The Ocean Style Restaurant was quiet.
Soft blue light rippled across the walls as holographic aquatic creatures from an unknown galaxy drifted lazily through the air. Schools of translucent fish glided past the tables, their scales refracting gentle light.
There were only a few dozen diners.
This place was considered one of the highest-end restaurants in North Star Fleet Military Academy.
It was said that more than half of the ingredients here were naturally cultivated rather than synthesized—an indulgence reserved almost exclusively for aristocrats.
Zhao Chen walked at the front.
Behind him followed three women.
The result was predictable.
Heads turned.
Whispers followed.
The attention wasn't on the restaurant—it was on them.
"Have you decided what conditions you're going to propose later?" Senior Sister Su Lan asked softly as they walked.
"I have," Zhao Chen replied with a faint smile.
Seeing his calm expression, Su Lan said nothing more. She was only here as a bridge.
Whether the negotiation succeeded or failed had little to do with her.
She was merely repaying a favor.
"Lanlan—over here."
A voice called out.
Zhao Chen looked up.
Near the window sat a handsome young man, already seated at a round table. He raised his hand casually.
Han Tianwang.
Around the table sat three others.
Zhang Haoran was among them.
There was also a stranger Zhao Chen didn't recognize.
Zhang Haoran's complexion was terrible. He glanced at Zhao Chen for barely a second before looking away, his expression pitiful on the surface—
But Zhao Chen caught the hatred buried beneath.
For people like this, a single lesson was never enough.
"If things don't work out," Su Lan leaned close and whispered, "we'll leave immediately. Don't worry about us."
Zhao Chen nodded.
Zhao Wan'er followed slightly behind, her posture tense. Although her brother held the title of baron, he had never truly participated in such a formal aristocratic setting.
Xue Xiaoxiao, on the other hand, looked delighted.
She loved scenes like this.
When they reached the table, Han Tianwang didn't even glance at Zhao Chen—the supposed focus of the negotiation.
Instead, he stood and pulled out the empty seat beside him.
"Lanlan," he said smoothly, "come sit here."
There were exactly seven seats at the round table.
Han Tianwang and his three companions.
Zhao Chen and his group of four.
One seat—deliberately left empty—had clearly been reserved for Su Lan.
Su Lan glanced at it, then smiled politely. "No need. I'll sit here."
She chose a seat beside Zhao Wan'er and Xue Xiaoxiao instead.
Han Tianwang froze for a fraction of a second.
Awkwardness flickered across his face.
Now, only one seat remained.
The chair beside Han Tianwang.
Only then did Han Tianwang finally look at Zhao Chen.
"This must be Junior Brother Zhao Chen," he said calmly. "Please, sit."
The words were courteous.
His body language was not.
Han Tianwang had already sat down.
Zhao Chen remained standing.
He didn't move toward the empty seat.
Instead, he placed his hand on the back of another chair.
"No," Zhao Chen said lightly. "I'll sit here."
The chair he was touching—
Belonged to Zhang Haoran.
The atmosphere shifted instantly.
Zhang Haoran's face darkened. He looked at Han Tianwang.
Han Tianwang looked away.
Understanding dawned.
Zhang Haoran stood up stiffly, clearly intending to move beside Han Tianwang.
Zhao Chen sat down.
Just as Zhang Haoran was about to lower himself into the seat—
Zhao Chen picked up a glass of water and poured it casually onto the chair.
Clear liquid soaked the cushion.
"Is there a seat for you here?" Zhao Chen asked calmly.
The temperature at the table plunged.
Zhang Haoran's fists clenched until his knuckles turned white.
"Zhao Chen, there's no need to be so aggressive," Han Tianwang said, stepping in with a smile. "This was just a misunderstanding.
"We're all classmates. Eating together today is to resolve things peacefully.
"Lanlan, don't you agree?"
Su Lan smiled faintly. "We're just accompanying guests. We won't interfere.
"What happens depends entirely on Zhao Chen."
Han Tianwang's smile stiffened.
"There's a seat for him," Zhao Chen said, eyes fixed on Han Tianwang. "But none for me.
"Senior—what do you think?"
A shadow flickered in Han Tianwang's gaze.
Still, he laughed. "If he's apologizing, then he should look like it.
"Haoran, stand."
"Waiter," Zhao Chen said calmly. "Please remove this extra chair."
The waiter approached.
This restaurant didn't use service robots—only carefully trained attendants in immaculate uniforms.
The chair was removed.
Zhang Haoran was left standing between Zhao Chen and Han Tianwang.
"Everyone here is sitting," Zhao Chen continued mildly. "You're the only one standing.
"Doesn't that make it look like you're above us?
"That makes us… uncomfortable."
Zhang Haoran ground his teeth. "You… what else do you want?"
"Kneel," Zhao Chen said casually.
Three words.
The expressions around the table changed.
Zhang Haoran exploded. "Zhao Chen! Don't push your luck!"
"Too far?" Zhao Chen smiled. "Did you think it was too far when you shouted in my classroom that you'd beat me in a starship duel?
"When you talked about making me kneel and apologize to you?"
He leaned back slightly.
"Or…" his tone cooled, "does Young Master Zhang no longer care about graduating from North Star?"
The color drained from Zhang Haoran's face.
He couldn't drop out.
He absolutely couldn't.
His father—the viscount, soon to be earl—had more than one son.
North Star Fleet Military Academy was one of the top three military academies in the Xingyao Empire. Getting in had required enormous political capital.
If Zhang Haoran failed to graduate, his title—and future—could easily be taken by his brothers.
His mother's message echoed in his mind.
Do whatever it takes. Do not leave North Star.
"Junior Brother Zhao Chen," Han Tianwang said slowly, voice firm. "This is unnecessary.
"Haoran knows he was wrong. We can talk this through.
"Give me some face. Let's eat first. I'll make sure you get a satisfactory resolution."
"Face?" Zhao Chen looked at him flatly. "Senior—are you saying I give you face… and you kneel for him?"
Zhao Wan'er sucked in a sharp breath.
Confronting Zhang Haoran was one thing.
Confronting Han Tianwang was another.
Su Lan and Xue Xiaoxiao stared at Zhao Chen, startled.
Han Tianwang's expression finally darkened.
"Fine," Zhang Haoran roared hoarsely.
"I'll kneel!"
He dropped to his knees where the chair had been.
The table height blocked his head completely.
"Perfect," Zhao Chen said pleasantly. "It won't interfere with our meal.
"Why is everyone staring at me?
"We're here to eat."
He opened the holographic menu.
"Order whatever you like, Senior Han. Don't hold back.
"It's not every day we get to dine together like this."
His fingers moved rapidly.
Too fast to follow.
"I've ordered," Zhao Chen said, closing the interface. "If anyone wants more, feel free.
"Eat well."
Xue Xiaoxiao bit her lip—
Barely holding back laughter.