Before Huang Tianjiao arrived, he had indeed thought about it for a long time— what kind of person was the boss of Mingzhao International Company, praised by the high-and-mighty Song Qingyuan as a “world-shaking genius”?
He, Huang Tianjiao, had been a prodigy known throughout Shanghai since childhood, fluent in six languages, and had graduated from Yale University with outstanding grades. In the eyes of his family, his achievements were already unmatched.
If someone like him was only considered a “mediocre talent,” then the “genius” Song Qingyuan spoke of—could he possibly have three heads and six arms, capable of anything and everything?
“Could it really be a three-headed, six-armed Nezha?”
Before setting out, a friend’s joking remark made him laugh aloud.
Yes, why overthink it?
No matter who the other party was, Huang Tianjiao was absolutely confident he could outshine him.
He came today dressed to the nines, determined to see with his own eyes what kind of “world-shaking genius” could possibly fade to insignificance and be reduced to a mere mediocre talent in his presence!
However, all of Huang Tianjiao’s mental preparation, all his pride and assumptions, shattered in a thunderous collapse the moment that dusty, sweat-stained man— looking as if he had just crawled out of a pile of dockworkers— calmly acknowledged his identity.
At that instant, Huang Tianjiao felt a ridiculous and infuriating heat surge to his head.
He looked at the man’s grey cloth shirt, the original color long obscured, his face streaked with sweat and grime, and his hands red and cracked from hard labor…
The immense contrast made him want to scream inwardly in collapse: ‘…At least a three-headed, six-armed Nezha would be preferable!’
His opponent was so lowly and despicable that Huang Tianjiao’s carefully prepared “competition,” his expensive white suit and polished leather shoes, all became an outright joke!
His all-out effort and formal appearance suddenly looked incredibly ridiculous and embarrassing.
He even felt the sharp, surprised, and mocking gazes from his companions behind him like thorns piercing his back.
Jiang Mingxi looked at this wide-eyed, ghost-seeing young master in mild puzzlement.
This man had been clamoring to find the boss, and now that he had found her, he looked completely dazed. What exactly did he mean?
She patiently turned her gaze to the group of men and women behind him, who were obviously of distinguished backgrounds, and asked again, “You’re looking for me— what is it you want?”
The young masters and ladies exchanged glances, their faces displaying a strange mixture of surprise and contempt.
Finally, their eyes settled on Huang Tianjiao with undisguised suspicion and malice:
“Tianjiao, are you sure you’re not mistaken? The person Song Qingyuan praised so highly… is this one?”
A young man in a striped suit held a handkerchief over his nose as if the air smelled foul.
“Maybe you came to the wrong place. Does this look like somewhere a ‘genius’ would be found?”
Another man, arm linked with his female companion, snorted mockingly with a drawn-out tone.
“Look at him— did he just roll around in the mud? Tianjiao, are you sure the person we’re looking for isn’t working at some nearby factory?”
A young lady jabbed her lace parasol pointedly at the dusty hem of Jiang Mingxi’s pants, her voice sweet yet cutting.
Their words were loud enough to drift clearly into the ears of Jiang Mingxi and Huang Tianjiao.
Jiang Mingxi had heard such cold sarcasm many times before and had long since developed an iron heart, so she paid no mind.
Huang Tianjiao’s face flushed red, then paled white.
Finally gathering his voice, tinged with a last shred of struggle and unwillingness, he scanned Jiang Mingxi with a doubtful look and almost demanded, “You… you know Song Qingyuan?”
Jiang Mingxi had already realized.
When she distributed flyers on the train, it was just a wide net cast with no real expectation of converting many customers.
Unexpectedly, although Song Qingyuan could be blunt and rude, he was kind-hearted and genuinely helped spread word about her, introducing a large group of customers— a bunch of fat sheep.
Jiang Mingxi felt that if she didn’t profit from them, it would be a shame to her own brains.
Thinking of this, her smile became more sincere and warm.
“Of course I know Song Qingyuan,” she said firmly, her smile open. “Are you all customers introduced by Song? My apologies! The new store just opened and there’s a lot to handle, so I’m personally involved in everything and look quite a mess. Please forgive me.”
While speaking, she casually wiped her temple with the back of her hand, only smearing the dust further, giving her an oddly genuine look.
Though her clothes were tattered and dusty, the young man’s straight posture, calm and composed gaze, and that lack of either servility or fear toward the distinguished company formed a unique dignity.
Her frank words and demeanor evoked a slight goodwill.
Huang Wanyi stepped forward gracefully, her voice as clear as a yellow oriole’s song: “Pardon us for the sudden visit. We hope you don’t mind.”
The use of the polite “you” struck Jiang Mingxi deeply.
To have such high society ladies graciously visit her humble little shop was a great honor in her heart.
Jiang Mingxi smiled politely, but her eyes involuntarily lingered on the lady who had just spoken.
This well-mannered young woman was undoubtedly fashionable and beautiful.
She was about twenty, with thick eyebrows and large eyes, skin as fair as snow, a classic melon-shaped face paired with the season’s popular short curls, dressed in a pale yellow lace dress that accentuated her slender figure— a modern lady seemingly stepped out from the latest fashion magazine.
However, what truly stirred Jiang Mingxi’s heart and made her gaze linger was not the fashionable outfit— frankly, Jiang Mingxi found today’s fashions a bit outdated— but the uncanny resemblance this Miss Huang bore to someone deeply embedded in her memories.
Seventeen years ago, at the end of Jiang Mingxi’s life, she had died in the arms of a young prostitute.
When Jiang Mingxi had been wealthy and extravagant, she had long forgotten ever helping that little prostitute.
Yet the prostitute had secretly kept her in her heart.
When Jiang Mingxi was penniless, sick, and lying on the street waiting to die, everyone shunned her, but the little prostitute took her in.
Though the prostitute was a precarious streetwalker, she endured beatings and curses from the madam and pimps, cleaned her, fed her, and even used her meager savings to hire a doctor to care for her.
And this modern young lady before her bore seven or eight parts resemblance to that prostitute sister!
Jiang Mingxi and the prostitute sister reunited seventeen years later, but at this moment, that had not yet happened.
And this young lady obviously came from a wealthy family and surely had no blood relation to a poor prostitute.
But could it really be that two unrelated people look so much alike?
Perhaps.
Jiang Mingxi hesitated a moment before asking, “My name is Jiang Mingchuan— Jiang as in river, Ming as in bright moon, Chuan as in flowing stream. May I ask how to address you, miss?”
The question was somewhat bold, as Jiang Mingxi was seen as a filthy, poor commoner by others, daring to inquire about a noble lady’s name openly, which many would see as a frog wanting to eat swan meat, ignorant of the sky’s height and the earth’s thickness.
Sure enough, Huang Tianjiao, who had been in awkward shame, suddenly snapped like a lit firecracker.
He darted forward, shielding his sister behind him and glared fiercely at Jiang Mingxi, shouting, “How dare you! My second sister’s name is not something for someone like you to ask about casually!”
Jiang Mingxi remained calm and explained, “Please don’t be angry. I was rude. I meant no offense. When I was young, I learned a bit of physiognomy from a mysterious person. I observed that this lady’s brows carried a cloud of sorrow, as if troubled by some difficulty, so I was curious and asked. It was impolite, and I ask for your forgiveness.”
Huang Tianjiao scoffed, angered by such nonsense.
“Physiognomy?” He sneered with contempt barely restrained. “Hah! Someone like Song Qingyuan would never be fooled by your charlatan, trickster acts. To think he’d praise you as a ‘world-shaking genius’— what a joke!”
He turned away with disgust, as if looking further would stain his eyes.
To his companions, especially Huang Wanyi, he said decisively, “Let’s go. I was mistaken— this place and these people aren’t worth our time.”
But Huang Wanyi stayed put.
She understood her brother well— proud and intolerant of any setback or surprise.
She keenly noticed a slight upward twitch at the corner of Huang Tianjiao’s mouth beneath the fury and humiliation— a subtle sign he was regaining a sense of superiority and control upon realizing his opponent was far less than expected.
Leave? Not now.
Huang Wanyi’s mind was sharp.
She knew Song Qingyuan was someone who defied conventions and disrespected gods and ancestors.
That great scholar even called the Qingming Festival ancestral rites meaningless formalism and openly declared, “People are dead, their bodies rotten— worship is pointless.”
Such an extreme rationalist and scoffer of all superstitions could never be fooled by simple “charlatan” tricks, yet praised Huang Mingchuan so highly?
Therefore, this seemingly shabby young man must have talents that were not so simple.
With a deft twist of her body, Huang Wanyi broke free from Huang Tianjiao’s attempted hold.
She took a step forward, meeting Jiang Mingxi’s gaze with a bright, slightly curious smile, her voice clear and pleasant: “Tianjiao, since Boss Jiang speaks so highly, maybe he really does have some ability. Why not let him do a reading for me? I’ve been a little troubled lately.”
To her, this young boss who seemed inexperienced with high society ladies probably got nervous and misspoke, then was scolded by Tianjiao and had to scramble for a lame excuse.
But inadvertently, he was right— her biggest annoyance right now was indeed her genius brother.
“I am Huang Wanyi— Huang as in oriole, Wanyi as in gentle and polite.”
Huang Wanyi recited her name deliberately and calmly, resolved to act surprised and say “Exactly!” no matter what absurd things Jiang Mingxi said next, determined to humble Huang Tianjiao’s arrogance.
She would not leave until Huang Tianjiao’s face was saved.
Unexpectedly, after hearing her name, Jiang Mingchuan’s expression changed.
He put away his smile and looked at her with complex emotions— first shock and realization, then deep sorrow and almost unbearable grief.
Huang Wanyi’s heart skipped.
She had never seen such a look before.
It was as if he could see through to her tragic fate ahead.
It made her very uneasy, even sending a chill down her spine.
She was the Huang family’s second daughter, raised in luxury, admired by all, with a bright future— who dared wish her ill fortune?
Huang Wanyi knew some conmen would say “Great disaster is coming” upon first meeting to scare people— could this man be playing such a trick?
Could he really be a charlatan?
As the thought crossed her mind, Jiang Mingxi’s expression shifted again.
The deep sorrow quickly receded like a tide.
His gaze grew clear and calm once more, and a smile slowly appeared— different from before’s polite smile, this one carried a solemn and… promising meaning?
“A fine name,” he said softly, enunciating each word clearly, looking at her deeply. “With such a name and keeping true to your heart, you will surely… turn misfortune to fortune, move from worst to best, and find opportunities even in dire straits.”
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