Chapter 12: A Feast for the Chosen

The Mei estate felt like another world—an oasis hidden away from the chaos of Baicheng. The moment Lin Yuxi and Lin Xuan stepped inside, a strange warmth wrapped around them, an unspoken welcome embedded in the walls of the grand yet inviting home.

Despite its size and historical beauty, the house didn't feel cold or distant like the mansions of the wealthy families Yuxi had encountered before. Instead, there was a certain warmth—a lived-in charm that spoke of years of history, of laughter, of people who had once filled its halls. The scent of aged wood, jasmine tea, and something faintly floral lingered in the air, giving it a comforting atmosphere.

Mei Xiuying smiled as she gestured for them to enter further. "Make yourselves at home, children. You must call me Grandma from now on."

Lin Xuan, who usually resisted such affectionate commands, merely blinked at the old woman before looking at Yuxi. Yuxi, ever composed, simply nodded and returned the smile.

"It's a beautiful home, Grandma," she said, her voice polite yet observant.

Mei Xiuying chuckled, leading them deeper inside. "I've lived here since I was a child," she mused, her gaze softening as she traced a hand along the wooden railing of the grand staircase. "This was my childhood home, where I grew up as a daughter of the Mei family. These halls once echoed with my mother's laughter, and the garden was where I learned to read under my father's watchful eye. But after I married, I had to leave this place for another home… and now, after all these years, I find myself back here, but it's much quieter than before."

She sighed dramatically, clasping her hands together. "My grandsons are always away, my husband and sons too busy to care about an old lady like me… so when I saw you two, I thought—why not bring someone to spend some time with this lonely old lady?"

Her assistant, who had followed a few steps behind, nearly choked on air but wisely kept silent. Ah, Madam, the number of lies you've told today—may the heavens forgive you.

Lin Yuxi had always felt a natural warmth toward kind elderly people, finding comfort in their presence. While she knew that some people could weave perfect stories to tug at emotions, there was something genuine and soothing about Mei Xiuying's voice.

Yuxi played along, offering a gentle smile. "Then, we're honored to keep you company tonight, Grandma."

Mei Xiuying beamed, patting Yuxi's hand. "Such a sweet girl."

She turned to her butler. "Have the chefs prepare a grand dinner for us! Let's enjoy a meal together."

The butler nodded and disappeared into the depths of the house.

As they settled into the elegant sitting room, Mei Xiuying watched Yuxi with keen eyes.

"Do you like my house, dear?" Mei Xiuying asked, her voice warm yet laced with quiet curiosity.

Yuxi's gaze drifted across the room—not just admiring, but studying. The intricate jade carvings, the carefully placed calligraphy scrolls, and the deliberate symmetry in the furniture arrangement. Every detail told a story.

She smiled softly. "It's beautiful. A home that's been lived in and cared for always has a different kind of warmth."

Mei Xiuying let out a soft hum of approval. "A home, after all, is a reflection of the people who live in it," she mused, cradling a porcelain teacup in her hands. "But lately, I find that no one makes tea quite the way I like it." She sighed dramatically. "Too strong, too weak—always missing something."

Yuxi barely hesitated. "Would you like me to make some, Grandma?"

The corner of Mei Xiuying's lips curled, her amusement carefully hidden behind grandmotherly warmth. "If it's not too much trouble, dear."

Yuxi shook her head. "Not at all. My grandfather used to say tea is only as good as the hands that prepare it."

Without a second thought, she reached for the teapot, her movements smooth, practiced. She didn't realize she had walked straight into an unspoken test—but Mei Xiuying did and so did the butler and assistant.

At Mei Xiuying's nod, the butler swiftly brought out the tea set—delicate porcelain, so fine that a single misstep could shatter it. Yuxi didn't hesitate. She barely spared the fragile cups a glance as her hands moved with quiet confidence, measuring the tea leaves with precision. She let them steep at just the right temperature—neither rushed nor careless—each movement carrying an ease that spoke of experience.

Mei Xiuying said nothing, only watching.

When Yuxi finally poured the golden liquid into the waiting cups, the rich aroma filled the air, blending with the faint scent of aged wood and jasmine. She set a cup before Mei Xiuying, then sat back, unaware of the subtle shift in the room.

Mei Xiuying picked up the cup, cradling it in both hands, her eyes flickering with something sharp. She took a slow sip, her lashes lowering as she savored the taste.

Silence.

Then—a quiet chuckle.

"Looks like you have a lot of practice," Mei Xiuying remarked. It wasn't a question.

Yuxi's expression softened. "My grandfather only drank tea I made," she admitted, her voice light—yet her fingers curled slightly against her lap, the memory of Yeye pressing against her heart.

For the first time that evening, Mei Xiuying's expression shifted—not calculated, not playful, but something gentler, something real.

"A man of good taste," she murmured, setting the cup down carefully.

Yuxi said nothing, simply watching as Mei Xiuying took another slow sip. The old woman closed her eyes briefly, as if letting the warmth seep into something deeper than just her bones.

When she finally looked at Yuxi again, the gaze that met her was different. No longer just a guest. No longer just a passing curiosity but full of warmth.

Not long after, the butler announced that dinner was served. The dining hall was just as grand as the rest of the estate, bathed in golden lighting that cast a warm glow over the elegant space. The long mahogany table was adorned with fine porcelain plates, each carefully arranged with an air of quiet sophistication. The rich aroma of an elaborate feast filled the air, a delicate blend of fragrant herbs, slow-braised meats, and freshly steamed delicacies.

At the center of the spread was Buddha Jumps Over the Wall, a luxurious soup that had been simmered for hours, its deep, savory broth infused with premium seafood, tender abalone, and velvety sea cucumber. Beside it sat a glistening Peking Duck, its perfectly crisped skin reflecting the light, while thin, delicate pancakes and a sweet plum sauce waited alongside it, inviting diners to wrap each bite with precision. The Braised Pork Belly, Dongpo Rou, was a masterpiece of slow-cooked richness, its layers of fat and meat rendered to a melt-in-the-mouth tenderness, coated in a caramelized glaze that promised warmth and depth with every bite.

Steam curled from Crystal Shrimp Dumplings, their translucent wrappers stretched just enough to reveal the succulent pink filling within, a bite-sized indulgence of delicate sweetness and umami. The final touch to the exquisite meal was Jasmine Rice with Truffle and Abalone, its aromatic blend of earthy truffle and ocean-fresh abalone creating a harmony of flavors, each grain glistening under the soft glow of the chandeliers.

Everything was carefully prepared.

Lin Xuan's eyes widened as he took in the feast before him. "Jiejie… I think I love Grandma now."

Mei Xiuying laughed heartily, patting his head. "Eat as much as you want, little one."

As they dined, conversation flowed easily. Mei Xiuying asked about their studies, their interests. Lin Xuan, ever the charmer, impressed her with his sharp wit and clever remarks.

But Yuxi didn't mind this warmth, even if it was fleeting. It had been a long time since she had sat at a table that felt this welcoming, where laughter and conversation flowed easily. Even if there was an unspoken purpose behind Mei Xiuying's kindness, even if this moment wouldn't last, Yuxi allowed herself to accept it—for now.

As the evening stretched on, Yuxi finally set down her chopsticks.

"It's getting late, Grandma," she said gently. "We should head home."

Mei Xiuying's smile faltered—just for a fraction of a second, before she sighed dramatically. "Ah, I suppose I must let you go."

She reached for her phone. "My driver will take you home safely."

Before they left, she added, "WeChat me when you get home, alright? And Xuan, don't forget—Grandma expects messages every now and then."

Lin Xuan grinned. "Yes, Grandma."

As they settled into the sleek black car, the driver pulling away from the estate, Lin Xuan stretched, feeling content.

"That was nice, but my stomach feels like it will burst" he murmured, burping cutely

Yuxi nodded, staring out the window. Nice—but why?

Then, both their phones vibrated.

A WeChat notification.

Lin Xuan checked his first.

"…Jiejie." His voice was strangled. "Did you… just get sent one million yuan?"

Yuxi's eyes widened as she checked hers—a red packet of 1 million yuan.

The car fell into silence.

Then—

Lin Xuan whispered dramatically, "Jiejie… should we return it?"

Yuxi exhaled slowly. "I don't think we can."

Lin Xuan stared at his screen. "I feel like I've been adopted."

Yuxi pinched the bridge of her nose. "You have been adopted."

"…Is this a bribe?"

Yuxi didn't answer. But a small smile curled at the corner of her lips.

Elsewhere…

A private jet soared through the night sky, the interior bathed in a dim golden glow.

Qin Yejun sat in his leather seat, fingers tapping absently against the table as his sharp eyes remained fixed on the screen before him.

Displayed in perfect clarity was a young girl's face—porcelain skin, doll-like features, big, watery eyes. Innocence crafted with delicate perfection.

Lin Yuxi.

His fingers traced her face on the screen, slow and deliberate.

"…what a devious little creature," he murmured.

Across from him, Shen Wuhen, his ever-composed secretary, felt an inexplicable chill creep up his spine. The air inside the cabin was climate-controlled, yet a shiver ran through him, goosebumps prickling across his skin.

He had served Qin Yejun for years, had witnessed countless moments of ruthlessness, strategy, and cold calculation. But something about the way those words left his master's lips—soft, amused, almost intrigued—felt far more dangerous than a direct order to destroy someone.

The jet continued away from Baicheng.

And with it, fate had already begun to weave its threads.