In the eastern district, within one of the city's aging apartment blocks, Li Weiqiang sat in suffocating silence. The dim light from a flickering bulb cast sharp shadows across the room, accentuating the swelling on both his cheeks. The marks of the slaps—one from Li Ziqing, the other from his father—burned faintly, yet he felt no pain. He was numb, as though the sting had never landed on his skin but directly on his pride.
Ever since his father had announced Li Ziqing's assets, his mind had been in chaos. He couldn't comprehend it—didn't want to. His thoughts circled endlessly like a vulture over a dying animal.
"How…" he muttered under his breath, his lips trembling. "How is this possible?"
For as long as he could remember, he had looked down on Li Ziqing and her mother. In his eyes, they were nothing more than toads squatting in the northern district, living day to day without dignity. Compared to his family—who had always prided themselves on being the most well-off branch of the Lis—she was beneath notice, a shadow at best.
But now… now she stood at the center of everything.
A bitter memory resurfaced: the day his useless Uncle Li Jianping drove the Porsche Panamera Turbo into the restaurant parking lot. Yachting Blue Metallic car had gleamed under the afternoon sun.
He remembered the glittering watches worth millions strapped casually to the wrists of Li Jianping and Li Zian, flashing under the restaurant's crystal chandeliers as though mocking his mediocrity. And he remembered most vividly of all, Li Ziqing's disdainful expression—calm, cutting, as if she had seen right through his hollow arrogance.
His fists clenched tightly. Why doesn't that life belong to me? he screamed silently in his mind. Wasn't our family the strongest branch of the Lis? The one everyone else envied? How can she—how can that woman and her mother—suddenly hold assets worth billions, pulling in hundreds of millions like it's nothing?
Envy and rage burned through him, sharp and poisonous. Guilt gnawed at the edges of his thoughts, irritation festered in his chest, and yet, beneath it all, a darker fire smoldered—revenge. His eyes reflected it, twin embers glowing in the dim light.
A shrill sound cut through the suffocating silence. His phone buzzed violently against the rickety wooden table, dragging him out of his spiral. He reached for it, his face twisting further when he saw the familiar scratched plastic body. A cheap keypad phone, dull and unimpressive.
His lips curled bitterly. How could he not remember? The day he had bought this phone, he had strutted around like a peacock, smug and satisfied. He had flaunted it shamelessly to Li Ziqing, Li Zian, and Li Weihua, convinced he was the picture of sophistication.
Now, the memory stabbed him. Li Ziqing—who once had nothing—now carried the latest Fruit brand phone, gleaming and powerful, while he sat here holding a relic that looked more like an insult than a possession.
He gritted his teeth, his hand tightening around the phone until his knuckles went white. Is she laughing at me now? At how pathetic I look, clutching this worthless toy while she wields the real power?
His breathing grew heavier, vision clouded with resentment, when suddenly his gaze fell on the screen of his cheap phone. The name flashing there made his stomach sink—Boss Su Jin. He didn't hesitate. With a trembling thumb, he pressed the button and lifted the phone to his ear.
The voice that came through was smooth, commanding, carrying a faint sneer.
"We're all waiting for you at our usual spot. Tonight, we're going somewhere special… a place where only the elites of the elites play." There was a brief pause before Su Jin added, his tone turning sly, "And don't forget to bring that gorgeous cousin of yours."
Li Weiqiang froze, his blood running cold. His eyes widened as though struck by lightning. Cousin… Ziqing. How could he have forgotten? But the thought alone made his insides churn. How could he possibly bring Li Ziqing to his boss? She wasn't some ordinary girl anymore—her assets were worth billions, far surpassing even his so-called boss. Why would she waste a single second on a man like him?
He swallowed hard, his voice faltering. "B-Boss, that…"
A sharp laugh cut him off, the sound dripping with contempt.
"Don't tell me you're trying to break our promise, Li Weiqiang. Don't forget who holds the reins here. I'm not asking you to sell her off, don't be so narrow-minded. I'm thinking on her behalf. Truth is, I did have… certain intentions for her before. But this place we're going tonight? Even I can barely get invited. If you bring your cousin, it'll raise our standing immediately. A beauty like her—people will notice. Do you understand?"
Su Jin's voice grew persuasive, almost coaxing, though a thread of reluctance laced his words.
"Think about it. If some rich second-generation brat takes a liking to her, we're in. Connections, status, access—doors will open to us. And your cousin won't lose either. With that face and figure, those heirs will throw fortunes at her just to keep her satisfied."
Li Weiqiang's breath hitched. His palms turned clammy as the words dug into him. He could see the benefits as clearly as Su Jin painted them: wealth, prestige, and the possibility of finally stepping into a circle far above his reach. But beneath that vision lay the bitter truth—he had no idea how to even approach Li Ziqing now. Their worlds were too far apart.
Still, his cowardice spoke before his reason could catch up. "S…sure, Boss. I'll arrange something." The moment the words left his lips, regret stabbed deep into his gut.
Su Jin on the other end burst into laughter, cold and triumphant.
"Good choice, Li Weiqiang. It'll benefit both you and your poor cousin. Don't disappoint me."
The line went dead.
Li Weiqiang lowered the phone slowly, his hand trembling. His heart thudded painfully in his chest as dread choked him.
---
"Ruan Zeyuan, couldn't you have chosen a more suitable venue for this meeting? My boss didn't sound particularly pleased," Zhou Yichen said, his brows furrowing as he cast a sidelong glance at the man across from him.
Ruan Zeyuan leaned back comfortably in his leather chair, one leg crossed over the other, a glass of red wine swirling lazily in his hand. His gaze remained fixed on the sprawling view outside the floor-to-ceiling windows. Below, luxury cars roared around the private racetrack, their engines growling like beasts let loose. The VIP lounge was alive with glittering lights, muted conversations, and the faint aroma of cigars and aged liquor.
He smirked faintly, as if amused. "This is the Grand Ascot Club, Yichen. One of the most exclusive clubs in Wuhan. And your boss doesn't like it? Tch. Your boss is really something." His tone carried a trace of mockery, though his smile looked harmless.
Zhou Yichen stiffened. "I already told you," he said firmly, lowering his voice. "She's only fourteen. What is a fourteen-year-old girl supposed to do at a place like this?"
At that, Ruan Zeyuan finally shifted his gaze from the window and regarded Zhou Yichen with a look that hovered between disbelief and disdain. His smile remained, but there was an edge behind it.
"So it's true," he said quietly, his voice laced with irony. "All this time I thought you were exaggerating. But to think… someone like you, Zhou Yichen—the top student of our class, a PhD from MIT, the one everyone thought destined to build empires—actually works for a fourteen-year-old girl?" He let out a soft chuckle, shaking his head. "I almost can't believe it."
Zhou Yichen's jaw tightened. "Zeyuan, don't underestimate her. You'll see for yourself."
Ruan Zeyuan raised his brows, feigning mild curiosity, though inside he felt a deep sense of irritation. He hadn't come here because he was desperate to meet this so-called prodigy. No—he came because he wanted to open Zhou Yichen's eyes. In his mind, Li Ziqing was nothing more than a sheltered child playing with borrowed wealth and power. And Zhou Yichen? He deserved better than to waste his talents serving her whims.
Still, he didn't voice his thoughts. Instead, he wore that same harmless smile, sipping from his glass as though everything was nothing more than idle banter.
"She must be extraordinary then," Ruan Zeyuan said smoothly, though his tone hinted at disbelief. "To keep you working by her side… maybe she cast a spell on you."
Zhou Yichen gave him a sharp look. "Don't joke about this, Zeyuan. I don't work for her because of loyalty to her age. I work for her because she's capable. More capable than you think."
"Capable?" Ruan Zeyuan's smirk widened as he leaned forward, his voice laced with subtle provocation. "Tell me then, what can a fourteen-year-old possibly do that impressed you so much? Does she even understand the difference between revenue and profit?"
"You'll know soon enough," Zhou Yichen replied coldly, refusing to take the bait.
For a moment, silence stretched between them, broken only by the muffled roar of engines tearing across the track below. The golden light from the VIP lounge chandeliers reflected faintly in the sleek floor-to-ceiling glass, casting Ruan Zeyuan's figure in a subtle gleam as he leaned back in his chair, wine glass lazily balanced between his fingers. His gaze drifted toward the race again, as though everything else in the room was beneath his concern.
Across from him, Zhou Yichen sat upright, his phone resting in his palm, his expression taut with focus. His thumb hovered near the screen, waiting for the inevitable call. The moment Li Ziqing arrived at the gates, he intended to rush down to escort her in. The Grand Ascot Club was, after all, notorious for its strict membership system—no outsiders were admitted, no matter their wealth or status. Much like the Qingyan Pavilion, entry here was a privilege carefully guarded.
Ruan Zeyuan noticed his friend's fixation, his eyes narrowing with faint amusement. A slow smirk curved across his lips as he muttered inwardly, Let's see if this so-called prodigy can even step inside on her own.
Unbeknownst to Zhou Yichen, Ruan had already made quiet arrangements. The guards at the entrance had their orders. Li Ziqing would not only be denied but humiliated—her dignity crushed in front of Zhou. Only then, Ruan thought, would his friend finally see her for what she truly was: a child playing at power, exploiting others to build an empire she did not deserve.
---
Meanwhile, outside the VIP lounge in the waiting hall, Li Weiqiang stood rigid, his face pale under the weight of his Su Jin's fury.
"Didn't I tell you to bring your cousin?" boss's voice was low but venomous, every syllable forced with restrained rage.
Li Weiqiang's throat tightened. His boss, Su Jin, was not a man one could casually defy, after all he was a rich hooligan. Earlier, Weiqiang had contemplated skipping the gathering altogether. But when he heard it was being held at the Grand Ascot Club, temptation had overtaken him.
After all, this was no ordinary establishment. The Grand Ascot was among the most exclusive clubs in Wuhan, a haven reserved for the ultra-rich and the heirs of old families. Membership here could not be applied for; one had to be chosen, discreetly invited after rigorous assessment. The exclusivity made it legendary.
For Li Weiqiang, just stepping inside today was a once-in-a-lifetime chance. Even if he would never hold a membership card, even if he could only sip a drink in the corner, he could at least soothe his pride with the thought: Even if Li Ziqing has money, she'll never be allowed here. But I have.
Yet now, staring at Su Jin's storm-dark expression, he regretted every decision that led him here.
"B-Boss," he stammered, forcing a weak smile. "Didn't I tell you already? I don't have much of a relationship with her family. They live all the way in the Northern District. Even if I wanted to bring her, how could I? From here, it's at least a two-hour drive. How could I keep you waiting that long?" His voice turned oily with flattery. "I couldn't dare inconvenience you."
Su Jin's hand shot out like a viper, seizing Li Weiqiang by the collar and yanking him forward. His voice was a low growl, each word dripping with menace.
"Don't try to fool me, Li Weiqiang. Do you take me for an idiot? Did I not warn you what would happen if you crossed me? The consequences will be disastrous—yet here you stand, lying to my face. Are you not afraid of me at all?"
Li Weiqiang's knees nearly buckled under the weight of that fury. He could smell the faint trace of Su Jin's cologne, sharp and suffocating as it mingled with the man's hot breath. His heart hammered violently against his ribs.
Su Jin's grip tightened. "Tell me, what are we supposed to do now? Do you even understand where we are? These second-generation heirs—eccentric, spoiled, dangerous—do you know how they deal with people who waste their time? They don't care about rules or consequences. Only when something amuses them do they make exceptions. Otherwise, you're nothing but a toy to be broken."
Li Weiqiang's lips trembled as he forced a sycophantic smile. His voice shook, yet he scrambled to save himself.
"B…Boss, please. I'm not lying to you. Everything I said is the truth. I—I don't have a close relationship with her family. Didn't you see how arrogantly she spoke to me today? That's proof enough."
Su Jin's eyes narrowed, unreadable.
Desperation drove Weiqiang further. Grinding his teeth, he spat out another falsehood, "She's just jealous, Boss. Jealous of me and my family. That's why she looks down on us. She can't stand the thought of me doing better than her."
Su Jin opened his mouth to continue his scolding—when a voice suddenly called out from behind, sharp and impatient.
"Su Jin, what are you doing here? The others are already waiting for you."
At once, Su Jin's expression shifted. The domineering glare he had worn a moment ago melted into a sycophantic smile as he turned around. The drastic change stunned Li Weiqiang, who had only ever seen Su Jin as an overbearing bully.
"Is Young Master Zhu and his group already here?" Su Jin asked with forced brightness, his voice unusually deferential.
The boy who had spoken gave a curt nod. "Yes, they're seated near the track. Su Jin—remember, I'm doing you a favor. Don't you dare embarrass me in front of Young Master Zhu today." His tone was stern, laced with warning.
Su Jin bobbed his head like a loyal servant. "Don't worry. My friends and I are here to support Young Master Zhu and nothing else. Let's not waste time here any longer." With that, he cast Li Weiqiang a sharp glare, his eyes issuing a silent command to follow, before striding off.
Weiqiang blinked in disbelief. The man he knew as arrogant and domineering now behaved like a dog before its master. A question gnawed at his chest: Who exactly is this Young Master Zhu?
His curiosity found its answer soon enough.
They arrived at the trackside where a group of ten to twelve youths had gathered, laughing and chatting boisterously. Some appeared younger than Li Weiqiang, others around his own age, but all of them exuded the same aura of privilege. A single glance was enough to recognize their status—every one of them was clad in high-end designer labels, the sort of brands Li Jianping had flaunted earlier that morning.
Weiqiang's gaze drifted to the row of cars parked behind them, and his breath caught. Sleek machines gleamed under the club lights: a Ferrari 488, a Porsche 911 Turbo, a Lamborghini Huracán, an Alpine A110, and two top-class Mercedes AMG models. The sight left him lightheaded. Just the collective worth of these vehicles was enough to rival entire lifetimes of ordinary wealth.
He swallowed hard, envy clawing at his gut. Yet a twisted satisfaction followed close behind. See? Even with all her newfound fortune, Li Ziqing and her mother could never stand here. They could never match this circle.
His eyes flickered back eagerly to the crowd, searching for the one who commanded such attention. And then he saw him.
At the center of the group stood a tall boy, his posture radiating arrogance. Though everyone around him chattered, laughed, and flattered him, he barely acknowledged their presence. Even Su Jin, the bully who once lorded over Li Weiqiang, now stood among the sycophants. Yet the boy remained indifferent, his gaze fixed on his phone, exuding the air of one accustomed to reverence.
Weiqiang leaned closer to one of his companions and whispered, almost breathless, "Brother, who is that boy?"
The other glanced at him with thinly veiled disdain, then frowned as if surprised by his ignorance. "You don't know?" He gestured toward the tall figure. "That is the second young master of the Zhu family—Zhu Jinyan."
The name struck Li Weiqiang like a hammer. His pulse quickened, and his gaze snapped back to the aloof figure standing at the center of the crowd. Zhu Jinyan. The realization sent a chill coursing down his spine.
In Wuhan, who didn't know the Zhu family?
They were not the richest clan in Hubei Province, but their influence reached deeper than mere numbers on a balance sheet. Wealth alone made a family respected; the Zhu family commanded fear.
The legend of their rise was whispered often, though few dared to speak of it openly. In their early days, the Zhus had been nothing more than a ruthless gang, carving out territory in the underworld. When the government tightened its grip and the crackdown on organized crime grew harsher, they were clever enough to evolve. They shifted into the business world, cloaking themselves in legitimacy.
And it worked. Within a decade, Zhu Jinyan's father had transformed the family fortune, driving their enterprises into the billions. To the public, they were a success story of vision and adaptability. But in truth, the shadows had never been abandoned. Their underworld roots remained strong, their network stretching not just across Wuhan but across the entire province and beyond.
It was said that the profits from their hidden dealings—smuggling, underground casinos, arms channels, and other trades no one dared name—far exceeded what their public companies generated. In daylight they flourished as businessmen, but in darkness, they were kings.
Li Weiqiang swallowed hard, a nervous sweat prickling at his palms. To stand in the presence of Zhu Jinyan was not merely to face wealth—it was to stand before a bloodline steeped in power, violence, and unspoken rules.