The car glided smoothly up the mountain and came to a stop at the Tang family estate.
A servant approached to park the vehicle. Upon seeing Old Master Ji step out, he greeted him respectfully. Then, his eyes widened slightly as the elderly gentleman turned back to assist a young woman out of the car.
Though dressed in an elegant qipao with an air of quiet composure, the girl appeared no older than twenty.
So young, yet she needs an old man’s assistance?
The servant’s mind buzzed with unspoken thoughts, but his expression remained deferential. "Old Master Ji, please wait in the reception room for a moment."
Inside, Tang Youyi was preparing to leave for a corporate meeting at Tang Corporation.
For over thirty years, he had held the title of president, yet his stake in the company remained a mere five percent.
The majority of shares still belonged to Tang Che, who had never transferred them.
His wife, Madam Tang—the current matriarch of the family—sat gracefully sipping her morning tea. At sixty, she was impeccably maintained, exuding an air of aristocratic refinement.
"You just need to prove yourself," she said calmly. "Once your uncle is satisfied, he’ll transfer the shares to you. And even if he never does, they’ll still pass to you when he’s gone. There’s no need to rush."
Just then, the servant entered again. "Sir, Madam, Old Master Ji has arrived. He wishes to see the old master."
Tang Youyi’s expression darkened. "Tell him the old master is ill and unable to receive guests. Send him away."
"Tang Youyi," came a sharp voice from the doorway as Old Master Ji strode up the steps into the hall, "are you trying to keep me from seeing Uncle Tang? You bear the Tang name and share his blood, yet you act as though I’m the one to be wary of. What’s your problem?"
Tang Youyi fell silent.
He was over a decade younger than Ji Shunying. From his earliest memories, he had watched his uncle take the man under his wing, personally instructing him in business matters.
Tang Che had never hesitated to praise Ji Shunying.
But for Tang Youyi? Only sighs of disappointment, criticisms of his shortcomings.
It wasn’t until he grew older that he learned the truth—Ji Shunying was the son of his uncle’s first love, hence the favoritism.
At one point, he had even feared his uncle might hand the Tang fortune over to Ji Shunying entirely.
Thankfully, I carry the Tang bloodline.
The family elders had intervened, forcing his uncle to relinquish control and name him the primary heir in his will.
As he stewed in these thoughts, Madam Tang set down her teacup, her gaze flickering past Old Master Ji to land on Rong Yu.
What a striking girl.
The understated qipao lent her a serene, unignorable presence.
Then Madam Tang’s eyes dropped—and froze.
That necklace…
Days ago, the old master had suddenly demanded access to the family vault, insisting on retrieving a pink gemstone necklace. The staff had turned the place upside down but found nothing.
The piece was a rarity—crafted from an exceptionally scarce pink mineral sourced from South Africa, each gem worth a fortune on its own. Strung together, its value was incalculable, only appreciating with time.
When Madam Tang had spotted it in the vault, she couldn’t resist. She’d taken it, planning to gift it to her eldest granddaughter for her eighteenth birthday.
But the old master’s relentless search had forced her to return it.
And now, here it was—dangling from the neck of some young upstart.
Her glare was so palpable that Old Master Ji stepped forward, shielding Rong Yu. "That necklace was a gift from Uncle Tang to Miss Rong. Do you have a problem with that, Madam Tang?"
Madam Tang’s voice trembled with disbelief. "Why would the old master give something so precious to a child?"
Tang Youyi recognized Rong Yu.
At the last Tang family banquet, she had been the one wheeling his uncle through the gardens for a private conversation.
Then yesterday, despite his frail health, the old master had personally escorted her to Ji's Entertainment for a program recording.
And now this—an heirloom necklace draped around a celebrity’s throat.
In their circles, cost was rarely the concern; rarity was. And this piece was exceedingly rare.
"Miss Rong is remarkable," Tang Youyi said carefully. "It’s natural that my uncle admires her. But for a young person to coax such valuables from an elder—surely that’s inappropriate?"
Old Master Ji’s face turned icy. "Watch your words. This isn’t your household yet. Uncle Tang is free to gift whatever he pleases—without your interference."
Tang Youyi’s temper flared. "My uncle is over a hundred years old, in and out of hospitals, and you—you drag him around chasing after celebrities? At your age? Or is this just a scheme to swindle the Tang fortune with some starlet’s help?"
Rong Yu lifted her gaze, her voice eerily calm. "So, in your eyes, Tang Che is a senile fool? And yet, this ‘fool’ still holds the family’s reins. That must gall you, Mr. Tang."
"How dare you address the head of the Tang family so disrespectfully!" Tang Youyi roared. "You insolent girl!"
Rong Yu studied him for a moment, then relaxed slightly.
At least this nephew bore no ill intent toward Tang Che. Had he truly sought to usurp power, the old man wouldn’t have lived to see a century.
"Regardless, Miss Rong," Madam Tang interjected smoothly, "such a lavish gift is unsuitable for someone your age. I have another necklace, far more fitting for a young lady. Shall we trade?"
A cold voice cut through the room.
"Since when do I need permission to give gifts in my own house?"
The sound of wheelchair wheels announced Tang Che’s arrival as Housekeeper Tang pushed him forward.
Seated in the chair, the old man’s expression was thunderous. Decades of authority radiated from him, a palpable pressure silencing the room.
Madam Tang’s aristocratic poise evaporated instantly; she shrank back, head bowed.
"Uncle," Tang Youyi began hastily, "I didn’t mean—"
"Suitability isn’t yours to judge," Tang Che bit out, each word razor-sharp despite his aged voice. "If this family has no place for me, I’ll return to my old residence today."
The mountain estate had been built over twenty years prior under Tang Youyi’s direction—a retreat for Tang Che’s health, though legally under Tang Youyi’s name.
The threat struck like a whip.
"Uncle, I was wrong!" Tang Youyi paled. "I overstepped. I’ll apologize to Miss Rong at once—please, don’t leave."
