Chapter 30 The Family Banquet Incident 1
At 7 p.m. on Saturday, the Huo family mansion was brightly lit.
The black wrought iron gate slowly opened, and luxury cars filed into the courtyard. Servants, dressed in matching dark uniforms, waited under the porch, quickly and efficiently taking the coats and handbags left by the guests.
When Huo Yanli arrived, a considerable number of people had already gathered in the main hall. He had deliberately arrived ten minutes early, but he still hadn't arrived before those relatives who were eager to make a scene. Passing through the carved doorway, under the warm yellow light, the air was filled with the fragrance of fine clothes and the sounds of laughter and conversation—a lively scene befitting a gathering of a prominent family.
"Yanli is here." Aunt Zhou Jing was the first to see him, greeting him with a beaming smile. Today she was wearing a deep purple brocade cheongsam, and a complete set of imperial green jade jewelry around her neck, which gleamed with a warm yet undeniable luster under the light. "Why are you alone? Where's Zhiyi?"
"She came directly from the dormitory, she should be here soon." Huo Yanli said calmly, his gaze sweeping across the main hall.
The mahogany round table was already set up, with twelve seats around it, the head seat empty—reserved for the old man. The table was covered with a dark red tablecloth embroidered with gold thread, the bone china tableware was arranged meticulously, and the silverware was polished to a gleaming shine; every item exuded the understated luxury accumulated by this family.
Father Huo Zhenguo and Second Uncle Huo Zhenting were standing by the window, talking in hushed tones. Both were dressed in custom-made suits and holding champagne glasses, presumably discussing a recent real estate project. Mother Xu Wenjun was surrounded by several female relatives. Today, she wore a royal blue silk cheongsam with a white mink shawl, her hair styled in an elegant updo, and the diamond earrings on her earlobes swayed gently as she spoke.
Cousins Huo Mingxuan and Huo Siqi sat on the sofa in the corner. Mingxuan, 26, was the vice president of a subsidiary of the Huo Group. He was looking down at his phone, probably dealing with work emails. Siqi, 22, had just returned from studying in the UK. She was wearing a Chanel early spring suit and holding the latest model of her phone, her fingers quickly swiping across the screen, occasionally letting out a soft laugh.
"Brother Yanli." Huo Siqi looked up and saw him, stood up, and smiled sweetly, "Long time no see."
Huo Yanli nodded to her, walked over to greet his father, and then found a relatively quiet corner to stand in. He didn't particularly like these family gatherings; everyone wore masks, said things they didn't mean, and the air was thick with hypocritical politeness and subtle comparisons.
At 7:15, the old man, Huo Qishan, emerged from the inner courtyard, supported by the butler. He was dressed in a dark gray Zhongshan suit, and although over eighty years old, his back remained straight, and his eyes were sharp as an eagle's. His appearance immediately silenced the hall.
"Everyone's here?" The old man sat down in the main seat, his gaze sweeping over everyone, pausing for a moment especially when searching for a certain figure.
"I'm just short of knowing," Xu Wenjun said quickly, her tone carrying a perfectly appropriate apology. "There might be traffic on the way. I've already asked Uncle Chen to call and ask."
Before the words were finished, Butler Chen's voice came from the doorway: "Young Madam has arrived."
All eyes turned to the porch.
Song Zhiyi appeared there.
She was dressed simply today: a light gray cashmere knit dress, knee-length, classic and elegant, without any unnecessary embellishments. Over it was a long, off-white coat, which she had already taken off and handed to the maid. Her hair was still in a low ponytail, and her face was lightly made up, but still quite plain. Around her neck was a delicate silver chain with a small safety buckle pendant—ordinary in material, but with a warm, lustrous sheen from years of wear.
She stood there, back straight, her gaze calmly sweeping over everyone in the hall, then gave a slight bow: "Sorry, there was some traffic on the way, I'm late."
His voice was clear and neither arrogant nor humble; there was neither panic at being late nor any deliberate attempt to please.
When the old man saw her, his originally stern face softened slightly, and he nodded gently at her.
Xu Wenjun immediately put on a smile and quickly walked over to hold Song Zhiyi's hand—the gesture was affectionate, but Huo Yanli noticed that his mother's fingers were only loosely touching, and she did not actually hold it tightly.
“Not too late, not too late, just right.” Xu Wenjun pulled Song Zhiyi to the table. “Come on, Zhiyi, sit here. I’ve arranged everything for you.”
She led Song Zhiyi to her seat—the lowest seat, closest to the door, furthest from the old man and the main guest area, a corner that was easily overlooked and marginalized.
Huo Yanli's brow furrowed almost imperceptibly. He looked at his mother, but Xu Wenjun avoided his gaze and instead warmly invited Song Zhiyi to sit down.
The old man's gaze lingered for a moment on the seat Song Zhiyi had been led to, his brows furrowing almost imperceptibly, and the corners of his mouth turning down. He tapped his fingers lightly on the rosewood armrest, clearly dissatisfied with the arrangement. His eyes swept over Xu Wenjun, carrying a hint of disapproval, but ultimately he remained silent.
He saw that Song Zhiyi merely glanced at that spot calmly, her face showing no embarrassment or grievance at being slighted, but rather composure. She even nodded to Huo Siqi, Huo Yanli's cousin sitting next to her—who was dressed in designer clothes and had exquisite makeup—earning a look of disdain from the other woman.
The old man swallowed back the words that were on the tip of his tongue, letting out a barely audible sigh. He knew this child was of a gentle nature and didn't care about such things; if he were to lose his temper on the spot, it might make her uncomfortable. However, he still felt a pang of unease, and his gaze towards Song Zhiyi held a mixture of pity and helplessness.
Song Zhiyi pulled out a chair, sat down comfortably, and remained composed, as if it made no difference to her where she sat.
"Alright, everyone's here." The old man finally spoke, his voice steady, but his gaze swept lightly over the seat below him. "Let's begin the feast."
The servants began serving the dishes. First came eight cold dishes: crystal pork jelly, jellyfish with Zhenjiang vinegar, Shaoxing drunken chicken, osmanthus-flavored lotus root... Each dish was exquisitely presented, like a work of art.
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