Chapter 184 The Father-in-Law's Impotent Rage and the "Save the Day Army"!
The atmosphere in the Supreme Banquet Hall had shifted from undercurrents to one-sided condemnation.
The originally melodious cello music could no longer drown out the harsh mocking voices.
Several distant relatives who usually depended on the Jiang Group for survival seemed to have found the perfect outlet for their frustration.
They felt this was a perfect opportunity to show their loyalty to the richest man and, incidentally, put the princess in a difficult position.
An uncle wearing frameless gold-rimmed glasses frowned and took out a silk handkerchief to cover his mouth and nose.
He took two steps back without making a sound, as if the mud jar contained some kind of biological weapon.
"Where are the security personnel? How are they guarding this gate?"
He pointed at the dry mud on the ground with his finger, his tone filled with anguish.
"This is a pure handmade Persian carpet specially airlifted from Iran. Can he afford to compensate for even one damaged pile?"
"Today is my elder brother's fiftieth birthday, a day to know one's destiny. Let's not let this kind of junk of unknown origin bring us bad luck."
The aunt next to her, dressed in jewels, rolled her eyes.
The slender, custom-made high heels clattered heavily on the marble floor tiles, producing a crisp echo.
She pointed at the front door with her long, bright red nail polish, her voice sharp and sarcastic.
"Jianguo, it's not right for your younger sister to be so talkative on this special day."
"Ruoyun, you've spoiled her so much over the years that she's become increasingly unruly."
"She was looking for something new and found a cook from the countryside. We just thought it was like a little girl playing around and didn't take it seriously."
The aunt paused, her gaze sweeping over the business tycoons and celebrities present.
"But what kind of occasion is this? Every single one of you here is someone whose every move would shake the entire capital!"
"Bringing this crumbly clod of dirt to a birthday banquet, isn't that a public slap in the face to the entire Jiang family?"
"If this gets to the ears of our competitors, who knows how much the group's stock will plummet tomorrow!"
These relatives are not brainless idiots.
Every word they uttered was aimed at the interests of the group and the reputation of their family, attempting to stand on the moral high ground.
Jiang Jianguo sat upright in the main seat on a rosewood armchair.
Hearing the buzzing murmurs around him, like flies buzzing in the air, he suddenly stopped playing with the century-old walnut in his hand.
His originally rosy complexion visibly darkened.
The veins near my temples are throbbing and bulging.
suffocated.
These two words are all he has in his mind right now.
Jiang Jianguo knew, of course, that the two things Lin Mo was carrying looked rather unrefined.
The wine jar wasn't even covered with the cheapest red paper; the yellow mud covering it even had a few withered, yellowed grasses mixed in.
The newspaper roll was even more outrageous, with yellowed and frayed edges, looking like the waste paper used to wrap fried dough sticks on the street.
This appearance is even more shabby than that of a roadside junk collector.
He gritted his teeth inwardly, cursing Lin Mo for being so unpredictable.
Even if it's filled with the finest nectar, you could at least buy a cheap brocade box for a few hundred yuan at the antique market to put it in!
How can his father-in-law, who is worth hundreds of billions, save face after things have turned out like this?
but.
No matter how shabby or how dilapidated.
This was something Lin Mo personally carried over in the freezing cold!
What Lin Mo had been doing in the courtyard over the past few months was unknown to others, but Jiang Jianguo knew it perfectly well.
It was an ordinary night.
Despite the howling wind, the kitchen in the courtyard house was bathed in a warm, dim light.
A bowl of steaming hot, scallion-topped Yangchun noodles was enough to make this tycoon, who was used to delicacies, sneak over the wall in the middle of the night to steal a bite.
The incredibly flavorful soup and the chewy, smooth noodles still make his mouth water just thinking about them.
There was also the seemingly ordinary armchair in his study, which exuded a faint scent of cedar wood.
The mortise and tenon structure that Lin Mo casually scraped out actually cured his severe lumbar muscle strain, which had been afflicted for over a decade.
This kid always carries a calm and composed demeanor, as if he wouldn't flinch even if Mount Tai collapsed before him.
They always leave room for maneuver in their actions, yet they always manage to strike a fatal blow.
Jiang Jianguo had long regarded Lin Mo as half a son-in-law from the bottom of his heart.
Although he never admits it on the surface, he always puffs up his beard and glares at you every time we meet, putting on the airs of the richest man.
But secretly, he had long been completely won over by Lin Mo's skills, temperament, and down-to-earth charm.
You can criticize your own family members behind closed doors, and you can point your finger at them and yell at them.
But it's absolutely not up to these sycophantic relatives who only care about money to point fingers!
What does "junk" mean? What does "tainted with bad luck" mean?
Even if Lin Mo really did bring a jar of Northeastern sauerkraut from the countryside today!
That's absolutely divine pickled cabbage that will make your taste buds tingle with its freshness!
I usually have to shamelessly ask for a bowl of hot soup, and you dare to spout nonsense here?
Jiang Jianguo clenched his fists tightly, his knuckles turning a faint pale white.
He took a deep breath, his broad chest bulging high.
Those eyes, which had been navigating the treacherous waters of the business world for years and were filled with an air of authority, were now wide open like copper bells.
Screw his packaging! Screw his richest man status!
Today, he's going to treat this jar of pickled vegetables wrapped in mud like an ancestor and place it on the main table!
Jiang Jianguo pressed his hands firmly on the armrests of the armchair, the veins on the back of his hands bulging.
He was just about to slam his fist on the table, stand up, and start cursing at his relatives.
"What's wrong with pickled cabbage! I'm eating pickled cabbage today!"
The roar was already at the tip of his throat, about to burst forth.
At this critical moment.
A well-maintained hand, adorned with a warm, lustrous jade bracelet on its wrist, gently rested on his thigh.
The movements were very small, even appearing quite gentle.
Yet it carries an undeniable power of authority.
They forcefully pressed Jiang Jianguo, who was about to erupt in anger, back into the large armchair.
Jiang Jianguo was stunned for a moment, and his original imposing aura, like that of an angry lion, instantly waned by half.
He turned his head somewhat stiffly.
His wife, Song Wan, who was sitting next to him, was wearing an elegant Suzhou-embroidered cheongsam today.
She did not wear any elaborate or dazzling diamond jewelry.
She simply used a smooth, warm ebony hairpin to casually tie up her long hair.
That wooden hairpin was something Lin Mo casually carved and gave to her under the eaves of the courtyard house, amidst the swirling snow.
Song Wan didn't even lift her eyelids, too lazy to look at those relatives jumping around.
She picked up the thin-walled celadon teacup in front of her and gently skimmed off the floating tea leaves with the lid.
Her posture was composed and elegant, exuding a sense of sophistication that emanated from within.
She took a small sip of tea before turning her head slightly away.
He gave Jiang Jianguo a look that was neither warm nor cold, but full of pressure.
She lowered her voice, her tone flat and without any inflection.
The volume was just controlled so that only the couple could hear it.
"Shut up."
"Just watch."
Just six simple words.
Jiang Jianguo's pent-up anger was instantly extinguished as if a bucket of ice water had been poured over his head.
His Adam's apple bobbed, he swallowed hard, and obediently loosened his clenched fist.
In this family, the richest man's word is law outside.
But at home, Song Wan only needs one look to silence the richest man.
Jiang Jianguo could only grunt and lean back in his chair.
He stared intently at the empty teacup in front of him, sulking like a wronged old child who hadn't received any candy.
Just as undercurrents were swirling and the atmosphere was strange at the main table.
The scene at the VIP seats, not far from the main table, was completely different.
They are not nouveau riche businessmen reeking of money, but true titans and giants in academia and the arts.
There is Zhou Yang, a master of traditional woodworking intangible cultural heritage, and Wang Cunkou, an honorary professor of calligraphy, painting and history.
These important figures were all specially invited by Song Wan to enhance the prestige of Jiang Jianguo's birthday banquet.
At this moment, these titans sat upright and solemnly.
The deafening laughter of their relatives seemed to completely block out the outside noise.
Professor Wang Cunpu pushed up his thick glasses and stretched his neck out.
His gaze was fixed on the yellowed old newspaper rolled up in Lin Mo's right hand.
Those relatives who didn't know its value saw it as just a roll of old newspaper used to wrap fried dough sticks.
But through his high-powered glasses, Wang Cunzhen could vaguely see the texture of the paper peeking out from the edge of the newspaper.
That pale yellow hue, imbued with the patina of time.
The delicate texture that can only be produced using ancient handcrafting methods from hundreds of years ago.
It closely resembles a type of top-grade Chengxintang Xuan paper that has long since disappeared, as recorded in ancient books and documents.
Wang Cun's heart began to race uncontrollably, and even his breathing became lighter involuntarily.
She was afraid that if she breathed too loudly, she would blow away the shocking object hidden inside the rolled-up newspaper.
The woodworking master Zhou Yang, who was sitting next to him, reacted even more strongly.
This master chef shamelessly mooched meals at Lin Mo's small restaurant and even helped out by washing dishes.
At this moment, his eyes were gleaming green as he stared intently at the dusty mud jar in Lin Mo's left hand.
His Adam's apple bobbed violently, producing a clearly audible swallowing sound.
Zhou Yang knew Lin Mo, this unassuming young man, all too well.
It was something that he could carry himself, something that was sealed tightly with yellow mud and coarse cloth.
What kind of divine aged wine must that be?
Zhou Yang subconsciously touched his empty stomach.
He could almost smell the irresistible aroma of the finest wine through the thick layer of dry soil.
That aroma absolutely blows away all those so-called vintage wines that cost hundreds of thousands of yuan a bottle on the market.
The relatives at the next table were still pointing and whispering, their faces full of disgust.
"These clods of dirt are scattered all over the ground; it'll be such a hassle to clean them up later."
"Make him get out of here with this piece of junk. Just looking at this kind of lowlife makes me sick."
Hearing these offensive words, Zhou Yang finally withdrew his burning gaze.
He turned his head and glanced at the men and women dressed in gold and silver, laughing so hard they were doubled over.
There was no anger in his eyes, only a deep pity.
It was a gaze of compassion for people with intellectual disabilities, seen from a God-like perspective.
Zhou Yang sneered, picked up the tea in front of him, took a sip, and muttered under his breath.
"A bunch of blind fools who only care about the packaging."
"Treat rare treasures like trash, you deserve to only eat expensive, high-end feed for the rest of your lives."
Professor Wang Cun nodded in agreement, his gaze eagerly returning to Lin Mo's hand.
"Just wait and see what happens. In a little while, these bastards will be begging for mercy."
"When has Old Song ever made a mistake in judging people?"
On the red carpet in the very center of the hall.
Lin Mo, holding Jiang Ruoyun's hand, finally stopped in front of the rosewood table piled high with rare treasures at the main table.
Several tall, burly security guards had already quietly surrounded them.
They were clearly waiting for Jiang Jianguo's order to drag this arrogant, poor boy out.
The laughter that filled the room continued, and even seemed to be getting louder.
But Lin Mo's expression remained completely unchanged from beginning to end.
He calmly glanced at the glittering gold and silver jewelry in front of him.
He glanced again at his father-in-law, the richest man, who sat in the main seat, his face flushed and hesitant to speak.
Jiang Ruoyun nervously squeezed Lin Mo's palm.
A fine layer of cold sweat had already seeped into her palms.
Although she firmly believed in her heart that what Lin Mo took out was definitely not something ordinary.
But the oppressive scene before him was one of being condemned by everyone and having everyone waiting to see him make a fool of himself.
Any ordinary person would probably have run out of the door in shame.
Lin Mo sensed the girl's nervousness and unease.
He turned his head slightly and gave Jiang Ruoyun a reassuring smile.
That smile still had that relaxed feeling that said even if the sky were to fall, it wouldn't matter.
Then, he casually placed the crumpled old newspaper in his hand on the rosewood table.
It was placed right next to that eighty-eight-pound, glittering pure gold longevity peach.
The movements were so casual, as if he were tossing away an old, worn-out rag.
Lin Mo sighed softly.
His tone remained calm to the point of being almost infuriatingly stoic.
There was no hasty explanation, no loud defense, and no impatience to prove oneself.
He bent down slightly, as if to pick up the rolled-up newspaper again.
"It seems this gift isn't very well received."
"Since you won't accept it, I'll take it back and use it as cooking wine. The kitchen just happens to be short of it..."
Just then, Empress Dowager Song Wan, dressed in an elegant cheongsam, stood up with remarkable grace.
He bypassed Jiang Jianguo and took the wine jar, which was dripping with dirt, directly from Lin Mo's hand.
"A bunch of money-grubbing vulgar people, what do you know about the wisdom and experience gained over time?"