The True Heiress: A Multifaceted Prodigy

Chapter 3: The Old Europe

Neil was left speechless once again. "What?"

Did he hear that right?

Adding the word "Ancient" in front of "Empire" completely changed its meaning.

This was referring to the period from the 14th to the 16th century, when the Old World underwent a cultural movement that brought forth countless prominent figures in literature, art, music, and various other fields. This era marked the rise of the Old World from a period of decline.

The Old World had many royal families, but most of them no longer existed. Today, only ten royal families remained, with Y country being the leader, and each royal family had its own unique customs and etiquette.

Just one simple seating posture, and Neil couldn’t make heads or tails of it. How was this connected to the royal etiquette of the Old World?

But Neil didn’t doubt Fu Yunshen’s words.

This wealthy heir had once told him that to be a successful socialite, one needed to be knowledgeable in both the sciences and humanities.

Although Neil felt something was off, he couldn’t quite figure it out and had no choice but to accept it.

For New York’s top playboy to know about the Old World’s royal etiquette was expected. But for this adopted daughter of the Ying family, who came from the countryside? That was a different story.

Zijin opened her eyes, her expression unchanged.

She shifted into a more comfortable position, resting her chin on her hand, looking almost indifferent. "I’ve read the relevant books."

Fu Yunshen leaned back in his chair, a playful smile on his lips. "That’s an unusual hobby for a little one."

Zijin didn’t respond.

Within minutes, the food was brought out.

Han Pavilion didn’t have private rooms; instead, each table was separated by green curtains, with small incense burners placed on the tables, where different scents were used depending on the guests' preferences.

Nearby, a small stone bridge spanned a gentle stream, creating a serene, old-world atmosphere.

Zijin tilted her head slightly, her eyes gliding over the setting.

Osmanthus, rosemary, sandalwood, lavender, and agarwood—each were herbs known for their calming properties, clearly chosen for their relaxing effects.

Just a short while in this environment, and she already felt more at ease.

Zijin lowered her gaze.

The first time she arrived on Earth was in the mid-15th century.

She hadn’t expected to return, considering she was supposed to have died. Surviving hadn’t been easy.

Her injuries had been so severe that her soul was shattered. She slept for nearly seventeen years, only to wake up today, finding herself in a rather grim situation.

Her prolonged anemia had left her body extremely weak, so fragile that a simple touch could break her.

She needed an abundance of jade and herbal medicines to recover her strength and vitality.

But she was lacking money.

In the past, she had accumulated quite a bit of gold in the Old World, but after all these years, her bank had likely gone under. Who knew if her gold still existed?

Zijin pondered for a moment before asking, "Is there anything interesting to do around New York?"

"Plenty of things." Neil, clearly tipsy, burped. "You’ve been here for a while, but haven’t gone out to explore?"

"A blood donor doesn’t get freedom, does she?"

Neil was caught off guard by her bluntness.

"Here, little one. Drink this." Fu Yunshen handed her a bowl of longan and red date soup. Once she took it, he nestled comfortably into his bamboo chair. "How many times has Ying Luwei been injured this year?"

Neil paused for a moment, doing the math. "At least ten times, if you count the hospital visits."

This number surprised even him.

Everyone in New York knew Ying Luwei had hemophilia, and she was a darling of the elite circles. She was also engaged to Mo Yuan, the heir to the prestigious Mo family, and was skilled in music, art, and other talents that made her adored by the older generation.

She was practically untouchable. How could she have been injured so many times?

Neil hesitantly asked, "Boss, you didn’t…give her blood that many times, did you?"

He hesitated to finish the question. After all, who could survive multiple blood transfusions?

Zijin slowly finished the soup, narrowing her almond-shaped eyes. Her expression remained indifferent. "Probably more than that."

This body’s vitality had already been exhausted when she woke up. Now, it was only just beginning to recover, indicating how frail it had become.

"Well, that’s impressive." Fu Yunshen smiled, handing her a napkin. His voice was warm but tinged with an edge. "She could probably make it into the Guinness World Records."

Neil broke into a cold sweat.

He had known Fu Yunshen since they were kids, and he recognized the tone—when the heir used such a gentle voice, it meant he was genuinely angry.

But what could they do?

The Ying family had taken in an adopted daughter, provided for her, all for the sake of her blood. The darkness within elite families was something they had seen a lot of over the years. It didn’t shock them anymore. There were far worse things in the world.

Neil sighed and called for the waiter, trying to flatter Fu Yunshen. "Boss, eat more. Seven’s right. You need to build your strength."

Zijin gazed at her plate, which had been cleaned and refilled with pig liver. "..."

At that moment, the ornate wooden doors of Han Pavilion opened once more.

Footsteps echoed as a group of people entered.

At the front was a tall man, his silhouette commanding. His long legs were encased in black trousers that exuded strength and poise.

His face was cold, his brows sharp, and an air of distant nobility surrounded him, yet it was tempered by an undeniable, deadly masculinity.

Even the waitstaff couldn’t help but straighten up upon seeing him.

This was Mo Yuan, the third son of the Mo family.

A prominent figure, heir to one of the city’s most powerful families, possessing beauty, status, and power.

The most eligible bachelor in New York.

The manager hurried to greet him, respectful but not servile. "Mr. Mo, your reserved table is over here. Please follow me."

Mo Yuan nodded and stepped forward.

Just then, his secretary leaned in and whispered, "Mr. Mo."

The secretary pointed in the direction of a table.

Mo Yuan frowned but turned to follow the secretary’s gaze. His expression darkened.

The frail-looking girl was sitting on a bamboo chair, her head tilted to one side. Her expression seemed conflicted, as if something had happened, and she was uncomfortable.

And sitting beside her was none other than Fu Yunshen.

The notorious playboy of the Fu family, whose reputation was far from pristine.

As if something clicked in his mind, Mo Yuan’s frown deepened, and he walked briskly toward the table, leaving his entourage to exchange glances behind him.

They all knew Mo Yuan well—he never showed his emotions. What could possibly have caused this reaction?

"The third young master has gone to discipline a disobedient junior. He will return shortly," the secretary explained apologetically to the others. "Please, make yourselves comfortable."