Free Web NovelChapter 188: HE’LL COME HOME WITH YOU.
For a moment, the kitchen grew even quieter.
Old Master Chen turned toward her fully.
"Twelve courses."
His voice remained calm.
"Dietary requests were submitted through Mrs. Fang before Wednesday."
The woman blinked.
Old Master Chen continued.
"Mrs. Fang works in the east wing."
A pause.
"Until eleven."
The aunt opened her mouth.
Old Master Chen had already turned back toward the stockpot.
The conversation was over.
By the time he checked the broth again, the doorway was empty.
His youngest assistant stared very hard at a pile of vegetables.
Old Master Chen pretended not to notice.
By ten o’clock the China branch had begun arriving in earnest.
The residence gradually filled with noise.
Voices overlapped between courtyards. Children appeared in places they weren’t supposed to be. A mahjong table materialized in the second courtyard despite nobody remembering who had brought it out.
The florist spent twenty minutes adjusting a centerpiece, only to move one flower and start over again.
Through it all, Butler Hou moved steadily from courtyard to courtyard.
Nothing escaped his attention.
Not the children.
Not the guests.
Not the uncle attempting to hide a bottle of baijiu behind a decorative screen as though nobody would notice later.
Least of all the patriarch.
In the study off the main hall, Xue Mingzhan sat alone behind his desk.
The door remained open.
From where he sat, he could hear the entire residence breathing around him.
Conversations drifted through the walkways. Chairs scraped against stone. Laughter rose and fell before disappearing again.
The family was gathering.
Exactly as it always did.
Xue Mingzhan picked up his teacup and took a sip.
Cold.
He drank it anyway.
Then his gaze settled on the document lying face down on the desk.
For a moment, the sounds of the residence seemed even louder.
A faint smile touched the corner of his mouth.
Tonight was going to be very interesting.
The study was quiet at this hour.
Deyong stood by the window with his phone in one hand, looking down at the city below. Saturday had already settled over Beijing. The roads were busy. People were out with their families. Restaurants would be filling up soon.
None of it held his attention for long.
He dialled a number.
The call connected on the second ring.
"Deyong."
"Guiying will be at the family dinner tonight."
He didn’t waste time with greetings. There was no point.
"As will the rest of the family."
The silence that followed didn’t bother him. If anything, it encouraged him to continue.
"Come."
Another brief pause passed between them.
"See him. He’s been away long enough. Guiying has never known what’s good for him, and he certainly doesn’t now. You show up, you take him home, and that’s the end of it."
On the other end of the line, Shen Zihao finally spoke.
"Why would I go chasing something that ran?"
Deyong’s expression tightened slightly.
Because that wasn’t how he saw it.
"Because it doesn’t even realize it ran."
He turned away from the window and crossed the room at an unhurried pace.
"He’s always been like that. Soft. Someone tells him what he wants to hear and suddenly he mistakes impulse for independence."
The contempt in his voice wasn’t hidden. It never was when the conversation turned to Guiying.
"He does whatever the right person tells him to do. He always has."
His gaze landed briefly on the family photographs arranged along the shelf.
Most people would have looked at those pictures and seen a son.
Deyong seemed to see something else.
"My son is pretty. He’s always been pretty, and underneath all the dramatics he’s obedient."
The confidence behind the statement was absolute.
Whatever Guiying had been doing these past months, Deyong clearly considered it temporary. He spoke about it the way people spoke about bad habits or unfortunate phases that would eventually pass on their own.
"Whatever nonsense he’s gotten himself into lately, whatever fantasy somebody filled his head with, it won’t last."
He stopped beside his desk and rested one hand against its polished surface.
"It never does."
The line remained quiet.
Deyong mistook that silence for agreement.
"You stand in front of him and he’ll fold. You know how he is."
His mouth curved faintly.
Not warmly.
Certainly not affectionately.
Just confidently.
"He always folds."
For a moment neither man spoke.
Then Shen Zihao asked,
"And if he refuses?"
The question earned an actual laugh.
Not because it was funny.
Because Deyong genuinely found the possibility ridiculous.
"He won’t."
The answer came so quickly it was obvious he had never considered any other outcome.
"People mistake his softness for stubbornness, but it never is. Guiying doesn’t know how to hold onto an idea once someone he cares about tells him otherwise."
He adjusted his cuff.
The gesture was absent-minded, his attention still fixed entirely on the conversation.
"He gets attached too easily. Always has. Half the time he doesn’t even know the difference between dependence and love."
The words left his mouth effortlessly.
There was no hesitation.
No guilt.
No awareness of how ugly they sounded.
As far as Deyong was concerned, he was simply describing reality.
"He’ll come home with you."
The certainty in his voice was unsettling.
Not because he hoped it would happen.
Because he had already decided it would.
"I’ll make sure of it."
The silence on the other end stretched for several seconds before Shen Zihao finally responded.
"I’ll think about it."
Then the line went dead.
Deyong lowered the phone and slipped it into his pocket.
Outside, the city remained bright and busy beneath the morning sun. People moved through their lives completely unaware of the plans being made above them.
He straightened his jacket and glanced toward the door.
Tonight was going to go well.
Of that, he was completely certain.
The possibility that Guiying might choose differently never even crossed his mind.
After all,what gave an illegitimate child the right to choose? He should simply be grateful for what he’s given.
