Savoring the French blue lobster once more, Ye Chang'an couldn't help but be enchanted by the plump, tender shrimp meat. Paired with a bottle of '82 Coca-Cola—

Wait, scratch that. It was the '82 Château Margaux Pavillon Blanc. Though less famous than Lafite, brands were just labels to him.

A true noble scion cared nothing for "prestigious" or "obscure" labels—he could afford them all.

He was the kind of "hero" who'd mix red wine with cola without blinking.

As an otaku, Ye Chang'an firmly believed chilled cola sometimes tasted a thousand times better than pricey wine—and cost a thousand times less.

The aristocracy used gourmet ingredients and lavish banquets to distance themselves from commoners.

Little did they know: human stomachs hadn't changed much from our ape ancestors tens of thousands of years ago. Not even our digestive systems.

Chang'an had never seen his own poop in rainbow colors, yet he still clung to the naive belief that beautiful girls don't fart.

Come to think of it—was this first meal after his return... a date?

The ambiance was perfect. A renowned band played softly in the distance. Seated by the lakeside, they watched lights shimmer across the water.

Soft white candlelight glowed. Waiters in red bow ties approached with trays. One carried a single rose, stepping slowly toward them.

The server halted before Ye Chang'an. He lifted the thornless rose and presented it to the lady across the table.

The waiter smiled slightly, thinking, *This young man knows his manners.*

But the woman before him was extraordinary.

Goddess of the Chang'an Foundation. Angel devoted to charity. At nineteen, honored as National Charity Ambassador. Recently, she'd even spoken at UN headquarters on the Foundation's behalf.

To Anyang City's people today, this flawless saintess was revered like Joan of Arc was to the French.

A true saintess.

Deep down, the waiter had screamed "Damn it!" countless times: *Who is this tender-faced pretty boy?!*

*Why is he sharing a French feast with the Saintess?!*

*Heaven! She peeled the French blue lobster meat for him! Even fed him fresh Rougie foie gras with her own fork!*

*Calm down... stay professional... suppress the urge to punch this ungrateful brat.*

What shattered him further: the rose was ordered by Saintess Madam Shi Xia herself. Thankfully, the young man wasn't socially inept—he offered it to Ye Shixia with natural, gallant grace.

He desperately wanted to imagine Ye Chang'an as some slum kid, another charity case Madam Shi Xia helped...

But this Ah Q-style self-deception was painfully transparent.

After all: the candlelit dinner, the French feast, Madam Shi Xia's tender gaze—all spoke volumes.

Plus, the youth's composure. He handled every course effortlessly, needing no guidance. Each gesture radiated innate elegance; every etiquette detail flawless, as if born to nobility.

Undeniably a wealthy scion.

Except for his slightly outdated attire—styles from years ago. Maybe vintage was trending?

The waiter had worked here long enough to pick up people-reading tricks. Still, no match for Ye Chang'an, raised in high society since childhood.

Returning to their topic, Ye Chang'an mentioned the four still in Anyang City.

He knew Ye Shixia and that silly Cinderella.

Watching Shi Xia's subtle expression, he guessed,

"Qianqian?"

"Bingo! You got it!"

*Little Gu Qianqian...* A nostalgic smile touched Ye Chang'an's lips.

*Then who's the last one?*

"Could it be Qing Xiang?" Chang'an asked.

But suddenly, he noticed Ye Shixia's expression stiffen slightly.