103 Qingcheng gave it to me, hmph! (Fifth update)

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Mu Qingcheng's "bullying through influence" hashtag was spreading like wildfire across the internet. High-definition photos were being reposted everywhere with reckless abandon. Netizens launched a collective attack, with slogans of "down with the wealthy" ringing out from every corner. Whether it was truly sparked by the news itself, or simply people venting their private frustrations through "class resentment," nobody could quite say.

...Under normal circumstances, scandals of this sort involving aristocratic families would typically be scrubbed from the internet within two or three hours of appearing. Especially for a family like the Mus—an elite among elites—the response time should have been even faster. And yet, this time, there was not a single reaction whatsoever.

This silent, hands-off attitude only seemed to further confirm the truth behind Mu Qingcheng's "bullying" scandal, and before long... her public image came crashing down along with it. Some went so far as to make bold claims, speculating that the Mu family had provoked someone they shouldn't have because of their "Fifth Miss's" reckless behavior. But looking across the capital, the only family that could sit on equal footing with the Mus—and truly pose a threat to them—was the Si family from the south of the city. And so, by sheer force of collective imagination, netizens quickly spun an entire dramatic saga out of thin air, running wild with the long-standing rumor that the Mu and Si houses had never seen eye to eye.

Meanwhile, back at the Mu residence, Mu Qingcheng was nursing a mild headache as she looked at the three men sitting before her, still completely unaware of the upheaval brewing online. As for Mu Jingchi, after wrapping up his affairs, he had rushed straight back to the Mu estate.

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He had originally intended to check on Mu Qingcheng with his own eyes before heading back to the company to work—never did he expect to find the notoriously reclusive eldest son of the Si family, Si Qingchen, sitting right here.

"Master Si, you seem to be quite busy these days."

Mu Jingchi wore a displeased smile as he spoke, refusing to look at him, instead reaching up to undo the two cufflinks at his wrists. With a sharp click, he set them down on the tea table. He rolled his sleeves up two folds, revealing a sturdy forearm beneath a thin layer of taut skin, dark veins coiled underneath.

Si Qingchen glanced at the two cufflinks with a subtle expression, then said in a low, measured tone, "Exquisite cufflinks."

Mu Jingchi, his thoughts having been seen through, let out a proud, peevish snort. "Of course. Qingcheng gave them to me."

"Oh? Is that so?"

Hearing this, the man, whose lips had suddenly lost their curve, turned his gaze slightly toward the woman sitting beside him. Instantly, a wave of sulky resentment came rolling off him.

Mu Qingcheng looked at Si Qingchen with a guilty conscience, and in a fleeting daze, it seemed as though she could see a pair of big brown ears sprouting from the top of his head, drooping pitifully—looking for all the world like a neglected great dog.

Thump, thump, thump—

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Her heart was pounding out of control, and her hands gripped the blanket in her lap tightly as she fought with every ounce of willpower to suppress the urge to walk over and smooth his fur. When she finally spoke, she stuttered, "No, it's not like that. That day, it was Third Brother who said they looked nice, so I... that's why I..."

...At the same moment, by the doorway, Si Nan and Si Bei were still standing side by side, watching their boss's absolutely unprecedented, one-of-a-kind expression, straining to keep their jaws from dropping to the floor. After a moment, Si Nan couldn't help but mutter under his breath, "Damn... the student surpasses the master. Who the hell can withstand that?"

Si Bei: "..." He learns the bad stuff fast.

...Just then, Steward Ji, holding a phone in his hands, quietly made his way behind the elderly Master Mu. "Master, take a look at this."

Master Mu first shot his steward a skeptical glance, then, looking over the man's hands, turned his gaze to the screen. No more than a dozen seconds later, he narrowed his eyes slightly, lifted his head, and shifted his gaze toward the opposite side of the room...

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