His words, much like his expression, were mild and indifferent, devoid of deliberate sarcasm or mockery. Yet it was precisely this understated tone that struck the deepest chord.
For he spoke from the heart, his words carrying no hidden agenda.
Qiao Shiwan silently sighed, realizing things had gone awry. As she pondered how to salvage her sharp-tongued son's image, she turned and noticed Tang Qianmiao's calm and indifferent expression—as if she hadn't heard a word.
Ordinary girls would have felt awkward or embarrassed, but not her.
The atmosphere plunged into an awkward silence, prompting Qiao Shiwan to break it hastily, "Oh, this child speaks nonsense, Miaomiao. Don't listen to him. His mind is only on work, nothing else. Come, Aunt Wan will show you your room."
Tang Qianmiao nodded slightly, her smile perfectly timed.
As she turned, the corner of her eye caught the tall figure behind her, and a deeper amusement flickered in her gaze.
Feng Can watched the girl until she ascended the stairs, then shook his brother's arm, unable to resist, "Hey, brother, did you see the way Tang Qianmiao looked at you? It was as if she was mocking you, as if she couldn't care less about you!"
"Brother, say something. It's the first time a girl has belittled you. Aren't you mad?"
Feng Xian cast him a cool glance, "So free? Finished your homework?"
Feng Can's expression immediately changed, grinning, "Brother, we can talk about homework later. Let's first talk about the car…"
"No chance."
He cut him off, cold and dismissive, and strode through the courtyard path to the adjacent building.
This building was usually used as his study, so Feng Can didn't follow and instead continued pestering their father about the car.
As Feng Xian stepped into the arched doorway, a middle-aged man greeted him with a slight nod, "Second Young Master."
This man, Old Yu, had been Feng Xian's personal driver since his elementary school days, acting much like a personal steward.
At 9:40 p.m., Feng Xian finished a video conference.
Old Yu handed him a cup of hot tea, respectfully reporting, "Today, the eldest young master gave a presentation to the master. He mentioned that the preliminary plan for the new Veesee product line has been finalized, and the master was very pleased."
Feng Xian set down the teacup, his refined features betraying no emotion. "Let him be. What about the third young master?"
"The third young master is busy searching for a perfumer. He's still in France at the moment."
Feng Xian offered no response, but Old Yu, noticing his gaze fixated on a number displayed on his phone, ventured to ask, "Second Young Master, whose number is that?"
"Bai Mi's assistant's contact."
Old Yu's face lit up with joy, "With Bai Mi's help, young master, securing Veesee will be within your grasp."
Feng Xian's voice was calm, "Don't you recognize who owns this number?"
Hearing this, Old Yu's smile faded. He looked down, examined the number more closely, and his face stiffened.
"Isn't this the number the master gave you last night? It's Miss Qianmiao's contact. So… Bai Mi's assistant is actually Miss Qianmiao?!"
Feng Xian put down his phone, his gaze drifting toward the window. "I saw her at the auction tonight—quite impressive."
Old Yu nodded, "Miss Qianmiao is Yun Huan's daughter. Even though she spent over a decade at Sheng'an Temple, Yun Huan would never have let her be completely isolated. Over the years, she must have introduced her daughter to many of her connections. Yun Huan herself is passionate about perfumery and often mingles with experts in the field. With that in mind, it's quite possible that Miss Qianmiao knows Bai Mi."
Feng Xian's deep, dark eyes flickered slightly, "You seem to know quite a lot."
Old Yu smiled modestly, "Yun Huan is on good terms with the master, and I learned about her while running errands for him. Speaking of which, there's something I've never told you."
"Go on."
Old Yu's voice softened, "Six years ago, when you were recuperating at Sheng'an Temple, there was a little girl who brought herbal medicine for us every day—a very beautiful girl."
At this point, Feng Xian had already grasped his meaning.
The usually calm and placid look in his eyes now stirred with faint ripples.
In a moment of reverie, he recalled a tender voice from six years ago—clear and cold—the only spark of interest during that bleak and monotonous time.
"You're sure it was her?"
Old Yu nodded, "I'm certain. In all my years, I've never seen anyone so beautiful. It was definitely Miss Qianmiao."
These words seemed to travel through walls, reaching a certain bathroom in the adjacent building.
Amidst the shower's cascade, Tang Qianmiao's eyes fluttered open, and in those brilliant, captivating eyes, a playful smile slowly emerged.