“Don’t you dare go too far!”
Wen Zeming’s face flushed crimson. Compared to the Wen Tian of a past life, he clearly hadn’t learned restraint.
Just a few sharp words, and the facade of a gentleman shattered—his reddened eyes filled with jealousy as he snapped, “You just got lucky being born into the right womb! In talent and virtue, how do you even compare to me?”
“You’re nothing but a useless pretty face who can’t even compose a poem. Without the Wen family, you’re nothing!”
Too caught up in his own bitterness, Wen Zeming failed to notice the shift in the crowd. The young heirs who’d been idly watching the drama unfold now wore grim expressions.
After all, most of them were privileged second-generation sons, reliant on family status. With one careless tirade, Wen Zeming had insulted everyone.
Even Zheng Bosheng, who had been wavering on whether to step in, now looked displeased.
Wen Tian, watching him quietly, mused: So easy to provoke.
This version of Wen Zeming hadn’t matured yet.
Back in their previous life, Wen Tian had once insulted even Zeming’s mother, and the man hadn’t so much as blinked.
Still too green.
But that only made Wen Tian want to laugh. Leisurely, he raised the wine pot and took a sip straight from the spout.
Then, with a lazy sideways glance at the fuming Zeming, he smirked,
“Yes, I’m bullying you. So what?”
“Yes, I was born lucky. So what? I just have to sit here and snap my fingers to get whatever I want. You, on the other hand?”
“You have to kiss up to a so-called ‘good-for-nothing’ like me just to survive. That must be exhausting, huh?”
Wen Zeming’s chest heaved violently. His glare could slice through steel. How many times had he seen that smug expression?
But never before had it humiliated him like this.
They were both Wen family blood. So why did he always have to grovel like a dog?
His fists clenched at his sides, every muscle trembling. Gritting his teeth, he spat out every word:
“Do. Not. Mock. A. Young. Man. For. Being. Poor.”
“Pfft!”
Wen Tian burst out laughing. He flung the wine pot aside and stood up for the first time, cold eyes locking onto Zeming.
“Oh? So what you’re really saying is—I should just cut the weeds and pull out the roots?”
This time, there was real murder in his eyes.
Wen Zeming froze.
He stared into those deep, pitch-black pupils—and saw, unmistakably, hatred.
This wasn’t the naive, pampered noble he’d heard about. The Wen Tian he’d investigated was supposed to be soft and spoiled, a pretty doll with no brains or backbone.
So… he’d been faking it all along?
But why?
Why target him?
Panic bloomed in Zeming’s gut. Maybe he should back off before things escalated. If he kept pushing… this person might really kill him.
He was scared now—jaw clenched, gaze taut with tension.
But Wen Tian wasn’t actually going to kill him. He’d been a law-abiding citizen for two lives.
Even if he did want to flay Wen Zeming alive, he’d never stain his hands with blood over someone so worthless.
Still, scaring him a little? That was fun.
Seeing that Zeming had backed down, Wen Tian waved his hand dismissively, bored now.
“Throw him out.”
Li Qingnian responded immediately. He turned to the nearest servant and barked, “Drag him out. And make sure he doesn’t sneak into any of our parties again.”
Wen Zeming tried to maintain his dignity, spine straight as he began to walk out—only to be yanked off balance by two burly servants and hauled out like a sack of potatoes.
Zheng Bosheng’s face twitched, but in the end, he stayed silent. His family ran small businesses—not even in the same league as the Li or Wen clans.
He had half a mind to help, but Wen Zeming had clearly made enemies today. Zheng wasn’t about to risk dragging his whole family down for a friend.
The room fell quiet.
These rich heirs may have played together, but their social hierarchy was crystal clear. And Wen Tian’s family—the Wens—was absolutely at the top of the pyramid.
Besides, he used to come off soft and harmless. But today?
He was fiercer and more domineering than any of them. Everyone was stunned into silence.
Li Qingnian, though, was unaffected. Still grinning, he said cheerfully, “I’ve never seen you lose your temper like that. That Wen Zeming must’ve done something really unforgivable?”
Without the object of his rage in front of him, Wen Tian deflated slightly, like a wild animal that had retracted its claws.
Li Qingnian’s question was tricky to answer. After a pause, Wen Tian said lazily, “No reason. I just hate the sight of him.”
The others: “…”
What an unreasonable answer.
But somehow, it made perfect sense. After all, wasn’t that how they operated too?
If someone rubbed them the wrong way, they simply dealt with it—no need to justify themselves.
Strangely enough, this made the other young lords feel closer to Wen Tian. One of their own, finally.
Zhou Chuanqing, who’d been observing silently from the sidelines, gave Wen Tian a curious look. Today had been full of surprises.
He’d expected Wen Tian to be the one bullied, maybe even considered stepping in to help—but to his shock, Wen Tian had turned the tables and become the bully instead.
Folding his fan and tapping it against his palm, Zhou thought, If the boss finds out about this, he’s going to be very intrigued.
Wen Tian didn’t notice the shifting opinions around him. Even after venting, seeing Wen Zeming had stirred up memories of Wen Boli—and his mood only sank further.
The flower-viewing banquet lasted until dusk. As night fell, it was time for the lanterns dedicated to the Flower Deity to be released.
Wen Tian figured Wen Shuyue would probably be back by now, so he left with Li Qingnian and Zhou Chuanqing.
In the peach blossom grove, glowing lanterns flickered like stars. As they reached the main road, a massive lantern bloomed atop the Flower Deity Temple.
Shaped like a peony in full bloom, it held a statue of the imperial consort in its center. One by one, the flames along the petals lit up, and the giant lantern began to rotate.
As the main lantern blazed, tiny lights spread across the sky like fireflies. From afar, the temple shimmered with breathtaking brilliance.
Wen Shuyue returned just then, carrying a small lantern with her maid. She’d originally planned to release her lanterns with friends but hadn’t seen Wen Tian all afternoon—so she left early to find him.
Seeing her, Wen Tian lit up. He ran over to take her lantern and asked with a grin, “You’re back already?”
“I was worried about you,” she said, walking beside him. Her brow furrowed slightly.
“Did you drink?”
“Just a little wine at the banquet,” Wen Tian said, scratching his cheek sheepishly.
She didn’t press further, and they walked together toward the carriage.
Only then did she notice Li Qingnian and Zhou Chuanqing nearby. She paused, then gave them a polite nod.
Li Qingnian’s eyes widened when he saw her. He tugged at Wen Tian and whispered, “Dude. Your sister—she looks like a goddess.”
Wen Tian gave him a sideways glance and ignored him. He reached into the carriage to take out the flower lantern and asked Shuyue where she wanted to release it.
She thought for a moment and suggested they walk along the river.
Just past the peach grove lay the Sihu River. Tonight, its banks were draped in glowing lanterns. Street vendors lined the path, calling out their wares.
Wen Shuyue and Wen Tian walked together with their lantern, while Zhou and Li trailed behind.
Li, being the chatty type, whispered to Zhou, “Seriously, she’s even prettier than the Flower Deity. Whoever gets to marry her must have saved the world in a past life.”
Zhou didn’t respond. He was too busy studying Shuyue.
She really was a beauty.
She and Wen Tian were twins—both striking in their own way. Wen Tian’s looks were more vibrant and dazzling, while Shuyue had a softer, more ethereal quality.
It wasn’t just her face—it was that rare, unforgettable aura.
And thinking about the pastries and flower wine Wen Tian had brought…
Yeah, Li was right. Whoever won her hand would be incredibly lucky.
That idiot Jiao Changxian really didn’t know what he’d lost.
The four of them strolled along the riverbank. The area buzzed with activity—people crowding lantern booths, playing riddle games, and shouting about prizes.
At one booth, the prize was a palm-sized rabbit with a unique appearance—short ears tipped in black and fuzzy markings around its eyes. It was ridiculously cute.
Wen Shuyue lingered for a moment but didn’t step forward. She seemed about to walk away.
Zhou Chuanqing stepped up with a smile.
“These riddles look fun. Mind if I give it a try?”
Shuyue glanced at him in surprise, then smiled gently and moved aside to make room.
The riddles weren’t easy, but Zhou took them on playfully—until he got stuck near the end.
“Boating on the lake during Mid-Autumn…”
Shuyue offered quietly, “‘In August, gaze at Dongting, where a thousand sails fill the frame.’”
Zhou blinked, then grinned. Perfect. He wrote it down and turned it in.
With a shared topic, the two grew more familiar and continued solving riddles together.
Wen Tian, scratching his head as he watched from behind, couldn’t shake a strange feeling. He didn’t know why, but something about the sight made him uncomfortable.
Not that he was good at riddles anyway—so he wandered off toward the riverside.
He wondered whether Chu Xiangtian had caught up to that person.
Kneeling by the water, Wen Tian stared into the rippling surface, his fingers lazily stirring the cool stream.
Following the trail Zhou Chuanqing had left, Chu Xiangtian finally found him.
And there he was: a little noble crouched by the river, chin resting on his knees, fingers drifting through the water, thick lashes drooping low.
Looking… a little lost. A little lonely.