Chapter 25: Why Aren’t You Surprised?

The young master Sun was named Sun Zhaoxing. Just from his surname, Yang Changfeng immediately knew whose son he was. Who would have thought that such a stern and even intimidating leader would have a son like this?

But where did this kid get his money?

Meeting Yang Changfeng’s doubtful gaze, Sun Zhaoxing responded with indignant frustration.

“You don’t know the Jiangnan Leather Factory belongs to my family?”

“Kid, if you don’t win my reputation back for me, I’ll ruin you!” With these harsh words, Sun Zhaoxing turned and ran off.

Yang Changfeng was stunned.

This was definitely not the son of that leader. He had met that man before, even interacted with him—the way he spoke and acted was extremely steady and composed. How could he possibly have such a scatterbrained son?

Chen Aijia offered a faint explanation: “What Sun Zhaoxing hates and fears most is people looking at him with prejudice. Be careful—he never lets a grudge go. You’ll find out for yourself soon enough.”

She was gloating.

For someone like Sun Zhaoxing, a scion of an illustrious family, she, as a businesswoman, naturally wanted to build connections. But his way of conducting himself was so alarming it made her soul tremble—she didn’t have the nerve. Besides, Chen Aijia didn’t want to risk being ostracized by her own circle for the sake of befriending such a powerful second-generation official.

In essence, she wanted the benefits without suffering any losses.

Yang Changfeng, surprisingly quickly and bluntly, had gotten involved with Sun Zhaoxing, which filled Chen Aijia with sour envy.

How could someone as poor and lacking in refinement as him earn such respect from a privileged heir like that?

It was possible Sun Zhaoxing had simply lost badly and, like any desperate gambler, wanted to win back his losses. But Yang Changfeng himself was a significant factor—he’d confronted Sun Zhaoxing head-on with nothing but his penniless status and pride. That was not something just anyone could do.

Turning away, Chen Aijia said irritably, “That’s enough. Stop staring—you’ll never be one of them. Let’s go.”

She took Yang Changfeng’s pensive expression for envy.

Yang Changfeng did not defend himself. Chen Aijia, deep down, held a stubborn belief—she viewed all interactions through the lens of profit, the very nature of a businessperson.

She hailed another taxi. This time, no one interrupted them. The two rode in silence until they reached the upscale villa district where Chen Aijia lived. Only then did she start watching Yang Changfeng’s reaction.

Jiangzhou had more than one wealthy neighborhood. The residential area beside Jiangwan Scenic Park was considered upper middle-class, widely known due to its size and the fact that locals often strolled nearby.

But on the artificial island by the riverside, lay a real enclave for local, out-of-town, and even international tycoons—little known to outsiders.

The so-called artificial island wasn’t land reclaimed from water, but rather a naturally scenic spot with mountains and water—neither high hills nor swift rivers—encircled by a manmade moat reminiscent of an ancient city’s defenses. The single road in led from the east along a boulevard that grew emptier towards its end, where a rainbow bridge crossed the broad moat into the wealthy enclave.

This place had a distinctive name: Peach Blossom Paradise.

Taxis could not cross the Rainbow Bridge.

At the bridgehead stood a fortress-like security booth, fully equipped with modern monitoring systems. Three guards per shift kept watch with no blind spots. As soon as the taxi pulled into the parking area at the foot of the bridge, a barrier descended to block the way.

“We’re here. Get out,” Chen Aijia said coolly.

This wasn’t where she usually stayed; she had a temporary place in the city. But after today, she could no longer remain there. From now on, she would return to this home that belonged to her.

Yang Changfeng glanced at the taxi driver, who wore a solemn expression. For ordinary people, Peach Blossom Paradise was a place beyond the wildest dreams—a pilgrimage of sorts to even reach its gates.

Stepping from the car, Yang Changfeng looked back. The roadside was lined with French plane trees—one of the most prestigious species in Jiangzhou, said to be standard in many government offices. On this less-than-three-kilometer stretch, there must have been at least three thousand of them.

The whims of the wealthy, indeed.

Yang Changfeng mused, raising his head to examine the imposing Rainbow Bridge. A security guard stood on it, smartly uniformed, a walkie-talkie and baton at his waist, and, to Yang Changfeng’s surprise, the distinct outline of a gun holster beneath his clothes.

Were guards here allowed to carry guns?

Yang Changfeng’s gaze sharpened. In this country, had the elite really reached a point where they could disregard the law?

The guard, spotting Chen Aijia, froze in surprise, then snapped to attention and saluted, hurrying over with a bright smile—neither cold nor obsequious, which caught Yang Changfeng off guard again.

Chen Aijia smiled demurely, nodded in greeting, and gestured at Yang Changfeng. “He’ll be living here from now on. Issue him an access card; he’ll need it in the morning. The fee will be settled with the property office—just let them know.”

The guard responded eagerly, scrutinizing Yang Changfeng—a plainly dressed man brought back by Chen Aijia, someone he’d need to remember well.

Yang Changfeng wasn’t awestruck. He’d already been overwhelmed by the opulence of Middle Eastern tycoons. Now, even if faced with a gilded palace, he could remain composed.

Chen Aijia assumed he was just putting on an act.

She and Yang Changfeng crossed the Rainbow Bridge one after the other. At the entrance, they encountered a departing Porsche. Contrary to its legendary status, it was a very “ordinary” model.

The driver, too, had great poise—nodding to the guard and then to Chen Aijia and Yang Changfeng, before quietly driving across the bridge and vanishing down the plane-tree avenue.

Yang Changfeng understood that the rich came in all types. Many people of high status were genuinely cultured, like that man just now—he neither looked down on the guard nor made a show of friendliness. It was a mark of true respect for the profession.

By comparison, Chen Aijia’s bearing was a little lacking.

Yang Changfeng pondered this.

Chen Aijia didn’t notice his surprise or unease. Instead, she felt even more indignant, and a tinge of regret.

She shouldn’t have come back without a car. From the gate to her house was a long walk, and to stroll the artificial island in business attire was, to her, an embarrassment.

As they walked along the lush, grassy roads of the island, leaving the security booth behind, Chen Aijia glanced sideways at the suddenly silent Yang Changfeng, his quietness putting her on edge. With a mocking tone, she sneered, “You can drop the act now. No one here will laugh at you.”

Which, translated, meant: Why aren’t you shocked yet?