The sight of the Taoist priest fleeing in terror at the sight of a ghost dealt a heavy blow to Gu Qiao.
It took her a long moment to recover, only to face the silent reproach in her two sons' eyes.
"Well, he must have been trying to skip out on the bill. How could there possibly be ghosts in our house? And if he really could see ghosts, wouldn’t that prove he has some skills?" she defended weakly.
Qi Lin stood up and said, "I have work at the company. I’ll take my leave."
Gu Qiao: "..."
She turned to Qi Yuan.
Qi Yuan scratched his head. "If he could really see ghosts, why would he run away like a scaredy-cat? Doesn’t that just prove he’s a fraud? Mom, even the doctor said there’s nothing wrong with me. Why won’t you believe it? Qian Kun invited me out, so I won’t be back for lunch."
Gu Qiao: "..."
She watched her sons leave, her chest tight as if stuffed with cotton, suffocating her breath.
After much deliberation, she decided to message Ma Yinglan privately.
[Gu Qiao: The master you recommended came to my house today. We were chatting just fine, but then he suddenly claimed to see a ghost and ran off.]
[Ma Yinglan: That can’t be. The master is very experienced.]
[Gu Qiao: There’s surveillance footage in the living room. Want me to send it to you?]
[Ma Yinglan: ...Then maybe your house has a vengeful spirit, and the master wasn’t powerful enough. You should find someone else.]
[Gu Qiao: Superstitious nonsense!]
She refused to listen to Ma Yinglan’s nonsense anymore. A vengeful spirit? Was she cursing them?
Wang Hua drifted back to the second floor, her eyes lighting up when she saw the mastermind behind it all, Qi Quan. "You can make people see me?"
"Anyone in the mystic arts can do that."
"What about that Taoist priest earlier..."
"A fraud."
"I knew it!" Wang Hua burst into laughter at the memory of the scammer fleeing in terror. Then, shamelessly, she asked, "Master Qi, could you let my sister see me? I have so much to say to her."
"When the time comes, she will."
"Thank you, Master!" Wang Hua beamed.
At lunchtime, Qi Quan was still the only one at the table.
A different maid served the dishes—a woman in her forties who had worked for the Qi family for a decade and was braver than the new hires.
She had been following Diary of a Wealthy Family and witnessed Ding Mei’s incident the night before. Her curiosity gnawed at her, and after setting down the dishes, she finally gathered the courage to ask cautiously:
"Young Miss Qi, did you really see Mei’s grandmother?"
Nearby servants pricked up their ears.
Qi Quan replied calmly, "Novels are fictional. Don’t take them seriously."
The maid: "..."
Human nature is strange—the more Qi Quan denied it, the more they believed her.
After this, the servants’ awe for Qi Quan reached new heights, and they dared not slight her in the slightest.
At 10 PM, it was time for the nightly update.
[Mei took leave to attend a funeral.
This incident left me feeling melancholy, reminding me of my late adoptive parents. They died in an accident when I was five, and I was sent to an orphanage until I turned eighteen and started working.
But enough of the past. Dwelling on it only brings sorrow—better to focus on something lighter.
Yesterday, I heard a ridiculous piece of gossip: three young heirs got into a brawl at a club, all because they were tangled in a love triangle!
No wonder TV dramas about the wealthy are full of melodrama—turns out it happens in real life too. The shocking part? All three were the same gender!
He loves him, he loves him, and he loves him.
As a country bumpkin, I’ve never seen anything like it. Is the upper class really this messy?
I didn’t dare ask for details.
...
This morning, two guests visited. One was vibrant and energetic, the other disheveled and downtrodden. Their dynamic was odd.
The former ignored the latter, while the latter kept shooting the former resentful looks, as if he were a heartless scoundrel.
After the guests and Father left, Mother returned.
She brought along a Taoist priest with an immortal-like demeanor and a haughty expression. The priest surveyed the front yard and living room, muttering about the fountain gathering negative energy and the vase at the staircase attracting evil...
I was baffled.
My materialist worldview was crumbling.
Before he could even ask for payment, one of Father’s earlier guests returned to retrieve something he’d forgotten.
Bathed in sunlight, his body seemed to shimmer faintly.
Suddenly, the priest shrieked, "Ghost!" and bolted like his life depended on it.
Mother looked utterly dejected, even ignoring the returning guest.
Perhaps this guest was just that forgettable—much like my invisible little brother.
Speaking of which, the fake heiress has been gone for days now. So much has happened at home, yet she remains blissfully unaware.
How fortunate she is.]
Readers of the latest chapter were at a loss for where to even begin criticizing.
[xx’s dad: What’s going on? Wrong genre? If you want to write BL, go to the romance section! First a wealthy love triangle, then ghosts and unrequited love—seriously?]
[Cosmic Shift: Author, stop spouting nonsense! There’s no such love triangle!]
[Yuan Ge Says Stop Writing: Bullsht! Total bullsht!]
[Remind Me to Prep Lessons: LMAO, the fake priest peed his pants at a real ghost. So that gloomy guest really was a ghost, huh?]
[Forest of Trees: 1000 deep-sea torpedoes!]
[Desperate for Good Reads: Keep it up, Whitewater! Here’s some clear liquid nourishment~]
In the "Criminal Luncheon" group chat:
[Qian Kun: What’s going on? Did Du Jiaming and the others really fight over a love triangle? That’s wild!]
[Sun Yu: No way. Isn’t this just Yuan’s sister making stuff up? How would she know the real reason?]
[Peng Peng: @Qi Yuan Bro, did your family really invite a priest today?]
Qi Yuan was equally puzzled.
When it happened, Qi Quan hadn’t even been in the living room. How did she know? Was she hiding in the stairwell spying? Sneaky!
And once again, she’d mocked him for being invisible!
[Su Nuanuan: Yuan Ge, did that priest really see a ghost today?]
Qi Yuan frowned. What was wrong with these people? They were treating Qi Quan’s novel like gospel.
He replied impatiently: [How should I know? I’m not a priest. These frauds are all talk anyway.]
Su Nuanuan didn’t respond further.
Late at night, at the Imperial Club.
Du Jiaming sat in a private room, drowning his sorrows in alcohol. A tattooed young man sidled up to him, teasing, "Du Ge, why no company tonight?"
Du Jiaming used to party with beauties left and right—what happened?
But now, all Du Jiaming could think about was Qin Ruo. Other women paled in comparison. He snorted. "Boring."
"Du Ge, mind if I ask something?" the tattooed guy lowered his voice. "Do you really like Yang Su or Zhang Chengyan?"
Du Jiaming nearly dropped his glass.
After a stunned pause, he exploded. "Who the hell likes those idiots?! Are you trying to piss me off? You wanna die?"
Terrified, the guy blurted out the source.
"A novel? A gay love triangle?" Du Jiaming grabbed him by the collar. "Did you drink so much your brain turned to mush?"
"No, no, Brother Du, I swear it’s not me saying this—it’s the real heiress of the Qi family who wrote it!"
Du Jiaming shoved him away. "The real heiress of the Qi family? You don’t mean that woman who made a scene stealing a man at my grandfather’s birthday banquet the other day, do you?"
"Yes, that’s her!"
"Where’s the novel? Let me see it."
To uninformed readers, The Diary of the Elite might seem like a mundane first-person account, but to those in the know, it’s a firsthand exposé of high-society scandals.
Ever since Qi Yuan shared the title in their group chat, his circle of wealthy, idle friends had been enthusiastically recommending it, and soon, many second-generation elites quietly began following the updates.
They were both awed by Qi Quan’s boldness in exposing the Su family’s "illegitimate child" scandal and impressed by her audacity to label the whole mess a "love triangle." Now, they were eagerly waiting to see how the involved parties would react.
Meanwhile, Qi Changrong was holed up in his study, staring at the words "two guests" on his screen, cold sweat trickling down his back.
Had he… just encountered a ghost?
