Chapter 99: Mister is Me, I am Mister! I Cannot Panic!

Song Jinxuan was completely dumbfounded.

She watched helplessly as Song Jiaru, like a fledgling bird returning to its nest, almost threw herself to that man.

That posture, that look in her eyes, that slightly forward-leaning body language, where was there even a bit of the aloofness and detachment of a national Heavenly Queen and stage Queen?

She was completely like an ordinary young girl experiencing her first awakening of love, unable to resist wanting to get close upon seeing her sweetheart.

What made her pupils quake even more was that her own cousin Lin Ruoxuan not only didn't reveal the slightest displeasure, minding, or stopping, but instead extremely naturally turned sideways and yielded half a step.

As if she had long been accustomed to such a scene, and even... tacitly approved of such intimacy.

Song Jinxuan's gaze, as if pulled by an invisible thread, fell back onto Xu Yunzhou.

This time, it was no longer like in the club private room last night, carrying a condescending scrutiny, carrying a slighting of "this man looks not bad, can tease him a bit."

Instead, she re-evaluated him up and down, carefully and meticulously.

And then, complete bewilderment and confusion.

No...

What magic does this man exactly have?

He looks not bad, handsome and gentle, tall and straight figure, wearing a Mao suit gives him a kind of temperament like a young master from a scholarly family in the old days, considered conspicuous when thrown into a crowd.

But... that's all there is to it!

In the entertainment circle, vanity fair, and wealthy circles, is it hard to find a few young men with top-tier physical appearances, outstanding temperaments, education and family backgrounds that are all presentable, and who also know how to coax people and make them happy?

With Song Jiaru's current identity, status, and influence, with her own cousin's wealth, tactics, and vision, what kind of man can't they find?

Is there a need to go to this extent!

Even, an idea that made her feel utterly absurd uncontrollably popped into Song Jinxuan's mind:

It even looks like these two proud and arrogant women are preparing to... share the same man?

Two women serving one husband?!

What era is this! What kind of international joke is this!

Wait!

Song Jinxuan abruptly shuddered, a layer of fine sweat instantly breaking out on her back.

She suddenly remembered a few days ago when talking on the phone with her cousin, her cousin instructed:

"That Xu Yunzhou, there's no need to pay special attention to him anymore."

At the time, she naturally thought her cousin had finally lost interest in this person!

So, last night at the club, seeing the drunk Xu Yunzhou, she dared to take advantage of the tipsiness to kiss him, and even birthed the thought, "Since cousin doesn't want him anymore, then it's quite interesting for me to pick him back up, slowly tame him, and keep him to play with."

If...

If cousin finds out about what happened last night...

Will she mind?

Song Jinxuan subconsciously shrank her neck, feeling the hairs on the back of her neck stand up.

...

Right at this moment, Wu Xiuyun's great-granddaughter Xu Xinyi had already quickly stepped forward to meet them.

Her gaze first nodded in greeting toward Lin Ruoxuan, her voice carrying respect:

"President Lin, you are here."

Immediately after, her line of sight, as if attracted by a magnet, uncontrollably locked onto Xu Yunzhou's face.

From his brows and eyes to his nose bridge, from the shape of his lips to his jaw, sizing him up finely and almost greedily.

As if confirming a legend, verifying a miracle.

Then, she took a deep breath, turned to Lin Ruoxuan, this strong woman who usually acted with vigor and resolution and served as a senior executive at Morgan Stanley in Hong Kong, her voice carrying an obvious tremble:

"President Lin, is this gentleman... Mister?"

She paused, as if truly unable to hold back, and quickly turned her head to look at Xu Yunzhou again, before adding in a low voice, her tone full of unbelievable exclamation:

"...Too similar... almost exactly the same as... that painting in the ancestral hall..."

She seemed to realize she had lost her composure somewhat, hurriedly bowing slightly:

"I'm sorry, I shouldn't have asked this question... it's just... the impact is too great. I grew up listening to stories about Mister, looking at that portrait... I never thought..."

Lin Ruoxuan nodded, her expression calm, as if she had long anticipated all these reactions:

"Mhm, he is the person Elder Wu wants to see. Time is pressing, let's not make the old person wait longer."

"Okay, please follow me, everyone..."

Xu Xinyi turned sideways, extending her hand to lead the way, her posture respectful.

Taking two steps, she couldn't help but look back again, giving Xu Yunzhou a deep look, and using the most solemn tone, softly added:

"Mhm... Mister, please."

The surface of Xu Yunzhou's face still maintained that breezy, ripple-less appearance, nodding slightly.

In his heart, however, he was crazily spamming:

Must hold my expression tight! Now is exactly the moment to test my acting skills! I have seen the big world! Mister is me, I am Mister! I cannot panic!

After the figures of the three disappeared behind that carved wooden door of the main hall, the solidified air in the courtyard finally seemed to start flowing again.

But that solemn atmosphere did not disperse.

Instead, it grew thicker.

"This... this is Mister? In person? It's too similar! Simply like walking out of the painting!"

Someone lowered their voice, their tone full of disbelief.

"But if it's really him in person... then how old must he be? Wouldn't he be a hundred and twenty or thirty years old? How is this possible... science simply can't explain it..."

"But that face... is really exactly the same as that portrait enshrined in the ancestral hall for almost a century! Even the feeling in the eyes is similar! How could this be a coincidence?"

Low voices of discussion quietly sounded in various corners of the courtyard.

And in the crowd, that Academician Qin Shuyi wearing gold-rimmed glasses, with a gentle and elegant temperament, who had been quietly standing under the wisteria trellis all along, was already covered in tears at this moment.

She tightly covered her mouth with a handkerchief.

Her thin shoulders trembled slightly uncontrollably, large teardrops rolling down, instantly soaking the handkerchief and the lapel of her clothes in front of her chest.

Familiar friends beside her noticed her anomaly.

Showing worry on their faces, they wanted to step forward to support and comfort her, but she forcefully and almost stubbornly waved her hand, indicating she was fine and didn't need help.

Her gaze was locked firmly behind that door where Xu Yunzhou's figure disappeared.

Using a voice only she could hear, she muttered to herself repeatedly:

"It can't be wrong... it's him... the only true god I believe in... he finally came... he really came..."

Because just now, the instant that young man wearing the gray Mao suit stepped peacefully into the courtyard under the moonlight and lantern halos, her entire world seemed to have been struck by a silent thunderbolt.

A palpitation originating from the deepest part of her soul, silent for over forty years, abruptly erupted like a dormant volcano!

It's him!

It's exactly that... god who, in the darkest, most desperate, coldest winter of her life at thirteen years old, like the first sharp ray of morning light piercing through the eternal night, slowly walked toward the shivering her.

Even though she had struggled, studied with bitter determination, and fought her way up from that desperate thirteen-year-old girl to become a world-renowned scientist standing on the Nobel Prize podium.

Even though she had weathered countless great winds and waves, and witnessed countless partings of life and death, believing her heart to already be as hard as iron and putting rationality above all else.

Even though a full fifty-five years had already passed.

She never forgot... the very first sentence he spoke to her that day, the pronunciation of every character, the tone of every word, was deeply engraved into the depths of her bone marrow and soul.

Never blurring by half a point due to the passage of years.

That sentence was:

"Do you want to save your father?"