AADWFL Chapter 10

When An Ning heard the name Yu Qi, he was silent for a while, carefully weighing the meaning behind Tao Kang’s words before asking, “Uncle Kang, are you saying that Yu Qi might show up this time?”

In An Ning’s memory, although Yu Linshan favored that son, he had never brought him to a family gathering like this.

Family reputation and Xu Jianan’s formidable temperament had always made him cautious. Most importantly, Yu Xiuming’s career was thriving—he held real power in the corporation, and his position was increasingly secure. Bringing in another son at this time would only provoke conflict.

“I’m not sure,” Tao Kang replied. “He’s been making some rather noticeable moves lately. But he probably won’t show up in person—Mr. Yu wouldn’t allow him to stir up trouble right now. I just heard he already sent a gift, and it was… a bit flashy.”

“What kind of gift?” An Ning asked, thinking of the list he’d already prepared. He wanted to know the opponent’s move before making his own. “Uncle Kang, do you know?”

Tao Kang paused to think, then described a few items.

They weren’t overly expensive, but clearly chosen with care—each one emphasizing the intimacy of a father-son relationship and showing thoughtfulness. Compared to that, Yu Xiuming’s gift, though luxurious, seemed distant and perfunctory.

“I see,” An Ning said finally. “I’ll check with President Yu. Thank you, Uncle Kang.”

After hanging up, he looked at the pile of gifts he had already prepared, sighed, and got back in the car—deciding he’d better ask Yu Xiuming directly.

“That’s the situation,” An Ning explained, watching Yu Xiuming’s expression carefully as he summarized everything he’d learned from Tao Kang, phrasing it in the most neutral, digestible way possible.

Fortunately, his boss—though clearly displeased—did not seem angry.

“I’m not competing with him over who’s the better son,” Yu Xiuming said evenly, his voice calm yet cold. “Do as usual. Nothing more, nothing less.”

It was early autumn, and the room was comfortably warm. Yet somehow, under his superior’s chilling aura, An Ning felt the temperature drop several degrees. The air itself seemed to freeze, and he had to suppress a shiver.

He managed a smile and nodded. “Understood, President Yu.”

Yu Xiuming relaxed his right hand from the mouse, the slender joints flexing briefly before he gestured for An Ning to move his teacup closer. Then, with slow deliberation, he said,

“This year, Yu Qi has returned from abroad.”

He pondered for a moment, then accepted the teacup An Ning handed over at the perfect time.
“All these little tricks,” he said coolly, “are nothing more than scheming for the company, for the money—for the inheritance.”

“Yes.”
An Ning replied obediently, seizing the conversational cue that Yu Xiuming had clearly left open for him.
He already knew the spoilers from the novel—of course he knew that Yu Qi was, indeed, plotting for control over the company.

But according to how the story ended, despite all the drama, Yu Qi turned out to be nothing more than a ridiculous clown, completely unable to shake Yu Xiuming’s hold on the corporation.

In fact, after the original An Ning was killed in that car accident, the current An Ning found the novel’s melodrama painfully dull. He had skimmed through the rest, only reading the ending to confirm it. He didn’t remember much of the middle part anymore.

“Don’t be too deliberate with the birthday gift,” Yu Xiuming said with a smile that didn’t reach his eyes.
“An Ning, it’s better if Yu Linshan knows my attitude clearly. There’s no need to curry favor with him over something so trivial.”

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Saturday.

An Ning had carefully arranged all their other tasks outside of this day, making sure both Yu Xiuming’s and his own schedules were completely free.

The birthday banquet for Yu Linshan was set for noon—it was only a family gathering, no outside guests—so they only needed to arrive before lunch. Still, out of courtesy, and because the drive from the central business district to Jialin Garden on the outskirts wasn’t short, they didn’t leave much later than on a regular workday.

Yu Xiuming had stayed up late working on Friday night, and now his expression showed traces of fatigue.

An Ning, ever attentive, immediately lowered all the rear window shades, then softly asked if Yu Xiuming wanted the partition raised.
When he received an affirmative answer, he activated the electric divider, adjusted the temperature to Yu Xiuming’s preferred comfort level, turned off all the car’s radio and music, and merged smoothly onto the ring expressway.

Since today’s occasion was different, Yu Xiuming had switched to the long-unused Maybach instead of his usual black Bentley for work.

The biggest benefit of that choice was that Yu Xiuming, who worked overtime all year round, could actually rest comfortably for a while on the highway.

An Ning couldn’t help silently admiring the original body’s thoughtfulness.

Yu Xiuming himself didn’t care much about which car he took. This habit—switching cars depending on the occasion—had been cultivated by the original An Ning purely for Yu Xiuming’s comfort.

The Yu family mansion they were heading to stood in a luxurious villa district on the outskirts of Binzhou. Even in that neighborhood of the wealthy, the villa was a standout, the kind of place that made people who couldn’t afford such luxury sigh with envy.

Back when Xu Jianan and Yu Linshan married, this custom-built villa had just been completed. It was gifted jointly by both families as the newlyweds’ home.
Every detail—inside and out—was top-tier, and in a district where land prices had skyrocketed, this estate boasted the largest private garden.

“Grand,” “imposing”—those were the words anyone who saw Jialin Garden used. And up close, the comfort and elegance of its interior design only deepened the impression.

Unfortunately, despite all that beauty, few had actually lived there over the years.

The official owners were rarely home. The butler kept the place maintained, but ever since Yu Xiuming had gone abroad for his studies and returned to take over the company, he’d lived elsewhere and never moved back.

The household staff were still employed—neither Yu Linshan nor Xu Jianan lacked the money or the pride to quibble over such trivial expenses. Their only duty now was to keep the house in pristine, ready-to-live condition.

Normally, no one stayed there.
But on important holidays, when the family of three “reunited,” the villa would be polished until it looked as though it had been lived in all along—and that was enough.

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An hour and ten minutes later, An Ning slowed down and drove the Maybach into Jialin Garden’s parking area.

There were no guests today, so only one car—Yu Linshan’s—was parked there. Xu Jianan hadn’t arrived yet.
An Ning parked the Maybach neatly in its usual spot, lowered the partition, confirmed that Yu Xiuming was awake, got out, closed his door, then walked around to open the rear door for him.

Yu Xiuming straightened his suit jacket, composed and graceful as always, and stepped out.
An Ning mirrored his rhythm, closing doors and retrieving the gift from the trunk.

It was a sunny day. Morning light spilled across the well-tended lawns of Jialin Garden, gilding the Maybach’s polished surface—and, in turn, casting a soft golden glow over Yu Xiuming as he emerged from the car.

Exchanging a quick look with Yu Xiuming to confirm there were no changes or extra instructions, An Ning carried the gift and followed a respectful step behind as they entered the villa.

Tao Kang was already waiting by the entrance, greeting both Yu Xiuming and An Ning with a genial smile. He quickly had a servant take the gift from An Ning’s hands, then said,
“Madam hasn’t arrived yet, Young Master. Sir’s been here since morning.”

Yu Xiuming nodded in acknowledgment.
An Ning followed him upstairs to the second-floor reception room of Jialin Garden Villa.

Unlike the tense atmosphere An Ning had imagined, the second-floor sitting room was unexpectedly relaxed.
Yu Linshan was lounging alone on the sofa, half-reclined against the armrest, casually scrolling through his phone.

The man was well-preserved—at a glance, anyone would have guessed he was only in his forties. His figure showed none of the typical middle-aged spread of a man in his fifties; instead, he had the well-maintained physique of someone born to privilege. After all, body management is often not a matter of willpower, but of resources—a rare gift for the poor and a natural entitlement for the rich.

Yet to An Ning’s surprise, Yu Linshan’s aura was far lighter than his son’s. He didn’t give off the heavy air of a corporate mogul at all. Instead, he looked relaxed, almost casual.

Yu Xiuming was dressed as always, in a sleek business suit. Yu Linshan, on the other hand, was in a polo shirt—though of course, it didn’t look any cheaper than what his son was wearing.

If not for the obvious age difference between the two, one could easily mistake which of them was the father and which was the son.

An Ning naturally didn’t know about Jing Yan’s private complaint:

“Yu Xiuming, when you and your dad stand together, your whole vibe looks completely reversed from my family.”

When Yu Linshan saw them coming up, he smiled faintly—not bothering to stand, but greeting them warmly enough.
“Xiuming’s here. Xiao An, you’re here too.”

An Ning, being Yu Xiuming’s assistant, wasn’t new to this scene. Yu Linshan recognized him.

An Ning nodded politely. “Good morning, sir.”

Yu Xiuming, ever the composed man, knew better than to stay silent now that they were here. Though not particularly warm, he kept things civil, offered a restrained “Dad,” mentioned that they had brought the birthday gift, and sat down with An Ning on the opposite sofa.

An Ning wisely kept quiet.

Yu Linshan, as though oblivious to his son’s chilly tone, smiled easily.
“Your mother hasn’t arrived yet. She just called—traffic’s bad coming from downtown. We’ll wait for her a bit.”

“Mm.”

Yu Xiuming’s brief reply hung in the air. An Ning, sitting to the side, felt like he was perched on needles, terrified of an awkward silence. But as it turned out, he was overthinking. These two father and son didn’t seem to find this stilted atmosphere uncomfortable at all. They had long since achieved their own strange equilibrium.

Yu Linshan asked a few casual questions about his son’s work. Yu Xiuming responded with curt, measured answers—not like a subordinate reporting to a superior, but more like one executive politely updating another.

An Ning, practically invisible in the scene, finally understood why accompanying Yu Xiuming to Jialin Garden today counted as overtime—with extra pay and bonuses.

The suffocating pressure radiating from his boss in front of this nominal father was far heavier than anything in the office.