Hearing this, Fu Jinyun was genuinely taken aback.
If he remembered correctly, this kid had practically idolized him back in S City. Though he knew he should distance himself from Ye Shaohua while he still could, he couldn’t help but ask, “Why?”
“You know I’ve been with the Ye family for a while now. I’ve heard about your situation,” Ye Ming pressed his lips together. “My sister lost both parents early. She’s had it harder than anyone. If you… Mr. Fu, I believe you’re not the type to act irresponsibly.”
Ye Ming actually liked Fu Jinyun a great deal—the man was practically flawless.
But after returning to the Ye family, he’d pieced together the truth: Fu Jinyun was from that Fu family, and more critically, he wouldn’t live past twenty-two. As much as Ye Ming sympathized, he couldn’t bear the thought of Ye Shaohua getting hurt.
He didn’t study feng shui, but he understood enough to know—some destinies couldn’t be defied.
“I see.” Fu Jinyun fished out a cigarette from his pocket, lit it slowly, and took a drag.
When Ye Shaohua returned, she found the normally smoke-averse Fu Jinyun exhaling a thin plume, his expression unreadable behind the haze.
“Uncle Ye called,” she said, barely glancing at the cigarette. “I’m heading back first.”
Fu Jinyun nodded, watching her car disappear into the city’s pulse before stubbing out the half-finished cigarette.
…
The Ye family had gathered in the main hall.
“Weifeng is pinpointing a national dragon vein for the government,” the Patriarch mused, nodding approvingly. “I knew I wasn’t wrong about him. Second Branch, has he visited you since returning?”
Fu Weifeng’s star was rising rapidly in the ancient arts community. For the Ye family’s second daughter to secure this marriage was nothing short of a coup—a fact envied by many outside their circles.
Not only was Fu Weifeng heir to the Fu family leadership, but after Fu Jinyun’s passing, all his possessions (having no descendants) would inevitably fall to Weifeng.
“Weifeng said he’ll come tomorrow,” the second daughter replied, accustomed to the covetous glances. Her gaze drifted toward the entrance. “Why isn’t Third Sister back yet?”
The hall quieted instantly.
The Ye family rarely assembled like this. Everyone lingering here shared one purpose: waiting for Ye Shaohua’s return.
Master Zhou’s words from earlier echoed in their minds. He called her “Grandmaster”—what did that mean?
The Patriarch had dispatched investigators, but they’d yet to report back. And after Uncle Ye’s account of that mysterious license plate, even the Patriarch’s composure was fraying.
“She’s back!” someone shouted from outside.
Neck craned toward the entrance as Ye Shaohua strode in.
“Patriarch,” she said, unfazed by the assembly of power players. “You needed me?”
Her unnatural calm only solidified the Patriarch’s belief—this was no ordinary woman.
He straightened, but before he could speak, the second daughter cut in: “Third Sister, there’s a matter of our family’s marriage alliance with the Fu’s. You may not know them, but they’ll provide two ritual artifacts as dowry. If you wed—”
“If there’s nothing urgent, I’ll retire.” Ye Shaohua’s interruption was surgical.
The Patriarch’s displeasure at the interruption flashed briefly. Where he’d once considered her a pawn, Master Zhou’s reverence had rewritten his calculus. A leader knew when to pivot.
“Your uncle will show you to your quarters,” he said with uncharacteristic warmth.
As aides handed him a dossier, the Patriarch—eager for answers—brushed past the second daughter’s protests.
The documents hit him like a thunderbolt.
He’d expected Ye Shaohua to be exceptional, but this?
Not only was she intimately acquainted with Master Zhou, but she also moved among the most revered figures in feng shui. And the dying dragon vein in S City? She had restored it.
Each revelation on paper was more staggering than the last.
No wonder Master Zhou said he’d “made a fool of himself” before her. The Patriarch had assumed it modesty—but no, it was literal.
In his lifetime, he’d known only one other prodigy of this caliber: Fu Jinyun.
But Fu Jinyun was living on borrowed time.
And Ye Shaohua… what had she sacrificed to reach these heights?
…
Assigned a central residence near the second daughter’s, Ye Shaohua accepted the lodging—its proximity to the ancestral hall suited her investigations.
“Third Young Miss,” Uncle Ye said with newfound deference as they walked, “the Patriarch wishes to host a welcome banquet tomorrow. Are there guests you’d like invited? I’ll prepare the invitations.”
Their path intersected with a group: the second daughter, the eldest Ye son, and several youths—among them, unfamiliar faces.
“Young Master Fu, they say you can see the Azure Dragon with naked eyes—is it true?” The fourth Ye daughter gazed adoringly at Fu Weifeng. “With this skill, you’ll surely lead the Shen family’s dragon vein symposium!”
Fu Weifeng carried an almost ethereal air, as though communing with cosmic truths. No wonder the second daughter provoked such envy.
He engaged only with the eldest Ye son, treating others with polite detachment—until his retinue froze at the sight of Ye Shaohua.
The second daughter, smugness returning, began, “Weifeng, this is my third sist—”
Before she could finish, one of Fu Weifeng’s companions gasped aloud.
