Chapter 89: Disgrace

When Lu Feng arrived, Zhou Zhengqian immediately left Wang Huawen, whom he had been conversing with, and came forward to greet him, supporting the elderly master Zhou as they approached. With a broad smile, Zhou Zhengqian welcomed him warmly, "Dr. Lu, you’re here! Please, come inside and have a seat. Fuqu, hurry and make some tea for Dr. Lu."

Master Zhou had already met Lu Feng when he had been bedridden. Now that his health had been restored, his spirits were high. He took Lu Feng by the hand and sat him beside the seat of honor, engaging him in conversation about traditional medicine and the art of nurturing life.

Previously, Wang Huawen had been the object of much attention from the Zhou family. But with Lu Feng’s arrival, he found himself relegated to the sidelines. Unable to help himself, he watched Lu Feng closely and quietly asked Zhou Luyang, with whom he was most familiar, for more information about him.

During his time abroad, Wang Huawen often spent his leisure with Zhou Luyang, frequenting nightclubs together. He had only recently returned to China, so among the Zhou family, he was closest to Zhou Luyang.

"Who is this guy, anyway? He doesn’t look like the young master of any notable family," Wang Huawen remarked with a slight nod in Lu Feng’s direction.

Zhou Luyang, who also seemed rather displeased at Lu Feng’s presence, scoffed, "Young master? He’s just a doctor—a mere physician. He got lucky and happened to cure the old master’s illness, that’s all."

"So he’s a doctor. If I had known the old master was ill, I would have invited a famous physician from America. How did a kid like him end up curing the illness?" Wang Huawen, realizing Lu Feng was not from an illustrious family, immediately dismissed him in his mind.

In truth, the great families of today were not so different from the noble clans of old, though they kept a lower profile. The saying that it takes three generations to cultivate nobility was not without reason. Wealth rarely lasted beyond three generations, but families like the Zhous, whose fortune stretched back to the early Republic, had deep roots few could truly fathom.

Though Wang Huawen’s family did not have quite the same longstanding legacy, they were a prominent, up-and-coming family, more or less on equal footing with the Zhous. To men like Wang Huawen, Lu Feng was merely a healer—someone not worth their attention.

…

Obeying her father’s instructions, Zhou Fuqu herself made a cup of tea and presented it to Lu Feng.

Lu Feng accepted it with a word of thanks.

Zhou Fuqu smiled and sat beside Master Zhou, engaging Lu Feng in conversation.

At first, Wang Huawen paid little mind to Lu Feng. But seeing Zhou Fuqu smile at him, he suddenly felt a pang of irritation.

"Has Fuqu become this cheerful now? She’s been smiling the whole time," Wang Huawen said with a frown.

When Zhou Fuqu attended business school in America, Wang Huawen and Zhou Luyang were there as well—though the two men spent most of their time playing and only obtained their degrees as an afterthought. Zhou Fuqu, on the other hand, had earned a scholarship through genuine effort, though she hardly needed the money.

During those years, Zhou Fuqu was famous for her cold demeanor. Wang Huawen had even enlisted Zhou Luyang’s help in pursuing her, but all to no avail. In his mind, she remained a woman of icy reserve.

The colder such a woman, the more one desired to conquer her.

Abroad, it was rare to see Zhou Fuqu smile at anyone, which was why Wang Huawen now found it so remarkable.

"Who knows," Zhou Luyang replied with disdain, "she wears a deadpan face every day, but today she’s smiling like a flower."

"Could she be interested in that doctor?" Wang Huawen muttered, frowning in confusion.

With a look of anticipation for the unfolding drama, Zhou Luyang grinned, "Who can say? Abroad she played the part of a chaste maiden, but perhaps she’s dropped the act and is finally experiencing the stirrings of spring."

Wang Huawen’s interest was piqued; he straightened his clothes and asked, "You think a handsome, wealthy man like me, chasing her from America back to China, won’t finally win her over?"

Zhou Luyang snorted, "Don’t be so sure. Maybe my cousin’s tastes run the other way and she holds you in contempt."

"I don’t believe it. With a romantic gentleman like me, how could she choose some country doctor? Do me a favor—after dinner, when it’s a little darker, ask Fuqu to meet me in the back garden," Wang Huawen said, nudging Zhou Luyang.

"I can help you, but what’s in it for me?" Zhou Luyang replied, clearly fishing for benefit.

"As long as I win Fuqu over, I’ll cover all the modifications for your new supercar," Wang Huawen said grandly.

"You swear? I want three exhaust pipes," Zhou Luyang insisted, pointing at Wang Huawen’s nose, as if afraid he’d go back on his word.

"Are you worried I’d stiff you for a bit of tuning money?" Wang Huawen brushed his hand aside.

"Well, with you, there’s no telling—always choosing romance over friendship."

"Don’t worry, I’ve got a sports car here in China too. I’ve already lined up the mechanics. Modifying both at once will be easy," Wang Huawen explained.

…

The Zhou family had originally planned for two banquet tables, but as the guests multiplied, they added a third.

Lu Feng and Master Zhou sat in the seats of honor. During the meal, all the uncles and older male relatives came over to offer Lu Feng toasts—middle-aged men, some balding, others furrowed with deep lines, each raising their glass to a young man barely into adulthood. It made for a rather odd scene.

Nevertheless, Lu Feng had cured Master Zhou’s illness. Whether out of gratitude or respect for the elder, the family had to toast him.

When Zhou Luyang followed his father to toast Lu Feng, he was visibly disgruntled. After all, he was older than Lu Feng by several years, yet had to show deference. It was something he found hard to accept.

"Too much alcohol harms the body; just a sip is enough, just a sip..." Master Zhou said kindly, seeing how many people came to toast, and helped Lu Feng avoid excessive drinking.

Of course, as the elder, Master Zhou’s own toasts were merely symbolic—a clink of glasses was sufficient. His intervention on Lu Feng’s behalf was only in words, not in drinking for him.

At such banquets, spirits were always served—potent and fiery.

Lu Feng could handle a few drinks, but had no wish to become drunk, so he followed Master Zhou’s lead, taking only a symbolic sip with each toast.

When Zhou Luyang came to toast, he saw Lu Feng’s lips barely touch the glass. Dissatisfied, he mimicked the gesture, taking only the barest sip.

Second Master Zhou noticed this, nudged him with his elbow, and ordered, "Bottoms up!"

"He only took a sip—why should I finish my glass?" Zhou Luyang protested, annoyed.

The others nearby looked on awkwardly; Zhou Luyang, having been abroad so long, clearly knew little of traditional etiquette. When clinking glasses earlier, his glass had even been higher than Lu Feng’s, until his father pressed his hand down.

Second Master Zhou, seeing the old master’s smile fade, grew angry. "Stop arguing! I said bottoms up, so drink it!"

"I have no problem with that. I just worry he can’t hold his liquor. What’s a man if he can’t drink a glass of spirits? But judging by you, perhaps you’re not much of a man either. If that’s the case, not finishing your drink isn’t really disgraceful," Zhou Luyang said mockingly, raising his glass in challenge.

Lu Feng smiled and shook his head, making no move to pick up his glass. Instead, he said, "The one who’s truly disgraced isn’t me, but your family’s patriarch."

The meaning was clear: if the Zhou descendants had not been properly taught, it was the old master who was most to blame.