“Kid, just answer a few questions honestly, and I’ll grant you one request. I can even get you back into Shenghua University Affiliated High School.
If you cooperate, there’ll only be benefits—no downsides!”
In a European-style restaurant owned by an LZ Corporation subsidiary, at one end of a long dining table, a man in his thirties—still so charismatic he’d make women jealous—crossed his hands over half his face, glaring menacingly at the boy across from him as he laid out his offer.
Three hours earlier, Lezheng Tingyu had finally tracked down the punk who nearly got him mistaken for a masochist by his subordinates.
He couldn’t believe that he, who had personally and politely sought this kid’s help to find his missing wife and son, had been inexplicably kicked in a critical spot!
Worse, while he was unconscious, the kid tricked the café staff into calling his team, claiming he was a masochist!
Lezheng Tingyu was furious.
After destroying the “special room” props his assistants had prepared, he reached out to Kill Fox, the top domestic mercenary group, to capture the audacious kid.
To his surprise, Kill Fox’s leader declined, citing a major case that left no operatives available.
Though frustrated, Lezheng Tingyu, a formidable businessman, didn’t give up.
Through less conventional channels, he once again located the little rat who’d kicked him and fled. This time, he wasn’t letting the only clue to his wife and son’s whereabouts from fourteen years ago slip away.
Chang Fei hadn’t expected his scumbag father to track him down in just one day, despite his efforts to hide.
If not for Leng Yiqing (formerly Xu Shaxue) being his weak point and the 30-day Matchmaker task deadline, he’d have hidden in the haunted neighborhood—good luck finding him there!
But while secretly checking on Leng Yiqing, he was caught as a stalker.
Why didn’t he have instant teleportation?
Oh, right—he forgot to unlock it!
What a painful oversight!
Lezheng Tingyu wasn’t about to miss the chance to use Leng Yiqing to pressure Chang Fei.
That’s how Chang Fei ended up reluctantly following him to a VIP private dining room in the LZ subsidiary’s restaurant.
The long table was extravagantly laden with 108 dishes and desserts, their aromas so enticing anyone would drool.
Chang Fei sat opposite, his shoulders pinned by two burly men, his hands and feet bound.
Old ginger’s spicier, huh… Chang Fei muttered inwardly, his mind racing.
Lezheng Tingyu didn’t know his true identity but clearly linked him to his wife and son.
Not stating his intentions outright suggested he was wary—either Chang Fei held some leverage, or there was another scheme.
Businessmen chase profit; without gain, he wouldn’t care this much. So…
“President Lezheng, what do you want to know from me?”
Chang Fei’s clear eyes showed no panic despite facing a corporate titan.
Lezheng Tingyu was pleased with his composure, his expression softening slightly. “Fourteen years ago, I divorced a woman surnamed Chang. Do you know anything about it?”
“Sorry, I was too young back then to know anything,” Chang Fei replied with a smile, unfazed.
Lezheng Tingyu was both surprised and unsurprised, frowning slightly.
“You really know nothing? You seem…”
“Seem what?” Chang Fei didn’t doubt he’d been investigated, but he wasn’t afraid—his entire identity was fabricated, even his public age listed a year older than his real one.
Lezheng Tingyu would never guess his missing son was far more complex than he imagined…
But right now, this “complex” kid faced a deadly 30-day task deadline.
If he died, everything would be moot.
Stumped by Chang Fei’s response, Lezheng Tingyu felt stifled.
The head of the Lezheng family for fourteen years, and he was being toyed with by this kid?
He didn’t believe Chang Fei knew nothing, but his attitude suggested prying answers wouldn’t be easy.
There was only one way…
“Fine, if you won’t talk, so be it,” Lezheng Tingyu said coolly.
“Oh?” Chang Fei raised an eyebrow.
“But you must agree to one request,” Lezheng Tingyu said with a sly smile.
“Go ahead, sir,” Chang Fei replied, his expression unreadable.
Lezheng Tingyu paused, then chuckled, “Pretend to be my son and attend Shenghua University Affiliated High School!”
Chang Fei burst out laughing, staring into Lezheng Tingyu’s eyes.
“You want me to pose as your son… and go to your chosen school?
If I agree, what’s my reward?”
Lezheng Tingyu sneered, thinking this kid, surviving alone for at least a decade, must have some wits.
He was curious what bold demand he’d make.
Narrowing his eyes, he said, “Name your price.”
Chang Fei tilted his head with a smirk. “Simple.
If I agree, my reward is that you, for the rest of your life, never claim I’m your son, no matter what. Easy, right?”
“…Haha… hahaha!” Lezheng Tingyu froze, while those around them exchanged glances.
He was the first to react, laughing wildly, slamming the table.
“You’re more interesting than Lezheng Chu! Fine… I’ve only heard of fathers disowning sons, but you, posing as my son, want me to never acknowledge you? Do you know how many people would kill to be my son or daughter, even just in name? How many would beg to be called my illegitimate child?”
“How would I know? What’s that got to do with me? You’re a businessman—you know this is just a transaction. I agree to your request without asking for your money. Don’t you think you should show some sincerity?”
Chang Fei countered.
“Well said! Keep that attitude!”
Lezheng Tingyu stood abruptly, leaning forward.
At over six feet, he cast a shadow, his face no longer the gentle one from the locket photo Chang Fei remembered from childhood.
“I’ll do more than keep this attitude. What’s not, isn’t. What is, is. You can’t change facts by twisting them,” Chang Fei said, shrugging with an innocent smile despite the threat.
“Good! Good! Good! You’ve got guts!” Lezheng Tingyu trembled, either from anger or amusement, a dangerous smile spreading across his face.
Not backing down, Chang Fei glanced at a certain spot and taunted, “Not as gutsy as you! I kicked you there, and you act like it’s nothing. Already got used to it being busted?”
“Kid, if you’re looking to die, just say it…” The memory of that critical hit made the spot ache again, and Lezheng Tingyu’s face darkened to a new low.
The onlookers held their breath—when two tigers clash, one gets hurt.
The big tiger was clearly wounded, and it was uncertain if he’d lash out.
The cocky little tiger seized the chance to twist the knife. “Me, looking to die? I wouldn’t dare! You’re not dead yet—how could I let a white-haired man bury a black-haired one?” Chang Fei sneered, calm on the surface but burning with eight years of resentment.
He thought he’d lose control, but instead, he found it amusing.
His words made Lezheng Tingyu sit back down, studying his “son” with narrowed eyes. “You really know nothing?”
“Should I know something?” Chang Fei tilted his head, no longer provoking but questioning back as the man calmed.
“Forget it! You wouldn’t know anyway. Go! I’ll handle your enrollment in a few days. Your messy records will be fixed—you won’t need to hide anymore. Move into the Lezheng villa!”
Lezheng Tingyu ordered, waving off the men holding Chang Fei.
He turned to leave, paused, and added without looking back, “A room will be ready for you. No need to stay in that haunted dump. Eat well!”
With that, he strode out.
So arrogant! So domineering!
But—
“Money doesn’t make you king!”
Chang Fei muttered, flicking his wrist to unravel the ropes binding him in a flourish.
Grabbing a napkin to wipe his hands, he unceremoniously began devouring the food before him.
He wasn’t hungry—since becoming a god, he rarely felt hunger.
If not for the tantalizing aromas, he’d have skipped eating to save money.
But this meal was on the Lezheng family’s dime—why waste it?
Chang Fei ate voraciously, determined not to leave a crumb. In his mind, he was a thrifty, good boy—not someone too timid to splurge.
Back at his new place—his old one destroyed by the meteor—he’d found a relatively “clean” spot near the haunted neighborhood and moved in.
Lying on his bed, eager to study the Matchmaker booklet, he found it wouldn’t open.
The mysterious material displayed only a few bold, ancient characters: Upgrading.
After sitting fruitlessly all afternoon, Chang Fei grew restless, wanting to find Leng Yiqing for a “fated” meeting to discuss life’s big matters.
But as he opened his door, he ran into several burly men.
The leader, a lanky young man with glasses, looked familiar. Chang Fei raised an eyebrow and stepped back as the man smiled.
“Young Master Fei, we’re here on Young Master Lezheng’s orders to bring you home. These men will help with your luggage.”
“When did I agree to go ‘home’ with you?”
Chang Fei adopted a cold, distant expression, drawing a line.
“Oh? Young Master Fei, didn’t you eat that three-million-yuan Manchu-Han Imperial Feast? Doesn’t that mean you’ve decided to return? Or… did you plan to pay for it yourself, just having the young master cover it?”
The glasses-wearing youth smiled innocently.
Chang Fei found him terrifying.
“A meal worth three million? Who’re you kidding?”
“Young Master, I know you grew up on the streets without guardians, so you may not know the market. But once you’re home, a quick search will show I’m not lying,” the youth said, winking, hinting at recent events and Lezheng Tingyu’s request.
Chang Fei’s head spun.
He could afford three million, but thinking it was free only to owe money now?
The emotional whiplash was hard to swallow.
But was he the type to meekly comply?
Smirking stiffly, he said, “I’ll pay you soon. Leave. That ‘home’ isn’t mine. I’m busy—no time to wander with you.”
“Young Master Fei, what’s that talk? You were fired from KTV days ago—you should be free. Come back. Young Master Chu is eager to meet you.”
The youth didn’t budge, signaling the men, who began packing Chang Fei’s newly bought clothes and tools in the cramped space.
Chang Fei’s mouth twitched. Seeing the youth pull out a tablet to tally something, he slipped outside and bolted.
“Sebastian, the young master’s escaping…” someone noticed, calling out.
The youth glanced back, smiling. “No worries. His stuff’s here—how long can he run?”
***
Shang Zhi’s note:
Another revision exceeding 4,000 words… Due to earlier plot changes, the revisions here grew extensive. Also, don’t ask why “Sebastian” sounds familiar—it’s not just a borrowed name. I’m weaving a bigger web!