Lei Zhengyang and Xu Miaoli didn't wait long before footsteps echoed from the back of the villa—disordered, as if from a group. Leading the pack was a man in his fifties or sixties, hair streaked with white, exuding vibrant energy. His eyes gleamed with a sage's restrained wisdom, marking him as a scholar of profound knowledge.
Zhengyang didn't know him, but Xu Miaoli rose instantly, smiling warmly. "Academician Wang, sorry to disturb you. Zhengyang, come meet your future mentor!"
Wang Liangeng's face flickered with unease, quickly masked. Glancing at Zhengyang, he said calmly, "Madame Lei, you're too kind. This is your son, Zhengyang? Quite the striking young man."
"Striking" was the only praise Zhengyang's looks could reliably earn, regardless of his reputation. It was polite flattery—the assistant had said the same. Zhengyang opened his mouth to respond, but a cold, shocked voice cut through. "You? Lei Zhengyang? You think Academician Wang would take you as a student?"
Zhengyang's eyes rolled. Who's this rude brat interrupting grown-ups? Behind Wang came five or six others, aged from thirties to teens. The speaker, the youngest and only woman, looked eighteen or nineteen. Her face was icy perfection—eyes like frost, skin luminous as snow, brows arched like distant spring tides. Her gaze held an ineffable allure, but her youthful vibrancy was cloaked in a glacial chill, her voice sharp with disdain.
Petite at about 1.63 meters, she seemed childlike next to Zhengyang's 1.85-meter frame, but her frosty elegance was no child's trait. Xu Miaoli gasped, "Qingcheng, it's you! You're Wang's student too?"
Indeed, this was Ye Qingcheng—Leaf Family's icy enchantress, one of Beijing's four legendary beauties. Her aloof pride softened slightly as she replied, "Auntie Xu, hello. Qingcheng's talents are modest, but Academician Wang graciously took me as a disciple. I'm quite nervous about it."
Her words grated Zhengyang. Why did every pretty woman act so smug? Song Yingfei had the same princess complex, as if the world revolved around her. Now this one, dripping with haughty superiority. What's so great about beauty? Can you eat it? Her "modest talents" jab was a veiled dig—everyone knew Qingcheng's brilliance was Beijing-renowned. Calling herself "dull" implied Zhengyang was utterly unworthy of Wang's mentorship.
Zhengyang caught the slight, and so did Xu Miaoli, who flushed with embarrassment. But for her son, she'd endure any scorn—Zhengyang was her pride, wastrel or not. He smirked disdainfully. "If you're so self-aware, why not leave? What's with the nerves? Sounds like you're playing the saint while acting the sinner."
"You—" Qingcheng's piercing glare snapped to him, disbelief flaring. Pampered like a princess, men always spoke to her with velvet tones. Yet this notorious lecher dared insult her, ignoring her charm? Unthinkable.
"Auntie Xu," she said, voice icy, "Academician Wang is a national treasure with limited energy. Not just anyone can be his disciple. If you want the best for your son, I know several mentors I could recommend. What do you think?"
Xu Miaoli's heart sank, but the Leafs were allies, and Qingcheng had always been respectful. She couldn't snap, not when her son's future was at stake. Zhengyang, deadpan, asked, "And you are?"
An older man, likely in his thirties, stepped forward, another of Wang's students. "This is our junior sister, our teacher's newest disciple. He's strict about students—please don't take offense. Pass his test, and I'd welcome you as a junior brother." Knowing Zhengyang's Lei status, he was diplomatic, aware that befriending a Lei brought only benefits.
Zhengyang nodded, feigning apology. "My mistake. I thought she was the lady of the house, calling shots for Academician Wang."
Qingcheng seethed. Her stunning looks and icy demeanor either captivated or repelled men—none dared speak to her like this. This man, who'd once ogled her with shameless lust, now mocked and ignored her? Outrageous. She nearly exploded, barely restraining herself.
Wang, unruffled, spoke with a scholar's grace. "Since you all know each other, Qingcheng, knowledge isn't about rank but dedication. Pass my test and commit to study, and anyone can be my student. My dream is to share my learning for the nation's good, but age limits my energy. You shouldn't let surface emotions cloud your focus—it disrupts your research."
His poise was impeccable, earning Zhengyang's respect. "Sorry, Academician Wang, if I've caused trouble. I'll leave. My mom's just eager for me to learn—don't hold it against her. I'm no genius, but I know my place. I hope one day I'll earn the right to study under you."
This retreat was a calculated gambit, and it worked. For Wang, the Lei family's connections posed a dilemma, but they weren't the issue. He sought students with potential—raw talent was fine if paired with diligence. His life's goal was to pass on his knowledge, ensuring its legacy. Zhengyang's humility struck a chord.
Xu Miaoli started to bid farewell, but Wang chuckled. "I don't judge by raw talent, only willingness to learn. You shrugging off Qingcheng's charm piques my interest, young man. Let's talk—maybe I'll change my mind."
"Mentor!" Qingcheng protested. She'd been relieved to see Zhengyang go, dreading any "senior sister, junior brother" tie that'd give this rogue an excuse to pester her. She knew his type—his ruin of Song Yingfei proved he was no good.