Chapter 7: The Eminent Figure of the Capital

After delivering the gift, Jiang Ciyou and Yan Feng made their way to their table near the entrance. No one had taken their seats yet, so they had to wait by the side. Yan Feng’s phone rang midway through, and after glancing at the screen, he hurried off toward the garden outside the side door.

Jiang Ciyou knew it was Xia Ling calling, but she didn’t mind and took the opportunity to admire the antiques in the banquet hall. An entire wall was lined with Song dynasty blue and white porcelain—truly breathtaking.

Before long, a young lady approached her. “Are you Mrs. Yan?”

Jiang Ciyou turned gracefully. “Is there something you need?”

“I’m Bai Qian, granddaughter of the commander of the Capital Military District. Would you mind if I asked about your recipe for the Liwang Blossom Infusion?”

Before Jiang Ciyou could reply, the girl hurriedly added, “I’d like to buy the recipe from you—whatever the price.”

Jiang Ciyou smiled. “It’s not much of a secret, really. I just make it for fun. If you like, Miss Bai, I can simply give it to you.”

The girl’s eyes sparkled with delight. “You’d really give it to me?”

“Of course. Add me on WeChat, and I’ll send you the recipe tonight.”

The girl quickly added Jiang Ciyou on WeChat. At that moment, several other young ladies gathered around. “I want it too, I want it too! Mrs. Yan, could I add you on WeChat as well?”

Jiang Ciyou was a bit befuddled by the situation, but she added each of them and promised to send the recipe to everyone that evening.

No wonder—these girls were either daughters of mayors, heiresses of top financial conglomerates, or even granddaughters of Central Committee members.

From a distance, Jiang Xiaoxiao watched as a group of capital socialites crowded around Jiang Ciyou, all eager to add her on WeChat. Grinding her teeth in frustration, she complained to Yao Shulan, “Mom, are they out of their minds? Why are all these top socialites from the capital fawning over Jiang Ciyou? What could they possibly want from her?”

Yao Shulan replied calmly, “They’re not foolish. Out of all the gifts presented to the matriarch by the guests, only hers was truly appreciated. They simply want the recipe so they can win Old Madam Bo’s favor in the future.”

She sighed lightly. “Among these girls, one of them is bound to become the Bo family’s young mistress.”

Jiang Xiaoxiao snorted. “What’s the point of pleasing the old lady? Won’t Bo Jinxiu marry whoever he chooses? Who’s to say he even likes these perfectly groomed heiresses? Maybe he prefers a rebellious Cinderella instead?”

Yao Shulan seemed to see through Jiang Xiaoxiao’s thoughts. “Xiaoxiao, our Jiang family is among the top in Rong City, but compared to these heiresses from the capital, we’re far behind. The Bo family isn’t just the wealthiest—they also have a strong political background. That’s not something a small family like ours can aspire to.”

She gently reassured her daughter, “I promise to find you a good match here in Rong City.”

“But Mom, you just said Rong City can’t compare to the capital. Shouldn’t one aim higher? Besides, how do you know Bo Jinxiu doesn’t like me if I don’t even try?”

Yao Shulan shook her head, full of helplessness.

Sometimes, family background is a mountain too steep to climb. The wealthy are more pragmatic than ordinary people, and those from old noble families value matching status above all else. The story of the prince and Cinderella exists only in fairy tales.

On the other side, several young ladies were clustered around Jiang Ciyou, all calling her “sister.” Jiang Ciyou responded to them as if they were her own little sisters, coaxing the girls into fits of delighted laughter. Yet, their good nature was reserved for her; among themselves, there was covert rivalry and no one willing to back down.

“Last month, I saw the young master—he even complimented me on how pretty I’ve become.”

“That’s a lie! Before the invitations went out, nobody knew he was even in Rong City. You’re just making that up.”

“I am, but isn’t it a bit much to call him ‘Brother Bo’? Are you really that close to Bo Jinxiu? Have you ever even spoken to him?”

The young heiresses bickered endlessly.

Jiang Ciyou finally understood—the girls all liked Bo Jinxiu.

But what she couldn’t figure out was why. Their families’ wealth and status already placed them at the pinnacle of society. Why were they all determined to marry Bo Jinxiu?

Bai Qian seemed to sense Jiang Ciyou’s confusion and offered an embarrassed explanation. “Sister Jiang, we do all like Bo Jinxiu—not because he’s the heir to the Bo family fortune. If you saw him, you’d understand. After seeing that face, no other man in the world can compare.”

Jiang Ciyou almost laughed. So, it was a group of girls with a weakness for good looks.

She could relate; she liked handsome men too. The man she once chose—aside from that first drunken encounter—she kept him for three years just for his looks, utterly bewitched by his beauty.

“The young master has returned!” The butler burst through the doors, hurrying toward the old matriarch.

The lively banquet hall fell suddenly silent. All eyes turned to the entrance.

Could the “young master” the butler spoke of be Bo Jinxiu? It was said that Old Madam Bo had three daughters and only gave birth to her sole son in her forties.

The heiresses who had just been chattering away were now silent, their eyes full of excitement and anticipation as they stared at the doorway.

Jiang Ciyou followed their gaze, curious to see just how handsome this crown prince of the capital could be to send these young women into such a frenzy.

A long leg stepped across the threshold.

The man wore a formal, bespoke suit with a deep blue tie. He was tall and slender, with broad shoulders and a narrow waist, his posture impeccably straight. His proportions were flawless; every step he took seemed to tread directly on the hearts of young women.

His physique was indeed exceptional, Jiang Ciyou silently acknowledged.

Her gaze traveled upward, finally settling on his face.

The moment she saw it, Jiang Ciyou froze, her body rigid as if under a spell. It felt as if her blood had turned to ice.

His features were exquisite, the angle of his jaw sharp and sculpted as if carved by a master’s hand. His skin was pale, almost ethereally so—a cold, luminous whiteness like the finest porcelain fired in a thousand-year-old kiln, tempered by fire to yield a beauty both pure and absolute.

Yet his lips were vividly red, as if painted, the flush of color rescuing the coldness from becoming brittle, as though a celestial being had been stripped of his immortal bones and sent to the mortal world, yet born to a house of lords and princes—noble by nature.

His aura was even more aloof and unapproachable; wherever he went, a chill seemed to follow.

The man’s eyes didn’t linger on Jiang Ciyou for even a second. He brushed past her without a glance.

Jiang Ciyou remained rooted to the spot, dazed. After a long while, she finally managed to ask, “Who is he?”

The young heiresses around her burst into excited whispers.

“That’s Bo Jinxiu, the one and only crown prince of the capital.”

“I haven’t seen him in three years. He’s even more handsome now—and colder, too.”

“Weren’t you the one who said you’d chase him? But just now you didn’t even dare say hello!”

“And you were any different?”

The girls started arguing again.

Only Jiang Ciyou remained unable to recover from her shock.

Was it really him?

Impossible…