Chapter 85: A Wealthy Household

Because of his words, Song Hui put all the remaining dishes into the fridge and dragged him into the car.

Xiao Fen patted his seventy percent full belly and simply lay down in the back seat to catch another nap.

He didn’t know how much time passed, but when he woke up in a daze, the car had already stopped in front of a grand manor.

Outside the car, a man in Tang-style clothing was speaking.

Xiao Fen sat up and got out of the car with Song Hui.

“Mr. Xiao, Mr. Song, this way please.” The man pointed the way.

Stone lions stood imposingly on either side of the manor gate, with flower beds along the base of the surrounding walls planted with neatly trimmed rounded red flower wintersweet trees and evergreen greenery.

Above the three-man-high deep red wooden door in the center, gilded brick carvings spelled out two bold, flourishing characters. Amid the howling wind of the night, one of them looked like “Fang,” but Xiao Fen didn’t have time to look closely before Song Hui urged him inside.

“Stay calm, don’t show that bumpkin look,” the manager whispered.

Once through the gate, clusters of miniature landscapes lined both sides: upright and proper five-needle pines, ancient and sturdy arhat pines, resilient silver ginkgoes, and elegant boxwoods, each step revealing a new vista in harmonious contrast.

They ascended the steps, passed through the gatehouse, and ahead lay a massive osmanthus tree in the courtyard, with a three-story main building behind it. Beneath lanterns, the closed copper doors of the main hall bore gilded koi patterns.

The man didn’t head to the main hall but led them along the covered walkway on the right, where courtyards with pink walls and dark tiles stretched out, the ground laid with ancient heavy stone slabs, flower steps, and pebble paths interspersed with various bodhi and banana plants, rockeries, slender bamboos, octagonal pavilions with upturned eaves, and secluded courtyard doors half-hidden among them.

Antique pumpkin-shaped lanterns along the walkway cast a warm, misty glow. They passed several servants along the way, who all bowed their heads and stepped aside in silent deference.

The walkway curved gracefully with varied heights for visual interest, misty landscapes, pavilions in green nooks—too many to count.

They skirted a koi pond and walked for nearly ten minutes before the man finally stopped in front of a room.

Xiao Fen glanced at Song Hui, who had been gawking the whole way, and signaled him with his eyes to rein in his expression.

Warm yellow light filtered through the frosted glass of the antique door. He knocked three times reservedly.

“Old Madam, Mr. Xiao is here,” he said with a slight bow, respectfully announcing.

Xiao Fen and Song Hui exchanged a glance, their eyes teasing—this was some feudal remnant.

Song Hui warned him to behave, while nervously tugging at the collar of his turtleneck sweater.

“Come in already,” came an elderly voice from inside.

The doors opened from both sides. The man ushered them in, closed the doors behind them, and stood guard outside without leaving.

“Doctor Kuang,” Song Hui said.

“Hello.”

The room was nice and warm with heaters. Rows of windows lined the four walls, but none were open. Xiao Fen couldn’t hold back and sneezed as soon as he entered.

“Child, why are you dressed so lightly?”

A kindly silver-haired old lady rose from the grandmaster chair. She wore a slightly thicker dark-patterned deep blue qipao with a white short jacket over it, her hair neatly coiled at the back of her head. Her fair, rosy skin was impeccably maintained without a single wrinkle. She beamed brightly at the sight of him and pulled him to sit on a rosewood carved luohan bed nearby.

“I’m not cold.” Xiao Fen felt a bit awkward. He had on thermal underwear and a thick hoodie—plenty for this weather.

“Kids your age love snacks. I’ve prepared some—see which ones you like.”

Twenty or so jade-green footed dishes were arranged on the rosewood square table, each neatly stacked with five or six pieces of pastries in various colors and patterns, plus plenty of dried fruits.

This hit right home for Xiao Fen—he hadn’t eaten his fill earlier. He reached out to grab some, ignoring Song Hui’s warning looks.

A servant brought in flower-fruit tea and told Xiao Fen to make himself at home.

Xiao Fen politely took a sip.

After checking his pulse, the old lady took a stethoscope from the nearby medical kit. Xiao Fen munched on snacks while lifting his shirt for her to examine him.

“How old are you this year?” she asked kindly, as if coaxing a child.

“23.”

“So young—just graduated not long ago, right?”

“Graduated over two years ago.” Xiao Fen said, “I started school late, but things were lax in the countryside. I learned fast as a kid, so I skipped two grades.”

“You should’ve stayed in school a couple more years. Entering society early just means suffering early.”

“We were poor at home. Wanted to start earning money sooner.”

The old lady nodded approvingly with a kindly smile. “Good child. Now that you’ve made it, your family must be so happy.”

“They’re all gone.” Xiao Fen said, “My mom died giving birth to me. My little brother had a congenital heart condition. My dad was lame and could only do odd jobs with my grandpa to make ends meet—pay for my tuition and my brother’s medical bills… They all passed later.”

The old lady paused, stunned. “What about other relatives? Didn’t they help out?”

“They thought we were too poor and cut ties long ago.” Xiao Fen shrugged. The original owner had already shared all this online, so he didn’t care about repeating it.

Tears welled up in the old lady’s eyes, and she sighed deeply.

“No wonder you’re pushing so hard on the show. Still, take good care of yourself—don’t treat your body like it’s disposable.”

“Don’t worry. It looks risky, but I know what I’m doing.”

Xiao Fen could tell her concern was genuine and thought it was nice to have an older fan.

Xiao Fen only had some superficial wounds. After checking him over, she prescribed some medicine and gave detailed instructions. Seeing it was getting late, the old lady told the man at the door to prepare rooms for them to stay overnight.

Xiao Fen and Song Hui quickly and politely declined. Doctor Kuang finally stopped insisting when they held firm and pulled out a stack of freshly printed posters and photos—at least a few dozen, all high-definition screenshots from the live stream chat over the two episodes.

She shyly asked for autographs.

Song Hui suddenly remembered Xiao Fen’s awful handwriting from the second episode.

Before he could stop him, Xiao Fen scribbled his name in a few quick strokes.

He looked down—hey, not bad.

But then he recalled that before taking over for Xiao Fen, he’d studied the guy’s signature photos to understand the artist.

The handwriting was completely different.

Strange.

Personality could change, but handwriting didn’t shift that fast.

This kid looked so carefree and unreliable, but he’d clearly put in the work for this comeback.

Only when they left the manor did Xiao Fen realize its location was at the intersection of the second and third ring roads—just a glance upward revealed eye-catching landmarks.

Truly a big household right under the imperial city’s roots—probably prosperous for centuries, still filthy rich or nobility today.

“Impressive. You actually got someone this connected to come out,” Xiao Fen said.

“Not me. Heard she saw you get hurt on the live stream and contacted headquarters directly,” Song Hui said. “You should capitalize on fans like this—should’ve flattered her more back there.”

“You signing works too.” Xiao Fen wasn’t enthusiastic. “I just feel like something’s off about her.”

“How so?” Song Hui laughed. “Paranoid much? What bad intentions could a seventy- or eighty-year-old lady have—fake fan or out to kill you?”

Blame it on too much crime show filming.

“I didn’t say she’s a fake fan. Just that her face looks familiar.”

“Yeah, you think everyone looks familiar.”

Xiao Fen laughed at that. He wondered himself why everyone seemed a bit like Fang Si Ting.

Crazy.

His phone rang, and Lu Jin’s voice came through.

“Come to headquarters tomorrow.” Straight-up command, no politeness.

“No time.”

“How do you talk like that!”

“What do you think? Do we need chit-chat pleasantries between us? On the show, I gave you too much face for the cameras, huh?” Xiao Fen’s face turned cold.

Lu Jin exploded instantly. “That was giving face?”

He caught his breath and spat out the words one by one. “Tomorrow. Group headquarters building. My dad and grandpa want to see you.”

“What honor is that? No need.”

“Xiao Fen, do you have to talk to me with all these barbs?”

“You’re the one who’s never spoken to me properly.”

“I…”

“Lu Jin, did you ever learn to respect people? No—does your whole family know how to respect people?”

“I didn’t mess with you in the second episode, right? You stabbed me in the back again, and I haven’t even settled that score.” So tolerant of him.

Xiao Fen nearly laughed. He snorted coldly. “Didn’t mess with me, huh? Stirring up the other criminals to isolate me?”

“I…” Lu Jin faltered. “I got tricked by the spy too.”

How did he know Ling Xiang was a spy?

All Fang Si Ting’s fault—now billions were laughing at him for getting played.

“That’s all the brains you’ve got.”

Xiao Fen’s tone dripped sarcasm as he hung up without hesitation.

Lu Jin slumped against the edge of his desk, yanking open the top buttons of his shirt. Three seconds later, he shot upright and smashed his phone on the floor.

Hand on hip, he rubbed his face. Once the anger faded, he glanced at the person nearby, his face showing defeat and helplessness. “Yan Feng, what the hell is going on between us?”

Yan Feng eyed his expression. “Young Master, you’re this concerned about Mr. Xiao’s attitude?”

“Who’s concerned? I wish he’d drop dead!” He jabbed at himself furiously. “In City A, who dares defy me? Who talks to me like that? Have I been too soft on him?”

“Young Master, you started this show for Mr. Ou, pushed aside company business to join it yourself. I’ve never seen you put this much effort into anyone. Deep down, the one you like has always been Mr. Ou. Don’t let others distract you.”

Irritation flashed across Lu Jin’s face. “I noticed Xiao Fen’s kinda like Ou Yu in some ways. They’re always together, inseparable. I’m starting to mix them up. Can’t Xiao Fen stop hovering between me and Ou Yu!”

“So Young Master finds him suspicious too.”

“What do you mean? Find something?”

“I’ve always thought he deliberately signed up for the show, targeted you on purpose—to get your attention on purpose.”

Lu Jin’s eyes lit up, instantly perking up. “How so?”

Yan Feng gauged his reaction, frowning as he analyzed. “Think about it, Young Master. From the warm-up show on, his target was always you. Acting like he hates you? That’s just to grab your focus. If he really hated you, he wouldn’t banter and joke with you on the show, wouldn’t edit and carry around your overseas gossip rumors on that trip, wouldn’t get jealous over you and Mr. Ou, and sure as hell wouldn’t shamelessly hit you up for money.”

In the end, just a gold digger clinging to the Lu Family. Mockery flickered in Yan Feng’s eyes.

Lu Jin ignored the last bit. “So he’s jealous of me and Ou Yu?”

Yan Feng couldn’t read the smug vibe radiating off him. “Uh, yeah. On camera, it came off that way with us.”

“Knew it.” Lu Jin scratched his nose to hide the confident smile tugging at his lips.

Alone now, he turned back to his desk and stared at the person on his computer screen.

Under winter’s warm sun, Xiao Fen leaned sideways against a window blooming with golden wintersweet. He wore a fitted black overcoat and black jeans, half his sharp chin buried in a bright red scarf, cradling Advanced Quantum Mechanics in his hands, long slender fingers gripping the top of the open book backward.

His head turned toward the camera, eyes crinkling with a hook, then shyly half-closing as if for the person behind it, lips curving into a gentle smile.

White gauzy curtains billowed up in the frozen photo moment, stunning the entire internet.

And stunning Lu Jin.