As suspicion brewed in Lu Zhiling’s heart, the old man Bo Qinglin—who had been sitting on the main seat focused solely on eating—suddenly let out a chuckle.
“That’s right, that’s right! If everyone found out my grandson was impotent and needed someone else to help him administer medicine for his first time, wouldn’t that be humiliating for us?”
“Cough—cough—”
Lu Zhiling couldn’t hold it in. So she started coughing violently.
What… what kind of information was she being forced to receive at this meal?
So that was it. It wasn’t that the old lady couldn’t find a suitable match—it was because Bo Wang himself had problems in certain areas?
Bo Wang, who had been sitting off to the side the entire time, had not spared the old man and woman a single glance. But the moment those words landed, his face drained of all the color. He lifted his head sharply, his eyes went dark and murderous as they locked onto Bo Qinglin.
“I,” he said slowly, as each word pressed out through clenched teeth, “am. Fine.”
He even swore regardless of the people present.
“But Yu Jun said you never have a woman by your side .”
Bo Qinglin suffered from Alzheimer’s (a degenerative illness that causes memory loss). Which made the once-dominating patriarch had long since lost his sharp edge, leaving behind only a childlike frankness. That is why he spoke without restraint, as if unaware of the weight of his words.
“But my grandson is very capable! That boy hit the target on his very first shot—no practice needed! Back in the day, he would’ve been born to command troops!”
“……”
Lu Zhiling wanted to scrub her ears clean now .
What had she just heard?
“……”
Bo Wang’s expression darkened completely. Without a word, he began unbuttoning his cuffs. A cold, dangerous aura spilled out of him, sharp enough to cut skin.
Seeing this, Ding Yujun’s temples throbbed more .
“The old man has finished eating,” she hurriedly instructed the servants. “Quickly—help him to the yard for a walk.”
If they didn’t leave now, blood would be spilled surely.
“Huh? I’m not done eating yet. That sweet corn—Yu Jun, Yu Jun…”
Bo Qinglin looked innocent and aggrieved as the servants half-forced him away to the yard .
Bo Wang watched coldly. One hand rested on the edge of the table. His cuffs were already undone, revealing distinct blue veins along his forearm—taut, restrained, violent.
Ding Yujun put down her chopsticks and looked at the two of them.
“After your child is born, I will personally raise it. Bo Wang, the Bo family will be yours. Grandma will definitely help you take it back.”
“Heh.”
Bo Wang let out a soft, mocking laugh.
Lu Zhiling turned her head and saw that Ding Yujun’s carefully maintained face had gone slightly stiff.
“What are you laughing at?” Ding Yujun asked.
Bo Wang leaned forward, his handsome face stopping right in front of her. His eyes were dark as night, his voice low, almost playful.
“If you’re going to help,” he said slowly, “shouldn’t you at least help me with what I actually want?”
Ding Yujun frowned. “What you want…”
“I want to die,” Bo Wang said lightly, raising an eyebrow. “Would you help me with that?”
“……”
Ding Yujun froze completely.
Bo Wang said nothing more. He stood up and walked out but Lu Zhiling remained seated, her posture obedient, her expression unreadable. She watched as Ding Yujun’s eyes reddened, watched her stare at the empty doorway with guilt carved deep into her face.
Suddenly, Ding Yujun grabbed Lu Zhiling’s fingers as if clinging to a lifeline.
“Zhi Ling, give birth to the child safely. You must give birth safely.”
“……”
Lu Zhiling nodded obediently.She didn’t have the right not to give birth anyway.
———————
The teahouse, Gui Qi Lou (literally “Returning Fragrance Pavilion,” a poetic name common in traditional teahouses), was located in the suburbs where housing prices weren’t high. There were very few customers at this time.
Staying here, Lu Zhiling felt no psychological burden. She quietly selected tea leaves and packaged them alongside Feng Zhen and Jiang Fusheng.
“Guilt you say?” Jiang Fusheng asked, puzzled. “Why would the old lady feel guilty toward the eldest young master? Is it because he’s been away for so many years and lived poorly?”
“It doesn’t feel like that,” Lu Zhiling said lightly. “There may be other reasons.”
“The Bo family is more complicated than I thought.”
The old lady wasn’t just thinking about her—she was grooming the child in her womb to become the future heir.
From what Lu Zhiling knew, Madam Yu and Madam Xia fought openly and viciously, each backed by their own children. Once her child was born, it would be dragged into a power struggle from its very first breath.
If that was the case… how could she bear to leave the child in the Bo family?
Lost in thought, Lu Zhiling subconsciously reached up and touched her stomach.
“Most large families fight to the death,” Feng Zhen said, standing nearby with a frown. “How could they be as harmonious as the Lu family once was?”
“Miss, it’s too unfair—and too dangerous—for you to stay in a den of wolves like that.”
“It’s fine,” Lu Zhiling said calmly. “I won’t provoke anyone from the Bo family. But if they dare come for me, I won’t be as useless as before.”
As a child, she had lived sheltered under her family’s protection, ignorant of reality.
Later, Feng Chao had “taught” her the truth of the world.
She would no longer wallow in self-pity.
She would fight—for her own future.
So after finishing the packaging, Lu Zhiling turned on the computer to check their earnings.
Feng Zhen smiled when he saw the numbers.
“Quite a few young masters came through the Black Spade Club (a private high-end club frequented by wealthy elites) for tea and took some back with them. After deducting costs and rent, there’s still a good surplus.”
Lu Zhiling nodded. “Then Uncle Feng, pay off your loan as soon as possible.”
Opening the teahouse had required Feng Zhen to mortgage his house. From the start, she had targeted wealthy club owners who valued quality over price, aiming to recover funds quickly to pay off the debt.
“No rush,” Feng Zhen said worriedly. “The teahouse still needs to operate. Some people who tasted your tea feel the flavor isn’t what they’re used to anymore. They might not return.”
“Which is why,” Lu Zhiling said calmly, “we can’t rely on tea alone.”
“We need to turn the teahouse into a place people want to come back to.”
She already had a plan.
“Service quality must be absolute. Employee training can’t have any loopholes. And we need to figure out where people in this circle usually go for entertainment—and find ways to cooperate with those places.”
“Alright,” Feng Zhen nodded.
Gui Qi Lou was built in the rustic Jiangnan style (a southern Chinese architectural style known for elegance, woodwork, and water-town aesthetics). A faint tea fragrance drifted from upstairs to downstairs through all the teahouse. Still every good thing this inspection also came to an end and now it was time for her to return to the Bo residence again.
So on her way out as Lu Zhiling and Jiang Fusheng descended the wooden stairs. A surprised voice rang out—
“Lu Zhiling?”
She froze hearing her name .
Her gaze drifted downward, unfocused, and landed vaguely on a figure below.
A young woman stood beside an old-fashioned Eight-Immortal Table (a traditional square dining table symbolizing prosperity), dressed head-to-toe in designer labels, staring up at her in disbelief.
Gong Zihua.
Lu Zhiling paused for several seconds before recognizing her.
She was the Gong family’s eldest daughter who are a real estate tycoons and was her classmate for half a year.
Gong Zihua stared at her intently as Lu Zhiling stood on the stairs in a beige cotton-linen dress, a work hat on her head, apron and sleeves still on. The contrast between them was stark—as if they belonged to entirely different worlds.
“Is it really you?” Gong Zihua rushed upstairs. “What are you doing here?”
“I own this teahouse,” Lu Zhiling replied.
“You’re the owner?” Gong Zihua’s expression twisted in shock. “The seventh young lady of the Lu family, running this kind of small, unsophisticated business?”
Sarcasm flickered deep in her eyes.
Then she seemed to remember something.
“Oh—right. I forgot. The Lu family’s been gone for years now. Almost everyone’s dead.”
Lu Zhiling smiled faintly.
“Yes. Count carefully—whose family hasn’t lost someone?”
“……”
Gong Zihua fell silent, her expression turning cold.
Just as she was about to speak, she noticed Lu Zhiling’s unfocused eyes. She raised a hand and waved it in front of them.
“You can’t see?” Her voice sharpened. “Are you blind now?”
“Yes,” Lu Zhiling admitted calmly. “So please forgive me for not recognizing you.”
“I’m Gong Zihua.”
Gong Zihua looked her up and down with disdain, but her tone was full of fake sympathy.
“How pitiful. How did you end up like this? Your hand… You used to be someone who could summon the entire school leadership just from a small cut.”
She suddenly noticed the ring.
“You’re married now? To whom?”
She grabbed Lu Zhiling’s hand, staring at the diamond ring.
“Someone ordinary,” Lu Zhiling said.
Of course, Gong Zihua thought. In her current state, what kind of man could Lu Zhiling possibly marry?
So she rolled her eyes.
“When we came in, it was a gray-haired Mr. Feng receiving us. Could it be—”
Lu Zhiling smiled but didn’t explain.
Gong Zihua thought she had guessed correctly and nearly burst out laughing.
So the fallen phoenix had married a man old enough to be her father.
A phoenix that falls is no better than a chicken.
Forcing back her laughter, Gong Zihua affectionately pulled her downstairs.
“Back then, when we heard about your family’s troubles, all of us classmates were so worried. Why didn’t you come to us for help?”
“Thank you for concern,” Lu Zhiling nodded. “But I’m fine now.”
“That’s wonderful,” Gong Zihua said, pulling an invitation from her bag. “Perfect timing! My family is hosting an angel fundraising dinner this weekend—donations and auctions for children in overseas mountainous regions.”
“I’ve invited many old classmates. Why don’t you and your husband come too?”
Lu Zhiling pushed the invitation away.
“I won’t go.”
“Oh, come on.” Gong Zihua forced it into her hand. “I know life’s been hard for you. You don’t have to donate or buy anything—just come as a reunion. Give me face, alright?”
Lu Zhiling hesitated, then finally accepted it.
She turned to a waiter. “Bring a few cans of good tea for my freind.”
Moments later, a neatly packaged tea gift bag was brought over.
Lu Zhiling placed it into Gong Zihua’s hands.
“You’re too kind,” Gong Zihua said smugly.
As she wonders how the tables had turned now .
“No need for formality,” Lu Zhiling said gently. “We’re classmates. I should’ve given you more, but…”
Her smile didn’t change as her tone shifted.
“You know I’m in a difficult situation right now. You wouldn’t accept it for free. I’ll charge you the cost price.”
“……”
Gong Zihua’s smile stiffened.
“How much?”
“Three hundred thousand.”
Lu Zhiling’s expression remained serene.
“How much?!” Gong Zihua nearly jumped. “Are you insane? Three hundred thousand for some cheap tea?!”