The Billionaire's Multiplier System-Chapter 81 - 82 – The Forked Tongues of Velvet

Silence had never been so crowded.

The Heliantheas Dinner had begun, yet no formal speech followed. No raised glasses. Only the delicate clinking of fine silver against porcelain and the quiet hum of conversations—each one veiled, cautious, strategic.

Lin Feng sat with poise, his gaze meeting and moving from one pair of eyes to another like a practiced diplomat. Opposite him, Luo Zixuan appeared relaxed, shoulders draped over the back of his chair, his smile effortless but his gaze sharp like a scalpel.

To Lin’s right sat Guo Yuwei, wine untouched, hands neatly folded on her lap. Beside her, Luo Bingqing whispered to the server about the origin of the fish with her usual irreverent tone. On Lin’s left, Qin Yuyan’s presence was like still ink—calm, graceful, and unreadable. Li Ruoxi sat diagonally across the table, resting her chin on her fingers while observing every wordless exchange with eyes that calculated more than they expressed.

"Mr. Lin," Zixuan began, voice soft enough to sound innocent but loud enough to silence nearby chatter, "I must say, you’ve made waves. In just three months, your name has replaced several legacy heirs in circles they thought belonged to them by birthright."

Lin cut a piece of meat, chewed once, and smiled. "I didn’t know I was trespassing."

Zixuan laughed. "No, no. Not trespassing. You kicked the door in politely. That’s a rare skill."

"Doors are funny that way," Lin replied. "Sometimes they’re closed for your protection. Other times, they’re just waiting for someone to realize the lock was fake."

The smile on Zixuan’s face twitched, but didn’t falter.

Lu Tianye, seated at the head of the table, cleared his throat with theatrical softness. "I remember when Zixuan tried to break into the gold-backed property market without waiting for board clearance. Took me a week to undo the chaos."

Zixuan didn’t flinch. "And I remember how quickly you bought the dip."

Soft laughter. A few exchanged looks.

Then, from farther down the table, a new voice entered the dance.

"Chaos," it said, "is just opportunity misdiagnosed."

Lin turned. The speaker was a woman he hadn’t met—elegant, mid-30s, sharp chin, lips painted in a bruised rose hue. Her dress was white silk, but the way she wore it made it seem more dangerous than demure.

"I don’t believe we’ve met," Lin said.

"Jiang Lanyue," she replied smoothly. "I manage inheritance transitions for high-net-worth families. Some say I’m the one they call when old money wants to stay relevant."

"She’s a vulture," Ruoxi added mildly, not looking up. "But in heels."

"I prefer the term ’strategic preservationist,’" Lanyue replied, her eyes on Lin. "And I’ve had my eye on you."

"That sounds flattering."

"It’s not," she replied. "It’s curious. You’ve made a lot of emotional investments lately. Very little concrete foundation. Yet, somehow, your market value keeps increasing."

Lin leaned back slightly. "It’s strange how confidence works, isn’t it? People see others believe, and suddenly that belief becomes reality."

"Or delusion," she said, sipping her wine.

Guo Yuwei interjected calmly. "Funny thing about delusions. They tend to collapse under pressure. But Lin hasn’t collapsed yet."

Lanyue tilted her head. "Not yet."

"Don’t test it," Bingqing muttered, eyes flicking from her glass to the woman.

Tension danced across the table like a slow flame.

The servers returned with a second course—something rare, expensive, and so delicately prepared it looked more like art than sustenance. Lin barely noticed. He was watching how the table was moving, how eyes shifted to track reactions. This wasn’t dinner.

This was an arena.

Zixuan raised his glass. "Let’s not scare our guest away. Mr. Lin has clearly learned how to walk on velvet."

Ruoxi turned her head slowly. "Velvet stains worse than blood if you spill something important on it."

Zixuan blinked.

Then he laughed. "You’re always poetic, Ruoxi. Is that why you follow him?"

"I don’t follow anyone," she replied. "But I do recognize when someone is rewriting the room’s balance."

She turned back to her wine, ending the moment as sharply as she had entered it. novelbuddy-cσ๓

The lights in the hall shifted just slightly—enough for Lin to realize that it wasn’t random. No cue was accidental here. It was time for the informal round.

The event wasn’t just dinner. It was a chess match with side rooms, cigar lounges, art showcases, and corners where favors were traded without a single contract.

As guests began to rise and break into quieter circles, Lin caught Qin Yuyan’s eye.

"Walk with me?" he asked.

She nodded.

They moved into a marble corridor lined with modern sculptures, the quiet more intimate than sterile.

"Your silence back there was louder than any speech," Lin said.

"I didn’t come here to interrupt noise," Yuyan replied. "I came to listen to your silence."

He looked at her. "And what did it say?"

"That you’re standing on a wire so thin, even the air around you doesn’t know which way it wants to fall."

He exhaled. "Feels that way."

"You handled them well. Zixuan. Lanyue. Even Tianye. But they’re not interested in your words. They’re waiting for your habits."

"Habits?"

"How you respond when the pressure isn’t theatrical. When it’s real. Personal."

Lin was quiet for a while. Then he turned to her.

"And what do you see when you look at me right now?"

She paused. "I see someone who could lose everything if he starts thinking his presence is enough to keep them."

That struck deeper than he wanted to admit.

Before he could answer, a soft voice echoed from the far end of the hall.

"Lin."

Li Ruoxi stood near a painting—a dark, oil-heavy portrait of a battle. She looked smaller in this space. Or maybe just more exposed.

"I’ll give you a moment," Yuyan said, drifting away.

Lin approached.

"You were right," Ruoxi said.

"About what?"

"This isn’t a dinner. It’s a test. And you passed the opening round. But I saw the way they looked at you. They don’t want to fight you yet. They want to understand your weapon first."

He stepped beside her. "And you?"

"I already know your weapon."

"What is it?"

She looked at him, expression unreadable.

"Belief. You make people believe in something that doesn’t exist yet. That’s terrifying."

He looked down. "I don’t know if that’s a compliment or a warning."

"It’s both."

A long silence passed between them.

"You said something earlier," Lin murmured. "About velvet staining worse than blood."

Ruoxi nodded. "Because blood fades. Scandal doesn’t."

"Will I be scandal?"

"That depends," she said, voice quieter now. "On whether you use people as shields or walk in front of them when the bullets come."

He looked into her eyes.

"I don’t use shields."

"Then make sure the people beside you believe that too."

He nodded once. "I will."

For the first time that night, Ruoxi smiled—not the cutting, ironic smile she used in rooms full of enemies, but a smaller one. Almost vulnerable.

"Then maybe," she said, "you deserve to be here after all."

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