The ease and natural poise the Qi young master showed in social settings radiated from the inside out.

The more Li Yunhui observed, the more he felt that the table on the left—hushed and busy comparing Qi Wendong to the He family’s “true young master,” He Mingliang—really had nothing better to do.

What was He Mingliang’s background, what were his manners?

Not long after he’d been adopted, his adoptive family went bankrupt and fell apart.

He Mingliang was tossed into an orphanage and grew up clawing his way through the lowest rungs of society; in temperament, ability, and interests, he wasn’t much different from any other ordinary bottom-dweller.

So the moment he was brought back to the He family, he acted like a nouveau riche.

Not only would he insist on paying every time, but after settling the bill, he’d put on that “I’m not trying to show off, but you’d better notice” restrained little smile.

That smile all but dripped with: “Look! My family is loaded! Six or seven figures for one meal, and I don’t even blink!”

According to reliable gossip, after returning home and rising up, Young Master He even took cars and people to stake out old “friends.”

Especially those with whom he’d had grudges.

He would “inadvertently” roll by in a line of luxury cars, windows down, inching past these “friends.”

If they didn’t notice, he’d go around again—once, twice, three times…

Only when they finally spotted him and his cars—and stood there frozen, pinching their thighs in disbelief—would Young Master He drift away with that prim smile.

At first, some bored young masters found it novel and tagged along willingly, performing as extras in He Mingliang’s “face-slapping” spectacle.

But once or twice was enough to make them sick of it. They promptly ditched this “new toy” of the circle and brought the tale back as tea-time comedy for private parties.

So when Li Yunhui first heard the Qi family had also welcomed a “true young master,” he felt no interest at all.

Just another nouveau riche son.

That was his natural judgment.

The capital’s elite were thick as forests, and the waters of their circle ran very deep.

Even with an entry ticket, what good was a nouveau riche young master?

At best, he added to the jokes.

Only when he saw the person himself today did Li Yunhui realize this new Qi young master could blend into their social circle with surprising smoothness—without any hint of strain, posturing, or crash-course polish.

He could faintly hear snatches of conversation.

Each time the new Qi young master began speaking with someone, he could accurately call them by name and mention their preferences—it was clear he’d done meticulous homework.

A pleasant surprise.

It truly was a pleasant surprise.

He flicked a glance at the spectacled young master. “If you’d compared their potential even once, you wouldn’t be asking that.”

By “their,” he meant the Qi family’s old and new young masters.

The spectacled youth smiled. “I’ve been friends with Xiuyi for years. Now that he’s suffering, I can’t just sit idly by.”

The blue-floral youth popped a peanut into his mouth, his ornaments jingling.

Pointing at the spectacled one, he told Li Yunhui, “I hear his dad plans to send him to Country C for a combined master’s and PhD. If he really goes, he won’t be back to live in China for years.”

Li Yunhui: “Oh. That explains it.”

Explains why he wants to blow off some steam in the capital’s social scene.

Elbow on the table, his pale-gold hair slid to one side with the tilt of his head.

“Your hands are your own,” he said. “Do what you want. Why ask me?”

The spectacled youth grinned. “Because it looks like you’re interested in him, Li-ge.”

Li Yunhui chuckled. “What interest could I have? Let me warn you—don’t be fooled by a newcomer’s friendly face. Who knows how many barbs he’s got underneath? If you lose face later, don’t come back to this table crying.”

The spectacled young man neither agreed nor disagreed.

Given the special nature of his family’s business, Li Yunhui’s danger sense about people was sharper and more precise than most of theirs.

But the He family’s antiques had tempted the spectacled youth for a long time.

His family wasn’t poor, but he had two older brothers waiting to inherit. As the third son, all he could do was lie flat and collect an allowance—he certainly couldn’t sweep auction houses without blinking the way Qi Xiuyi did.

A Qi-dynasty celadon dragon head would be hard to get.

But a cracked relationship could be mended with a sincere apology.

Restoring it to what it was would be tricky. But if the goal was merely to keep things functional for business, that was easy enough.

…Besides.

It was only a little joke.

So he thought.

The system seriously kept its mouth shut for twenty minutes.

Only when Lin Chen slipped from the whirl of socializing to grab a bite at a side table did it pop back up.

Starry-eyed and awestruck: “Wow, Host!”

“You wouldn’t believe it, but four-fifths of the hall is watching you right now, waiting for a chance to chat and make friends!”

Lin Chen wasn’t mentally tired—just hoarse. Even his replies in his head stayed concise: “Oh?”

After three days together, the system had learned to read the nuances of his tone.

Preening, it said, “Hehe. While you were working the room, I was keeping an eye on everything around you!”

“Oh,” Lin Chen answered.

The system’s voice wobbled. “N-no praise? Q-Q…”

“Praise,” Lin Chen said.

“…So perfunctory!!” the system wailed.

As they spoke, two new young masters took the seats beside him.

Lin Chen summoned up an age-old smile—shallow, polite, and low-effort—and responded with patient grace.

One came to nose around “Qi Wendong’s” past; the other, seeing promise, wanted to get in early and invest in a friendship.

Lin Chen handled both smoothly, made acquaintances, and sent them on their way.

They left satisfied; two more took their places.

A young master with friendly intentions, and a bold young lady who liked his face and wanted to befriend him.

Lin Chen handled it smoothly again, made acquaintances, and sent them off.

He left satisfied; the young lady left slightly disappointed. Two more arrived…

“Wow, Host,” the system chimed in. “That young lady just invited you to her sorority’s ball!”

“I have ears,” Lin Chen replied.

“I’m not a romance system,” the system said, “but our Group’s systems always support the host’s freedom to love!”

“I’ve heard of it,” Lin Chen said. “Lingering, poignant love.”

“So what’s your preference, Host—men or women?” the system asked brightly. “Any requirements? I can scout any time!”

“Bored? Then sleep,” Lin Chen repeated coolly. “Stop interrupting.”

“QxQ!” the system whimpered.

At last—after who knew how many cycles—a real “true young master” of the He family sat beside Lin Chen.

He Mingliang’s eyes shone with excitement. He snuck a quick look around to make sure no one else was approaching, then nudged Lin Chen with his elbow.

Lowering his voice: “Hey, Wendong-ge, do you know me? I’m He Mingliang of the He family. Just like you—suddenly found and brought home!”

He Mingliang, the true He heir who squeezed out the protagonist in the original story.

By rights, the true young master should have been a key target for the protagonist’s reckoning after his return.

But in the novel, this “true master” was almost invisible while the protagonist suffered.

Only after the late-stage reckoning began—following some unremarkable little plot—did this true young master abruptly surrender at the protagonist’s feet.

No proper face-slapping, no proper recruitment—just a perfunctory end to what should have been a tug-of-war between true and fake young masters.

After a few simple exchanges, Lin Chen could guess why.

He Mingliang was warmly enthusiastic toward someone who shared a similar experience. Clapping him on the shoulder, he laughed heartily: “Good brother, if you run into any trouble living in the capital, come to me anytime. Don’t be shy. I only got here ten days or half a month before you, but hey—that’s still more experience!”

As the name suggested—warm and bright.

A simple person.

Lin Chen smiled mildly. “I’ll thank you in advance.”

Just then, He Mingliang suddenly yanked his hand back to cover his nose and let out a thunderous sneeze:

“Ah—choo—!”

He moved so big, so sudden, that a server passing by with soup flinched. The bowl tipped; boiling-hot soup flew toward where Lin Chen sat.

“Host, move!!!” the system shrieked.

“?”

Lin Chen turned in surprise. In slow motion, he saw soup, studded with oil beads and bits of greens and meat, arcing wildly through the air—aimed squarely at his head.

The original body almost never trained, and his reflexes were poor. Lin Chen wanted to dodge, but the body lagged behind the brain by what felt like 1,000ms—no way to keep up.

Then, out of the corner of his eye, he saw someone to his side.

Lin Chen’s lips curled faintly. He loosened his muscles in relief.

In the next instant, two strong forces yanked him from either side.

His upper body snapped into a tilted “T,” the pull on the left three parts stronger, throwing him sharply that way!

The scalding soup skimmed past on his right and splattered onto the tabletop with a wet thud.

The server blanched and set the bowl down fast.

Flustered and stammering: “Young Master Qi! I’m so, so sorry—I didn’t mean it! Did any get on you? I—I’ll fetch you a spare outfit right away—really, I’m terribly sorry!!”

The grip on the right let go. The grip on the left clamped on hard.

Lin Chen turned, a little surprised, to his left.

On his left, He Mingliang’s face was flushed.

He held Lin Chen’s arm in a tight grip and jabbed a finger at the server, cursing: “What’s wrong with you—can’t you see a whole person sitting right here?”

The hall fell silent. All eyes swung, stunned, to their table.

Only He Mingliang’s furious scolding echoed through the hall, bouncing against the genteel violin music.

Slowly, Lin Chen turned to the right—toward the expected person.

The system, however, was shocked at the figure there. “Holy—Host, isn’t that Yu Zhiqiu, number one on your hunting list?”

“He’s Qi Xiuyi’s best friend—the kind you can borrow hundreds of thousands, even a million from without a blink! You haven’t even started poaching him. Why would he help you now? Doesn’t he know Qi Xiuyi hates you to the bone?”

“Because he knows,” Lin Chen said, “he’d come to me first.”

“The whole capital thinks he’s the perfect partner for Qi Xiuyi. So of course ‘I’ would think so too.”

“Clearly…”

“He doesn’t want me to see him tied that tightly to Qi Xiuyi.”

Lin Chen laughed softly. “Very well—have it your way.”