CHAPTER 527: 208 SETTLING ACCOUNTS_2

In a flash, he recalled the boy who had been embarrassed by that punk Liang Cai at the clubhouse last time. If memory served him right, the boy was one of the popular contestants in the youth idol competition.

The boss had stood up for him back then.

Just when Huang Xi was feeling a bit disappointed, Feng Yueyang suddenly glanced his way and said, "Deliver the tickets to the company and hand them to my assistant."

Huang Xi was taken aback for a moment before promptly responding with excitement, "Rest assured, Mr. Feng, it’ll definitely be the best seats."

Feng Yueyang nodded, and as Shen You’an caught up to him, the two walked away shoulder to shoulder.

Huang Xi scratched his head, staring at their retreating backs, and sighed, "Mr. Feng has changed so much he’s hardly recognizable."

They used to run in the same circles. Huang Xi knew Feng Yueyang’s character too well—your typical spoiled rich kid. Back then, the circle even joked about how many days Feng Yueyang could go without changing his clothes, though he changed girlfriends faster than outfits.

From enchanting female models to innocent schoolgirls, there wasn’t anyone he didn’t fancy.

When Feng Chi ran into trouble, everyone assumed Feng Yueyang’s good days were over. But instead, he straightened himself up, and his name was now practically legendary within the circle.

When those friends in the circle spoke of Feng Yueyang’s transformation, Huang Xi hadn’t paid it much mind. Seeing it firsthand today, he had to admit the change was remarkable. All traces of his previous debauchery were gone; in every move, he carried the demeanor of someone at the top, even more imposing than his uncle, who was a seasoned businessman.

Huang Xi muttered to himself, "Three days apart, and you must see someone in a new light."

The sounds of false pleasantries and clinking glasses seeped through the ajar door, making Huang Xi frown in disgust. He still wasn’t used to places like this.

"Young Master Huang, who were you just speaking to?" A questioning voice sounded behind him.

Huang Xi snapped, "None of your business!"

The boy covered his mouth with a giggle, his bashful expression nearly making Huang Xi sick.

"What are you laughing at? What’s so funny?"

Huang Xi stomped his foot.

"I know Young Master Huang doesn’t like me. Young Master Huang likes Rong Xianning. But what a pity—he’s President Ding’s darling. For events like this, President Ding would never let him come. Unlike me—nobody cares about me; I’m just a stray weed."

The boy’s tone carried a hint of self-pity.

"Shut up already! With your effeminate demeanor, you couldn’t gain fame even in eight lifetimes."

Huang Xi turned and stormed off as if being chased by a wild dog, his pace exceedingly quick.

Behind him, the boy stared at Huang Xi’s back, a shadow passing over his gaze.

"Xu Si." A voice called out from inside the private room.

The boy’s face instantly regained its grin, and he cheerfully returned to the room.

"Mr. He, you called for me?"

"I was just speaking with Mr. Huang. I told him you’re particularly good—talented, especially in Kunqu opera. Mr. Huang happens to be a theater fan, and hearing that you can perform Kunqu immediately sparked his interest."

The boy’s brow slightly furrowed for a brief second but quickly filled his face with smiles, turning to the man in the seat of honor. "So, Mr. Huang likes opera, huh? You should’ve said so earlier—it’s my specialty."

With that, the boy gestured smoothly, his movements fluid as the wind. His other hand positioned in a delicate orchid-like pose, the slender fingers curling like a crescent moon, soft and boneless—a truly extraordinary sight.

Mr. Huang’s eyes instantly lit up. When a true artist reveals their craft, it’s instantly evident.

"’Blossoms in full bloom, vibrant colors spreading wide. Yet all such beauty shall fade into abandoned wells and crumbling walls...’"

The singing was graceful and intricate, with transitions of tempo and intonation meticulously crafted. It was as if the audience had been pulled into the world of traditional theater.

The boy sang a few lines and shyly said, "I haven’t practiced in a while; I must be rusty. I hope Mr. Huang won’t mind."

"Clap, clap, clap!" The sound of applause echoed.

Mr. Huang’s eyes gleamed as he turned to the man seated nearby. "Mr. He, you’ve discovered a true gem."

The man chuckled, saying, "Mr. Huang, too much praise can make a young man arrogant."

"Ah, but singing this well deserves praise," Mr. Huang said, turning to the boy, who appeared slightly uneasy. "Judging by your voice and technique, you must’ve studied under the Qingyan Sect. Back in the day, it was Kunqu’s premier school—so popular that entire streets would empty to hear them. The lead male role, Mei Mengjun, was more famous than any current pop star or celebrity. It’s such a pity that these intangible cultural treasures have declined over time."

The boy’s gaze dimmed, his lashes lowering.

"Mr. Huang, you’re so insightful."

He neither confirmed nor denied the claim.

"Mr. Huang, just look at this boy’s posture—absolutely dignified. He must have endured tremendous effort mastering the fundamentals of theater from a young age, and his vocal technique is unparalleled compared to other contestants. If he doesn’t debut, wouldn’t that be a terrible waste?"

Mr. Huang nodded in approval. "Indeed. Just being a Qingyan Sect successor is reason enough for a debut slot. My word counts for something—I, Huang Qi, guarantee it."