The birth of this book’s ninth deacon is almost upon us, thanks to the generous support of book friend Luoyan Xianju.

A dog biting its own kind, infighting within the clan, is an act looked down upon by both insiders and outsiders.

Yet, Qi Ji had done it again.

He had feuded with Qi Fei for thirty years, elevating this rivalry above his own grandfather’s birthday banquet.

His fortune, amounting to tens of millions, had failed to cultivate a broad mind; instead, it had only made him arrogant and overbearing, someone who could not tolerate the slightest speck of dust in his eyes, valuing face more than life itself.

Unfortunately, today he was provoking more than just Qi Fei.

By colliding with Wang Zhuo—a veritable grand coffee table—Qi Ji was destined to end up as the tragic mug today.

Nine large, auspicious red banquet tables were lined up in a row, designated for Old Master Qi, his four daughters, two sons, and the grandchildren Qi Ji and Qi Fei, respectively.

Among them, Qi Ji’s table was by far the liveliest, with gift money already piled up to several hundred thousand—a small, conspicuous, and dazzling stack of red.

The most desolate, naturally, was Qi Fei’s table.

Not a soul lingered nearby, and only an unopened gift registry lay upon it, causing occasional passing guests to crane their necks and whisper amongst themselves.

Noticing this scene with the corner of his eye, Qi Ji secretly reveled.

This time, he thought, my aunts will finally see clearly which of the third generation in the Qi family is truly successful: me or Qi Fei.

What good is wealth if no one even comes to offer gifts? It's less impressive than a typical middle-class family celebration.

“Ten minutes are almost up.” Guan Yingying raised her wrist, showing Wang Zhuo her watch.

“Almost there,” Wang Zhuo chuckled.

“Go start recording the gift accounts.

I guarantee your hands will ache from writing.” Guan Yingying let out a soft laugh.

Her hands had last ached like that just half a month ago, when she was on her period and accidentally bit her tongue while eating.

She had ended up using her Fifth Sister to “relax” Wang Zhuo, resulting in wrist soreness that lasted two full days.

Wang Zhuo then looked at Qi Fei, winking at her.

“Sister, go greet the guests.

Don’t be surprised if you see people you don’t recognize; they haven't taken a wrong turn.” Qi Fei offered a wry, helpless smile, nodded, rose, and walked toward the gift tables with Guan Yingying.

“Director Wang, who were you just calling?” Siyuan leaned her pretty little face forward and asked with a smile.

The Meng sisters also inclined their bodies slightly forward, pricking up their ears.

Wang Zhuo smiled faintly and replied, “Of course, I was calling some friends to show support.

We’re here to celebrate the Old Master’s birthday, not to have faces slapped.” In the middle of their conversation, four young women dressed impeccably in dark suits walked into the main hall.

Each possessed a lithe and capable posture.

Their matching pure-black suits immediately drew attention; the two women in the center were each carrying a brand-new banknote counter.

The four arrived at the very end of the long snake of gift tables lined up in a row.

They shifted that last table slightly toward the open space, set down the banknote counters, and one sat down behind the table while the other three stood loosely surrounding it.

Everyone who saw this sudden display had the distinct feeling that the positions taken by the three standing women were unobtrusive yet subtly encompassed the table under their protection—it evoked the image seen on the news when high-level bodyguards protect international superstars or political figures.

Several meters away, Wang Zhuo peered through the crowd with his X-ray vision and couldn't help a small internal chuckle.

It was a pity it was winter and indoors; otherwise, when these four women made their entrance, they would have each worn a pair of dark sunglasses, making the display even more striking.

The dazzling entrance of the four bodyguards immediately attracted significant attention.

The Masters of Ceremony and reception staff at the other tables certainly didn't miss the sight.

Qi Ji immediately knitted his brows, unable to fathom what scheme his cousin was hatching.

Could she be withdrawing her own money to give as a gift? he speculated maliciously, thinking this guess was highly likely to come true.

Just then, Guan Yingying also arrived at the table, sitting down next to the female bodyguard.

She spread out the gift ledger and placed a gleaming gold fountain pen beside it.

Qi Fei was temporarily delayed, having been intercepted by an aunt for a lengthy questioning while passing the other tables.

Ding.

One of the three elevators opposite the gift tables opened, and out stepped a fair and plump man nearly six feet tall, accompanied by a bespectacled man of medium height whose build contrasted sharply with the fat man.

Both appeared to be around twenty, and their demeanor suggested they were undoubtedly students.

“Jin Chengyou?” “Sun Donghao?” Seeing these two gentlemen, Guan Yingying was the first to burst out laughing.

These two were practically Wang Zhuo’s guardian deities, Qin Shubao and Yuchi Gong, leading the charge.

Watching the two young men, who looked like students, approach his cousin’s table, Qi Ji was highly surprised, feeling both annoyed and amused by the scene.

Taking advantage of a lull when no guests were near, he decided to stop being polite.

He stood by his own table, craning his neck to watch the spectacle.

“I’m so sorry, Sister.

I came in such a rush, I didn't have time to prepare a physical gift, so I could only offer some cash,” This fellow, Fatty Long, skipped titles entirely when addressing Guan Yingying, calling her ‘Sister’ directly to foster familiarity.

He pulled out a wad of slightly used pink bills from his pocket, offering a wry smile.

“The bank insisted they were out of new bills; I had no choice but to take these.” The two banknote counters whirred, and the first entry was added to the gift ledger: Jin Chengyou, Ten Thousand.

Second entry: Sun Donghao, Ten Thousand.

Qi Ji was half-convinced and half-doubting.

He could detect no trace of pretense in the demeanor of these two students.

Although gifting ten thousand right away was surprising, this was hardly Hengdian, where extras for movies congregate.

Finding two such people for Qi Fei in such a short time was genuinely difficult.

While he was racking his brain, another elevator door opened.

Seeing the leading figure—the “Fat Head Monk”—Qi Ji froze again.

Anyone familiar with The Deer and the Cauldron would remember the character Fatty Head Monk.

Jin Yong described his physique as if stretched unnaturally by external force, all sharp angles and long limbs.

The man stepping out of the elevator precisely matched this description, and Qi Ji recognized him.

The newcomer was none other than Ding Ren, one of the city's major loan sharks, who had recently laundered his money and upgraded himself to an industrialist.

His nickname was Old Cutter.

When Qi Ji was in middle school, Ding Ren was already the local kingpin.

Qi Ji had once paid a few hoodlum students to fight for him, but those very students, whom Qi Ji had to flatter and treat respectfully, became too terrified to even run away upon hearing of Ding Ren’s fearsome reputation.

Seeing Ding Ren stride in with six or seven subordinates in sharp suits toward his cousin’s table, Qi Ji was dumbfounded.

If the two students earlier were merely suspicious, a figure like Ding Ren could never be an imposter hired as an extra.

How had his cousin managed to know such a person? Fatty Long and Haozi offered their gifts from a distance; Qi Fei simply waved her hand with a smile across a few tables, acknowledging them.

But Ding Ren’s star entrance demanded proper etiquette, so she explained herself to her aunt and hurried over to greet him.

“The Old Master is celebrating his seventieth birthday; how could I not come for a sip of birthday wine?” Ding Ren’s laugh was exceptionally hearty, contrary to his usual habit of being a man of few words.

He showed no airs toward Qi Fei or Guan Yingying because they were among his major clients, and they usually got along well.

A social connector like Ding Ren valued such networks above all else.

“Sister Qi, this is a gift from my uncle.

I’m leaving it here for you.” Fatty Ding Baoji, dressed in a bespoke suit, cheerfully presented a red envelope.

However, this envelope was quite unusual.

While others’ envelopes were flat or thick envelopes, his was merely a square paper wrapping, bound only by the outer red paper.

Qi Fei repeatedly expressed her politeness.

Guan Yingying and the female bodyguard worked together to open the paper wrap.

Inside was indeed a stack of brand-new pink banknotes.

A quick glance revealed the amount: Five Hundred Thousand.

There were certainly people who gifted half a million, but such gifts were usually conducted privately.

Displaying the gift money so publicly was extremely rare—today, it was definitely a first.

In fact, the highest gift amount recorded at the entire venue that day was only Qi Ji’s ten thousand yuan, given by a friend with whom he shared business cooperation.

This friend managed an outbound training base, making him a primary client for Qi Ji, who ran a training institution himself.

Smiling sweetly at Ding Ren, Guan Yingying said, “Uncle Ding’s gift money, we don’t need to count it, right?” “Hey, then you’d be wrong,” Ding Baoji immediately chuckled.

“Counting bills is also called counting joy.

How can we skip such an auspicious act?” As he spoke, he winked at Guan Yingying, who immediately understood.

This fellow was reminding her to use the counting process to heighten the atmosphere.

“Let’s count it then,” Ding Ren said, making a rare joke.

“When I withdrew the money, the bank manager told me that if there were any counterfeit bills, I should send them back—ten times the penalty for one fake!” Seeing Ding Ren and Qi Fei’s friend joking around, Qi Ji, who had been secretly observing the situation, nearly stumbled over himself.

Old Cutter was famous for being cold and taciturn; if it weren't for his overly prominent long face and slender shoulders with long arms, Qi Ji might have taken him for an imposter.

The appearance of five hundred thousand stunned all the other gift tables.

Qi Fei’s third uncle on her mother’s side also recognized Ding Ren.

After signaling his wife, he greeted Ding Ren with a smile, exchanged pleasantries, and then escorted Ding Ren and his entourage to a seat reserved for honored guests.

At that moment, guests also arrived at Qi Ji’s table—two minor leaders from the Education Bureau, each offering one thousand yuan in cash.

Qi Ji seemed preoccupied, forcing a smile as he saw them to their seats, inwardly wondering with annoyance who his cousin’s next guest would be.

Just as he returned to his table, the plump man—who had made the most appearances that day—showed up again.

This one was definitely the heaviest hitter, the largest in stature, and someone Qi Ji had met once before, knowing him to be a local influential figure with assets exceeding one hundred million, whose status was comparable to Ding Ren's.

Indeed, their statuses were comparable, but their wealth differed significantly.

Ding Ren’s fortune had risen quickly, and his foundation was thinner.

This plump man, surnamed Cai, had been in the jewelry business for many years and was already exceedingly rich.

Thus, his opening move was double Ding Ren’s: a massive one-million-yuan red envelope.

RV