The atmosphere around the table shifted instantly.
Lin Che's hand paused mid-air, her spoon hovering over the porridge as she stiffened without meaning to.
She didn't know who this "Master Gong" was, but the reaction of the room spoke volumes.
Even Second Madam Gong, who had been elegant and composed throughout breakfast, briefly froze, a quick flicker of tension crossing her eyes as if preparing herself for someone she would rather not face.
Lin Che turned automatically toward the entrance. The man walking in wore a simple dark suit, yet the material and fit revealed a quiet wealth that didn't need to announce itself. His steps were steady, calm, and unhurried. A pair of dark glasses covered his eyes, making his expression unreadable, but something about his presence felt overwhelmingly familiar.
She blinked, once, then again, and the memory clicked—Old Master Zhang's courtyard. The quiet man she had run into by accident. The stranger who had spoken only a few words, not to her, but whose voice she had thought about far too many times after leaving him. And then another memory crashed in—last night, in the East Wing.
Her breath caught.
Master Gong?
Him?!
As if aware of her realization, the man tilted his head toward Auntie Li and said calmly, "Prepare the set." The voice—low, smooth, impossible to forget—hit her like a physical jolt.
Her face began to heat uncontrollably when she remembered how close that voice had been to her last night. And then she remembered something worse—Gong Rui was sitting only a short distance away.
Lin Che lowered her gaze quickly, mortified. Of all the people she could have run into again, why did it have to be him, and why here, and why now, of all moments?
Gong Feng walked to the main seat at the head of the table. Second Madam Gong had deliberately placed Lin Che at the farthest end, but that seat happened to be directly beside the opposite main seat.
When Gong Feng sat down there, the space between them shrank to a mere breath. Lin Che's shoulders stiffened immediately. She could sense the discomfort ripple through the entire table. Even without seeing his eyes, his presence alone carried an undeniable authority.
When he turned his head slightly to look at her, she didn't see the fear that others seemed to feel toward him. Instead, what he found in her expression was something closer to shock—shock layered with recognition, guilt, and disbelief. And perhaps because she could not hide any of it, his gaze lingered a moment longer than it should have before shifting away as if nothing had happened.
Second Madam Gong spoke quickly, her tone polite but a little too careful, the sharpness beneath her words barely concealed. "Young Master, you're awake. Would you like me to have something prepared for breakfast?"
Gong Feng shook his head lightly. "Auntie Li already knows."
The refusal was curt but not rude—merely distant.
She flinched almost imperceptibly but forced a perfect smile onto her face again. "I see. Well, Xiao Rui's party is tonight. Everything has been arranged. You will be attending, yes?"
Auntie Li set down his dish silently. Gong Feng didn't look up as he replied with a soft, noncommittal, "Mm."
The single sound was enough to quiet the entire table. Lin Che stared at her bowl, her heart pounding far louder than necessary. After everything that happened the night before, she had spent half the morning feeling guilty about seeing Zhang Rui again.
Now that the man from last night—someone she hadn't planned to meet again—was sitting right beside her, her thoughts were in complete disarray.
It wasn't fear she felt toward him.
But it wasn't calm either.
It was something tangled, confusing, and far too close to her heart for comfort.
The breakfast continued in a heavy but orderly silence, broken only by the occasional delicate clink of porcelain and, every so often, Second Madam Gong's overly polite voice as she continued what sounded very much like a report.
She listed the confirmed guests for the evening's party—names Lin Che had only ever heard through television, passing conversations, or the news.
Every time a particularly influential name was mentioned, Lin Che's head lifted slightly in surprise before she forced herself to keep her expression neutral.
She might have grown up in a village, but she was not ignorant. She recognized the family names of powerful conglomerates, well-known officials, even a few celebrities whose faces were practically everywhere on national broadcasts.
Meanwhile, Gong Feng would give subtle nods of acknowledgment, not interrupting, not expressing much, yet somehow making it clear he was listening.
His composure remained perfectly steady, while Second Madam Gong's face grew more and more satisfied with each name she added to the list, as though each prestigious family she had secured was a personal medal pinned onto her chest.
Even Gong Rui seemed quite content with the list, nodding along occasionally. But Lin Che's worry began to grow heavier with every passing moment.
Her hand tightened slightly around her chopsticks as she glanced at Nan Liu and Old Master Zhang. Both wore the same expression—calm on the surface, but with tension threading through the eyes, the kind people bore when entering a battlefield they did not choose.
The three of them would be attending tonight as guests… yet they did not belong to this circle of power.
Lin Che did not need anyone to explain how high society worked. She had already tasted a small part of it from Second Madam Gong's barbed politeness alone.
And if a woman of this household could speak to her like that, she could not imagine how strangers—true elites—would look at them once they realized they came from a village with very little to their name. Some wealthy people were humble. But most… most were not.
Her thoughts were turning darker with every name announced, but she tried not to let her expression show it. Unfortunately, the moment her brows furrowed in helpless worry, Gong Feng, seated beside her, seemed to sense it immediately.
His head turned with a quiet, controlled movement, and for a brief moment, his gaze rested on her face. He took in every detail—her lowered eyes, the discomfort she tried to hide, the tension in her hand.
But this was the breakfast table, and this was not a place where he could address what he saw. His lips pressed together faintly, thoughtful, before he silently looked back down at his food and resumed eating as though he had seen nothing.
Yet she could feel the shift in his presence beside her, as though some part of him remained attentive to her even while listening to Second Madam Gong.
The list continued for several long minutes until suddenly Second Madam Gong mentioned a name that made the chopsticks in Gong Feng's hand pause in mid-air. "The Ming family has also confirmed their attendance," she said lightly, as if it were merely another prestigious name among many.
But the silence that followed was immediate and sharp.
Gong Rui stiffened at once beside his mother, his reaction far less controlled than his cousin's. His eyes jerked upward instinctively—straight toward Lin Che. There was something guilty in that gaze, something that flickered across his features so quickly that no one would have caught it unless they had been watching him at that exact moment.
But Lin Che wasn't. She was staring straight ahead, unaware of the glance thrown her way, unaware of the sudden tension that had seized two members of the table.
And then Gong Feng's voice cut through the air, low but edged with unmistakable surprise.
"The Ming family?"