Chapter 2: Aren't We Friends Too?

Xie Jing stubbed out his cigarette in the ashtray at the end of the corridor and pushed open the door to the private room.

The room was large, but there weren't many people in it.

Two of Old Master Xie's people had come. Uncle Zhao, the steward, sat in the seat of honor with a stack of things laid out in front of him. Seeing Xie Jing enter, he stood up with a chuckle:

"Young Master Jing, the Old Master sent me to deliver some things to you."

Xie Jing knew exactly what that stack was the moment he saw it. His face, which had been relatively calm, instantly darkened.

"For matchmaking?"

His tone was flat, but that flatness was more frightening than anger—like the last second of stillness before a storm. "Again?"

Uncle Zhao's expression didn't change. He said with a smile:

"The Old Master said that if you still refuse to go, he'll come invite you personally.

You know his legs haven't been well lately. Surely you can't bear to make the old man make the trip himself?"

Xie Jing lowered his eyes and said nothing.

Uncle Zhao continued, his tone so gentle it didn't sound like he was relaying a message—more like he was coaxing a child:

"The Old Master also said that you're twenty-four this year. When he was your age, your father was already old enough to run errands.

If you don't get married soon, he can't hold his head up in front of his old friends."

"What does him not being able to hold his head up have to do with me?"

"The Old Master said that if you say that, he'll make sure you're the one who can't hold his head up."

Xie Jing: "..."

Silence spread through the private room.

Zhou Xu stood by the door, wanting to laugh but not daring to, struggling to keep a blank expression on his face.

Xie Jing—in the entire Capital, no one could handle this man.

His parents couldn't control him. No one in the entire Xie family dared raise their voice in front of him. Only the Old Master could shut him up with a single sentence.

Not out of fear, but respect.

Xie Jing could stand against the whole world, but when it came to the grandfather who had raised him since childhood, he admitted defeat.

Uncle Zhao saw his silence and knew the matter was settled. Smiling, he pushed the stack over:

"All young ladies from distinguished families. Family background, appearance, education—top-notch in every way.

The Old Master said you can pick whichever you like. Once you've chosen, it's settled. He'll handle the rest."

Xie Jing stood in place without moving. Only after a long while did he slowly walk over and sit down on the sofa.

He dragged the stack toward him—a thick pile, each one a carefully crafted card, photo on the front, detailed information on the back.

Xie Jing flipped through them casually, very quickly, one after another. He spent no more than two seconds on each photo and didn't even bother glancing at the text on the back.

Zhou Xu leaned over for a peek. "This one's pretty."

Xie Jing flipped past it.

"This one's not bad either—studied music, good temperament."

He flipped past that one too.

"Hey hey hey, this one—this one looks like that little celebrity—"

Xie Jing raised his eyes and glanced at Zhou Xu.

The look wasn't particularly fierce—it could even be called calm—but Zhou Xu immediately shut his mouth, made a zipping gesture over his lips, and obediently retreated to the side.

After flipping through more than half the stack, Xie Jing's expression grew worse and worse.

He was just going through the motions. The time he spent on each photo grew shorter and shorter, until near the end he was barely glancing at them. That air of impatience had almost solidified into something tangible.

The girls in the photos were each more refined than the last—makeup flawless, smiles proper and poised, eyes filled with the reserve and calculation of young ladies from prominent families.

Just looking at them annoyed him.

Uncle Zhao sat across from him, teacup in hand, drinking his tea without batting an eye.

He had followed the Old Master for forty years. What scene hadn't he seen?

Xie Jing's temper was no different from a child throwing a tantrum in his eyes.

Just as Xie Jing was about to finish flipping through the entire stack and was preparing to say "is this all you've got," his hand paused.

A photo was revealed.