The Cinnabar Mole of a Beijing Circle Tycoon

The next day, the morning light shone through the diamond-patterned curtains of the room and fell on Shen Qingyao's slightly furrowed brows.

Shen Qingyao was awakened by the churning, sluggish feeling in her abdomen. She raised her hand to cover her lower abdomen, and the skin her fingertips touched was warm and soft, no longer as bloated and uncomfortable as yesterday.

The seat next to him had long since cooled down. Meng Jiangyu was always an early riser; he must have gone to make arrangements for the return trip.

Shen Qingyao propped herself up and sat up, pulling the thin blanket around herself. Feeling unwell, she had no interest in exploring the resort.

No matter how beautiful the scenery nestled against the mountains and by the water was, it couldn't overcome the weariness of recovering from her illness. She longed to return to the familiar Yu Garden rather than the unfamiliar resort.

The door was pushed open, and Meng Jiangyu walked in, wearing a gray sweater with the sleeves rolled up to his forearms, revealing a cool platinum watch on his wrist, and carrying a bowl of warm millet porridge in his hand.

"Awake?" He walked to the bedside. "I'll feed you some porridge."

Shen Qingyao shook her head, her voice still a little hoarse from just waking up: "I can do it myself, you pack your luggage."

"Okay." Meng Jiangyu took out his suitcase and started packing. "Everything's arranged. We'll leave after you finish your porridge."

"Okay." Shen Qingyao sipped the warm millet porridge. The porridge was fragrant and sweet, warming her stomach and her heart.

The resort trip was over, and the two left early. The driver parked the car at the entrance, and Meng Jiangyu opened the car door for her, carefully placing his hand on the door frame to prevent her from hitting her head.

When I returned to Yu Garden, the winter sun lazily shone on the bluestone slabs of the courtyard, and the winter plum blossoms were in full bloom, their fragrance wafting in the air.

Meng Jiangyu accompanied Shen Qingyao as they sunbathed and chatted in the courtyard.

On New Year's Eve, Meng Jiangyu returned to the Meng family ancestral home early to pay respects to his ancestors.

As the morning light spills across the bluestone path on the outskirts of Beijing, the vermilion gate of the Meng family ancestral home is adorned with a bronze door knocker engraved with lotus scrolls. The two characters "Meng Mansion" on the lintel are in Yan style regular script, with a deep and powerful stroke, carved on ebony wood, having withstood hundreds of years of wind and rain.

Meng Jiangyu's car was parked at the entrance, the black Bentley's wheels crunching over fallen leaves.

The driver opened the car door, and he bent down to get out. He was wearing a black Zhongshan suit, his posture was as upright as a pine tree, and his shoulder line was neat.

The morning light fell on his sharply defined profile, highlighting his high brow bone, slightly sunken eye sockets, and dark, deep-set eyes that were as cold as a deep pool, devoid of any warmth.

His nose was straight, his lips were pressed into a cold, hard curve, and the angles of his jawline were sharp, like jade that had been carefully carved by a craftsman, exuding a chilling aura that kept people at a distance.

Today is the Meng family's annual ancestral worship day. As the only legitimate heir of the Meng family and the current head of the family, this ceremony can only be presided over by him.

Beside the stone lion at the entrance of the alley stood Uncle Fu, the old steward of the Meng family.

Uncle Fu had served Old Master Meng for decades, and his temples were now streaked with white. Upon seeing Meng Jiangyu approach, he quickly stepped forward and bowed respectfully, saying, "Sir, you're back. Everyone in the old house is waiting."

Meng Jiangyu nodded slightly, letting out a very faint "hmm" that revealed no emotion.

He strode toward the gate, his steps steady, with Uncle Fu following behind him.

Inside the gate is a courtyard paved with bluestone slabs. A main path leads directly to the main hall, with side rooms on both sides. The rooms are decorated with carved beams and painted rafters, and have upturned eaves. Despite the passage of time, they are still very well maintained.

Several pots of wintersweet were placed in the courtyard, their branches adorned with tender yellow buds, exuding a faint fragrance in the cold mist.

At this moment, quite a few people were already standing in the courtyard. They were all members of the Meng family's collateral branches, as well as several elders of the clan.

The men were dressed in dark Zhongshan suits, and the women in well-tailored cheongsams. They all held their breath and looked respectful, but secretly sized up Meng Jiangyu as he walked in.

The Meng family is an old and established family with a century-old foundation and deep roots.

Twelve years ago, the old man fell seriously ill, and the collateral branches of the clan began to stir up trouble, vying for power and profit, causing chaos and making the group's stock price fluctuate several times.

Meng Jiangyu was appointed to take over the Meng family business in a time of crisis, interrupting his studies. He ruthlessly purged corrupt elements within the family, stabilized the group's situation, and expanded the Meng family's territory overseas, making it an unshakeable force in the business world.

He was ruthless, decisive, and cold as ice. His people respected him greatly, but they also felt less close to him.

Even his uncles and elders dared not show him the slightest disrespect.

Meng Jiangyu's gaze swept over the crowd, his dark eyes remaining completely calm.

Meng Jiangyu walked straight through the courtyard and headed towards the main hall.

In the center of the main hall, there are ancestral tablets of the Meng family. The tablet stands are made of sandalwood and are stacked in layers. At the top is the founding ancestor of the Meng family, and they are arranged in order below. In front of the tablets are incense burners, candlesticks, and various offerings, including fruits, pastries, chicken, duck, fish and meat. Everything is prepared in accordance with the Meng family's ancestral traditions.

The incense burner was not yet lit, and the candles in the candlesticks were just standing upright, not lit. The head of the household had to personally oversee the process, and no one else dared to overstep their bounds.

Meng Jiangyu walked to the memorial tablet and stood there with his back to everyone. His broad back looked aloof and dignified in the light and shadow of the main hall.

"Sir, the ancestral worship ceremony has been prepared according to the old customs."

"Hmm." Meng Jiangyu uttered only one word, his gaze fixed on the ancestral tablet at the top, his eyes deep and unreadable.

He was raised by his grandfather from a young age, who taught him the rules of the Meng family and the ways of business.

When the old man was seriously ill and on his deathbed, he held his hand and told him that he must protect the Meng family and the Meng clan.

Standing before these ancestral tablets now, looking at each one engraved with the names of our ancestors, I feel a sense of responsibility and reverence.

"The auspicious time has arrived, Master. We may begin," Uncle Fu said softly, glancing at the old pocket watch on his wrist.

Meng Jiangyu snapped out of his daze and nodded slightly.

Uncle Fu immediately announced loudly, "The auspicious time has arrived! Light the candles and offer incense!"

As soon as he finished speaking, two servants dressed in blue long gowns stepped forward, holding tinderboxes, and carefully lit the red candles in the candlesticks.

The flickering candlelight illuminated Meng Jiangyu's face, softening his otherwise cold and hard features.

The servant lit three incense sticks and handed them to Meng Jiangyu. The incense smoke curled up, carrying a faint sandalwood scent, lingering around his nose.

Meng Jiangyu took the incense, held the handle between his fingertips, raised it above his head, bowed slightly, and bowed three times to the ancestral tablets.

His movements were precise and devout, and every posture strictly followed the ancestral rules of the Meng family without the slightest mistake. The elders in the clan nodded repeatedly, secretly sighing that he was indeed a child personally taught by the old man.

After bowing, he inserted the incense sticks into the incense burner with steady movements, and the three incense sticks stood neatly in the center of the incense burner.