After finishing the meal with his two "brothers," Chen Shilei prepared to return to his own residence. As he walked along the winding path back, he muttered softly to himself, a small smile tugging at his lips, "I've got to admit, the staff here still cook as well as ever." The scents of simmering broths and roasted meats seemed to linger in the evening air, and it reminded him of the comfort and consistency of home—things that couldn't be bought with money or influence.
The Chen family estate was like a cluster of independent villas, each with its own character, yet somehow harmoniously interconnected. Each courtyard and hall reflected the personality and taste of its occupant. Chen Shilei wandered leisurely along the serpentine stone pathways, taking in the sight of the ornate pavilions, the carved railings, and the jade-like balustrades that glinted in the fading sunlight. It felt as if he were walking through a living painting, every step revealing layers of history, taste, and memory. Before he knew it, he had reached his own courtyard, a space that could be customized to suit any whim, with rooms dedicated to hobbies, work, or leisure, each offering a small sanctuary within the larger estate.
Passing through the covered bridge, Chen Shilei waved to the servants going about their duties, exchanging brief greetings. Their faces were honest and industrious, marked by years of loyal service, and it made him feel, in a quiet way, both comforted and proud. He continued on alone toward his personal quarters.
Pushing open the familiar door, a flood of nostalgia washed over him. This was his room—the place he had not returned to in nearly three years. The scent of aged wood, the faint hint of books, and the small trinkets scattered across his desk brought memories of late-night thoughts and idle daydreams. He first sat at his desk, fiddling absentmindedly with a few personal gadgets, letting the familiar motions anchor him. Then he stepped onto the balcony, letting the breeze wash over him, carrying the subtle scent of the estate's gardens. Finally, he reclined on the large bed, letting himself sink into contemplation, thoughts drifting like leaves on a river.
The quiet was suddenly shattered. "Young master! Young master!" A voice called, urgent and anxious, breaking his moment of introspection.
"Who is it? What's going on?" Chen Shilei responded, irritation flickering across his features.
A young servant came huffing into the room, his chest heaving, cheeks flushed. "Young master! The patriarch wishes to see you immediately!"
Chen Shilei's eyes narrowed, but he maintained a measured tone. "Next time, show more respect. Courtesy is everything. Luckily, you are within my courtyard. Had this happened elsewhere, you'd be in trouble—perhaps a good beating from someone with less patience than me. Now, go back. I'll be there shortly."
The young man trembled, nodding quickly, and scurried out of sight. Though Chen Shilei appeared stern, he was more in the role of a teacher than a disciplinarian. He thought of his uncle Chen Boyuan's harsh enforcement: a servant once accidentally broke a plate, and the punishment had been fatal. In Chen Shilei's mind, lessons were best taught without needless cruelty—but respect was non-negotiable.
After straightening his clothes and collecting his thoughts, Chen Shilei rose and made his way to see his father, Chen Bosi, the current head of the Chen family.
Not long after, he arrived at his father's courtyard. At the gate stood Liu Nan, the longtime family steward. "Liu Shu! What's going on? Why does the patriarch want to see me?" Chen Shilei asked.
Liu Nan shook his head slightly, expression solemn. "Young master, I'm not entirely sure. Whatever it is, it must be important."
Chen Shilei sighed. "Fine, I'll go in first," he said, and with a polite nod to Liu Nan, he entered the estate.
The scent of brewed tea guided him to the study. There, sitting with quiet authority, was a middle-aged man radiating the presence of command—the patriarch himself, Chen Bosi. He looked up, eyes softening at the sight of his son, and gestured toward a chair. "Sit," he said, pouring a cup of tea and placing it before Chen Shilei.
Chen Shilei didn't hesitate. He took a seat, lifted the cup, and inhaled the fragrant steam before taking a slow, measured sip.
"So," Chen Bosi began, breaking the silence, "are you still hung up on what happened all those years ago?"
"Yes! I am!" Chen Shilei replied sharply, his impatience clear.
Chen Bosi's gaze softened, tinged with regret. "I had no choice back then. Some things are never easily explained. I asked you here to discuss two matters."
Chen Shilei's brow furrowed. "Then get to it. Don't beat around the bush."
Chen Bosi nodded, taking another sip before continuing. "First, I want you to consider taking over my position someday."
Chen Shilei recoiled, waving his hands in refusal. "I can't agree to that!"
"Wait, don't rush to decline," Chen Bosi said calmly. "Hear me out. The current state of the family is fragile. Two main factions are vying for control: one is mine, the other belongs to your uncle. Your younger uncle's line is insignificant—he has only one daughter. If you step aside, victory is guaranteed for your uncle's side. You know well what they are capable of. And when I am gone, do you think the people around you—your friends, including Lao Fan—will be safe?"
Chen Shilei pondered this for a moment. "I'll consider it. And the second matter?"
Chen Bosi's expression darkened. "The car accident that killed your mother… I suspect it wasn't an accident. Someone did this deliberately."
Chen Shilei slammed his hand on the tea table, anger flashing in his eyes. "What? Who would do such a thing?"
Chen Bosi's face was a mix of disappointment and frustration. "So far, I have found nothing—no clues, not even after dispatching the secret guards. The reports claimed it was brake failure, but a careful inspection revealed abnormal wear on the brake pads. Something doesn't add up. Then, there's the driver. The week after the accident, his son suddenly won sixty million in the lottery—without ever having bought tickets before. Are we supposed to believe it's luck? Or some divine twist of fate?"
Chen Shilei sat in silence, head bowed, letting the weight of the revelation settle. Minutes passed before his eyes hardened with resolve. "I'll consider the matter of succession," he said quietly, "but the person who killed my mother… I will find them."
After their discussion, Chen Shilei bid his father farewell and left the courtyard. As he walked back, his thoughts churned. His father, while perhaps less formidable than previous heads of the family, was no ordinary man. Whoever had orchestrated his mother's death must wield considerable power.
When he returned to his courtyard, he noticed a young girl sitting in the living room, absorbed in her phone. Around seventeen or eighteen, dressed in a teal dress, with dark flowing hair and a youthful, radiant face—she was the picture of innocence and charm.
"小洁, why didn't you tell me you were coming?" Chen Shilei called out, smiling warmly.
The girl, Chen Hanjie, his father's youngest daughter and Chen Shilei's only younger sister, looked up from her phone, her eyes lighting up. She bounced toward him, playfully pinching his arm. "Brother Lei! Where have you been all these years? You never came to play with me! Have you forgotten me?"
"How could I forget you?" Chen Shilei said, crouching to her height. "You're my favorite. Whatever you want to do, I'll join you."
Chen Hanjie's eyes sparkled with excitement. "I saw a picture of bamboo tube rice on my phone just now. I want some! Brother, can you make it for me?"
"Of course, of course!" Chen Shilei ruffled her hair affectionately. "Let me change first, then I'll get it ready for you."
As he walked back to his room, the sounds of her laughter echoed through the estate, a reminder of simple joys and the stakes of family power. His thoughts drifted back to his father's warning: if Chen Ze ever claimed the headship, what would become of his sister? Would she be used as a pawn in alliances, forced into marriages to consolidate wealth?
He took a deep breath, pulling out his phone, and typed a message to an unlisted number: "I promise you."
The words were simple, yet weighted with meaning, a silent oath that linked the past, present, and the battles yet to come. In that quiet moment, amidst the warmth of home and the shadows of intrigue, Chen Shilei felt the first true stirrings of resolve.
The game of inheritance had begun, and the board was set.