Are you Mr. Chen?

After speaking, Chen Fengyun lifted his head and downed a large glass of white liquor as effortlessly as if it were water, finishing it off in one go. He then inverted the empty glass to show not a single drop remained.

“Well done.”

“What an impressive drinker.”

“Fatty, you tried to cover for your friend, but with this capacity, I doubt a few more glasses would be any trouble for him.”

“No wonder he’s the top scholar—even his drinking is bold and heroic!”

The crowd burst into applause and cheers. Only Gao Xiaohua’s eyes brimmed with tears. He felt calling his friend here today had been a mistake. If not for him, the usually proud Chen Fengyun would never have had to endure such humiliation.

“Good, very good. But there’s still plenty of wine. No rush, everyone—let’s eat first,” Qian Qingping nodded. The group began to pick up their chopsticks to start on the food.

“Madman, have some abalone soup first,” Gao Xiaohua had already ladled a bowl for Chen Fengyun, urging him to drink it to ease the alcohol in his stomach.

Yet, he had no idea that this amount of liquor was nothing to Chen Fengyun. Even without using spiritual energy to neutralize the alcohol, his constitution could handle a catty or two of strong liquor without getting drunk.

So, as everyone ate and drank, they started by proposing toasts together, not targeting anyone, and the atmosphere remained cheerful and harmonious.

“Brother Qian, I heard your family is moving to the capital? Is that true?” During the meal, Mao Yuqin asked Qian Qingping in a soft, coquettish tone.

“That’s right. My grandfather has already left for the capital today. I’ll be staying a few more days to finish something before I go,” Qian Qingping nodded.

“How’s Grandpa doing? My father said it seems Uncle Qian managed to invite a remarkable expert who cured your grandfather. Is that true?” Chu Zilin asked ingratiatingly.

“It’s true. Our family was lucky enough to meet a benefactor. My grandfather’s health was failing—he wasn’t expected to live more than a year. But with the master’s help and some miraculous medicine, not only has he fully recovered, he’s expected to live another ten years. So now that he’s well, he’s returned to the capital to oversee things,” Qian Qingping said with a touch of pride.

Chen Fengyun, hearing this, suddenly realized that this must be Qian Yuejin’s son. No wonder the other heirs treated him as their leader.

“Brother Qian, do you know that master? Who exactly is he? How did he cure your grandfather?” Zhou Fangming asked, eyes full of admiration.

“I only heard about it yesterday after I got back. I haven’t met the master yet. But my father asked me to have the villa at Huanhua Creek prepared—it’s to be given to the master as a gift,” Qian Qingping replied, shaking his head with some regret.

“What? Your family’s giving the Huanhua Creek villa to that master? That’s worth twenty or thirty million!” Fang Xu exclaimed in shock.

“That’s not all. My father also gave a house in the capital to Mr. Chen,” Qian Qingping replied with an easy smile. For extending Old Master Qian’s life by ten years, what’s a property or two? What the Qian family stands to gain is worth a thousand times more.

“Mr. Chen? So the master’s surname is Chen?” Gao Xiaohua seemed to pause when he heard this, glancing at Chen Fengyun, who was calmly eating beside him.

“In a few days, Mr. Chen will be coming to take possession of the villa. That’s when I’ll get to meet him. But let’s not talk about this today—come, let’s drink!” Qian Qingping waved the matter aside and urged everyone to raise their glasses.

Soon after, Chu Zilin, Zhou Fangming, and Fang Xu began targeting Gao Xiaohua and Chen Fengyun with toasts. But Chen Fengyun was unfazed, matching them drink for drink and even helping Gao Xiaohua fend off some of the alcohol.

“That fatty’s friend can really hold his liquor. It’ll be tough to get him drunk,” Chen Yanyan whispered in Qian Qingping’s ear.

“He drinks with such boldness—clearly a forthright character. Fatty’s lucky to have a friend like him,” Qian Qingping replied, noncommittal.

After a while, Chu Zilin and Zhou Fangming went off to the restroom, and the drinking contest paused. Some continued eating or drinking soup, while others pulled out their phones to scroll through their social feeds.

Chen Fengyun had brought a leather pouch with him, which he’d set on the table to his right. But Mao Yuqin, sitting beside him, accidentally knocked it off as she stood up.

“Sorry! What’s this?” Mao Yuqin bent down to pick up the pouch and saw it bore the name of the Southwest Branch of the Empire Group.

“Huh? Brother Qian, isn’t this a document pouch from your father’s company? Why would the top scholar have one of your father’s company’s pouches?” Mao Yuqin exclaimed, holding it up.

In fact, when Chen Fengyun arrived, he’d been holding the pouch, but no one had paid it any mind. He’d placed it face down so the writing wasn’t visible.

Now that Mao Yuqin had noticed, everyone’s gaze turned toward it—some at the pouch, others at Chen Fengyun. No matter how they wracked their brains, they couldn’t fathom why Chen Fengyun would have a document pouch from the Empire Group’s Southwest Branch.

“Brother Scholar, does someone in your family work for Brother Qian’s father’s company?” Chen Yanyan asked curiously.

“What’s inside? Open it up, let’s see!” At that moment, Chu Zilin and Zhou Fangming returned from the restroom and joined in the commotion.

“I’m curious too—how did my brother come by my father’s company’s pouch? Brother, why don’t you tell us what’s inside?” Qian Qingping asked, a hint of a smile playing on his lips.

“Do you really want to know?” Chen Fengyun’s composure never wavered. He lifted a bowl of soup and calmly asked Qian Qingping.

“I want to know,” Qian Qingping blurted out, though suddenly an uneasy feeling crept into his heart.

“It’s just two property deeds and a set of house keys,” Chen Fengyun replied lightly, then lowered his head and continued drinking his soup.

But these words struck Qian Qingping like thunder. Before he left home, he’d overheard his father calling that same Master Chen to arrange for Secretary Li to personally deliver the property deeds and keys.

“Ch-Ch-Chen…Mr. Chen?” Qian Qingping shot to his feet in shock, stumbling back two steps, and stammered out the honorific.

By now, Mao Yuqin had already opened the pouch. Sure enough, inside were two bright red property deeds and two sets of keys—the deed for the Huanhua Creek villa among them.

“That’s me,” Chen Fengyun finished his soup, set down the bowl, and smiled at Qian Qingping with a nod.

“What? You’re the master who cured Grandpa Qian?” Chen Yanyan also leapt up, covering her mouth in astonishment as she pointed at Chen Fengyun.