He fiercely criticized the Manchu scholar clique and the twelve emperors of the Qing Dynasty.

Mr. Gu's words, "You've made quite a commotion," echoed in the sandalwood-scented private room, instantly shattering the atmosphere of casual conversation.

Mother Gu remained silent, picked up the celadon teacup in front of her, and blew on the floating leaves. Father Gu, through his frameless glasses, stared directly at Zhao Shuyao's face.

This is a highly oppressive scrutiny, and seasoned business veterans love to use this sudden challenge to test young people's stress tolerance.

If Zhao Shuyao is eager to defend himself or shows resentment, then according to the standards of this social class, it would be considered a lack of composure.

Zhao Shuyao didn't rush to speak. His gaze lingered on the steaming squirrel-shaped mandarin fish in the center of the round table. His brain quickly deciphered the information behind Gu's father's words: the other party wasn't concerned about his grievances of being cyberbullied, but rather assessing whether he could control this trouble and whether it would backfire.

"Uncle Gu, the internet is like a natural magnifying glass." Zhao Shuyao spoke slowly and deliberately, meeting Gu's father's gaze. "In this environment, even if a needle falls, after being embellished by algorithms and marketing accounts, it will sound like thunder to outsiders."

He rested his hands naturally on the edge of the table, looking extremely relaxed.

"Since I've decided to use this platform to make my voice heard, I've already prepared myself for the backlash from public opinion." Zhao Shuyao smiled calmly. "People online like to join in the fun, let them make a fuss. The unfounded will never become the real thing. I have my own way of handling things, and I won't mess things up."

This passage contains no emotional outburst; it is entirely a highly rational and objective description of the situation.

After listening, the scrutinizing look in Mr. Gu's eyes faded somewhat. He nodded, picked up a hot towel and wiped his hands: "It's best that you have the composure to know what you're doing. As long as you can handle things yourself, that's fine."

Mr. Gu turned his head and gestured to the waiter next to him: "Pour the wine."

A waiter approached with a bottle of warmed Suzhou winter-brewed rice wine. Gu's father looked at Zhao Shuyao, his tone tinged with a hint of probing: "Jiangnan rice wine has a strong aftereffect. I wonder if you, a young man from the north, can handle this kind of 'soft knife'?"

"Uncle Gu is treating today, so whatever I drink is a treat for me." Zhao Shuyao stood up and took the wine warmer from the waiter. "I'll take it."

With remarkably natural movements, she circled around a little, first filling the small wine cup in front of Mr. Gu, then his mother, and finally returning to her seat to fill her own cup.

Zhao Shuyao picked up the wine cup, his wrist slightly lowered, and placed the rim of the cup an inch lower than that of Gu's father.

"Uncle, Aunt, I'd like to offer you both a toast as a token of my appreciation. Thank you for your hospitality." Without hesitation, Zhao Shuyao tilted his head back and downed the amber-colored yellow wine in one gulp.

He was decisive and efficient, showing no stage fright or awkwardness as one might expect when meeting elders for the first time.

Looking at the empty cup, a rare smile appeared on Gu's father's lips. He picked up the wine cup, took a sip, and said, "Good, that's refreshing. Let's eat."

The dinner party officially began.

Gu's mother picked up the serving chopsticks in front of her, but did not pick up any food. Instead, she placed her hand on the edge of the table, her gaze sweeping over Zhao Shuyao's ordinary black jacket before finally settling on his face, where she wore that impeccable, elder-like smile.

"Little Zhao, the cuisine here in Suzhou tends to be light and sweet," Mrs. Gu said softly, as if genuinely concerned about her guests' appetites. "I wonder if you people from northern Jiangsu are used to such refined food?"

Before Zhao Shuyao could answer, she pointed to the huge round table.

"Don't be shy, eat whatever you like. But this table is big, so if any dish is placed too far away for you to reach while sitting, you can stand up and grab it. Don't worry about any etiquette."

Upon hearing this, the air in the private room seemed to be suddenly sucked out.

Gu Nanxi's hand, which was about to pick up some food, froze in mid-air, and her brows furrowed sharply. Even though she wasn't that deep-thinking, she could hear the awkwardness in her mother's words.

The moment Zhao Shuyao heard those words, he had already completely translated the logic of the statement into his mind.

His preference for bland food suggests that he doesn't fit in with the family's social circle.

If you can't reach it, you can stand up—this is blatantly telling him: if you want to eat the food on our table, if you want to climb up, you have to bend down, you have to exert effort, and you have to ruin your own dignity.

This is the most scathing clash between intellectuals, without using a single vulgar word, yet every blow is scathing.

Mr. Gu kept his head down, savoring each bite of fish in his bowl, as if he hadn't heard anything, but his chewing pace slowed down slightly.

Zhao Shuyao gently placed the chopsticks on the chopstick rest, without blushing or showing any anger at the implication.

"Thank you for your trouble, Auntie." Zhao Shuyao met Gu's mother's gaze with a gentle smile. "When it comes to food and drink, I don't really have any high standards. I can generally accept both light and delicate dishes and lively and festive ones. As for the dishes on this table..."

Zhao Shuyao picked up his chopsticks, casually pointed to a plate of cold dishes in front of him, and then pointed to several hot stir-fries in the distance.

"You two really don't need to make a fuss about me. I have a habit of always finding a way to get what I want to eat."

These words sounded ordinary, but they took on a completely different meaning when they reached the ears of Mr. and Mrs. Gu.

The formulaic smile on Gu's mother's face froze for a second.

Mr. Gu put down the soup spoon in his hand, raised his eyelids, and looked at the young man in his early twenties again.

They're all seasoned veterans of the world of fame and fortune; how could they not understand this rebuttal?

Zhao Shuyao was clearly telling them: I, Zhao, am capable enough to get everything I want. I don't need your charity, nor do I need to compromise myself to please you.

There was a two-second silence in the private room.

Gu's mother's gaze gradually turned cold. She felt that her authority had been offended by a mere young boy. Her arrogance, accustomed to controlling everything, would not allow her to be at a disadvantage in this round.

"If you can reach them yourself, that's great." Gu's mother picked up her teacup again, her tone now sharper than gentle. "But Xiao Zhao, I've been there too. The dishes on this round table are arranged with different distances. If you insist on crossing half the table to reach the dishes that are far away, it's tiring to stretch your arm too far."

He blew on the tea, slightly raised his eyelids, and glanced at Zhao Shuyao.

"It's good that young people are energetic, but they always have to consider the objective conditions. Why make things so difficult for yourself just to eat a dish from afar, making it hard to even enjoy your meal? In the end, neither side is happy. Why do that?"

This is putting the message directly out in the open.

The gap between the two families is too great. If you force yourself to be with Nanxi, you will only exhaust yourself. This class barrier will wear you down.

"Mom, are you eating or giving me a lecture?!" Gu Nanxi finally couldn't hold back anymore.

Although she couldn't understand the subtle class implications in her parents' words, her mother's condescending and stern attitude had crossed her line.

Gu Nanxi picked up the serving chopsticks beside her, stood up, leaned halfway over, picked up a piece of extremely plump braised eel from across the round table, and steadily placed it on the plate in front of Zhao Shuyao.

"Shuyao, don't worry about them, just eat." Gu Nanxi turned to Zhao Shuyao, her clear eyes filled with undisguised protectiveness. "This eel stew is a signature dish of our Suzhou cuisine, it tastes amazing! What do you want to eat? You don't need to stretch your arm, just tell me and I'll get it for you!"

Upon hearing this, Gu's mother's face instantly darkened.

My daughter's words were tantamount to announcing to everyone: It doesn't matter if he can't reach me, I'm willing to lean towards him.

Mr. Gu also put down his chopsticks, his brows furrowed, clearly displeased with his daughter's siding with outsiders.

Zhao Shuyao looked at the still steaming eel paste on the plate, then glanced at the sulking Gu Nanxi beside him, and a warm feeling swept through his heart.

But he knew very well that if a man, when faced with such class oppression, hides behind a woman and relies on her to make amends, then he would completely lose the right to be respected in this private room today.

"Nanxi, thank you," Zhao Shuyao said softly, his tone gentle.

Immediately, he looked up and stopped Gu Nanxi from picking up more food.

"However, there's really no need to go to such lengths." Zhao Shuyao turned his head and looked directly at Gu's mother.

"Auntie is right. When eating at a large round table, it's really tiring to stretch your arms too far. If it were ten or twenty years ago, in this situation, you might have had to stand up and grab the food, or as you said, give up and eat your own plate of vegetables quietly."

Gu's mother snorted coldly, thinking that he had finally bowed his head and accepted reality.

But the next second, Zhao Shuyao stretched out his right hand and placed his fingertips on the edge of the huge transparent glass in the center of the round table.

"But Auntie, times have changed."

Zhao Shuyao's voice wasn't loud, but it carried an undeniable penetrating power.

Apply gentle pressure with your fingertips.

"Splash—"

The huge glass turntable, lubricated by the bearings, emitted a soft, silky turning sound.

The dazzling array of dishes on the table began to rapidly change positions as the turntable spun. The plate of premium abalone, which was originally furthest from Zhao Shuyao and placed directly in front of Gu's mother, came to a steady stop in front of Zhao Shuyao as the glass plate spun.

Zhao Shuyao withdrew his hand, picked up his chopsticks, and calmly picked up a piece of abalone, putting it into his mouth.

Chew slowly and swallow.

He put down his chopsticks, wiped his mouth with a napkin, and then, looking at his parents, whose faces were completely frozen, delivered the final blow of the night.

"Look," Zhao Shuyao spread his hands, smiling brightly, "Now that there's a turntable on the table, I don't need to stand up or stretch my arms out so far. I just need to aim carefully, move my fingers slightly, and with a little push, the food I want will turn right in front of me."

Zhao Shuyao leaned back in his chair.

"With the new tools, eating anything is no longer tiring, and that's why I don't feel tired."

The private room was deathly silent.

Mr. Gu's hands were clenched into fists as he looked at Zhao Shuyao through his glasses, his heart filled with turmoil.

This is hardly a conversation about eating.

The spinning wheel, leveraging resources, and the wind direction—this young man is clearly deconstructing the traditional path of resource dependence.

The family barriers and class distances you are so proud of can be completely smoothed out with just a gentle nudge in the face of the era's trends (internet self-media) that he controls.

He doesn't need to beg the Gu family; he can turn the benefits of the times into his own.

The atmosphere became extremely subtle in the latter half of the meal. Gu's mother didn't say another word, while Gu's father only occasionally raised his glass, but his eyes held a deep fear of the unknown variables.

An hour later, the dinner party ended.

At the entrance of the alley, ride-hailing vehicles were already parked on the roadside.

"I'll just take a taxi back myself. Drive carefully." Zhao Shuyao stood in the wind and waved to the car window.

Gu Nanxi sat in the back seat, not even glancing at her parents in the front. She held her anger in throughout the entire meal, and finally rolled up the car window and angrily drove off with her parents.

Watching the taillights disappear into the night, Zhao Shuyao put his hands in his jacket pockets, turned, and walked towards the hotel. A gentle breeze blew by, carrying away the faint scent of rice wine from his clothes.