The words landed.
The entire venue fell into sudden silence.
Mostly, everyone was caught off guard—how did the conversation suddenly pivot to grain support? They stared blankly, even forgetting to defend the benevolent Mr. Huo against the rather impolite term "slop porridge."
Of course, no one had actually been named directly—it wouldn't be proper to rush in and claim the insult, would it?
A cacophony of questions erupted.
"Who is Sister Ning? Is she really shipping grain to support the Northeast?"
"Still haven't figured it out? Miss Su—and there's a 'Ning' in her name—who else could it be but that Miss Su from Beiping?"
"A gasp—"
Years of reputation-building had clearly paid off.
Everyone present had heard that name before, and countless deeds instantly surfaced in their minds. At the very least, they knew she was an utterly colossal tycoon.
No one doubted her ability to provide support anymore.
But new doubts arose.
Oddly enough, voices dropped this time, converging into one question—
"Is Miss Su really that benevolent?"
For a moment.
Countless overt and covert glances fell upon Su Heng and Ye Tang. Ye Tang felt a pang of sympathy, knowing how terrified these people had been lately. She wanted to reassure them, but she'd only just learned the news herself.
Before she could ask Su Heng—
A distinct, light chuckle rang out.
Huo Xiang, having regained his composure, looked at Su Heng as though watching a hilarious play. "Judging by how you address her, you must be a member of Miss Su's clan?"
"You know it."
Su Heng straightened his back, clearly proud of that connection.
"Nothing much—just that, from what I know, Miss Su does have quite a few blood relatives, but when she returned to China to seek out family, she only acknowledged three people. None of them seem to match your description?"
Seeing the man's face darken instantly,
Huo Xiang's tone grew even more composed.
With feigned helplessness, he continued:
"Perhaps you're greatly resentful of that, but some words can't just be thrown around. They bring only fleeting glory. Let alone how Miss Su would react in anger, these poor souls would have been given false hope only to see it dashed. How cruel."
The implication was clear: Su Heng was lying to steal the spotlight.
The crowd erupted.
"What? It's fake?"
"Got our hopes up for nothing. As if someone would go through all that trouble to ship grain in without selling it for profit, just to give it away. And that Miss Su, of all people—I must've lost my head."
"This guy's spouting nonsense! Thinks it's fun to make fools of us?"
"Figures—anything with the Su name…"
A tidal wave of murmurs surged.
Su Heng's expression turned ugly, but he stayed calm. Glaring back at anyone who dared to stare, he sneered at the polished Huo Xiang and drawled:
"I thought I heard a dog barking in here, trying to drive a wedge between me and my Sister Ning. Turns out it's Mr. Huo. That surname rings a bell—thanks to Sister Ning, I happen to know a thing or two about the Huo family in Nanyang."
This time, it was Huo Xiang's turn to scowl.
Sure enough—
"While the real Young Master Huo is away, some usurping imposter—incompetent and mediocre, lecherous to boot—indulging his concubine's family…"
He recounted the Zhuo family affair with added embellishments.
The crowd listened, utterly riveted. Ye Tang frowned deeply—the last shred of goodwill she'd felt from the porridge distribution evaporated completely.
"So, that's why you hold a grudge against my Sister Ning."
"And you couldn't stand someone else stealing your porridge-giving thunder. With old and new grievances combined, you spout slander. Some people look like proper gentlemen on the outside, but inside they're full of crooked schemes!"
It was practically a direct insult to his face.
Huo Xiang's eyes burned red with fury.
Yet when it came to Concubine Zhuo and the Zhuo family's misdeeds, he couldn't refute a word.
But how—this was all happening in far-off Nanyang. How could this man know so much? Could it be that Su Ning, that wretched woman, had been bragging about it everywhere? The more he thought about it, the more it seemed like exactly something she'd do.
He gritted his teeth.
Wishing he could devour her flesh and drink her blood.
In truth, Su Ning had nothing to do with it. It was simply that Su Heng was an ambitious man—though not held in high regard, he always kept a close eye on the center of power, especially on everything involving Su 'Emperor' Ning.
And opportunities favored the prepared.
Look—wasn't that proving useful right now!
By this point, everyone present understood: whether Miss Su's grain support was real or not, Mr. Huo's enmity with her was absolutely genuine.
And well—there seemed to be some truth to the "lecherous" accusation too.
They'd witnessed it firsthand just now.
In the middle of handing out porridge, he'd already set his sights on that reporter Ye over there...
Sensing the shift in sentiment, Su Heng didn't bother giving these people any better treatment, let alone waste words proving himself. He turned to Ye Tang:
"Too much time wasted. The supplies and grain are probably already there. Let's go."
"Alright."
They left.
But the crowd erupted completely.
"Did they really deliver?"
"Didn't they say all the roads were blocked, and outside donations could barely get through?"
"True or false, it'll reveal itself. We'll just follow and see."
"Right! Let's follow."
"Us too."
"…"
Soon, the noisy, crowded porridge station had lost most of its crowd. Those left behind stared longingly at the porridge—maybe now they could get a bit more?
The very next second.
Several porridge pots were "accidentally" knocked over, the watery gruel spilling onto the ground.
"Oh dear, how careless. What are we supposed to eat now?"
The culprit shrugged innocently:
"Not my fault. Someone shoved me. The pot was too hot—it scalded me, and that's why I knocked it over." Then, in a "whisper": "It's just on the ground, not like you can't eat it. Nearly starving to death and still being picky?"
At that—
Some glared in fury and stormed off. Others hesitated, sighed, crouched down, and tried to scrape up the cleaner top layer of porridge with their bowls. Stray dogs, catching the scent of grain, came bounding over happily, lapping at the mess with gusto.
Huo Xiang watched coldly.
His pent-up frustration finally eased a little. Ungrateful wretches.
He fed the dogs.
And at least the dogs wagged their tails at him. But these people—over a single, unverified, empty promise—were so eager to run off? Fine. If they looked down on his porridge, then they'd eat nothing at all!
Of course, he wouldn't let that loudmouth get away either.
His fingers twitched slightly.
A bit of his fortune points vanished.
Huo Xiang finally smiled, his gaze full of contempt. It hadn't cost much—so the man was some nobody after all. He turned and left, deciding to head over to Wu Yi's place first.
It was likely all a sham.
But one couldn't be too careful...
Meanwhile.
Su Heng and his group arrived at their destination in a grand procession. As a throng of people surged forward, the guards protecting the oil survey team tensed up—only relaxing once they spotted Su Heng and Ye Tang at the front.
"Why did you bring so many people?"
"They followed on their own. Ignore them." Su Heng snorted, then said: "Everyone's here now. Have them come down?"
The onlookers were confused.
They looked around—no grain, no supplies, no trucks in sight. The crowd began to stir restlessly. Then, a low rumbling sound—
"Look! Up in the sky!"
Someone shouted.
Everyone's eyes went wide as they looked up—black helicopters, one after another, circled overhead, descending slowly at a speed visible to the naked eye.
Someone gulped audibly:
"I… I think I know how the grain got shipped in."
No kidding.
They figured it out too!
