Chapter 137

The resplendent hall welcomed one distinguished guest after another. Outside the castle gates, a line of footmen stood ready to escort each arrival into the grand hall. The once-empty space gradually filled with guests, their lively conversation swelling into a vibrant hum.

Mr. Whiting, standing in his study on the upper floor, watched the guests arrive without descending. He seemed to be waiting for someone. It was only when a custom-made, extended-length sky-blue Cadillac pulled into the drive that his lips curled into a smile, his eyes deepening. He turned to the person behind him and said, "Let us go down; our guests have arrived."

"Yes, Father," Avril replied with a respectful bow. She turned to leave, but in a corner hidden from view, a flicker of malicious and ruthless mockery crossed her sea-blue eyes.

Avril walked into the sight of the crowd with elegant grace. She was dressed in a floor-length, off-the-shoulder gown of sea-blue silk. Her tall, willowy figure and rhythmic gait, combined with golden waves of hair cascading loosely down her back, gave her a wild, sexy allure quite different from her usual "pure angel" persona—yet it was all the more captivating. She descended the spiral staircase, her gaze cutting across the room toward the entrance.

The crowd followed her line of sight, but seeing no one at the door, they grew perplexed. Who could possibly be important enough for Miss Avril to greet personally? They turned their attention back to her, tracking her movement.

Whether by design or coincidence, just as Avril reached the threshold, four figures walked in. A soft gasp rippled through the room. So, it was them; no wonder Miss Avril had to come out to greet them. The guests offered polite, deferential smiles.

The four arrived in a diamond formation. The man in the lead wore a slim-fit light purple suit over a deep purple shirt, accented with a light purple bowtie and a matching pocket square. He walked with one hand in his pocket while the other casually swept back his golden bangs—a gesture both effortless and provocative. As the golden strands caught the light, he flashed a rose-lipped smile, drawing a collective intake of breath from the room: it was the Duke, Arthur Rivers!

The man remained unfazed, though a flash of mockery crossed his deep, sky-blue eyes. Behind him, flanked on either side, were two other men. One wore a black suit with a matching shirt and a black bowtie edged in silver. He moved with a cold, stoic expression, his arms swinging in perfect rhythm. A murmur went through the crowd: it was the Vice President of Blue Tear, Xiahou Yu!

Beside Xiahou Yu walked a man in a crisp white suit, his hands in his pockets, wearing an irresistibly angelic smile. His black, tousled hair gave him a carefree, dashing air. Though he was a stranger to many, no one dared to show him disrespect; one who walked alongside the Duke and the Vice President of Blue Tear could hardly be of low standing. This was the ever-persistent Feng Qingquan.

The final man wore a standard butler’s uniform: a black tailcoat, a white shirt, and hair of mixed brown and silver slicked back meticulously. A pair of gold-rimmed spectacles hung from his nose, with delicate metal chains trailing down his cheeks. This was Hill, Arthur’s butler.

The four met Avril at the entrance. She looked at Arthur with an angelic smile and said in a sugary tone, "Your Highness, you have arrived. Father has been waiting for you for quite some time."

As soon as Avril appeared, Xiahou Yu and Feng Qingquan turned to look at her, curious to see what kind of goddess could be worthy of a royal decree matching her with Arthur. Seeing her face—a blend of innocence and allure—they secretly marveled. *This beauty, this figure, this poise—she is a fine match for Arthur indeed! However...*

Arthur raised an eyebrow at her words, his wicked, charming smile deepening. "Oh, how could I bear to keep Mr. Whiting waiting? Regardless of anything else, I am the junior here; it is only proper that I should have been the one to greet him first."

At Arthur’s retort, Xiahou Yu and Feng Qingquan both raised their eyebrows, exchanging knowing, meaningful smiles. *Indeed, the maiden dreams of union, but the prince has no heart!* Yet, the thought was fleeting; they noticed that in the way Avril looked at Arthur, there was every emotion imaginable—except for love.

Realizing this, the two men felt a sense of schadenfreude. *Heh, so there is actually a woman who doesn't like Arthur—this man as handsome and wicked as the sun god Apollo!*

Just as Arthur and Avril were speaking, Mr. Whiting emerged from the crowd. "Your Highness, you have come. I had begun to think you wouldn't make it," he said, his tone heavy with implication.

Arthur’s eyes flashed with a hint of surprise. "Mr. Whiting, how could you think that? Setting aside my engagement to Avril, you are my elder—how could I possibly not attend?"

Mr. Whiting’s eyes gleamed. "I am honored by your regard, Your Highness."

Arthur frowned slightly, as if displeased. "Mr. Whiting, I have already said that I am your junior. Please, there is no need for ‘Your Highness.’ It makes me feel quite unworthy."

Mr. Whiting burst into laughter and clapped Arthur on the shoulder. "Very well, very well! I shall call you Arthur, and you shall call me Uncle."

"Yes, Uncle," Arthur replied smoothly. He bowed his head slightly, concealing the mocking glint in his eyes behind his golden hair. When he looked up, his face was once again filled with a look of sincere, warm affection.

Xiahou Yu and Feng Qingquan, listening to this display of mutual "sincerity" that sounded entirely hollow, inwardly despised Arthur for his performance.

"And this must be Mr. Xiahou?" Mr. Whiting asked, looking at the man behind Arthur. It was a question, but his tone was certain.

Xiahou Yu bowed slightly. "I am indeed Xiahou Yu."

Whiting smiled. "You truly have the spirit of youth!"

"You are too kind," Xiahou Yu replied modestly.

After greeting Xiahou, Mr. Whiting looked at Feng Qingquan with a puzzled expression. "Arthur, and this is..."

Arthur glanced at the relaxed Feng Qingquan. "He is my friend, Qingquan," he said, mentioning only the given name, whether by intent or accident.

Mr. Whiting’s eyes narrowed. He understood that this young man was no ordinary person. Anyone who could be friends with Arthur was surely no mediocrity, and Arthur’s refusal to provide a surname confirmed that this man possessed a unique status.

Feng Qingquan, seeing Arthur introduce him to this man who possessed a commanding presence and an air of seasoned maturity despite his age, curled his lip. *He’s hypocritical himself and insists on dragging me into it. What an annoying fellow!*

Despite his thoughts, Feng Qingquan offered a faint, polite smile. "A pleasure, Mr. Whiting. Please forgive my ignorance; I was raised by my elders to stay in China, so I am not very familiar with many of the guests here."

Feng Qingquan’s words were sharp. He feigned ignorance of the guests, but the true implication was: *Your reputation is so small that it hasn't even reached China, which is why I don't know you.*

Arthur and Xiahou Yu’s expressions remained unchanged, though they were roaring with laughter inside. *What a magnificent use of ‘ignorance’! What a way to insult someone without using a single dirty word!* They shot Feng Qingquan looks of profound admiration. Feng Qingquan retorted with a look that said, *Go ahead, fall at my feet!* The two men turned away, suppressing a smirk.

Mr. Whiting’s mouth twitched almost imperceptibly, but he acted as if he had heard nothing. "Well, since everyone is here, let the banquet begin!"

Seeing Mr. Whiting and Arthur’s party in such "warm" conversation, the guests understood the implications and began to weigh their own interests. Following Mr. Whiting’s lead, they all turned their attention to the stage.

The hall lights dimmed, and a beam of milky-white light spotlighted the stage. There stood Avril. She held a microphone in her right hand, her left hand resting gracefully on her waist. Every movement was filled with an indescribable charm.

Avril looked out at the audience, her voice light and melodious. "Welcome, everyone, to the Whiting family banquet. There are two parts to tonight’s event. To maintain an element of surprise, we did not list them on your invitations. Now, I invite my father, Xibo Whiting, to the stage to announce the first part of tonight’s proceedings."

Below the stage, Feng Qingquan leaned toward Arthur, smirking. "Hey, I didn't realize your fiancée had it in her. Look at that face, look at that figure..."

"Shameless," Arthur remarked.

"Vulgar," Xiahou Yu added.

Feng Qingquan’s face stiffened, and he rubbed his nose, dropping the subject. Taking advantage of the lull, he asked, "Tell me, aside from what we already know, what could the other purpose of this banquet be?"

Neither man deigned to answer his foolish question. Just as Feng Qingquan was about to ask again, Mr. Whiting’s voice boomed from the stage: "I now announce the first item of tonight’s banquet: it is..."