As the weight of Huang Jiang's revelation gradually sank in, I found my initial bravado melting into pensive contemplation. This grizzled old man was claiming to be my actual flesh-and-blood grandfather - a heritage I'd never even fathomed until now.
"So..." I began slowly, regarding Huang Jiang with newfound gravity. "Let's say I buy what you're selling here. That despite everything, I'm somehow the lost Huang heiress you've been tirelessly hunting for all these years."
Huang Jiang met my gaze evenly, seeming to sense I'd finally reached the point of genuine engagement rather than just reflexive deflection.
"Then we proceed cautiously yet decisively in restoring you to your rightful legacy," he stated with pragmatic simplicity. "Though I appreciate this volume of duplicity must feel virtually incomprehensible after a lifetime of deception at the Songs' hands."
Something like shame flickered across Wu Haoyu's aristocratic features at that subtle jab. But I merely let out a low, mirthless chuckle, appreciating Huang Jiang's lack of superfluous sugar-coating.
"You don't know the half of it, Gramps," I muttered, suppressing the bitter sting those words dredged up.
Because for all the stifling pretenses and toxic dysfunction within the Song clan, there was one unavoidable fact - Song Bo had been the closest thing to a caring father figure I'd ever known, misguided as he often was.
The memory of that pivotal night he'd granted me independance resurfaced with startling clarity, weariness and resignation warring with concern in his eyes.
"This flat will afford you space to...discover a path more amenable to your unruly spirit," he'd rumbled, more haggard than usual after another volatile blowout with Chen Xinyi over my behavior. "But remember, girl - regardless of the actions or arduous road ahead, this family is your bulwark should you require it."
At the time, I'd scoffed and rolled my eyes at the trite promise, chalking it up to more of the tired old man's hollow platitudes. Yet in hindsight, those unvarnished words rang with a paternal conviction now rendered tragically misguided - the feeble, ill-conceived efforts of a father seeking to connect with his child.
And now I would have to be the one to shatter that deeply-seeded delusion, ripping the lid off Chen Xinyi's decades of deception for all to see. As much as I relished watching that cackling harpy's world crumble, dreaded apprehension gnawed at me over how Song Bo would handle the sickening revelation.
As if reading my turbulent thoughts, Huang Jiang reached across to grasp my wrist with calloused insistance, startling me out of my reverie.
"Your reservations toward that pitiful patriarch are understandable, child," he said gruffly, piercing my gaze with his own unflinching one. "But remember - for every wound of neglectful paternity he inflicted in ignorance, you withstood a hundred times worse at the hands of his odious wife through artifice and malice alone."
A tremor ran through me at the stark simplicity of his words. Because as infuriatingly absent and oblivious as Song Bo had been...he'd never been the perpetrator of targeted abuse and utter betrayal like Chen Xinyi.
So with a steeling breath, I lifted my chin and met Huang Jiang's unyielding look with a nod of resolution.
"You're right...as much as facing Song Bo with the sick truth still sits like a stone, that vicious shrew's reckoning is long overdue," I stated grimly. "But how exactly were you planning on dropping this bombshell on the unsuspecting Song clan? I can only imagine their entitled asses reacting with all the subtlety of an atomic blast going off."
An undisguised snort of derisive amusement escaped Wu Ling at that while her brother's expression remained painstakingly neutral. But Huang Jiang simply smirked, seeming to relish my crude yet astute observations regarding his alleged peers.
"Believe me, girl, that odious cabal of reprobates aren't even an afterthought compared to the shitstorm awaiting their 'esteemed matriarch' Chen Xinyi," he assured me with vast understatement. "As for revealing this righteous reclamation...well, that path will be a more delicate endeavor requiring strategy."
The old man leaned back with a considering look, calloused fingers stroking his beard in contemplation.
"Unsheathing this revelation within their inner sanctum would undoubtedly prompt an explosion of bedlam, no matter the staging. Yet we must balance pragmatism with upholding moral decree."
I cocked a sardonic brow, unimpressed by his placating overtures regarding Song decorum. "In other words, you're aiming to settle this messily public tsumani out of the limelight with some deniable subterfuge. Rein in the damage control for them while you extract your rightful spoils all the same."
A faint smirk tugged at Huang Jiang's lips.
"A commendably succinct grasp of realpolitik, my girl," he rumbled in approval. "Though I'd argue our ultimate objective here is simply seeing justice delivered to the deserving - and securing your repatriation to the heritage so grievously denied you for far too long."
Despite myself, I felt the ghost of a rakish grin tugging at my lips in response as our irreverent wavelengths aligned.
"Repatriation, restitution, call it what you will," I shot back breezily. "Just promise me we get to make Mommy Dearest's inevitable immolation extra crispy while we're at it."
Wu Ling looked vaguely ill at the graphic relish in my tone. But Huang Jiang merely chuckled his rusty appreciation while Wu Haoyu maintained that same ponderous facade of his. Seeming to sense an impasse looming, the old man deftly shifted tracks.
"Well, in any case, this portentous evening requires a modicum of celebratory indulgence," he declared with a glint of mischief. "Shall we move to more convivial territory whilst supping, my errant progeny?"
Recognizing his tactical pivot, I couldn't resist playing along with a theatrical eye-roll.
"Since you're offering such generous hospitality at my 'humble abode' and all," I deadpanned to a series of smirks and stifled snickers from the Wu siblings.
Despite the lingering undercurrent of tumultuous drama, Huang Jiang managed to steer us all to the dinner table with surprising ease. And as I laid out the simple yet marginally edible dishes, I found myself admiring his strategic finesse - an uncanny ability to slalom right past any potential emotional minefields, diffusing tensions with practiced irreverence before they could escalate.
It was a gift I suspected very few beyond him possessed in their stifling circles of privilege and gravitas. And it would serve us well in the inevitable clashes to come as this sordid saga unfurled.
"My sincerest apologies for the lack of Michelin starred fare or imported delicacies," I remarked wryly as I slid a steaming dish of simple stir fry before them with an exaggerated flourish. "But I do try to cater my humble cuisine to the discerning peasant palate whenever possible."
Wu Ling opened her mouth, no doubt gearing up for some snide rebuttal about salt-of-the-earth affectations. But Wu Haoyu subtly cleared his throat, quashing whatever barb she'd been priming.
Which was probably wise, truth be told - given how galvanizing an effect their blueblood entitlements already seemed to be having on poking the combative grizzly within me further awake.
Not that Huang Jiang himself gave any indication of being similarly goaded, of course. Catching my pointed look, the old coot simply smirked and tucked into his portion with gusto.
"Quite the hearty, rustic panache here," he remarked with a wink. "Though I daresay your dashes of truculence lend a delightfully spicy kick as well."
My lips twitched upwards in response, both disarmed and strangely reassured by Huang Jiang's effortless irreverence in the face of turmoil. It was a grounding anchor of sorts, stripping away melodrama to reveal the core unvarnished realities beneath.
"Well, I do pride myself on being a culinary iconoclast of the highest order," I shot back dryly. "Shaking up the staid status quo one uncouth flavor bomb at a time."
Wu Ling looked nearly apoplectic at my thinly veiled digs, but Wu Haoyu quickly intervened before she could retort.
"This is certainly a...unique dining ambiance compared to our usual affluent settings," he remarked in a tone of forced neutrality.
I arched an expectant brow, issuing a challenging look.
"You can just say it's a slumming shithole if you want, richie rich," I stated flatly. "No need to stand on such precious ceremony here in the untamed wilds beyond your ivory towers."
Wu Haoyu's brows drew together minutely, but Huang Jiang let out a raspy chuckle before he could respond.
"An admirable commitment to brutal candor and authenticity, I'll give you that much," the old man praised with a glint of ironic approval. "These pampered lapdogs could certainly stand to have their illusions of propriety shattered on a more frequent basis."
Wu Ling bristled overtly at the sly insult, but seemed to think better of rising to Huang Jiang's mordantly playful goading in the end. A canny decision - for if she valued mealy-mouthed decorum, she was barking up the wrong ancestral tree entirely with him.
"In any case, I'm quite famished," Huang Jiang stated with finality as we all dug into the modest meal. "And as your culinary skills are a relative unknown to me still, I shall endeavor to approach them with an open mind."
I snorted indelicately at that, swallowing a mouthful before retorting.
"Well brace yourself then, Gramps. Shit's about to get primal up in this haute cuisine bitch."
Wu Haoyu shook his head in apparent dismay, but the glint of reluctant amusement lingering in Huang Jiang's eyes told me he savored every ounce of my irreverent candor. For all his talk of rediscovering lost heritage, perhaps the irascible old bastard had grown equally weary of thin societal veneers to bask in a bit himself.
The thought sparked a sly spark of intrigue as our banter continued over the meal. I found myself subtly testing the waters, keen to gauge whether he'd truly accept the full unbridled measure of my caustically unpolished nature as effortlessly as he claimed.
"So just how loaded is this Huang dynasty of yours anyway?" I asked with a roguish grin and arched brow. "Like, are we talking minor Westchester nobility or some real 'Fuck You' Monied Overlord status here?"
Wu Ling's fork actually clattered against her plate as she gaped openly. But Huang Jiang merely smirked, seemingly delighted by my blunt audacity as he swallowed another bite.
"Let's just say the depths of our influence and holdings would make even the most opulent oligarchs bridle with envy, girl," he replied with an understated drawl.
My eyes widened slightly at the nonchalant implication of staggering wealth. But before I could press further, Huang Jiang pinned me with a look of wry amusement.
"Though somehow I suspect ostentation and empire-building were likely not your primary callings in another existence," he remarked dryly.
"You don't know the half of it, old man," I muttered with a blend of rueful nostalgia and disquiet.
Those days as a snarling stray lashing out at the world felt like multiple lifetimes ago now. Yet fragments, like half-effaced scars, still lingered if you looked closely enough.
Huang Jiang's eyes narrowed infinitesimally, seeming to clock the fleeting glimpse of unguarded vulnerability behind my usual bravado. But rather than probe deeper, he simply cleared his throat and deftly changed tracks in that uncannily tactical manner of his.
"Well, be that as it may - uncovering every last enigma of your extraordinary origins will simply have to be a process we gradually unravel together. For tonight, let's reconvene over a more ambrosial indulgence."
Before any of us could so much as blink, the old coot had produced a smartly dressed hip flask and commenced distributing moderate rations of some premium aged spirit into our emptied teacups.
Wu Haoyu eyed the impromptu setup with thinly veiled distaste, but seemed wise enough not to protest the sudden pivot by this point. Wu Ling looked slightly nonplussed, though I suspected the pampered princess was less a teetotaler than simply scandalized by the utter lack of ceremony or propriety on display.
As for me, I simply smirked and raised my brimming cup in a theatrical toast, inwardly delighting at Huang Jiang's adept talent for deflection.
"To absurdist plot twists upending all illusions of domestic tranquility!" I declared with a rakish grin.
Snorting, Huang Jiang gamely clinked his own cup against mine as the Wu siblings looked on in uncomfortable silence.
"Here, here," the old man rumbled in agreement before taking a hearty pull, somehow managing to make the coarse chugging seem distinguished.
As the smooth scotch burned a pleasantly smoky trail down my throat, I shot Gramps an appraising look over the rim of my cup. For all his gruff bluster and ostensible upper crust credentials, the codger knew how to cut to the bone and seize irreverent hedonism with both hands too.
In that moment, I couldn't help but wonder just how deep the eccentricities and contradictions embodying this irascible ancestor of mine ran. Or how many dead-eyed dogmas he'd thumbed his nose at over decades spent orbiting the upper stratospheres of wealth and power, beholden to nobody's pretenses or placations but his own.
Because if nothing else, Huang Jiang seemed determined to grab life by the throat and throttle every ounce of unflinching vitality from it until the bitter end. And as I felt the lingering rasp of fine scotch in my chest, I found myself begrudgingly eager to bear witness to just how combustible those ambitions might be when put to the ultimate test.
Our meal eventually wound down over a soundtrack of comfortable silences punctuated by gruffly barbed exchanges between Huang Jiang and me - a wavelength the perpetually stilted Wu siblings never quite seemed to tune into fully. And as closing time loomed, talk inevitably turned to the next moves regarding validating my heritage.
"So I take it blowing the lid off Mom-Zilla's con job won't be as simple as just trotting me out and severing her head in the courtyard, eh Gramps?" I mused with a lopsided smirk, swirling the last dregs of scotch as Wu Ling looked scandalized anew.
Rather than reproach however, Huang Jiang merely regarded me with a glint of evident relish. As if my uncompromising irreverence was the most natural and delightful revelation in the world despite its stark departure from rigid decorum.
"A frontal assault in the established system would undoubtedly prompt immediate retaliation and ostracization from multiple quarters, this is true," he replied, calloused fingers stroking his beard in consideration. "However...a more subtle insurgency executed judiciously could arguably prove even more devastating for Chen Xinyi and her sycophantic ilk in the long run."
Wu Haoyu stirred then, clearly filing that strategic turn of phrase away for later scrutiny. But I simply arched an expectant brow at the old man, silently prompting him to elaborate.
"My proposal would be to capitalize on the moral high ground of incontestable blood lineage," Huang Jiang continued, eyes glinting. "While also ensuring the transition plays out on our terms and timeline rather than at their sole discretion."
I digested that for a beat, feeling the coals of vindictive relish stoke to life in my chest.