The second venue of the charity event was arranged like a grand opera. A vast stage dominated the front, bathed in dynamic light displays, with vibrant music building the atmosphere.
Crystal glasses sparkled under the lighting, reflecting soft prismatic halos across the room. Rows of finely set tables stretched across the floor, each attended by elegant waitresses guiding guests to their designated seats.
Chen Mo and Xiao Yu were ushered to theirs by one such hostess.
As soon as they sat, subtle glances flicked their way.
Xiao Yu's presence was hard to ignore. Her gentle but noble temperament—refined yet approachable—eclipsed the well-dressed women nearby, some of whom had carefully chosen their outfits hoping to catch the attention of wealthy elites.
But with Xiao Yu seated beside Chen Mo, the spotlight shifted decisively.
Several women at the same table watched her with barely concealed envy.
One woman with heavy makeup leaned forward, curious. "Which company are you from?"
"Marching Ant Company," Xiao Yu replied politely.
"The Marching Ants?" Another guest, a man with a polished appearance, raised his brows. "That company's president, Zhao Min, was invited to this event. Given her status, she should've been seated at one of the lead tables, alongside major corporate presidents and directors. I thought she was attending in person."
"She couldn't make it," Chen Mo replied casually.
"She sent you instead?" the man asked, clearly skeptical. "Isn't that a bit... informal?"
Chen Mo simply smiled.
Xiao Yu whispered to him, "These events are very particular about seating. Like in award shows—first-line stars are front row. The less famous? Way in the back."
"So we're the 18th-line guests, huh?" Chen Mo laughed softly and speared a piece of fruit from the tray, handing it to Xiao Yu.
"Should I go talk to someone?" she asked.
"No need. It's just a charity dinner. Who cares about seating?" Chen Mo said lightly.
Xiao Yu nodded. With him here, she didn't mind.
Suddenly, a stir spread across their section.
Yao Yi had arrived at their table.
People nearby lowered their voices, stealing glances.
The Secretary of Binhai City, walking over in person?
"Chen Mo, my little brother!" Yao Yi beamed, stepping up. "I had to ask a couple waiters just to find you. Why are you tucked all the way back here?"
Gasps and whispers buzzed around the table.
Chen Mo?
Little brother?!
This wasn't something you heard every day—especially from a figure like Yao Yi, a man feared by half the elite youth in Binhai for his iron-fisted leadership.
The others at the table were frozen, expressions stiff. The skeptical man from earlier was now staring at Chen Mo like he'd just watched a magic trick.
Chen Mo shrugged. "No status, I guess. This was the seat we were given."
Yao Yi laughed and sat beside him. "Mind if I join you?"
"You're more than welcome."
"I was just looking for someone to talk to," Yao Yi said. "Everyone else tries too hard to please me—it's exhausting."
"True. These events are pretty dull," Chen Mo chuckled. "But at least I've got my girlfriend with me to make it bearable."
"You knew this would happen if you came tonight, didn't you?" Chen Mo asked playfully.
"I figured you'd show up," Yao Yi admitted, smirking. "Besides, I came to do some good. But it's the business people like you who are the real stars tonight. I'm just here to raise the bidding price."
"So you're here to squeeze money out of us?"
"Exactly," Yao Yi laughed. "And I started with you."
Nearby guests watched in stunned silence. They'd never seen Yao Yi—known for his stern public face—smile and joke like this. Especially not with a young man they'd never seen before.
But before they could recover, another wave rippled through the room.
Dong Zhu had entered.
A poised, elegant woman in her forties, she was one of China's most influential business leaders—crowned "Businesswoman of the Year" by Forbes the previous year. As the president of Gerry Group, her appearance raised eyebrows and heart rates.
"She's here too?"
"That's Dong Zhu...!"
"Even she came? I want to sit at that table..."
She made her way across the venue, eyes scanning the room, before landing on Yao Yi.
"Secretary Yao," she greeted gracefully. "Are you looking for someone in particular tonight? Can you introduce me?"
She glanced at Chen Mo and Xiao Yu curiously. Their poise and appearance certainly stood out.
Yao Yi leaned toward her and said in a low voice: "Let me formally introduce you. That's Chen Mo, Chairman of Marching Ant Company."
Dong Zhu's eyes widened slightly.
Even someone as seasoned as her drew a quiet breath.
The Marching Ant Company had rocketed into the spotlight over the last six months. With a market value soaring past 150 billion, it had become a symbol of modern Chinese tech power. Zhao Min, the public face, was already being hailed as the next great industry titan.
But no one had expected the actual chairman to be this young.
Dong Zhu immediately stepped forward and extended her hand. "Mr. Chen, it's a pleasure. I'm Dong Zhu, from Gerry Group."
Chen Mo rose politely and returned the handshake. "Ms. Dong, I've heard much about you. It's an honor."
Their exchange sent another shockwave through nearby guests. Dong Zhu, the legendary business magnate, had just introduced herself to a man half her age—with respect and deference.
"Why are you sitting back here, Mr. Chen?" Dong Zhu asked, amused.
"No one knows me, I guess," Chen Mo replied with a smile. "I'm not exactly famous."
"I was lucky to have met him once before," Yao Yi added. "Otherwise I wouldn't have known either."
Dong Zhu nodded slowly. She'd met Zhao Min a few times and had always assumed she was the company's core. She never imagined the real decision-maker was this young.
"You should join our table," she said, gesturing toward the front. "It'll be easier to talk, and I'd love to introduce you to a few friends."
Several others leaned forward slightly, eager to see how Chen Mo would respond.
Chen Mo smiled. "Sure."
He stood up with Xiao Yu beside him.
And just like that, they walked with Yao Yi and Dong Zhu to the VIP table—leaving behind stunned stares and silenced murmurs.
The question hanging in the air was no longer about seats or introductions.
It was simple:
Who is this guy?