Chapter One Hundred and Forty-Two

Superstar of the Elite Blue Key 3332 words 2026-03-24 22:15:31

The three little ones enjoyed a meal together, eating their fill. The driver from Little Chubby’s family was already waiting outside the main gate. With a hint of regret, Little Chubby bid farewell to Tianzi, giving that beautiful auntie a kiss, his eyes brimming with reluctance. The yearning in his round eyes was enough to make anyone’s heart ache, but in the end, he was sent home, clutching a box of leftovers, still unwilling to part.

Once Little Chubby had left, desserts were set on the dining table. The two remaining children seemed to love the creamy cake, devouring it happily, rubbing their full, round bellies in total satisfaction, completely ignoring the fruit on the table. Ling Tian had a cocktail party that evening, so he’d missed dinner.

“Miss, Mr. and Mrs. Qishan, from the Ho family’s branch, request an audience,” Old Guo announced from the courtyard. He was still the chief steward of the Ho clan, though some matters still required the lady of the house’s approval.

Rong Qing searched her memory—Qishan? The name rang a bell. She glanced at the two children playing on the sofa. “Let them in.”

Soon, a middle-aged couple entered, hurrying through the door. Spotting Pengcheng in the corner, they did not seem relieved as one might expect; instead, their anger only intensified, their eyes fierce as they glared daggers at the little rascal.

“Greetings, Madam.” Despite their fluster, their etiquette was intact, not missing a single courtesy.

Rong Qing invited them to the sofa, sitting on the other side of the children. It was Mrs. Qishan who spoke first, shooting her husband a glare before fixing that illegitimate boy with a poisonous look. Pengcheng seemed to sense her hostility, and the defensive posture he’d just relaxed returned, his eyes flashing with ferocity. This drew the attention of the little crown prince beside him; Tianzi now had to pay this woman some heed.

Mrs. Qishan was the only daughter of a wealthy merchant from the south. If she hadn’t wanted to latch onto the Ho family’s powerful tree, she likely would never have married such a feckless, philandering man as Qishan. If not for the properties his ancestors left him in the city, with his lack of ambition, he might not even be able to afford his vices. As for her husband, aside from his good looks, she had long since lost any affection. And that wild child, whose origins were murky, was a thorn in her side. Humph! With a precious daughter at home, Qishan dared bring this troublemaking wolf cub in—now he’d managed to offend the young master of the Ho family. Secretly, she felt a certain schadenfreude.

The malice on the woman’s face vanished in a flash, replaced by a look of sorrow and grievance, her delicate brows damp with unshed tears. She turned to the mistress of the house, instantly the picture of a pitiable, fragile woman. Women understand women, and especially the young madam of a family like this, who must have so much to worry about. Who could say she wasn’t plagued by the same concerns and anxieties? The Ho family’s patriarch ruled a commercial empire, and countless women outside were eyeing him hungrily. “Madam, Pengcheng has made a mistake and hurt the young master. As Qishan’s wife, I never even knew of the boy’s existence, let alone raised him. But since he’s erred, it’s my failing as the mistress of the household.” Her face was full of helplessness and sorrow—a husband’s infidelity, yet she carried the blame for the child of the other woman. No one could truly blame this unfortunate soul.

Rong Qing’s expression grew hesitant. The man named Qishan had yet to utter a word in defense of his own child, only casting accusatory glances at Pengcheng. And the woman’s tearful plea was likely far from genuine; this family was simply too complicated.

Seeing Rong Qing’s silence, the middle-aged man at her side lost patience. He strode over to the sofa, grabbed Pengcheng, and yanked him to the floor. The six- or seven-year-old boy, pulled so roughly, fell face-first, gasping in pain as his wounds were jarred.

Qishan paid no mind, seizing Pengcheng by the collar like a stray dog, his manner crude and violent. “Apologize to the young master!”

Pengcheng answered with a stubborn, defiant glare, refusing to yield. Qishan was thoroughly humiliated. If not for pitying this little wretch, he’d never have brought him to the family estate—who’d have thought he’d cause such a disaster on his very first day? This brat was ruining their entire future! And the woman beside him sat coldly, watching his embarrassment with indifference.

A sharp slap rang out—Qishan, at his wit’s end, struck Pengcheng across the face. The sound echoed through the hall, stunning everyone present. Rong Qing pulled Pengcheng behind her, while Tianzi, sitting on the sofa, shot up like an enraged young leopard, positioning himself protectively in front of Pengcheng, his eyes glacial and terrifying. Qishan now realized he’d overstepped, offending both the mistress and the young master.

He trembled, having finally mustered some backbone in front of his shrewish wife, only to incur the lady’s displeasure. Qishan was beside himself with regret and hastily explained, “I…I only wanted him to apologize to the young master. Yes, to apologize.”

Rong Qing’s expression turned icy as she fetched the first aid kit to tend the boy’s wounds, an unmistakable chill in her voice. “Did you not see the cuts and bruises all over this child? You’re so eager to blame him. Is that love, or harm?”

Her piercing gaze swept over the couple. Which child isn’t their parents’ treasure? Even if not one’s own, this coldness was unconscionable. She glanced at Mrs. Qishan, unimpressed by her petty schemes.

“I…I…” Qishan stammered, unable to form a word. Now the woman panicked, realizing her attempt to have the mistress rid them of the illegitimate child had backfired. Her family’s business still depended on the Ho family’s protection.

“We heard from the gatekeeper that Pengcheng broke into the estate, so it’s his fault,” she offered, her mind not yet muddled—at least the excuse sounded plausible. But Rong Qing had no patience for their explanations; to her, it was all a cover-up.

“If a child is not taught, the fault lies with the parents. If there’s blame to be had, it is your negligence. Now that Pengcheng has been acknowledged as a member of the Ho family, he is one of us, and I will protect him to the end.” Her tone was calm, but her meaning clear—a dismissal. “It’s late. You should go home.”

With that, Rong Qing said nothing more, leading the two children upstairs. Old Guo escorted the Qishans out.

Tianzi’s little face was drawn tight, his fists clenched, his mood dark for the rest of the evening. Though Pengcheng’s wounds were treated, the red, swollen handprint on his face showed just how much force his father had used. Rong Qing’s heart ached for him. He was the same age as Tianzi, yet had endured such pain and had such parents.

“I’m sorry.” After some hesitation, Tianzi finally managed to speak, his cold little face softening as he bowed his head in apology. He knew that if not for the status and position he could not change, Pengcheng would not have suffered so. Their childish scuffle, stripped of its context, was meaningless, yet because of their backgrounds, it carried such weight.

Rong Qing looked at him in surprise. This was the first time her little one had ever apologized. The once fearless little tyrant was now willing to yield for the sake of his brother—this new side of Tianzi filled her with joy.

Tianzi’s heartfelt apology stunned Pengcheng as well. Having grown up with his mother, he’d seen too much of the world’s indifference and the arrogance of the wealthy. For such a precious young master to apologize sincerely was truly remarkable.

A touch of genuine emotion softened Pengcheng’s face; the anger in his eyes faded, and his stubborn little face drooped. In that moment, in front of them, the usually bristling, guarded Pengcheng curled up small and vulnerable, pitiable indeed. Only at bedtime did the tension in his brow finally ease.

The next day, Pengcheng was sent back to Qishan’s house, but under Rong Qing’s protection and warning, he would no longer suffer abuse. Still, such a calculating, complicated family was no place for a child to grow up well.

Little did anyone know that, years later, Pengcheng and Little Chubby would become Tianzi’s most trusted friends, supporting half of the Ho family together. Pengcheng, forged by hardship, grew into a ruthless king of the underworld, ultimately seizing control of the family business from his father’s hands. The once fragile peace of the household was shattered, and Pengcheng’s cold-blooded decisiveness revealed the depths of his patience and cunning.

The partnership between Wenna and Champs-Elysees proved a resounding success. Wenna’s apparel became beloved at home, while Champs-Elysees’ cosmetics won national acclaim. Wenna’s fashion line expanded overseas, making a splash in the United States and beyond. Compared to international luxury brands, Wenna’s technology was no longer a limiting factor; what it needed now was the chance to be recognized by the world.

Since retiring from show business five years prior, Rong Qing had never endorsed any product. Now, breaking her own rule for the sake of corporate cooperation and mutual benefit, she once again became the global spokesperson for Wenna–Champs-Elysees. Whether at home or abroad, the glory of superstar Rong Qing winning her Oscar remained vivid in people’s minds. Her reappearance was bound to spark a sales frenzy.

Meanwhile, the international fashion show in the United States brought together outstanding designers and collections from around the globe—a glamorous feast of apparel and beauty, setting new trends in the industry. For this American showcase, Rong Qing led Wenna's elite design team, bringing with her the confidence and unique style of her homeland, marking an important entry for her brand among international fashion elites.

On this journey to America, little Tianzi clung to his mother stubbornly, ultimately stowing away on the plane and thus began his muddled, exciting American adventure.

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