut up, Lin Qian is the goddess here!"
Lin Qian walked with unhurried grace, each step fanning the flames of comparison.
It was inevitable.
The blue gown was a showstopper. The baby-blue glow softened her features, making her seem approachable yet divine.
And beside her, the slyly smiling Hua Ling looked suddenly... cheap.
Like a star outshone by the moon.
The contrast was brutal.
Hua Ling finally finished her interview, though her replies had turned shorter and sharper.
She forced another smile at the reporters, waved lightly, and stepped away.
But the moment her back was turned, that smile vanished.
Her lips pressed into a hard line.
Her eyes, sharp as blades, locked on Lin Qian.
The glare she sent across the carpet was suffocating.
Every second Lin Qian walked forward, every cheer that screamed her name—it was like knives stabbing into Hua Ling’s chest.
Her temples throbbed. Her heart raced. She could barely keep her composure.
Because every time she saw that wretched woman, she remembered.
Lin Qian’s words from before.
That sneer. That taunt.
"Hua Ling is only where she is today because of Hua Jing!"
"She stole everything that should have been Hua Jing’s!"
The memory made Hua Ling’s teeth grind.
She wanted to march across the carpet right now.
Grab Lin Qian by the wrist.
Drag her away in front of everyone.
But before she could take even one step, her assistant hurriedly came to her side, bowing slightly.
"Jie, let’s go inside first," the assistant whispered urgently.
Hua Ling’s nostrils flared.
She almost snapped. Almost shouted.
But she bit back the words and let herself be guided.
Yet she didn’t enter the venue.
Instead, she stopped just to the side, waiting.
Her eyes never left Lin Qian.
And when Lin Qian finally reached her side of the carpet, Hua Ling suddenly shifted.
Just enough.
Just in the right angle—so Lin Qian would stumble if she kept walking.
But Lin Qian did not stumble.
It was as if she had already expected it.
She slowed, sidestepped with graceful ease, and turned her head.
Her eyes lifted—cold, sharp, unyielding.
"What the hell are you trying to do?"
