The Emerald Hotel was the pinnacle of luxury in Riverview City. Outside, a line of luxury cars—Rolls Royces, Maybachs, and Ferraris—stretched down the block.
Ethan arrived on an electric scooter.
He parked it behind a dumpster, far away from the polished vehicles, and adjusted his suit. It was the same suit he had worn for three years to every family event. It was clean, but the fabric had lost its sheen, and the cut was noticeably dated.
At the entrance, he saw the Lin family. Rachel was standing with her parents and her cousin, Oliver Lin. Oliver was the "golden boy" of the Lin family's younger generation—arrogant, wealthy, and Ethan's primary tormentor.
"Oh, look who decided to show up," Oliver sneered as Ethan approached. "I thought you'd be at home scrubbing the grease off the stove, Ethan. Did Rachel actually give you permission to come out in public?"
Rachel bit her lip, looking away. "I told him he could come, Oliver. He's still part of the family."
"Part of the family?" Oliver laughed, adjusted his $50,000 Rolex. "He's a stain on the family. Tonight, the Song Conglomerate is looking for local partners. If Ms. Song sees this loser standing near us, she'll think the Lin family is a charity case."
"Ethan, just... stay in the back," Rachel's father, Wesley Lin, commanded coldly. "Don't speak unless spoken to, and for heaven's sake, don't touch the expensive champagne. You'll probably trip and break the glass."
As they moved toward the check-in desk, the hostess, a woman with a practiced, professional smile, checked their invitations.
"The Lin Family... Table 12," she announced. Then, her eyes fell on Ethan, who was trailing behind. "And your invitation, sir?"
"He's with us," Rachel said quickly.
The hostess looked at Ethan's worn-out shoes and the faint scent of the electric scooter's battery that seemed to follow him. "I'm sorry, Ms. Lin, but the guest list for Table 12 only specifies four seats. Your parents, yourself, and Mr. Oliver Lin. There is no entry for... this gentleman."
Oliver chuckled, leaning against the marble counter. "See? Even the hotel knows you don't belong here, Ethan. Why don't you go find a noodle stall around the corner? I'll give you twenty bucks."
He tossed a crumpled bill at Ethan's feet. It fluttered onto the red carpet, a bright insult in front of the gathering crowd.
Ethan looked at the bill, then at Oliver. For a moment, his eyes flashed with a coldness that made Oliver's smile falter. But Ethan didn't pick it up. He didn't get angry. He simply looked at the hostess.
"Check the VIP auxiliary list," Ethan said quietly.
"The VIP list?" The hostess laughed softly. "Sir, that list is for the top ten families of the province and the representatives of the Great Four. You aren't on it."
"Ethan, stop it," Rachel whispered, her face burning with shame. "Just go home. I'll see you after the gala."
Ethan nodded slowly. "Fine. I'll wait outside for a moment."
He turned and walked toward the terrace, ignoring the snickers from the other guests. Once he was out of sight, he pulled out his phone. He didn't call the Lu family. He called the manager of the Emerald Hotel.
"This is Ethan," he said.
"Young... Young Master?" A voice on the other end gasped. It was Manager Chen.
Years ago, before Ethan was exiled, he had saved Chen from a gambling debt that would have cost him his life. Chen was one of the few 'seeds' Ethan had planted in this city during his wandering years. "You're here? At my hotel?"
"I'm at the entrance. Your hostess says Table 12 is full. And Oliver Lin thinks I should eat at a noodle stall."
"That... that arrogant fool!" Chen stammered. "Young Master, please, give me one minute. I will personally escort you to the Diamond Suite!"
"No," Ethan said, watching the Lin family disappear into the ballroom. "Don't reveal my identity yet. Just give me a seat. Somewhere I can watch the show. And Chen... tell the kitchen to prepare the 'Jasmine Pearl' tea. Someone I know will be asking for it tonight."
Ten minutes later, Ethan was seated at a small, solitary table in the very back of the room. He was ignored by everyone.
Then, the music changed. The chatter died down.
The main doors swung open, and the atmosphere in the room shifted instantly. A woman walked in, surrounded by a phalanx of security. She was draped in a gown of midnight silk, her hair pinned up with a diamond clip.
Every man in the room stood up instinctively. She was the "Iron Empress," the woman who held the fate of Riverview's economy in her hands.
As she walked toward the head table, her eyes drifted over the crowd. She looked bored—until she passed the back of the room.
Ethan was sitting there, calmly sipping a glass of plain water. Their eyes met for a fraction of a second. Diana paused. Her footsteps faltered.
She felt a strange, familiar jolt in her chest—a memory of rain, the smell of a cheap motel, and a pair of steady hands that had held her when she was at her weakest.
Is it him? she wondered, her heart racing. No, the man from that night was a commoner... a wanderer. This man is at a gala, even if he is sitting in the back.
She forced herself to keep walking, but she whispered to her assistant, "Find out who is sitting at the small table by the East pillar. Now."
Across the room, Oliver Lin was already fixing his tie, preparing to approach her. He had no idea that the "beggar" he had just insulted was the only person in the room Diana Song actually cared about.