Sang Lu felt that she knew far too little about Feng Yan.
Take this moment, for instance.
He appeared as cold as a block of ice frozen for millennia, his imposing aura making it seem as though he carried the weight of lives on his shoulders.
And yet, the warmth of his palm was scorching hot.
It was incredibly hard to read him.
The heat from Feng Yan’s hand seeped into her, making her breath grow inexplicably restless.
They hadn’t walked far when a voice suddenly reached them—
“Good evening, Young Master, Young Madam…”
Out of nowhere, an elderly butler appeared before them.
Nearly seventy years old, yet he showed no signs of frailty—his posture was ramrod straight.
Sang Lu faintly recalled that the butler was called Uncle Yue.
Uncle Yue bowed slightly and handed her a warm towel to wipe her hands.
Sang Lu snapped out of her daze.
Her gaze drifted past him.
And then, her attention was completely stolen by the grand, majestic Chinese-style courtyard behind Uncle Yue.
The last time she had visited the Feng family’s ancestral home, she had been nothing more than a puppet controlled by the plot.
Drowning in resentment, her impression of the estate had been hazy.
But now, it hit her.
The Feng family’s ancestral home was… ridiculously, outrageously luxurious.
The terms “top-tier elite” and “aristocratic family” suddenly took on a tangible form.
The courtyard was lined with winding corridors, arched bridges, and pavilions—solemn yet elegant.
Beyond the corridors, the garden was lush with rare, expensive flowers, their fragrance lingering in the air.
Uncle Yue walked slightly ahead, guiding them.
As they turned a corner, Sang Lu froze again.
Good heavens.
The backyard stretched endlessly, an expanse of pristine lawn that even housed a private helipad.
A sleek helicopter sat quietly in the distance.
Not wanting to seem like a country bumpkin, Sang Lu took a shallow breath and averted her gaze.
But the nearby sights were just as overwhelming.
With just a casual glance, she counted at least seven or eight antique vases—any one of which would be displayed in a museum behind layers of protective barriers, meant only for distant admiration.
Yet here, they were casually placed in corners like ordinary decor.
From a gilded bronze incense burner, a wisp of smoke curled upward.
The scent made Sang Lu’s head spin.
The entire place reeked of money.
Suddenly—
A low, rumbling roar approached from afar.
Following the sound, her eyes landed on an all-black heavy-duty motorcycle, its aggressive design clashing starkly with the refined elegance of the courtyard.
The tires screeched sharply against the ground as the bike tilted to a stop not far from them.
The rider swung off.
Feng Yi tucked his helmet under his arm and shook his head with an air of impatience.
Sang Lu: “…”
Was such a dramatic entrance really necessary?
Feng Yi looked about the same as the last two times she’d seen him—wearing that punchable expression of someone perpetually annoyed at the world.
But then—
That expression lasted only a few seconds.
The moment he noticed Feng Yan’s gaze on him, his posture instantly straightened.
His rebellious aura vanished in an instant.
Feng Yi blinked: ???
His right brow shot up.
What was he seeing?
Was that really his elder brother?
He must’ve ridden too fast—the wind must’ve messed with his vision.
Since when did his ice-cold brother ever wrap an arm around his wife’s waist?
What an unfamiliar sight.
…
“Brother, Sister-in-law.”
Feng Yi approached and greeted them.
Though his tone was still lazy, his expression was uncharacteristically meek and respectful.
Sang Lu could now clearly sense Feng Yi’s fear of Feng Yan.
Feng Yan had merely glanced at him, yet Feng Yi already looked like a man awaiting judgment.
Was he really that terrified?
Sang Lu didn’t get it.
Feng Yi was all deference toward Feng Yan, yet he spoke to her with such arrogance.
Logically speaking, “Sister-in-law” and “Elder Brother” both belonged to the same “elder” tier.
Why was this brat so blatantly biased?
Still, she found Feng Yi slightly more tolerable now.
How to describe it?
He was… barely passing as human.
Feng Yi had originally come with the mindset of “Today’s mission: Observe whether Sister-in-law is putting on an act. If anything seems suspicious, convince Brother to divorce her immediately.”
But the moment Feng Yan’s scrutinizing gaze landed on him, his heart clenched.
Any thoughts of missions flew out of his head.
He was too busy recalling some… less-than-pleasant memories.
Once, he had worn a trendy new jacket from a popular brand to a family dinner.
Throughout the meal, his brother had shot him several sharp looks.
Afterward, as they all sat drinking tea, Feng Yan had calmly typed something on his phone and handed it to him—
“Are you planning to work as a clown at the amusement park after this?”
Feng Yi: “…”
Another time, he’d learned his lesson and worn a suit.
He’d thought, This time, nothing can go wrong.
But unfortunately… because he’d ridden his motorcycle, the hem of his jacket had gotten slightly wrinkled.
He swore—the crease wasn’t even the length of a pinky finger.
The dinner itself had gone smoothly.
But when he got home, he received a transfer of 100,000 yuan from his brother.
Along with a message: If you’re struggling financially, just say so. Stop digging through the trash for clothes—buy something a human would actually wear.
Feng Yi: “…”
Digging through the trash…
Something a human would wear…
The words had felt like a hammer to the head, leaving him sleepless all night.
…
Feng Yi closed his eyes, shaking off the memory.
His heart pounded nervously.
Would today be another day of displeasing his brother?
After a long silence—
Feng Yan’s expression remained neutral as he finally looked away, guiding Sang Lu into the main hall.
To Feng Yi’s shock, there was no trace of disdain or sharpness in his brother’s gaze.
If anything, it even seemed… gentle?
The weight in his chest finally lifted.
Feng Yi exhaled in relief and followed them inside.
Hah, seems like Brother’s in a decent mood today.
But after a few steps, he paused.
Scratching his head.
Wait… hadn’t he come here with some important mission?
One look from his brother, and he’d forgotten everything.
…
Inside the main hall, Feng Yuanshan sat in a rattan chair.
One hand rested on a rosewood cane, the other held a tablet.
Seemingly amused by something he’d read, he tapped his cane lightly against the floor and let out a hearty laugh.
Uncle Yue hurried to his side and murmured a few words.
The old man’s head snapped up.
At the sight of his eldest grandson, granddaughter-in-law, and second grandson, his wrinkled face immediately brightened with joy.
Feng Yuanshan was over eighty, yet his spirit was vigorous.
His tailored Tang suit and sharp, lively eyes exuded dignity.
Noticing Feng Yan’s arm around Sang Lu’s waist—a rare display of affection—his eyes crinkled into delighted slits.
“Ah, Yan, Lu Lu, you’re back—wonderful, wonderful!” he chuckled.
Beside them, Feng Yi stiffened.
“?”
Huh?
What about him?
Did he not even deserve a mention?
“Hey, old man, can’t you see I’m here too?” Feng Yi blurted out, his usual lack of restraint showing.
The words had barely left his mouth when—
Whack!
A crisp sound.
Followed by a dull throb at the back of his head.
Someone had just smacked him?!
Feng Yi scowled and whipped around—
Only to see Sang Lu retracting her hand, her innocent face showing not a shred of guilt. Instead, she glared at him.
“How can you speak to Grandpa so disrespectfully?!”
Feng Yi: “!!?”
He opened his mouth to retort, but then his gaze flicked to Feng Yan beside her.
His words died in his throat.
His brother had witnessed Sang Lu hitting him… and showed no reaction whatsoever.
In fact, his usually cold, indifferent expression seemed to soften just a fraction?
He was clearly allowing it.
What kind of sorcery was this?!
This is the first time in my life I’ve seen my eldest brother be so lenient with someone.
Feng Yi was still reeling from the shock.
Out of the corner of his eye, he caught sight of his sister-in-law, who had just finished throwing punches, suddenly transform into a completely different person.
Her mood switched as fast as flipping a page.
Facing the old man, she instantly put on a bright, obedient smile.
A stark contrast to her demeanor the last time they returned to the family estate.
Her voice was sweet and clear, laughter lacing the end of her words:
"Grandpa~ Feng Yan and I are back for dinner~"
Feng Yi: !!!
Damn.
She’s so good at playing cute!
Tch.
But isn’t this just ridiculous?
Did his sister-in-law really mistake the old man for some ordinary retired grandpa?
Give me a break.
The old man had lived a life full of experiences—sharp-witted, daring, and shrewd.
He’d carved out an empire in the business world with ruthless tactics that left people trembling in fear.
Back in the capital back in the day, he even had a corny but formidable nickname—"The Feng King of Hell."
There was no way the old man would be charmed by his sister-in-law’s sweet talk.
Just as he was thinking this,
Feng Yi turned his head for a glance.
His expression froze instantly.
???
What the hell is going on?
Hey, old man?
You’re the Feng King of Hell, remember!?
What’s with that grin stretching ear to ear, that doting look, and happily tapping your cane while you chat?
