David Wei's retaliation was not swift; it was calculated, designed to inflict maximum humiliation. It arrived two days later, not as a threat, but as an invitation.
Thick, cream-colored cards, embossed with a elegant lion emblem, were delivered by a uniformed courier. They were invitations to the "Wei Foundation Annual Gala," the most exclusive social event of the season. The theme was "A Night of Kings."
Included with the invitations was a handwritten note from David to the Chens: *"A chance to celebrate your family's resilience. My father is eager to discuss business in a more congenial setting. All of you must come."*
The words "all of you" were underlined. The trap was obvious. David was forcing them to present a united, desperate front in public, with Leo as the glaringly weak link. He wanted to showcase Jia on his arm, contrasting her beauty with her "pathetic" husband, making the eventual transfer of ownership—of both the company and the woman—seem inevitable.
"He's mocking us," Mr. Chen said, his hand shaking as he held the invitation.
"It's a command, not an invitation," Jia replied coldly. "If we don't go, we insult the Weis and burn the last bridge. If we do go, we're walking into his arena."
Meiling, however, saw only the glittering opportunity. "We have to go! This is our chance to speak to Old Mr. Wei directly! To show them we are still a family of stature! We must look our best." Her eyes fell on Leo with dread. "But what will we do about... him?"
The unspoken question hung in the air. How could they possibly present the "gutter rat" at the "Night of Kings"?
"I'll go," Leo said from the doorway. He had been listening, a faint, unreadable smile on his lips. "It sounds... entertaining."
"Entertaining?" Mr. Chen sputtered. "You'll be a laughingstock! You'll make us all a laughingstock!"
"Or," Leo said, his gaze drifting to Jia, "I might surprise you."
The day of the gala arrived. The Chen family was a bundle of nerves. Meiling and Mr. Chen dressed in their finest, though their outfits were from two seasons ago, a subtle but telling detail in the ruthless hierarchy of high society. Jia looked stunning in a simple but elegant black gown she had owned for years, a quiet act of defiance against the need to impress.
Then there was Leo. He emerged from his room wearing the same slightly-too-large, off-the-rack black suit he'd worn to their wedding. It was clean, but it screamed of bargain bins and charity shops next to the bespoke tailorship of the Wei's guests.
Meiling let out a small cry of despair. "We're ruined before we even arrive!"
The Wei mansion was a palace of glass and light. As they entered the grand ballroom, a hush fell over a section of the crowd. The whispers were audible. *"The Chens... look at him... how embarrassing for Jia..."*
David Wei descended upon them like a predator, his eyes glinting with triumph. He was resplendent in a white tuxedo. He took Jia's hand, kissing it with exaggerated gallantry, ignoring Leo completely.
"Jia, you look... resilient," he said, his voice dripping with faux charm. He finally turned to Leo. "And you must be Leo. I see you... made an effort."
The insult was met with a calm nod. "David. The lion theme is... ambitious. A bold choice for a family known more for its scavenging than its roar."
David's smile tightened. The first, subtle slap. Before he could retort, he was called away to greet more important guests.
The evening was a slow torture for the Chens. They were pariahs, orbiting the edges of the party. Leo, however, seemed unnervingly calm. He didn't cling to them. He observed the room with the detached interest of a anthropologist.
The climax came during the live auction. The final item was a rare, first-edition book on corporate law, a favorite of Old Mr. Wei, who was presiding over the event.
"The opening bid is fifty thousand," the auctioneer announced.
David, seeking to impress his father, immediately bid seventy-five.
From the back of the room, a calm voice spoke. "One hundred thousand."
Heads swiveled. The bid had come from Leo. A wave of titters swept through the crowd. David's face contorted with disbelief and fury.
"One hundred twenty-five," David snapped.
"Two hundred," Leo countered without hesitation.
The crowd was dead silent now. This was no longer funny; it was bizarre.
"Two-fifty!" David shouted, his composure cracking.
"Five hundred thousand," Leo said, his voice still even.
Gasps filled the room. The Chen family looked on in horror. Was he insane? Where would he get that kind of money?
Old Mr. Wei, a shrewd, silent man with eyes like chips of ice, studied Leo from the podium. He saw no bluster, no desperation. Only calm certainty.
David, red-faced, was about to bid again when his father raised a hand, silencing him. The old man's gaze was fixed on Leo.
"The bid is five hundred thousand to the gentleman in the back," the auctioneer said, his voice trembling. "Going once... going twice..."
The gavel fell. "Sold!"
The silence was deafening. Leo had just spent half a million dollars on a book. He had not just entered the lion's den; he had calmly strolled in and stolen the prized kill from the king's own son.
As he walked to the front to complete the transaction, he didn't look at the stunned Chens or the furious David. He looked directly at Old Mr. Wei, and gave a slight, almost imperceptible nod.
It wasn't a gesture of victory. It was a gesture of recognition. One king acknowledging another.
The faceslap was not just public; it was legendary. The suspense was now a roaring fire. Who was Leo Chen? The question burned in every mind in the room, but most of all, in Jia's heart, where the flame of romance was now an inferno of awe and terrifying possibility. The divorce papers David had waiting in the wings now seemed like the scribblings of a child. The game had changed, and Leo had just revealed he was playing on a completely different board.