After the school beauty rejected me, I became her mom's number one fan!

Ning Xiuyang didn't rush to answer. He took a sip of soup and organized his thoughts.

"Daxia is already number one in the world in conventional ship types, there's not much controversy about that. But in high value-added ship types, such as LNG carriers, large luxury cruise ships, and polar icebreakers, we are still catching up. Foreign countries have accumulated experience in this area for three or four decades. If we want to catch up, we can't just rely on price wars; we have to tackle the tough challenges in core technologies. Hanhai is currently tackling the challenge of LNG."

He paused, then added, "But I'm confident. Give me five years, and Hanhai's LNG carriers will reach world-class standards."

Qiao Jingtang put down his chopsticks and picked up a napkin to wipe the corner of his mouth.

He looked at Ning Xiuyang, his gaze more complicated than before.

This young man speaks with confidence and composure, neither boasting nor being modest. He can readily provide data, and his judgment of the industry is far from theoretical.

To achieve this level at the age of 21 is truly remarkable.

But when he thought of what his daughter had said while kneeling in the main hall during the day, his anger flared up again.

What's the use of being capable if you can't be a good person?

Qiao Jingtang picked up his wine glass, took a sip, and didn't ask any more questions.

Ning Xiuyang breathed a sigh of relief. Fortunately, he had been reviewing the materials Wei Youqing and Sun Ruoyi had given him when he had some free time recently, and with the help of his enhanced memory, he would have had a hard time dealing with the challenge just now.

Throughout the meal, Qiao Feiyu quietly maintained order at the table.

She served food to Qiao Jinlin.

"Drink more of this peanut and lotus root soup; it's good for your complexion!"

Serving soup to my father.

"Eat more fish, it has fewer bones."

Let him nitpick less.

If the conversation cools down, just throw in a comment at the right time, such as, "A certain cadre of China Overseas has been misbehaving, and the procedures are underway," or "Jinlin's charity has been doing quite well lately."

Every word was perfectly chosen.

The atmosphere was neither too cold nor too warm, so that Qiao Jingtang would feel like he was trying to please someone.

Watching her effortlessly switch between the roles of father and daughter, Ning Xiuyang had to admit that Qiao Feiyu's abilities weren't limited to officialdom; this woman's control over interpersonal relationships was innate.

What he found even more interesting was that Qiao Feiyu didn't look at him once the entire time.

It's not the kind of deliberate avoidance.

It is a precisely calculated "not looking".

She looked at Qiao Jinlin, Qiao Jingtang, the dishes, the bowls, and even the tips of her own chopsticks, but avoided making eye contact with Ning Xiuyang.

Because she knew that under her father's watchful eye, any extra glance could reveal more.

After several rounds of drinks...

The anger on Qiao Jingtang's face subsided somewhat, replaced by an indescribable weariness.

There was still fire in his eyes when he looked at Ning Xiuyang, but it was no longer a fire that was about to burn down the house; it was more like the embers in the stove that were about to go out, glowing red but without a bright flame.

He finished the last bite of his meal and tapped the rim of his bowl with his chopsticks.

This is the old rule, meaning "I'm done eating".

The old housekeeper immediately came up to collect the bowls.

Qiao Jingtang stood up and glanced at Ning Xiuyang.

"Play a game of chess with me tomorrow morning."

Ning Xiuyang stood up and bowed slightly: "Yes, Grandpa."

Qiao Jingtang paused for a moment.

He didn't turn around or correct the way he was addressed, and walked towards the backyard with his cane.

Qiao Jinlin only dared to breathe a sigh of relief after her grandfather had walked far away. She slumped into her chair, as if she had just fought a major battle.

"My goodness, Grandpa didn't lose his temper today."

Qiao Feiyu tidied up the cups and saucers on the table, her tone indifferent: "Your grandfather is the kind of person who stops after he's finished cursing. He's not the type to hold grudges."

"So he acknowledges the senior's abilities?"

"Not so fast." Qiao Feiyu neatly stacked the bowls and chopsticks and handed them to the old housekeeper. "There's still one more challenge at the chess table tomorrow. Your grandfather loves to hit people when he plays chess."

Qiao Jinlin turned to Ning Xiuyang: "Senior, do you know how to play chess?"

"I know a little."

"What does 'know a little' mean? Does it mean you know it or you don't?"

"Did your grandfather play Go or chess?"

Qiao Jinlin thought for a moment: "Chess. My grandfather almost made it into the provincial team when he was young."

Ning Xiuyang smiled and said nothing more.

After dinner, the old butler took Ning Xiuyang to the guest room in the east wing.

The room was small but clean and tidy, with a bed, a table and a chair, typical of old-fashioned courtyard houses.

Outside the window is that old locust tree, and the moonlight shines through the leaves, casting dense shadows on the window paper.

Ning Xiuyang took a shower, changed his clothes, and lay on the bed staring at the ceiling.

He is waiting.

At 10:30, Qiao Jinlin sent a WeChat message: "Goodnight, senior. You'd better do your best in Grandpa's chess game tomorrow!"

It was followed by a fist emoji.

Ning Xiuyang replied with "Sleep peacefully".

At eleven o'clock, the footsteps in the corridor gradually disappeared.

The old housekeeper finished his final round of room checks.

At 11:30, the light in the next room went out.

That was Qiao Jinlin's room.

Ning Xiuyang waited another twenty minutes, and after confirming that the whole courtyard was quiet, he sat up, took off his slippers, and stepped barefoot on the floor.

There is dust on the wooden floor.

Although this courtyard house is well-maintained, it is still an old house. The wooden floorboards in the corridor have been used for decades and make a slight creaking sound when you step on them.

Ning Xiuyang controlled the force of each step extremely lightly, landing on the balls of his feet first, and then slowly transitioning to his heels, minimizing the concentration of pressure.

This was taught to him by Xie Yanxi.

The corridor was short, only fourteen steps from his guest room to Qiao Feiyu's room.

He counted them.

As he passed Qiao Jinlin's room, he listened for two seconds.

The sound of even breathing came from inside. She was asleep.

Keep going.

A faint light shone through the crack in the door at the end of the corridor, as if only a table lamp was on.

Ning Xiuyang reached out and pushed the door open.

The door wasn't locked.

Qiao Feiyu sat on the edge of the bed, wearing a plain cotton nightgown.

Her hair was loose, unlike the meticulous updo she wore during the day, and draped over her shoulders.

She was clutching a small white bottle in her hand.

It's that sleeping pill bottle from during the day.

She looked up when she heard the door open, and her eyes welled up with tears the moment she saw Ning Xiuyang.

It's not the kind of red that screams and cries, but a red that's been held back for too long and can't be contained anymore.

The whites of his eyes were bloodshot, and his lower eyelids were slightly swollen.

Ning Xiuyang walked over.

He didn't say anything, but reached out and took the medicine bottle from Qiao Feiyu's hand.

I unscrewed the cap and took a look. Inside were a few yellowish-white pills, but their shapes were wrong.

He leaned closer and took a sniff.

Vitamin C.

He screwed the bottle cap back on and casually tossed it into the wastepaper basket by his bedside.

Then he sat down next to Qiao Feiyu.

The two sat side by side on the edge of the bed, neither of them speaking.

The only sound was the rustling of the old locust tree leaves outside the window as the wind blew.

Qiao Feiyu spoke first.

Her voice was terribly hoarse, as if her throat had been rubbed with sandpaper.

"I knelt down."

Ning Xiuyang listened.

"I told him. I told him that you're not just Jinlin's boyfriend, but also my man."