The taxi rolled into Zhonghai just as the sun dipped low, spilling molten gold across the glass skyline. Skyscrapers glistened like blades piercing the heavens, traffic roared with a steady hum, and neon signs were already flickering awake.
Inside the backseat, Liang Chen leaned back casually, gazing out the window with a faint smile. Beside him, Ming pressed his forehead to the glass, wide-eyed at the bustling metropolis.
"Brother… it's even bigger than I imagined," Ming whispered, his tone half in awe, half nervousness.
Liang chuckled. "Zhonghai doesn't sleep, Ming. But neither should you. You're not here to be a spectator—you're here to carve your name."
Ming nodded quickly, though his plain shirt and countryside manner seemed out of place amidst the city's gleam.
When the taxi stopped at a luxury real-estate complex, Ming hesitated. "Brother… are we really going to buy a house here? Shouldn't we rent something smaller first? It's… safer."
Liang's lips curved upward. "Rent? Ming, we don't come here to hide. We come here to stand tall."
They entered the grand sales hall, chandeliers glittering overhead. Several sales attendants in sharp uniforms sat at sleek desks. Most looked up politely—except one.
Her eyes swept Ming's plain clothes and the faint dust on his shoes from their trip. Her lips curled. She muttered just loud enough for them to hear, "This isn't the place for country folk. If you want cheap rentals, the outskirts have plenty."
Ming's face flushed red. He lowered his head, but Liang placed a steadying hand on his shoulder.
"Don't be angry," Liang said softly. His gaze shifted to the woman, sharp and cold as steel. "Some people need to be taught not through words, but reality."
The saleswoman scoffed and turned away, clearly dismissing them. But another attendant, a younger man, hurried over with a warm smile. "Welcome, gentlemen. Allow me to assist. We've just opened bookings for our lake-view villas. Would you like to take a look?"
Liang's eyes brightened. "Lead the way."
The villa was breathtaking—high ceilings, a sweeping staircase, panoramic windows overlooking a private lake, and a courtyard paved with imported stone.
Ming was speechless. "Brother, this… this is too much."
Liang's voice was calm, unshaken. "No. This is just right."
And with that, he bought it outright.
When the contract was signed, the arrogant saleswoman's face turned pale. She stammered, rushing over, "S-sir, if you'd like, I can handle all your services personally—"
Liang didn't spare her a glance. Instead, he shook hands with the polite young man. "Efficiency and respect deserve reward. From today, you'll be our family's point of contact. I'll make sure your superiors know of your work."
The young man bowed deeply, gratitude written across his face. The woman stood frozen, her arrogance turned into bitter regret.
The next stop was a luxury dealership. This time, no one dared underestimate Liang. He walked through polished floors lined with the world's finest machines and stopped before two in particular.
One, a navy blue Porsche 911 Carrera GTS—sleek, sharp, and elegant. The other, a Lamborghini Revuelto, its golden finish catching the light like a beast poised to devour the road.
Ming's jaw nearly hit the ground. "Brother, two? Isn't one enough?"
Liang grinned. "The Porsche is for everyday drives. The Lamborghini… for when the dragon wants to roar."
The dealership manager himself came forward, bowing. "Congratulations, sir. We'll have both cars delivered to your villa by tomorrow."
For the first time, Ming began to truly see: this was his brother's world now—wealth, power, respect. And soon, he would learn to stand in it.
A week later, Ming walked into his new prestigious academy. But his countryside background clung to him like a shadow. His classmates whispered.
"Scholarship kid.""Probably can't even afford the cafeteria food.""Look at his clothes. Dressed like a goofy nerd. Doesn't he know about style and branded clothes"
Ming clenched his fists, swallowing his pride. He said nothing, but each word pierced deeper than a blade.
That evening, back at the villa, Liang found him sitting quietly on the balcony.
"Rough day?" Liang asked, settling beside him.
Ming stayed silent, but the tension in his shoulders said enough.
Liang placed a firm hand on his brother's back. His voice was gentle, but unyielding:
"No." Liang's tone was soft, but brooked no denial. "You're not meant to endure. You're meant to rise. Isn't it your birthday this week? Invite them all to your birthday. I will handle the rest."
Ming hesitated, eyes flickering with doubt. But seeing the unwavering confidence in his brother's gaze, his chest swelled with courage. For the first time, he smiled faintly. "Alright. I'll invite them."
The next morning, Ming stood before his classmates.
"Everyone," he said, voice steady though his palms sweated, "I'd like to invite you to my birthday this weekend."
Laughter rippled."At a street stall?""Will he treat us to instant noodles?""Maybe his dorm room, haha!"
But Ming only smiled calmly. "Please be there. You'll see."
When the day arrived, the students gathered outside the school, still mocking, still skeptical. But then… the ground shook with the growl of engines.
A fleet of luxury cars rolled up—Rolls-Royces, Bentleys, Maseratis—lined in immaculate formation. Chauffeurs in sharp suits stepped out, opening doors with crisp precision.
The students' jaws dropped.
One chauffeur spoke respectfully: "Honored guests, please step in. Young Master Ming awaits you."
The ride itself was surreal, but nothing compared to what awaited. When the convoy reached the Twin Towers, the towering skyscrapers glittered like a crown against the night sky.
As the students stepped out, the staff bowed deeply in unison.
"Welcome. Young Master Ming awaits you inside."
The classmates froze. Young Master?
Inside, crystal chandeliers sparkled, violins played softly, and waiters in white gloves carried trays of golden champagne.
At Ming's signal, the head chef emerged personally, announcing: "Tonight, the finest dishes from East and West shall be served."
Exquisite wines poured, seafood towers shimmered, steaks sizzled to perfection. The once-mocking students sat speechless, devouring food they had only seen on TV.
Girls who had scoffed at him days earlier now leaned close, fluttering lashes, whispering, "Ming, I didn't realize you were so… amazing."
But Ming's expression remained calm, aloof. He remembered their scorn too clearly. He smiled politely, yet kept his distance.
From a private corner, Liang Chen watched with pride. The young tiger had taken his first step—not as a boy mocked for his background, but as someone others would think twice before underestimating again.
The dragon had returned to Zhonghai. And with him, the young tiger was beginning to bare his fangs.