Huang Tianjiao listlessly poked at the breakfast in his bowl.
Although the Huang Family was among the wealthiest on the Shanghai Bund, his father Huang Lide had grown increasingly health-conscious in recent years, favoring a lighter, plainer diet.
On the large rosewood dining table, the celadon plates held nothing but simple greens and tofu, with a few slices of shiitake mushrooms scattered here and there.
The meal looked so bland it completely killed anyone’s appetite. Facing this entire spread of “health cuisine,” Huang Tianjiao felt his own appetite fade away.
He forced down a few bites, then put down his chopsticks, deciding to treat himself properly later at a Western restaurant on Nanjing Road.
His parents hadn’t finished eating yet, so he had to stay put in the rosewood chair, staring blankly out the window.
Unexpectedly, his father broke the usual “no talking while eating” rule at that moment: “Bring me today’s newspaper.”
Huang Tianjiao was secretly taken aback.
Mr. Huang Lide was always strict and proper, emphasizing rules and discipline, insisting on no talking during meals or before sleep.
He had never once read the paper during meals before— what was going on today?
A servant quickly brought over the newspapers.
Huang Lide, his eyesight failing with age, put on his glasses and squinted at the densely printed text, his eyes soon growing weary.
He casually handed the paper over to his bored son, then removed his glasses and rubbed his eyebrows. “You’ve got nothing better to do, right? Help me find some news.”
Huang Tianjiao accepted the still-ink-scented newspaper with respectful care and cautiously asked, “Father, what news do you need?”
Huang Lide frowned, clearly displeased.
“Song Qingyuan sent me a telegram saying he met a peerless genius on the train. This person is about to start a company in Shanghai, so Song asked me to keep an eye on the newspapers and send him the company address.”
At those words, Huang Tianjiao’s expression darkened.
He took a deep breath, forcing down his irritation, and spoke with biting sarcasm, “Uncle Song has always had high standards. I’m an average talent at best— a mere mediocrity. I can only imagine how gifted this person must be to be called a peerless genius by Uncle Song.”
Huang Lide snorted heavily, clearly enraged by this old matter.
Though he didn’t say it aloud, Huang Lide had always considered his son Huang Tianjiao the pride of his life—after all, he’d named him “Tianjiao,” meaning “Heavenly Talent.”
It wasn’t without reason. Huang Tianjiao had displayed signs of genius since childhood, recognized as a prodigy far and wide.
When Huang Lide first noticed his son’s intelligence and quick wit, he personally began tutoring him at age three.
When he realized Tianjiao’s particular aptitude for languages, he invested heavily in hiring renowned teachers from around the world.
Huang Tianjiao did not disappoint.
By six, he was fluent in English; by eight, French; by nine, Japanese… Now, not yet twenty, he was proficient in six languages!
Whenever people mentioned Huang Tianjiao, they called him the Huang Family’s thoroughbred.
The newspapers even proclaimed, “Such a child should only be born as Huang Tianjiao!”
Huang Lide had also started a column in The Shenbao, generously sharing his experience and insights on raising a prodigy.
Yet, there was one person who insisted on contradicting the public consensus.
That was four years ago.
At the time, Huang Tianjiao was fifteen, and Huang Lide was preparing to send him abroad for university.
Song Qingyuan was the nation’s top grandmaster linguist, holder of honorary doctorates from several foreign universities.
With Song’s recommendation letters, Tianjiao was sure to be admitted to a top-tier school.
Coincidentally, Song Qingyuan was an old university friend of Huang Lide’s—they’d known each other for decades.
Thus, Huang Lide invited Song to a dinner in the name of their university reunion and formally introduced his son, hoping to have Song accept Tianjiao as his disciple.
Given Tianjiao’s remarkable talent, Huang Lide considered this a done deal.
But to his surprise, Song Qingyuan refused outright.
Not only did he refuse, he said something extremely harsh:
“I don’t accept mediocrities.”
That utterly infuriated both father and son. Huang Lide’s face turned green with anger.
His son— the Huang Family’s thoroughbred, a famed prodigy far and wide— reduced to a mere mediocrity in Song Qingyuan’s eyes?!
Huang Lide could not accept such an assessment.
He demanded an explanation. How could such a rare gem, universally admired, be called a mediocrity?
Song Qingyuan’s explanation was even harder to swallow.
He said, “Your son is indeed gifted, but just an ordinary genius. To become my disciple, one must be a peerless genius.”
Huang Lide felt that only his remarkable self-restraint and high breeding kept him from physically confronting Song Qingyuan on the spot.
Yet he never severed ties with Song, continuing to treat him as a friend— he was just too gentlemanly!
Besides Song Qingyuan, there were other university experts.
With Huang Lide’s efforts, and a recommendation from one of them, Tianjiao was admitted to the Political Science Department.
When the acceptance letter arrived, Huang Lide not only published the joyous news in major newspapers but also sent a telegram to Song Qingyuan, making it clear that Song had misjudged.
But then…
He waited and waited— half a month in total— before finally receiving a telegram back from Song Qingyuan.
The telegram was brief, yet it made Huang Lide dizzy with anger, and Huang Tianjiao tore the paper to shreds.
Song Qingyuan wrote in the telegram:
“Still a mediocrity.”
Since then, the word “mediocrity” had become a sore spot for father and son alike.
Privately, they both agreed that Song Qingyuan was simply stubbornly refusing to admit his mistake.
But facts spoke for themselves.
Huang Tianjiao’s excellence was widely recognized and obvious.
No matter how much Song denied it, he only exposed his jealousy and narrow-mindedness.
Four years had passed. Huang Tianjiao had graduated from Yale.
Upon graduation, the Ministry of Foreign Affairs had immediately snapped him up as a treasure, about to send him to America with the ambassador for international political work.
Huang Lide had intended to let go of the old grievance.
But unexpectedly, he received an urgent telegram from Song Qingyuan yesterday.
That phrase, “peerless genius,” caused the old grudges to well up inside him, refusing to be swallowed.
Huang Tianjiao was equally frustrated.
He was truly a Heavenly Talent; how could anyone belittle him so?
If the slanderer were an ordinary person, he’d simply think it jealousy.
But the one who called him a “mediocrity” was none other than Song Qingyuan— the country’s top grandmaster linguist.
So these years, he’d been nursing a grudge, pushing himself harder and harder in his studies, determined to one day prove Song Qingyuan wrong.
That morning, Huang Tianjiao didn’t touch his breakfast again.
The whole family abandoned their meal to scour every newspaper, vowing to find this “peerless genius” Song Qingyuan had mentioned.
As Huang Tianjiao flipped through the papers, he asked, “Father, what kind of company is this peerless genius starting?”
Huang Lide frowned. “He said it’s an advertising company.”
That answer immediately made Huang Tianjiao burst into ironic laughter.
He shook his head and sneered, “So the ‘peerless genius’ that Mr. Song was talking about is just a salesman.”
No matter how the Westerners wrapped it up, advertising was still just salesmanship in Huang Tianjiao’s eyes.
Huang Lide found it equally absurd and incomprehensible.
“Song Qingyuan must have lost his mind or been bewitched!”
“Found it!” Huang Tianjiao’s second sister, Huang Wanyi, excitedly pointed to a report. “I found this new advertising company.”
Huang Tianjiao snatched the paper from his sister’s hands and focused his gaze.
It was a grand opening announcement.
It stated that Mingzhao International Company was officially open, inviting new and old friends to visit.
The company specialized in advertising and sales promotion, also offering business consulting and product agency services.
Currently, the company represented Scotland Enamel Stove.
Huang Wanyi leaned over to her brother and read word for word: “Buy a Scotland Enamel Stove and get a prize ticket, with the first prize being an Antique from the Zhou Dynasty?!”
Her voice was high and full of disbelief.
Not only her, but everyone at the table was stunned by the news.
The plain congee and vegetables on the table had long since cooled, but the Huang Family paid no attention— their entire focus was on this unbelievable advertisement.
Huang Tianjiao blurted out, “An Antique from the Zhou Dynasty? That dates back over three thousand years!”
And antiques from the Zhou Dynasty that survived to the present were national treasures!
Huang Lide was astonished; deep wrinkles carved into his face showed his disbelief.
“Let me see.” He reached out his hand.
Huang Tianjiao obediently handed over the newspaper. Huang Lide put on his gold-rimmed glasses again, squinting as he carefully examined the text.
Sunlight filtered through the carved window lattice, casting mottled light across his graying temples.