The next two days passed in an eerie calm.

Lin Huaiyu was nowhere to be seen.

Su Weichu told herself she didn’t care, that his absence was insignificant. She had more pressing matters to handle.

Soon enough, she was too busy to dwell on it.

Two days later, Su Hetong and his family finally returned from abroad.

With his inevitable reappearance in the company looming over her, she had no time for distractions. Every moment was spent securing her position, ensuring that when the time came, she would be untouchable.

That evening, the Su family gathered for a long-anticipated banquet.

The ancestral estate, an imposing structure steeped in decades of legacy, was alight with warm chandeliers and the quiet murmur of staff preparing for the night.

Su Hetong arrived early, bringing his wife and son along.

The moment he stepped into the grand hall, his sharp, calculating eyes immediately landed on the two figures seated in the living room—Su Weichu and the old patriarch himself.

A glint flickered in his gaze, one that spoke of years of silent ambition.

With a practiced smile, he strode forward, his voice laced with familiarity and warmth.

“Father, I’ve brought Xiaolan and Moli to see you.”

Ji Xiaolan and Su Moli, the two who had just been mentioned, both greeted the old master with eager smiles, their expressions full of enthusiasm.

The Su patriarch gave a slight nod in acknowledgment but showed no real interest in engaging with them. Instead, his sharp gaze shifted to Su Weichu, who was sitting beside him. His voice carried a rare note of concern. “I heard you’ve been working overtime these past few days. How is your body holding up?”

“Don’t worry, Grandpa. I’m fine,” Su Weichu replied, her tone steady as she took a sip of the ginseng tea in her hands. At the same time, she cast a subtle glance toward the family of three seated across from her. As expected, their expressions had darkened ever so slightly.

She knew exactly why. Her grandfather had never forgiven them—not for her parents’ deaths, nor for the power struggle that had ensued two decades ago. His disappointment in her uncle’s family ran too deep.

Thus, without sparing them another glance, she continued to sip her tea, the bitter warmth spreading through her chest.

Somewhere along the way, it had become a habit—whenever she was home, a cup of ginseng tea would always be waiting for her. A silent gesture from her grandfather, a quiet reassurance of his care.

Across the room, Su Hetong’s gaze darkened, though his face remained calm and composed. He had long learned to mask his emotions, to play the part of an affable elder. Without missing a beat, he signaled for his wife and son to take a seat beside him, acting as if he hadn’t noticed the quiet disregard from the two most powerful people in the Su family.

After years of navigating the treacherous waters of the business world, Su Hetong had long learned the art of concealment. A man who couldn’t control his emotions—who wore his joys and sorrows plainly on his face—would have been torn apart by his rivals long ago, left with nothing but bones for the scavengers to pick clean.

Unfortunately, his wife, Ji Xiaolan, and son, Su Moli, did not share his patience. They lacked his practiced restraint, and their displeasure was written all over their faces.

Especially Ji Xiaolan.

Watching the old man sitting there so calmly, sipping his tea as if their presence was no more than an afterthought, her anger surged like a storm-tossed sea. She could do nothing about the Su patriarch—he was the elder, the head of the family, and she had neither the right nor the power to challenge him.

But Su Weichu?

She was fair game.

A saccharine smile curled on Ji Xiaolan’s lips, though it never quite reached her eyes. Her voice dripped with feigned sweetness, laced with an unmistakable bite. “It’s been years since we’ve last met, and my…how you’ve grown, Weichu. I heard you got married recently. Strange, though…where is that husband of yours? Why haven’t we met him?”

The moment her words fell, Su Moli immediately caught on, his expression lighting up with feigned surprise. With exaggerated concern, he turned to Su Weichu, his tone adopting the patronizing air of an elder reprimanding a wayward child.

“Married? Why, this is the first I’ve heard of it! Weichu, that’s not right. A wedding is a major event—how could you not inform us? Or…could it be that you never considered us family to begin with?”

Their voices, one sharp and taunting, the other falsely affectionate, intertwined seamlessly—an orchestrated performance meant to provoke.

Su Weichu’s grip on her teacup tightened ever so slightly, her expression colder by the second.

Beside her, the old master’s face darkened as well, his usual calm laced with a quiet storm brewing beneath the surface.

The old master remained silent, choosing to observe how Su Weichu would handle the situation.

She, too, understood her grandfather’s intent. The corners of her delicate lips curved upward, though the smile held no warmth—only sharp, biting mockery. Her gaze swept over Su Hetong’s family with chilling amusement as she spoke, her tone light yet dripping with venom.

“I simply didn’t want to invite wolves into my home. Better to be cautious.”

The words, though spoken softly, struck like a whip. A ruthless jab, a direct accusation—stripping away the last pretense of civility.

Su Moli, who had been enjoying his own little performance moments ago, stiffened, his expression instantly darkening. His once-smug demeanor crumbled as he fixed his sharp, displeased gaze on Su Weichu.

He had expected her to be defensive, perhaps flustered, maybe even attempt to brush off the topic. But to respond with such an outright provocation? She had just torn down the carefully constructed veil of familial pretense between them, leaving nothing but the raw, ugly truth exposed.

A heavy silence settled over the living room, thick as an impending storm.

The old master’s eyes gleamed with approval.

For a moment, he had worried that Su Weichu’s years in the Lin household had dulled her edge, that she had been softened by comfort and routine. At this very moment, he realised that his concerns were not unnecessary.

She was still her father’s daughter—decisive, ruthless when needed, unwilling to be toyed with.

Save for her one weakness—Lin Huaiyu—this girl had the same steely resolve as her father once did.

The moment stretched, taut with tension, until a chuckle broke through.

“My dear niece,” Su Hetong said, his tone light, his smile practiced. “That remark of yours is quite painful to hear.”

There was no anger in his voice, no visible irritation—only that same carefully measured affability, as if her insult had barely grazed him.

But beneath that mask, who knew what truly simmered?

Su Weichu cast a cold glance at Su Hetong, her eyes brimming with mockery. “If it hurts, you’ll just have to get used to it, Uncle.”

Her tone was as light as if she were discussing dinner plans, yet her words struck with the force of a dagger, lodging deep into Su Hetong’s pride.

For a moment, he was at a loss for words, his poised demeanor faltering ever so slightly.

“You certainly have a sharp tongue,” Ji Xiaolan scoffed, unable to maintain her facade of affability any longer. The mask of gentleness cracked, revealing the simmering resentment beneath. She turned toward the old master, her voice laced with righteous indignation. “Father, I understand that you’ve always felt sorry for Weichu, given that she lost her parents at such a young age. You’ve indulged her, allowed her to grow up unchecked, but just look at her now—every word she speaks is laced with thorns! She talks back to her elders without a second thought, dripping with sarcasm. Anyone who didn’t know better might think this was the kind of upbringing our Su family teaches.”

She played her role well—painting herself as the concerned family member, the elder trying to instill values in an unruly younger generation.

But the old master merely set down his teacup, his sharp eyes sweeping over her with thinly veiled disdain.

“I think Weichu’s temperament is just right,” he said, his voice steady, carrying the weight of undeniable authority. “Out in the world, this kind of strength ensures she won’t be taken advantage of. Besides, she’s an adult—how she treats others depends on how they treat her. These past few days, I’ve observed her managing the company, and not once have I heard a complaint about her character. If anything, it’s proof that the problem does not lie with her.”

His tone dropped, edged with cold disapproval.

“But as for you so-called elders—if a child with such a good temperament has been forced to respond this way, shouldn’t you be reflecting on your own actions? Instead of pointing fingers at Moxu, perhaps you should ask yourselves what you’ve done to deserve this treatment.”

His words were like a slap to the face, leaving Ji Xiaolan momentarily speechless, her expression twisting with suppressed fury.

Su Moli, too, clenched his fists, his face dark with displeasure.

Su Hetong, the most seasoned of them all, schooled his features into an unreadable calm, but his eyes gleamed with something dangerous—an emotion too subtle to name.

The atmosphere in the room grew tense, thick with unspoken hostility.

With such a mood settling over the gathering, the family dinner—meant to be a warm reunion—ended prematurely.

The guests left with stiff expressions, while Su Weichu and the old master remained behind, untouched by the storm they had so effortlessly weathered.

As they left the Su family estate, Ji Xiaolan seethed with frustration, her face twisted in resentment.

“Hetong, your father must be going senile!” she spat, her voice thick with indignation. “You’re his only son, yet he sides with that little money-draining wretch, Su Weichu! Does he even realize who’s going to take care of him in his old age?”

The more she thought about it, the angrier she became, her fingernails digging into her palms. “That useless girl is nothing but a stumbling block. If I’d known she’d grow up to be such a nuisance, we should’ve made sure that entire family died together back then!”

“Shut up!”

Su Hetong’s furious roar cut through the air like a whip. His face paled, and his sharp eyes darted around anxiously, as if afraid someone had overheard. “The child is here! Watch your mouth!”

But it was too late.

Su Moli had already caught every word. Though confusion flickered in his eyes, he dared not press further. The weight of his father’s gaze was enough to silence him.

Ji Xiaolan, realizing she had spoken too rashly, swallowed back the rest of her words, her face stiff with unease. But it didn’t take long before her anger bubbled over again.

“The old man is clearly favoring Su Weichu. What’s your plan now? Are we just going to let her walk all over us?” She turned to Su Hetong, her voice lowered to a venomous whisper. “We’ve waited twenty years for this moment. We can’t let her take what should rightfully be ours.”

“Once everything’s settled, have someone book the best hotel for a banquet, then send invitations to all the relevant parties. Make sure Su Weichu’s former in-laws are on the list—especially them. We need to have them at the event,” Su Hetong commanded, his voice low but deliberate, eyes gleaming with a cold, calculating light.

It was clear that he had already plotted every move in this game, and those who were unaware, like Su Weichu, were in for a surprise.

Once Su Weichu left the old estate, she headed straight to the company, her mind focused on the task ahead. She instructed Yi Qingyun to bring over the documents for the Ocean project—the one that had initially shown interest in collaborating with them.

“Here are the files you requested, President.”

Yi Qingyun was swift, in presenting the documents to Su Weichu. As her eyes glanced over the first folder, they landed on the bold letters: Lin Group.

Her hand hesitated for just a moment, her thoughts briefly clouded by the name, but she quickly set it aside. With an almost imperceptible sigh, she picked up the next file, diving into the details of the company that would shape her decisions for the day.