The words hung in the air, suffocating.
A line so casual, so effortless, yet it tore through the banquet like an arrow.
Jiang Lei's entire body stiffened.
Hua Ling's nails dug into her palms, her entire face twisting in rage.
Zhao Yan, however—
He never looked at anyone else.
His gaze was locked onto Hua Jing, his expression unreadable, his dark eyes deep with something only she could understand.
The crowd erupted.
Gasps. Whispers. Shocked murmurs.
Someone choked on their wine.
And then—
Laughter.
Someone actually laughed.
It started quiet, a suppressed chuckle—then spread like wildfire.
The weight of the situation hit them all at once.
Hua Jing had just annihilated Jiang Lei.
Jiang Lei—the so-called "perfect scholar," the ideal son-in-law.
And here he was, standing next to a fuming Hua Ling, while his ex-lover stood next to a literal prince.
The difference between the two men was night and day.
Zhao Yan—ethereal, otherworldly, a man carved by the gods themselves.
