Ye Shuangluo walked into the villa, taking in the familiar furniture and decor.
These pieces were all personally chosen by his father.
And now, they were all benefiting outsiders.
“Shuang, come in, make yourself at home,” Jiang Yiming said, pouring him a glass of water.
This is my home, Ye Shuangluo thought, his attention drawn to the expensive-looking watch on Jiang Yiming’s left wrist.
Did he come into some money? Win the lottery?
Ye Shuangluo had a pretty good idea of his uncle’s financial situation.
His uncle was a low-level manager at a company, with an annual salary barely scraping seventy or eighty thousand.
His aunt was a housewife, responsible only for household chores.
When Ye Shuangluo’s parents died in an accident years ago, they left behind about 20 million in assets, including the house and car.
It sounded like a lot, but by his calculations, his uncle and aunt, along with their twins, should have spent most of it over the past eight years.
Moreover, he knew his aunt well—strict with others, lenient with herself.
She would never spend at least six figures on a pricey watch for her husband to show off.
If she had that kind of money, she would rather buy herself a few designer bags.
For some reason, Ye Shuangluo had a hunch that the money for the watch was related to why they suddenly called him over today.
Whatever, he thought, I’ll find out soon enough. I’ll deal with whatever comes.
Ye Shuangluo shrugged and sat down on the antique sofa.
Soon, his uncle brought him a glass of plain water.
“Shuang, you must be busy with school, right? It’s been a while since you visited,” Jiang Yiming said, trying to put on a paternal air.
But his nephew merely glanced at him, and he instantly deflated.
“No, I just didn’t feel like coming. After all, when a weasel wishes a chicken a Happy New Year, it’s never out of good intentions.”
Ye Shuangluo’s bluntness made his uncle awkward, forcing him to change the subject.
“Riyin and Riyue went out with friends. They probably won’t be back until late.”
“Oh.”
Riyin and Riyue were Ye Shuangluo’s cousins, a pair of ill-mannered twins.
They often slandered him at school, calling him a leech living off their family.
As unpleasant memories flashed through his mind, Ye Shuangluo decided not to waste any more time. He released his killing aura.
Thud.
Jiang Yiming’s body uncontrollably knelt on the ground.
He looked at his nephew in terror, unable to comprehend what had just happened. He tried to get up using the sofa, but his body felt like a pile of mush.
“Uncle Jiang, we haven’t seen each other in a while, but there’s no need for such grand gestures. How about you throw in a kowtow while you’re at it?”
The young man’s voice was filled with mockery and sarcasm.
Jiang Yiming’s face turned beet red, whether from anger or the shame of kneeling before the nephew he always looked down on.
After several failed attempts to stand, Jiang Yiming wanted to ask Ye Shuangluo for help.
But when he looked at his nephew, ready to speak, he noticed the ever-present kind smile on his face.
It was a smile he hadn’t seen since he and his wife took over the boy’s inheritance.
The nine-year-old child had never shown him a genuine smile since then.
No, he suddenly realized, it wasn’t just the smile that was unfamiliar; his entire nephew seemed different.
The last time he saw Ye Shuangluo, he was a silent, brooding, introverted boy.
But now, the young man before him exuded the aura of a high and mighty king, looking down on a foolish, lowly slave.
The thought made him shiver. How could he have such a crazy idea?
Suddenly, the king on the sofa slowly extended his hand toward the foolish slave.
Driven by fear, Jiang Yiming instinctively closed his eyes.
But nothing happened. The hand merely patted his shoulder.
“You should get checked at the hospital. Kneeling for so long and unable to get up—there might be something wrong with you.”
With the pat on his shoulder, Jiang Yiming felt strength return to his body.
He scrambled to his feet, backing away from his nephew in fright.
Ye Shuangluo ignored him, still wearing that kind smile.
Jiang Yiming, seeing his nephew’s demeanor, cautiously approached and finally sat at the other end of the sofa.
“So, why did you call me here today?”
“Uh, um,” Jiang Yiming stammered, unable to bring himself to state the purpose, lowering his head and muttering, “Wait for your aunt to come back. She’ll explain.”
Ye Shuangluo was not surprised. This man had always been weak and incompetent.
He recalled how, as a child, the twins took over his room, and he went to complain to his uncle.
But the man had told him, “It’s a blessing to suffer losses, Shuang. Besides, your younger siblings are smaller than you. What’s wrong with letting them have it?”
“Shuang, your uncle and aunt aren’t trying to take your room. We’re just worried about you being alone with no one to care for you.”
What a hypocrite.
As he reminisced, the villa door suddenly opened, and a sharp, shrill voice rang out.
“Jiang, get over here and take these to the kitchen. After all these years, you still have no sense.”
Ye Shuangluo knew that voice all too well.
His aunt, Lin Xingyu, an illiterate, ruthless village woman.
Jiang Yiming hurried over to take the bags from her.
She walked into the living room, spotting Ye Shuangluo on the sofa.
“Shuang, you’re here. Sit tight. I’ll make spicy crayfish for dinner.”
Ye Shuangluo’s smile widened. He knew better than anyone that he was allergic to crayfish. She was just trying to disgust him.
But he didn’t react, merely nodding with a smile.
Lin Xingyu was surprised by his calm demeanor. She had expected anger or dissatisfaction.
But she quickly remembered why they had called him over and smirked.
Ye Moshui, Jiang Haoyun, you two always looked down on us. Now, I’ll make sure you watch from above as your son becomes a nobody.
Ye Shuangluo tilted his head, observing the increasing malice in the village woman.
He didn’t know what she was planning, but it was obviously something against him.
This should be interesting.
I wonder, if I effortlessly ruin your schemes and display my overwhelming power, will you go mad? Will you despair?
Ye Shuangluo was looking forward to that moment.
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