Lang Junxian lightly clinked his wine glass against Mo Qin’s, his gaze deep and steady as he said, “It’s about to begin.”
“Mm.”
Mo Qin hummed softly through his nose, reluctantly running his hand over the little rabbit a couple of times before cradling it in one arm and holding the wine glass in the other as he headed toward the center of the gathering.
The center of the hall was filled with prominent and influential figures from the noble families of Shangjing.
Among them were seasoned veterans who never took a loss, yet today they had stumbled in Mo Qin’s small stream, their expressions clouded with displeasure.
A thick, heavy black aura surrounded them, the atmosphere tense and awkward.
No one dared to speak first.
Outsiders hoping to take advantage of the situation saw their dark expressions and quickly retreated.
Mo Qin paid no mind to any of this.
As if blind to their sour faces, he casually swirled the wine in his glass and asked with a playful tone, “Everyone having fun?”
The faces of those seated only darkened further.
Mo Qin smiled and stepped aside, making way for Lang Junxian.
“This is my university classmate. He just arrived in Shangjing, still new to everything, so I ask you all to look after him.”
The nobles all gave him looks that screamed, “Are you out of your mind?”
Mo Qin shrugged off their stares as if it didn’t matter, shifting over to free a seat and leaving the spotlight to Lang Junxian.
Lang Junxian fully revealed himself then—a face strikingly similar to Lang Juntian’s appeared, causing everyone present to gasp.
The resemblance was uncanny.
Lang Junxian seemed unaware of their shock, greeting them with neither arrogance nor humility but polite cordiality.
“Junior Lang Junxian, grateful for your attention.”
The nobles scanned back and forth between Lang Juntian and Lang Junxian’s faces, trying to find a single difference, as if they could discern a hidden flower among them.
“Lang Junxian? Which Lang?”
Lang Juntian asked coldly.
“The Lang from Shushilang.”
The expressions of everyone there instantly became complicated, exchanging looks as if to say, “So it really is you—the scandalous one who stayed outside.”
Lang Juntian’s face flushed red, but he himself was unsettled.
This young man looked to be in his twenties and bore an uncanny resemblance to him.
Coupled with the surname…it was no wonder people would speculate.
Even he couldn’t stop wondering when he might have accidentally left behind a child outside.
“Come to think of it, Junxian and the Lang Jiachu might have been one family five hundred years ago,” Mo Qin said with a smirk.
The others stared at him with inscrutable eyes.
Maybe it wasn’t even five hundred years ago—they might be family even now.
Their suspicious fires blazed, everyone holding their breath to watch the drama unfold.
Lang Juntian suppressed his urge to ask but couldn’t help himself.
“Mr. Lang, where are you from?”
“Fatherless, motherless, no fixed residence,” Lang Junxian replied indifferently, seeming unbothered.
Everyone gave Lang Juntian a knowing look.
An orphan with such a resemblance—this was undoubtedly the product of one reckless night by his father.
Lang Juntian’s eyes flickered.
He was about to ask more when a handsome young man appeared, whispered something in Lang Junxian’s ear, and Lang Junxian excused himself with a “Pardon me” before following him away.
Lang Juntian’s many questions went unanswered as he swallowed his curiosity.
Mo Qin slouched in his seat, legs crossed and swaying leisurely.
The little rabbit on his lap bounced up and down, soon dozing off with blinking, heavy eyelids.
Mo Qin was admiring his little rabbit when Lang Juntian suddenly asked, “Mo Qin, where is your friend from?”
“Don’t know.”
The sudden question startled the rabbit awake.
He blinked his big round eyes, looking helplessly toward Mo Qin’s arms.
Mo Qin gently embraced him and rolled his eyes impatiently.
“I only heard he was picked up and raised by someone. He got a brain injury as a kid and can’t remember anything. His name was written on the Yupei he always carries.”
“Yupei…”
Lang Juntian muttered, then after a moment, as if recalling something, his eyes lit up and he hurriedly took his leave.
The others laughed, teasing him for rushing off to recognize his son.
It wasn’t a secret that the Lang Family was facing a succession crisis.
Now, with the sudden appearance of such a young and talented heir, Lang Juntian was secretly overjoyed.
The crowd privately mocked, but whether the son would accept him was still uncertain.
Lang Juntian rushed home and searched through his old collection until he found a dull Yupei in the shape of a fish, its smooth curves resembling half of a Yin-Yang Diagram.
He touched it, satisfied, carefully wiped it clean, and tucked it into his bosom.
After the banquet, Lang Junxian and Bai Maomao continued eating, drinking, and enjoying themselves.
The Lang Family remained silent for a while after that, leaving Bai Maomao restless and uneasy, feeling that things wouldn’t go smoothly.
Sure enough, after another week, members of the Lang Family came looking.
Lang Junxian’s lips curled into a secretive smile as he played along with their act.
Lang Juntian’s eyes were red-rimmed; his meticulously maintained face looked worn and haggard.
Holding the half of the Yupei, he looked at Lang Junxian hesitantly.
Lang Junxian’s acting was just as good.
Facing such a large crowd, he showed no fear, politely greeting Lang Juntian and asking courteously, “Lang Jiachu, what is this about?”
Lang Juntian’s eyes reddened further, guilt washing over his face.
“Junxian, I…I have wronged you.”
“What do you mean, Jiachu?”
Lang Junxian’s face showed perfectly measured confusion.
Lang Juntian was pleased with his reaction, a glint of triumph flashing in his eyes.
Pretending to wipe away tears, he said, “It’s a long story. Let’s go inside.”
Once seated inside, Lang Juntian looked around before slumping forward as if weighed down by the burden.
“Have you really lived like this all these years?”
He sighed deeply, his face full of weariness.
“I have wronged you and your mother.”
Bai Maomao rolled his eyes hard on the side.
“What’s wrong with living like this? Eating your rice?”
Lang Juntian kept up his tearful performance, transforming himself from a frivolous and heartless scoundrel into a romantic who was forced by the family to abandon the woman he loved.
Bai Maomao snorted.
Lang Juntian stiffened.
“Young man, do you have something to say?”
Bai Maomao shook his head innocently.
Lang Juntian carefully watched Lang Junxian’s expression.
Seeing no reaction, his doubts lessened, and trembling slightly, he took out the half Yupei.
Lang Junxian’s eyes sharpened as he stared silently at the half pendant, lips pressed tight.
Lang Juntian gained confidence and began his sob story again, recounting his unwilling past.
After watching his act for a while, Lang Junxian finally spoke.
“You’ve said everything you need to say. You can leave now.”
Lang Juntian paused, staring at him incredulously.
“I’m your father. How can you send me away so coldly?”
Lang Junxian’s lips tightened, his features hardening.
A fleeting glimpse of vulnerability flashed in his eyes, which Lang Juntian caught.
That moment told him to speak earnestly.
“I’ve finally found you. Please give me a chance to make it up to you and your mother.”
Bai Maomao scoffed.
Lang Juntian faltered again, looking at him with calm eyes that hid a storm beneath.
Bai Maomao: So scary.
Lang Junxian took the initiative.
“I don’t need compensation. You can leave.”
“I know you can’t accept it all at once,” Lang Juntian put on a fatherly face.
“I’ll come see you again. I won’t give up.”
Lang Junxian didn’t even move his eyes as he sat there.
Lang Juntian sighed deeply, his figure retreating with an air of desolation.
Bai Maomao clicked his tongue behind him.
“Your cheap dad’s acting is pretty good. He deserves an Oscar for trying so hard.”
Once everyone had left, Lang Junxian relaxed his expression, half amused, and tapped Bai Maomao lightly on the forehead.
It seemed the first step had been successful.
Lang Juntian was more suspicious than expected, so this strategy of retreating to advance worked better than a direct confrontation.
Lang Juntian was pleased with this meeting too.
He was certain this was the son accidentally taken away years ago.
The shameless brat who had stolen from him was dead; this son might actually be useful.
Young but with profound cultivation.
Whether the medicine from years ago had taken effect or not, Lang Juntian squinted, thinking he’d study the boy further once he had control.