Chapter 98: Mister Arrives

Yang Wenhui: "..."

Xu Zhongshan: "..."

Xu Chen: "..."

No...

What, what kind of plot is this?

That kid Xu Yunzhou, didn't he just break up with Su Qianran a couple of days ago?

And now, a big star girlfriend pops up?

This, this, this... what the hell, who exactly cheated first?

With a "boom" in Xu Zhongshan's head, a wave of anger rushed straight to the top of his skull—I knew it! That kid doesn't have a single word of truth in his mouth!

What getting cuckolded, it's all nonsense!

It might be that this kid himself was two-timing first, got discovered by Su Qianran, and made a false countercharge!

No wonder he stopped them at the entrance of the residential compound the day before yesterday and didn't let them go upstairs, it turns out he was afraid of being exposed!

Must interrogate him properly when we get back!

Wait!

Hold on!

The key question is, on what basis could that kid woo Shen Mingyue?

He, Xu Yunzhou, is just a small programmer in Binzhou, his mortgage hasn't even been paid off, and only his appearance is passable.

On what basis could he make this top-tier little flower with millions of fans and limitless future publicly announce it in this kind of occasion?

Looking at the brilliant and varied expressions on the faces of the three, Shen Mingyue gently held Yang Wenhui's hand, her voice gentle:

"Auntie, don't be nervous. Yunzhou he... is much more amazing than you imagine. You'll know when he arrives in a bit."

"Mhm?"

Yang Wenhui blanked, subconsciously feeling for her phone from her pocket,

"Yunzhou is also coming here? I, I'll call him and ask..."

Her fingers trembling slightly, she swiped open the screen and was about to dial.

Shen Mingyue, however, gently pressed her hand and shook her head, the smile on her face deepening a bit:

"No need to call. He's already on the way."

She raised her chin, gesturing toward the direction of the mansion entrance, her tone certain:

"On an occasion like today, how could the true main character be absent?"

Before her words fell, at the entrance of the mansion, headlights lit up again.

Another car slowly drove in.

The black car body gleamed with a steady luster under the lantern light.

The car model wasn't considered flashy, but those who knew the ropes could tell at a glance the custom-grade chassis and special window glass.

In the courtyard, someone said in a low voice:

"That's President Lin's car."

Immediately following, another voice sounded, carrying unsuppressible excitement and some kind of almost pious awe:

"Is Mister... in the car?"

All conversations, at this moment, completely disappeared.

Not gradually quieting down, but as if their throats were instantly choked by an invisible hand.

Over a hundred gazes uniformly cast toward that black sedan slowly coming to a steady stop.

The night wind seemed to have perceived something too, abruptly ceasing.

The leaves of the camphor trees stood motionless.

The world seemed to have the pause button pressed on it.

Only the sound of heartbeats, in everyone's chest, boomed like beating drums.

The car door opened.

A person stepped down from the passenger's seat first.

Lin Ruoxuan.

She wasn't considered an unfamiliar face here.

Over these years, because of the "Wallbreaker Plan" and her close relationship with Elder Wu, she had been to this old mansion many times.

Many core members of the Xu family and elders of families with long-standing ties to the Xu family recognized this female leader who, despite her young age, had extraordinary tactics and astonishing influence in the business world.

Seeing her, many people nodded slightly in greeting, calling softly:

"President Lin."

The voices were respectful, carrying the respect of treating a heavyweight partner.

But not surprised.

That Lin Ruoxuan would come tonight was within many people's expectations.

And then—

All lines of sight bypassed Lin Ruoxuan, as if attracted by a magnet, landing firmly on the face of the young man who had just stepped down from the driver seat behind her.

The air at that instant seemed to be drained dry.

Time stalled.

Breathing stalled.

Thinking stalled.

That face...

Looking to be no more than twenty-seven or twenty-eight, with handsome and clear features, a straight nose bridge, and thin, clearly defined lips.

His temperament was quiet, even somewhat detached. Wearing a well-fitting gray Mao suit made his posture appear tall and straight.

Walking half a step behind Lin Ruoxuan, like an accompanying junior or assistant.

But almost all the members of the Xu family, regardless of old or young, regardless of high or low status, regardless of what thoughts they harbored before or what topics they were conversing about, the instant they saw that face, their bodies reacted before their brains.

They coincidentally put down the things in their hands—put down teacups, stopped conversing, put away phones, and stood up straight.

Then, bowed their heads slightly.

Toward the direction of that young man.

The movements were as neat as if rehearsed, yet revealing a solemnity and respect originating from instinct and settled over decades.

No clamor, no exclamations, not even anyone opening their mouths to speak.

Only silent, collective salutations.

Because they knew.

This was the "Mister" that the old ancestor had waited over seventy years for, and had to see even at the end of her life.

Because his portrait, that portrait hand-drawn by the old ancestor and always enshrined in the very center of the family ancestral hall, had already circulated in this family for over half a century.

Every child of the Xu family had, when young, been led by an elder in the incense-curling ancestral hall, pointed at that yellowing portrait, and listened to a story about war, about hope, about how an "invisible Mister" guided a young girl to become a general in a desperate situation.

And over a decade ago, after the old ancestor returned from Bashu, her spirit seemed much better, and she brought out a brand-new painting.

Compared to the rough lines she hand-drew in her early years, that painting was clearer, more expressive, more... lifelike.

The person in the painting had smiling eyes, gentle yet detached, wearing a sharp Mao suit, his gaze seeming to penetrate the paper, looking at everyone gazing at him.

And that face, compared to the young man who stepped down from the car at this moment and was slowly approaching...

Exactly the same.

Without the slightest error.

As if time had stalled on his body for seventy years, never leaving any traces.

Reborn? Immortality? Spacetime travel?

Of course, the vast majority of the people present were elites who had received modern education and made considerable achievements in their respective fields.

They weren't superstitious, much less would they easily believe in "talk of ghosts and gods" or "secret arts of immortality."

Most people were more inclined to believe that this young man before their eyes was not the "Mister himself" on the portrait who traversed spacetime, but highly likely a descendant, nephew, or some hard-to-explain cross-generational successor of that mysterious "Mister."

But regardless, the old ancestor's obsession was real.

The person on the portrait truly existed.

That grace and guidance spanning war and peace, blood and flowers, despair and hope, was real.

That emotion which the old ancestor used her whole life to engrave in her heart, to repay, to wait for, was real.

So, even if it's a descendant, the respect that should be given, must be given.

Xu Yunzhou's footsteps paused imperceptibly the instant he stepped into the courtyard.

He froze.

There were... too many people.

Moreover, he saw a few completely unexpected faces.

First, he saw Gekka-ki at a glance—that woman whose figure curves were truly too astonishing, easily recognizable even in a crowd.

She wore a champagne-colored satin qipao tonight, her long hair elegantly put up, revealing her slender neck.

She was accompanying a middle-aged man wearing gold-rimmed glasses with an elegant and gentle temperament, looking like a gentle and quiet lady from a great family, a virtuous companion.

Completely different from that yakuza Hall Master in the hot spring villa wearing leather, playing with a pistol, and smiling bewitchingly and dangerously.

Xu Yunzhou's brows furrowed involuntarily.

Why would this Hall Master-level figure of Nihon's Crescent Group be here?

What identity did she use to sneak in? Spy?

Or is it that... within the Xu family, someone has an unknown connection with a yakuza organization?

He quickly moved his line of sight, no longer looking at her.

Afterwards, he must have Lin Ruoxuan investigate properly.

But now... he can't "alert the snake by beating the grass."

Secondly, he saw Song Jiaru and Song Jinxuan.

This wasn't surprising.

With such a short drive from Binzhou, given Song Jiaru's relationship with Elder Wu, it was very normal for her to come.

At this moment, Song Jinxuan was standing beside Song Jiaru, sneering and saying:

"Teacher Song, so you were doing this just for such a man. Look how close he is to my cousin, this taste of yours... Eh?"

But Song Jiaru wasn't listening at all.

She had already stepped forward to meet him, her footsteps somewhat fast, even carrying a bit of a trot.

"President Lin, Big Brother, you're here."

Her voice was trembling slightly, her eyes bright as if stars had fallen into them, looking straight at Xu Yunzhou.

Her heart was beating wildly in her chest.

From parting by the West Lake to now, it was only a few hours.

Yet she felt... as if several years had passed.