The black Bentley glided smoothly out of the airport, its tinted windows cutting off the curious stares that had followed the flamboyantly dressed man through the arrival gate. Inside, the air-conditioning hummed softly, carrying with it the faint scent of leather.
The car hummed steadily along the expressway, the city of Wuhan unfurling before them in hues of amber and gold as the late afternoon sun slanted westward.
From the passenger seat, the man suddenly leaned forward, a playful smirk tugging at his lips. His voice, rich with mockery, cut through the quiet.
"I never thought you'd come back to Wuhan after leaving Aurelius International. This city, though pleasant, doesn't quite suit someone of your… noble pedigree."
At the wheel, Zhou Yichen chuckled softly.
"You think so?" he asked, glancing at him. His eyes drifted briefly to the skyline outside, where high-rises caught the sunlight like blades of glass. "Even I never imagined I'd end up here after leaving Singapore. But…" He let the words trail for a moment, his gaze lost in the distant sprawl, before finishing, "sometimes life offers you unexpected surprises."
The man gave a low whistle, his expression one of amused intrigue.
"Surprises?" His grin sharpened. "Don't tell me… you've got a woman here?"
Zhou Yichen rolled his eyes, though the corner of his mouth betrayed a faint smile.
"Ruan Zeyuan, you really haven't changed."
The man—Ruan Zeyuan—threw back his head and laughed, his voice filling the cabin with careless ease.
"And you," he said between laughter, "are still exactly the same as the day I last saw you at Convocation." But then his tone shifted, curiosity slipping in. "Tell me though, why did you leave your position at Aurelius International Holdings? Wasn't it your hand that steered its rise to power?"
For a moment, silence settled. Zhou Yichen's lips pressed together, his expression unreadable. At last, he exhaled a soft sigh.
"Well…" He hesitated, then turned the question back with a half-smile. "I'm your friend, aren't I?"
Zeyuan's brows furrowed, uncertain where the question was leading. He gave a small nod.
"Then you should understand," Zhou Yichen continued, his tone quieter now, "that just like you, I had no desire to sink into that dirty mire."
Recognition flickered across Ruan Zeyuan's face. His frown eased, and a glimmer of understanding dawned in his eyes. He said nothing, but the silence between them carried more weight than words.
Zhou Yichen caught his reaction and smiled faintly. "Actually, I'm… happy here. Wuhan may be a smaller city, its rhythm slower, but there's a certain peace to it. And more importantly, my new employer—she's a remarkable woman. Sharp-minded, broad in vision. To be honest, I've begun to admire not only her, but her entire family. Each of them carries a talent of their own. There's opportunity here, room to grow. And today," his lips curved almost imperceptibly, "you'll meet the most gifted of them all. The rest, you'll understand once you see her yourself."
Ruan Zeyuan leaned back in his seat, his expression giving away nothing but indifference. His voice, however, was deliberately cool.
"I came only because you asked. Otherwise, my life in Shanghai was just beginning to get… entertaining."
His words were light, almost casual, but their undercurrent was unmistakable to anyone who knew him well.
Zhou Yichen's fingers tightened on the steering wheel. He darted a glance at his old friend, concern stirring in his eyes. But he knew better than to pry—Zeyuan was a man who revealed only what he wished. With a quiet sigh, Zhou Yichen returned his gaze to the road.
Yet the knot in his chest only grew tighter. His thoughts circled back, unbidden, to the evening ahead—to the moment when Li Ziqing and Ruan Zeyuan would finally meet.
And with that thought, his unease deepened, settling into a weight he could not shake.
---
Meanwhile, back at the restaurant in the eastern district, Li Weiqiang was still reeling from what had just happened. His fists clenched, his jaw tight—anger burned through his veins like wildfire. The audacity of that bastard girl, Li Ziqing! To provoke his boss, to humiliate him in front of so many people—how dare she?
He stood there trembling, chest rising and falling sharply, his mind consumed with fury. He was on the verge of storming into the restaurant when a sudden roar of an engine split through the street.
The sound alone carried weight, smooth yet violent, the kind of growl that demanded attention. Instinctively, Weiqiang's head snapped toward the source.
And then he saw it.
A Porsche Panamera Turbo in a gleaming Yachting Blue Metallic slid to a stop right in front of the restaurant's entrance. Its sleek frame reflected the sun in dazzling streaks, the low-slung body exuding both menace and grace.
"P… Porsche Panamera Turbo?" he murmured, breath catching in his throat.
His eyes widened, the rage that had consumed him moments ago forgotten, replaced by awe. He had read about this model when obsessively researching luxury sports cars late at night. He didn't own one—of course, he couldn't afford it—but ever since mixing with his new circle of friends, he had been exposed to the language of luxury: brands, horsepower, speed, and price tags.
And when one spoke of true luxury cars, how could Porsche not come up?
The Panamera Turbo was no ordinary car. It carried a 4.8L twin-turbo V8 engine under its hood, capable of producing 500 horsepower. With all-wheel drive, it could accelerate from 0 to 100 kilometers per hour in a mere 4.2 seconds, reaching a top speed of 303 km/h. A beast designed for men who lived on speed and prestige. The Turbo, the highest configuration, cost no less than 2.05 million yuan.
Weiqiang swallowed hard. His heart thumped louder than the echo of the engine itself. Who on earth owns this car?
Almost without realizing it, he straightened his clothes, brushing invisible dust from his secondhand jacket. But as his gaze fell on his outfit—half second hand, worn out real brands, half cleverly faked labels—he grew self-conscious. His fingers fidgeted at the hem. Still… should he approach? Say hello? Make an impression?
He hesitated but quickly convinced himself. If he could establish even the slightest connection with this car's owner, it would be worth everything. Someone who could afford a Panamera Turbo wasn't just wealthy; they had status, influence, and real power.
Compared to them, his current friends were nothing. Sure, they strutted around in their Mazda RX-8s, Hyundai Tiburons, and Toyota Celicas—flashy rides worth a few hundred thousand yuan at best—but deep down, he knew the truth. They were nouveau riche, shallow show-offs who mistook noise for significance.
This, though. This Porsche. This was real money. This was old blood.
A greedy smile curved his lips. He took a breath, steadying his nerves, and murmured under his breath, "I'm meant to be with people like this. So what if they're rich? My father's a government official. The moment I reveal my identity, people like this will crawl to curry favor. Anyone with half a brain in the business world knows the value of connecting with officials."
His excitement swelled until his body nearly trembled with anticipation. By now he had completely forgotten Li Ziqing's insult, his humiliation, and even his simmering anger. None of it mattered anymore. His eyes gleamed only with the reflection of the blue metallic Porsche as he stepped closer to the curb.
The driver's door opened with a smooth click. Weiqiang adjusted his smile, rehearsing a polite yet eager expression. He was ready—ready to seize this chance.
But then he froze.
His smile faltered, his legs stiffened as though chained to the ground. His eyes locked onto the figure stepping out of the driver's seat—and the blood in his veins turned cold.
He murmured hoarsely, "H… how could it be him?"
Disbelief was etched all over Li Weiqiang's face. He had imagined a dozen kinds of powerful figures stepping out of the Porsche, but never this man. The very sight of him made his throat run dry.
Before he could recover, the passenger door opened with a soft click. Another figure emerged, and Weiqiang's lips began to tremble. His mind reeled. One shock had already been too much—yet the second was even harder to accept.
It was them.
Li Jianping and Li Zian.
Li Zian closed the car door with a gentle push and walked to his uncle's side. His expression was calm, almost serene, though his eyes carried a hint of youthful reassurance.
"Uncle, don't worry," he said softly. "Nothing will happen. You already know how strong A Qing has become recently. Even Mom has changed—she's not as soft as before. She's independent now, fearless. And we're already here to protect them. So please… don't lose heart."
Li Jianping looked at his nephew, a faint smile tugging at his lips as he nodded. "I'm not nervous, AnAn. Nor am I afraid. You're right—we've grown strong enough to stand on our own." His voice dropped into a sigh, heavy with bitterness. "But still… sometimes I feel guilty for Jie and all of you. Why must people refuse to leave us alone? Haven't we suffered enough already? And how—how can our parents act this way? Tell me, AnAn, does any father or mother treat their children like they treated us? There are days I even question whether me and my sisters are truly their children at all."
His words fell heavy, carrying the weight of years of silent wounds.
Li Zian's eyes darkened in quiet understanding, but he didn't reply. He knew it wasn't his place. Though he, too, despised the Li family, what choice did he have but to endure? Silence was the only shield he could offer his uncle.
Instead, he turned his gaze toward the restaurant entrance. Many eyes were already fixed on them—the curious glances of visitors, the subtle stares of passersby, and the barely concealed excitement of the hotel staff. The weight of attention made him flush slightly.
Breaking the heaviness, Li Zian chuckled and teased, "Uncle, look at them. Especially those waitresses—they're practically drooling over you."
Li Jianping blinked, startled. His ears burned crimson as he instinctively glanced around. Sure enough, several young women were casting glances at him, whispering behind their hands, their gazes lingering longer than propriety allowed. His face flushed even deeper.
"You little brat," he mock-scolded, trying to hide his embarrassment. "AnAn, have you grown bolder now that you've entered high school?" Still, his nephew's words weren't wrong. Those hungry gazes were undeniable, and the realization only made him more self-conscious.
Clearing his throat, Jianping tried to divert the praise. "I think you're mistaken. They're not looking at me—they're looking at you. After all, you're ten times more good-looking than me."
He wasn't exaggerating. Li Zian's beauty was otherworldly, a kind of ethereal charm that drew eyes wherever he went.
But the boy only grinned, shaking his head. "Uncle, you underestimate yourself. Look at me—I'm just wearing my school uniform. But you—dashing, confident, and driving a Porsche Panamera Turbo? Who wouldn't be infatuated with you?"
Li Jianping's outfit today was deceptively simple, but every piece was top-tier luxury. A crisp Ermenegildo Zegna shirt tucked neatly into tailored Brunello Cucinelli trousers, a soft cashmere cardigan from Loro Piana draped casually over his shoulders, and polished John Lobb leather loafers. Nothing flashy, yet every detail spoke of quiet opulence.
The most striking piece, however, rested on his wrist—a Patek Philippe Grand Complications 5270P, worth over 3 million yuan. The platinum case caught the sunlight with a subtle gleam, understated yet commanding.
This had become Jianping's style ever since joining the diploma program at Wuhan University. His elder sister and niece had filled his wardrobe with pieces he would never have bought for himself. To others, he looked effortlessly refined. To him, it was simply clothing.
Beside him, Li Zian wore only his neat school uniform, paired with a sleek Omega Speedmaster 38 Co-Axial Chronograph, a gift carefully chosen to suit his age. Though less extravagant than his uncle's watch, it carried quiet elegance. And with his natural beauty—clear skin, striking features, and a presence that seemed almost celestial—Li Zian hardly needed luxury to stand out.
As the two stood there, uncle and nephew, they exuded two different kinds of allure. One, a composed maturity wrapped in quiet wealth. The other, youthful charm bordering on ethereal. Together, they formed a picture that drew eyes like moths to a flame.
And in the shadows, Li Weiqiang's heart pounded. His lips quivered, eyes wide with disbelief.
How could it be them?
One was the useless uncle he had looked down upon his entire life; the other, nothing more than a bookworm with a pretty face he had despised since childhood.
What on earth is going on with this family?
First that bastard Li Ziqing, who had dared to speak so boldly in public, and now her brother, together with Li Jianping, making such a grand entrance as though they were some untouchable nobility.
Li Weiqiang's mind was a storm. His breath came short, his fists clenched so tightly that his knuckles whitened. Did I miss something? When did they suddenly rise so high? His eyes reddened, his face turned ashen. He struggled to convince himself otherwise.
"No… this can't be," he muttered under his breath, his voice quivering with disbelief. "They should be beneath me. They've always been beneath me."
Hadn't his grandmother repeated countless times that Li Jianfang was a disgrace to the family, a fallen woman who had given birth to two bastards? That Li Jianping was nothing but a spineless leech, a useless money-grubber clinging to others for survival?
"Yes," he told himself again, trying to swallow the unease growing like fire in his chest. "Their lives can never be better. That car—it must belong to someone else. They wouldn't dare… they're just pretending, flaunting it as though it's theirs. How shameless."
But his words rang hollow even to his own ears. His throat was dry.
Then his gaze fell upon their outfits. He didn't recognize all the brands—they were subtle, understated—but one detail pierced his soul like a blade. They all looked laxurious. And worse, when his eyes traveled upward, they froze on the glint of light at the man's wrist.
His pupils contracted violently.
That watch… that watch—how could he not recognize it? The Patek Philippe Grand Complications 5270P, the latest masterpiece released only last month. Its sleek platinum casing, paired with a rare green jade-like dial studded with two flawless diamonds, had been the subject of feverish discussion across every luxury circle. Only the elite could ever hope to obtain it. It wasn't just a timepiece—it was a declaration of power and wealth.
Li Weiqiang's head buzzed.
"How… how could they…" His lips trembled, his heart pounded furiously. "Did they… did they buy it second-hand?" His voice cracked, barely above a whisper, but no explanation could soothe the humiliation gnawing at his bones.
As if to make matters worse, the surrounding crowd erupted in murmurs of admiration. Many of the onlookers were staff from the hotel, visitors, and passersby, but all of them had their eyes fixed on Li Jianping and Li Zian, their faces lit with admiration and curiosity. Some whispered about the car. Others pointed at the watch. A few even blushed openly as their gazes lingered too long.
And every appreciative look, every hushed word of praise, struck Li Weiqiang like a dagger to the chest.
His anger surged, boiling over.
Why them? Why these two?
The man he had always dismissed as useless trash was suddenly standing under the spotlight, bathed in glory that should never have belonged to him. Didn't he also got out from the sports car. He knew his thoughts sounded rediculous, as there was no comparison between the Mazeda RX and Porshe Panamera Turbo, but he overlooked the details for now.
His jealousy spiraled into rage. His teeth ground together, and a burning thought consumed him:
No matter what you wear, no matter what you flaunt, you will never rise above me. I won't let you.
And yet, deep down, a dangerous seed had already been planted—a fear he couldn't admit aloud. What if they truly weren't the same anymore? What if, after all this time, the tables had turned?
After finally breaking free from the enthusiastic crowd, Li Jianping and Li Zian entered the restaurant. The air inside was calmer, scented faintly with roasted delicacies drifting in from the kitchen. Just as they were adjusting their cloths, a familiar figure emerged from the washroom.
"A Qing, you're already here?" Li Jianping's eyes brightened at the sight of his niece. "Where is Jie?"
Li Ziqing checked her wristwatch with a faint glance and replied calmly, "She should arrive any moment now. Let's go in first."
Both Jianping and Zian nodded in unison, and the three began walking down the polished corridor toward the private room Li Jianjun reserved for them. The soft clatter of porcelain and hushed laughter from nearby tables filled the silence—until a sharp, unpleasant voice cut through.
"Wait."
Li Ziqing's steps faltered. Her brows knitted tightly as recognition struck. That voice was all too familiar. Slowly, she turned her head, and her lips curled into a cold sneer. Not again.
Behind them stood Li Weiqiang, his eyes bloodshot, his face contorted with barely restrained fury. His glare locked onto them as though he were facing mortal enemies rather than kin.
Li Jianping and Li Zian exchanged a puzzled glance, silently questioning each other, but neither spoke.
Li Weiqiang, too consumed by his own rage, failed to notice their confusion. He strode forward, his shoes striking the floor with sharp, impatient clicks. His words came out fast, accusatory, laced with venom.
"Whose car is it?" His eyes darted between them, trembling with jealousy. "Don't tell me it's yours. Did you steal it? Do you even know what you've done? That's a Porsche Panamera—worth millions! If the police find out, you could be jailed for five years, maybe more!"
___
Author's Note
Thank you so much for your patience, everyone! I know it's been two days since the last update, and today's chapter turned out to be on the shorter side. But I promise to make it up to you—this weekend I'll be bringing you four full chapters in a row!
Things are about to get very exciting—several significant events will unfold in the upcoming chapters that will change the course of the story. So please stay tuned, and as always, thank you for reading, supporting, and waiting so patiently. Your encouragement means the world to me. 💙