Chapter Fifty-Four: Lurking Peril!

"W-what?!"

Upon hearing these words from the royal bodyguard, Zhang Ping was struck dumb, collapsing back into his chair. Zhang Qi’s face also froze, the smile he had just been wearing now stiff and awkward, making him feel like a ridiculous clown. Zhang Lin stared in disbelief, her gaze darting anxiously over the bodyguards, hoping to spot some flaw in their appearance.

But no matter how hard she looked, the badges on their shoulders gleamed with the honor of England. The medals on their chests, awarded personally by the royal family, hung with undeniable prestige. This was no troupe of actors hired to fill the room but the genuine royal guards, directly under the command of the Crown.

And, more telling still, was the information they had just revealed in their conversation.

"Even the princess of the royal family admires Mr. Qin."

With connections of this magnitude, who exactly had Qin Mu befriended? Zhang Ping’s mind raced desperately. Was it the commander of the royal guards? Or perhaps a government minister? Or even—no, he dared not even imagine—the centenarian Queen herself?

He could not let his thoughts go any further. Collapsing onto the table, it was a long while before he could catch his breath. Remembering his earlier boastful words, his face burned with shame, as though he had been slapped. He had wanted Qin Mu as a son-in-law? But in truth, what did their family amount to in his eyes?

"Haishan, your son is truly remarkable, to have connections even in the British royal family," Zhang Ping forced out, struggling to compose himself.

Zhang Lin no longer dared to look down on Qin Mu. She had no idea where her phone had gone, but hurried to Qin Mu’s side, desperate to seize any remaining opportunity.

"Is that for you to say?" Jiang Haishan replied coldly, remembering how arrogant Zhang Ping had been just moments before. "I think the two young people from our families could be quite a match. Shall we—"

"I don’t think so!" Jiang Haishan slapped the table, returning all the arrogance Zhang Ping had shown earlier. "We’d barely exchanged a few words before you insisted my son buy you a house and a car—five million for a luxury home, a BMW 7 Series. You even said it would bring honor to our family! Why not just have him hand over all his assets to your family? Wouldn’t that be even more honorable for you?"

"I-I didn’t mean it like that, I was just joking," Zhang Ping stammered, knowing full well he was in the wrong, forcing a stiff smile. If he had known Qin Mu had such connections, he would never have been so sharp-tongued or set conditions. He would have welcomed him with open arms, even going so far as to push his daughter toward him.

"Not what you meant? Then what did you mean?" Jiang Haishan’s voice thundered. "It wasn’t just the car and the house—you wanted Qin Mu to marry into your family, and the children could not carry the Jiang or Qin surnames, but had to be called Zhang?"

"I..."

Zhang Ping was speechless.

"It’s getting late. Let’s be on our way," Qin Mu said at just the right moment, standing up. The royal bodyguards understood immediately and began helping him carry the gifts out to his car.

"But you’ve only just arrived, no need to leave so soon," Zhang Ping tried urgently to persuade them to stay. This was a golden opportunity slipping from his grasp—if he missed it, what chance would their family have left?

Regret gnawed at Zhang Ping’s heart. If only he had been more polite, encouraged his daughter to curry more favor with Qin Mu. With their neighborly connection, even if Qin Mu was unwilling, Qiu Shuixia could have put in a good word. The rewards would have been far more than just a villa and a luxury car!

But now, all those dreams had turned to dust.

"No need. We’ve eaten our fill. That’s enough for today," Jiang Haishan replied, refusing flatly.

Qin Mu nodded. "Waiter, the bill, please."

Hearing that Qin Mu was paying, Zhang Ping felt a faint surge of comfort.

But before he could breathe a full sigh of relief, Qin Mu added to the waiter, "Apart from what my godfather and godmother ate, everyone else pays for their own orders."

"What? That can’t be! Weren’t you treating us?" Zhang Ping shot up from his chair, shocked.

He had deliberately ordered the most expensive items, just as he always had, planning to take advantage of the Jiang family. After all, it was the first meeting between the families—tradition dictated the man’s side footed the bill, no matter how costly. As long as they enjoyed themselves, it was fine.

But now Qin Mu was saying everyone should pay for themselves? How could that be allowed?

"When did I ever say I was treating you?" Qin Mu smiled.

At that, Zhang Ping suddenly recalled that when he had been speaking earlier, Qin Mu had merely smiled, never even looking him in the eye, let alone agreeing to pay for the meal.

"Godfather, godmother, let’s go," Qin Mu said, not wishing to linger a moment longer, and left immediately.

The Zhang family remained, stunned and silent at the table.

"Including the three bottles of Chateau Haut-Brion red wine, the total comes to three million one hundred eighty thousand. Would you prefer to pay by card or through Alipay?" the waiter asked, placing the bill in front of Zhang Ping.

Zhang Ping swallowed hard, glancing at the security guards at the door, each one gripping a steel baton, their eyes fixed on the table, ready to prevent anyone from leaving without settling the bill.

Such a scene.

It was nothing less than reaping what one had sown.