The banquet ended. Ming Yao left through the VIP exit and arrived at the parking garage.

The driver was standing beside the car, looking as though he had something to say but couldn't bring himself to say it.

As he watched his employer approach, the driver's expression grew increasingly anxious. Steeling himself, he bowed slightly and said in a low voice: "Madam is in the car. I couldn't stop him."

As Ming Yao's dedicated live-in driver, Uncle Wang naturally knew Lin Zhi, and had done his best to stop him from getting in the car. Lin Zhi expressed that if others saw him and learned about his relationship with Ming Yao, he would not be held accountable, causing Uncle Wang's heart to tighten.

The special assistant opened the car door for Ming Yao. The young man sitting in the seat, dressed in a black suit, had his eyes closed in feigned sleep. At the sound of movement, he raised a hand to greet them, his manner as natural as though he were the one who owned the car.

Ming Yao was blunt: "Get out."

"Since we're going the same way, I'll just hitch a ride. Let's go home together."

Lin Zhi raised a hand and rubbed his temple. Even his neck was flushed red with drink, and the gaze he directed at Ming Yao was slightly unfocused.

Ming Yao didn't want to argue with someone who was drunk. The special assistant hadn't driven his own car tonight, so it wasn't convenient to dump Lin Zhi in another vehicle.

Ming Yao's car had been modified, fitted with a special mechanism to accommodate a wheelchair getting in and out, and the interior had a designated open space specifically for securing the wheelchair with safety latches.

The car door closed. The special assistant took the front passenger seat.

The partition rose, sealing off the front and rear.

Uncle Wang and the special assistant exchanged a glance. Neither dared to say a word.

The light from passing streetlamps cast a faint shadow over the figures within.

"This is the second time you have crossed the line. As punishment for violating our agreement, the two hundred thousand next month will not be paid to you."

After contemplating, Ming Yao believed that he had not given him the impression that he was an easy-going person — and yet Lin Zhi kept crossing the line again and again. Cutting off a month's payment would serve as a reminder for Lin Zhi to learn his lesson.

Ming Yao acted swiftly and decisively, seizing the one thing that gave him leverage over his contracted husband. Had the original person been here, he would likely have been frightened into submission — though if it had been the original, he never would have dared to get into this car in the first place.

"Then I'll go ask Grandfather for it. Grandfather isn't as stingy as you."

In truth, Lin Zhi had never asked anything of Old Master Ming. The bead bracelet had been given of the old man's own accord. He only said this deliberately.

When it touched on family, Ming Yao felt a flicker of displeasure.

"Grandfather is not a tool for you to make money from."

"And yet you all use me as a tool."

These words made Ming Yao pause slightly, and the atmosphere grew a little colder.

"But I chose to be this tool of my own free will. After all, the compensation you offer is substantial."

Lin Zhi tilted his head and looked at Ming Yao. The light fell across Ming Yao's profile in a way that was pleasing to the eye.

"It's just that people always want to move up in the world. My goal was never to become the real Mrs. Ming — only to earn a little more. I take the money and do the work. Grandfather cares about you, so I care on his behalf. If I stay too far away from you, I'll have nothing to report back to him."

"The initiative is in your hands. Whenever you want a divorce, you can send me on my way. But if you could give me a bit more, I'd be happier about it."

Lin Zhi knew Ming Yao would believe him, because there was no reason for him not to.

"I'm very easy to please, Mr. Ming."

Under the influence of alcohol, Lin Zhi's voice had gone soft, as though it too had been soaked in wine.

Those eyes of his, innocent in their shape, shimmered with a liquid brightness that effortlessly made one want to cherish him.

It was a yielding softness, seductive in nature, drawing one in to lose themselves amid a world of flowers in full bloom.

The hand Ming Yao had on the armrest tightened. The strange feeling stirring at the bottom of his heart vanished in an instant, too fleeting for him to capture or examine.

He found that the impression Lin Zhi gave now differed somewhat from what he had previously assumed — though it was hard to say whether this was simply his true nature no longer being concealed.

Still, to be genuinely liked by Grandfather, he did possess a certain talent for pretense.

Ming Yao looked steadily for a moment at the young man who was growing drowsy from the drink, then turned his gaze away.

Lin Zhi was truly a little drunk. He even lacked the energy to get out of the car properly.

He stumbled beside Ming Yao's wheelchair, only steadying himself by gripping the edge of it.

"Good night, husband."

Lin Zhi bent slightly at the waist, smiling at Ming Yao with a gentle warmth, and stepped into the elevator with slightly unsteady feet.

The driver and special assistant had fallen into a silence like death — one staring at the ceiling, the other at the floor, both doing their utmost to minimize their presence, wishing they could go stone deaf on the spot.

The veins on the back of Ming Yao's hand stood out as he forcibly suppressed his emotions.

If Lin Zhi hadn't already gone upstairs, he would most certainly have made it clear that he was never to be addressed like that again.

The events of tonight left Ming Yao unsettled and irritable. Back in his bedroom, though the bedding had already been replaced, he found himself recalling the sight of Lin Zhi lying there that day, and his mood darkened further.

Ming Yao washed up with a rigid expression. In the mirror clouded by steam, the reflection of the man's ear — a vivid, burning red — showed faintly through the mist.

With the arrival of summer, the weather grew increasingly stifling.

Old Master Ming said nothing about it, but in his heart he rather cared about the outcome of Lin Zhi's first business venture.

"How's that ice cream of yours doing? Have you managed to turn it around?"

The old man hadn't heard any news about it, but he thought that was normal enough — a small ice cream factory, however much you tinkered with it, could hardly be expected to cause a stir that reached his ears. So he simply asked Lin Zhi directly.

In winter, ice lollies could sell, but only in certain northern regions. Summer was the proper season for the market.

"What ice cream?"

Ming Yao had just entered through the door and caught the tail end of the old man's question.

Lin Zhi, who had been watering the flowers in the courtyard, turned around and came face to face with Ming Yao standing at the entrance.

This was the first time they had run into each other at Old Master Ming's home in all this time.

Lin Zhi had known Ming Yao was coming, of course — after all, he had a Ming Yao locator running in his head.

"Zhizhi bought a small ice cream factory. He wants to try his hand at it."

"It's a small business, nothing worth mentioning. It's my first time, so I have no experience — Grandfather is just looking out for me."

Lin Zhi put the watering can back in its place and stood beside Old Master Ming, looking well-behaved.

Compared to the Ming Family's enterprises, this business was indeed not worth mentioning. The very first project Ming Yao had ever taken on had been more challenging than this.

Ming Yao looked at the two of them with an expressionless face, feeling somewhat puzzled as to which of them was actually the grandchild.

'Zhizhi'? The old man had never called him by a pet name. In his younger years, Old Master Ming had been a strict man, always calling him by his full name.

Ming Yao didn't press the matter further, and kept the old man company with a game of chess before dinner.

With Lin Zhi present, Ming Yao did not, as usual, report on the company's recent progress or discuss any projects. For the first time, the dinner table was unusually quiet.

Lin Zhi sensed the stiffness in the atmosphere. The stiffness wasn't due solely to his presence — it was also because Ming Yao had never been the type of junior who enjoyed discussing warm, personal matters, and Old Master Ming was not the sort to speak soft words of care to his younger kin. Even though they genuinely held each other in their hearts, the two of them were simply not very close.

"Grandfather, you've already eaten four. Any more and your gout will act up."

The table was laid with prawns — Old Master Ming had a craving for them, but Uncle Jin wouldn't let him indulge. On the occasions when Lin Zhi came for dinner, the old man would specifically instruct the kitchen to prepare them, using the opportunity to sneak a couple, and with Lin Zhi there to keep an eye on things, Uncle Jin would turn a blind eye.

Old Master Ming's chopsticks, still holding a prawn, came to an embarrassed halt in mid-air. With his eldest grandson Ming Yao right there, he felt even more self-conscious. He gave a dry laugh and placed the prawn in Lin Zhi's bowl instead.

"I was putting it in your bowl, wasn't I? Look at you — you seem to have gotten thinner lately from being so busy."

Lin Zhi ate it in front of Old Master Ming, ignoring the old man's longing look.

Ming Yao grew quieter still, eating his meal in silence like an outsider.

Uncle Jin had been right — the old man's spirits really were much better, and his joy was genuine.

If the old man could see Lin Zhi shamelessly demanding a raise, he probably wouldn't be singing his praises anymore, Ming Yao thought with an inward snort. Still, he had no intention of exposing that side of things.

After all, he knew the old man was truly lonely. Having someone to keep him company was a good thing.

After dinner, the old man was heading to visit an old friend and didn't ask Lin Zhi or Ming Yao to stay, sending them both on their way.

With the old man watching, Lin Zhi hitched another ride.

Ming Yao was reviewing financial reports. Lin Zhi was communicating with someone on his phone.

He had already moved the ice cream factory to a new facility and added several production lines. Since the goods had been sitting in the warehouse, the person acting as managing representative had grown somewhat anxious, and there was a degree of pressure around what was about to happen.

[Lin Zhi]: Don't worry. If you don't trust me, at least trust your daughter.

[Zhong Guo]: I'm just worried she'll mess it up.

[Lin Zhi]: Relax.

After returning home, Ming Yao had someone look into Lin Zhi's ice cream factory to see what the situation was. Given what Lin Zhi had said before, it was hard for him not to suspect it was something Old Master Ming had invested in for him.

The results were somewhat unexpected. There was no trace of the old man's involvement. Lin Zhi had even taken out a bank loan to add production lines, though at present there weren't many orders coming in.

If things stayed as they were, a loss was inevitable. Ming Yao didn't think Lin Zhi — a person who loved money — would do something like that. And Lin Zhi showed not the slightest sign of anxiety.

What caught Ming Yao's attention even more was that the factory's nominal director was not Lin Zhi, but a middle-aged man named Zhong Guo, who, before taking the position, had been nothing more than an ordinary insurance salesman.

Ming Yao was rather curious about what Lin Zhi planned to do next, and instructed his people to continue keeping watch.

He didn't have to wait long for his answer. Not long after, a domestic girl group talent competition began airing across major platforms.

Had it not been for the fact that Lin Zhi's ice cream factory was connected to a certain clip from the show — one that countless accounts were pushing — Ming Yao would never have paid any attention to it.

In the clip, a girl with striking looks and a standout performance, a prominent 'A' label affixed to her name card, was answering a mentor's question.

"Entering the auditions was a complete accident. That day, I was actually planning to go and pitch our factory's products to the shop next door. After passing the auditions, I heard the factory was nearly going under, and my dad told me to stop trying to sell anything — since I'd already passed, I might as well just stay in the competition."
Ì
The girl's tone and expression were full of helplessness, yet it filled the venue with an irresistible charm. Mentors and contestants alike burst out laughing, and the subtitles even displayed the emoticon for 'devastated'.

This clip was one of the segments the production team had chosen to promote, and they had even bought a trending topic for it.

\#Well, Since I'm Already Here, I Might As Well Compete Properly#/

This kind of reversed narrative — where someone had meant to pitch their family's products and stumbled into an audition, passed it, only to find their family business was going bankrupt, and then thought 'what's the point of living' and carried on competing — had always been considered an entertaining hook. Netizens quickly began speculating about which factory she belonged to, with some joking online about a 'leather factory', and the buzz spread of its own accord.

Within a few hours, everyone had discovered that the charming girl who could both sing and dance actually came from an ice cream factory — one that sold the 'Little Cloud Mountain' ice cream, once seen on every street corner.

Trending topics were always chased. In an online world where any trivial thing would be picked up and forwarded by every major marketing account, Little Cloud Mountain ice cream began to be mentioned by everyone.

\#How Long Has It Been Since You Last Saw Little Cloud Mountain?#/

\#Little Cloud Mountain Was Fifty Cents a Stick in My Memory — Ten Years Later, It's Still Only a Yuan#/

In an era long weary of Ice Cream Assassins, faced with ever-rising ice cream prices, netizens began to miss the affordable ice creams of the past.

The official account for Little Cloud Mountain ice cream was discovered. Clean production lines and reasonably priced ice cream that looked genuinely delicious won widespread approval.

It could be ordered online, and offline supermarkets began stocking Little Cloud Mountain ice cream on their shelves. Food review influencers across all platforms began recommending it.

"White series: one yuan a stick. Green series: two yuan. Blue series: three yuan. Purple series: five yuan. Remember this, everyone — look for the Little Cloud Mountain brand, remember the colors, and you'll never fall victim to an Ice Cream Assassin again!"

"Let us say: thank you, Ice Cream Hero."

'Ice Cream Assassin' referred to those ice creams that looked inexpensive but turned out to have shocking prices. Little Cloud Mountain's categories were clear and straightforward, and its tagline was that quality matched price — which was demonstrably true. In no time at all, its reputation exploded.

The chain of events had played out in a short span of time, its rhythm measured and controlled, each layer carefully laid before the next, the timing of distribution perfectly calibrated. As a marketing strategy, it was nothing short of flawless.

Ming Yao's commercial instincts were sharp. He knew from the very beginning that this had not been accidental — it was a meticulously orchestrated arrangement. From the talent competition, to the discovery, to the viral spread, each step had been extraordinarily precise, driving everyone forward in sequence.

Even the production company had most likely never anticipated that this clip would generate such a follow-on effect, because they too must have assumed it was simply a near-bankrupt ice cream factory. Even if this contestant managed to make it to the end and debut, endorsing her family's ice cream factory would hardly have been expected to produce any significant impact. Little did they know they were being used as a free springboard.

"Where is Lin Zhi?"

Ming Yao asked the household manager, who replied: "Madam is in the small lounge on the third floor."

Ming Yao was faintly surprised that he hadn't gone out. He pulled up the security footage of the common areas of the house on his office computer.

The afternoon sun streamed through the floor-to-ceiling windows into the small lounge. The young man, in an oversized T-shirt, was lying back on a recliner, leafing through a book, giving off an air of quiet harmlessness.

Like a practiced predator that had finished spinning its web, this small victory was, to him, of no particular consequence.

An unfamiliar surge of excitement flooded upward, filling his mind with a rush of pleasure — so acute that Ming Yao's heartbeat skipped, briefly, out of rhythm.