Beijing might seem calm as a still lake, but beneath the surface, it boiled like a scalding pot. News of Lei Zhengyang's clash with Lin Kuang spread like wildfire through the capital's noble houses and great families. Such events were delicate, and every clan scrambled to uncover the unfiltered truth.
At the Lin estate, Lin Taohai glared at his two grandsons, fury barely contained. He couldn't believe Lin Kuang—Lin Kuang—had been injured, and worse than Lin Zhouwei.
"Lin Kuang, explain," demanded Lin Rongguang, his father and West District police chief, his temper flaring. "How did you lose to Lei Zhengyang?" They'd meant to humble the Leis, only to humiliate themselves. Young bloods' fights were off-limits for elders—meddling broke unspoken rules, with dire consequences.
Lin Kuang, arrogant in public, bowed before his father and grandfather. He wasn't bright, but he knew his status came from the old man's clout. Without him, the Lins were nothing. His hands, bandaged and blood-soaked, looked gruesome, but no one pitied him—not even Zhouwei, who'd been beaten for avenging him.
Face flushed, Lin Kuang admitted, "Father, Zhengyang's strong. I'm no match. One move, and I was done. He didn't even go all out."
He spoke truth only to family, providing raw data for their decisions. Outside, he'd never admit defeat—it'd shame the Lins. Lin Taohai's deep eyes flickered with shock. "You say Lei Zhengyang's strong?"
"Yes, Grandfather," Lin Kuang said. "A year ago, he was a nobody, but I'm certain he was faking it. I've trained inner strength for over a decade—most can't touch me. His power wasn't built in a year. True strength has no shortcuts."
Lin Rongguang frowned, muttering, "Faking it?" Even he doubted it. Zhengyang's reputation was trash, a synonym for failure. When clans scolded their slackers, they'd snap, "What, you want to be Lei Zhengyang?" His infamy was that deep.
Lin Taohai pondered, then shot Zhouwei a glare. "Useless fool! You cost the Lins our face. Three months' confinement—get out!" Zhouwei, despite his polished "gentleman" act, was no better than Zhengyang, just cloaked in hypocrisy. He slunk away silently under the patriarch's wrath.
Rongguang, fuming, asked, "Father, what now?"
"Now?" Lin Taohai feigned confusion. "Just kids messing around. What's there to do?" The matter was closed—for now. But everyone knew the Lins would seize any chance to reclaim their pride.
After the Yaochi uproar, Zhengyang didn't head home. Meeting Leng Youran again, he entrusted her with handling Luo Luo's affairs. "Women talk easier," he said. "I owe you one. If you hit a wall, I'll step in once." He'd made such promises before, but no one took them seriously—borrowing Lei clout was a fantasy when the patriarch wouldn't play ball. Now, Leng knew this Third Young Master was poised to rise in Beijing.
When Zhengyang returned, Lei Yunbao awaited in the living room, flanked by Lei Chunping, Lei Xiaping, and Lei Qiuping. Their faces were stern as he strolled in. Unfazed, he grinned, plopping down before the patriarch. "Grandfather, uncles, eaten dinner yet? Where's Mom? Not home?"
Footsteps thundered at the door. Xu Miaoli burst in, trailed by her secretary lugging a file bag. "Zhengyang, are you okay? You're okay, right?" Ignoring the room's heavyweights, her eyes locked on her son. She'd heard he'd tangled with the Lin brothers—knowing Lin Kuang's brutal reputation, she'd raced back, terrified.
She inspected him head to toe, hands probing carefully. Seeing no injuries, she sighed. "Thank goodness, just rumors. Zhengyang, no more fighting, okay? I heard you were in a brawl—scared me to death."
Lei Chunping rubbed his temples. The "interrogation" hadn't even started, and his wife was already shielding their son. With his brothers smirking, he, as family head, had to speak. "Rumors? This kid did fight—beat both Lin boys. We're figuring out how to clean up his mess."
Xu Miaoli's face shifted. She scanned Zhengyang again. "You really fought those Lin punks and won? No injuries?"
Zhengyang stifled a laugh. "Mom, you sound disappointed I'm fine. Next time, I'll come back with some bruises."
"That's my boy!" she crowed. "Those jerks always bullied you—I hated them for it. Now you're strong enough to fight back. Don't let them off easy. Pay back every slight they gave you, no mercy!"
The Lei men collectively facepalmed.
Lei Chunping flushed. What kind of mother egged her son to fight and bully others? "Miaoli, stop it! That's no way to raise a kid. Fighting's good now? You're encouraging him?"
She shot back, "What's wrong? When he got bullied, didn't you say it was his fault for being weak? That he deserved it? Now he's got the skill to hit back—so what? My son's not a punching bag for others!"
Chunping had said that, and now his own words were weaponized against him. Scholarly as he was, he was speechless.
Lei Qiuping chuckled. "Easy, Sister-in-law. We're not blaming him. He did well—shows Lei spirit. Just want the details, that's all."
Lei Xiaping stayed quiet. A master of political maneuvering, he was clueless about brawls, so he held his tongue. But he read the patriarch's mood: no anger, only a relaxed air. The old man was pleased.
Of course, he'd never say it aloud—nobody could know the elders approved of "kids' games."
Lei Yunbao finally spoke. "Alright, Zhengyang, tell us about today. Song family in the morning, Yaochi in the afternoon—I'm curious to hear the full story."
That morning, he'd visited the Songs, and their swift move had erased the year-long scandal case overnight, a dazzling shift like flipping clouds to rain. That afternoon, he'd sparked a spectacle at Yaochi, thrashing both Lin brothers. It was impossible not to make waves.
His fame now outshone even the scandal's peak.
Zhengyang breezed through his talk with Patriarch Song, then pivoted to the Lins. "Nothing big. That impotent Lin punk tried to steal my girl, so I roughed him up. The Lins got mad, sent their mad dog Lin Kuang to settle the score. Turns out his fists were soft—broke both his hands. Next time, they'll probably send Ning Buluan."