Reading on mobile phone: Yang Jiajun held the key with a sincere expression. However, Zhou Muzi, the e-book reader, showed no intention of accepting the gift. As the atmosphere began to feel cold, one of her roommates quickly stepped in, saying, "Qin, what kind of gift are you planning to give to Si Si? Is it just that three-layer cake?" With these words, everyone's attention immediately turned to Qin Feng. The size of the birthday cake had already been outdone by Yang Shao; if Qin Feng's gift didn't match up to Yang's, it would truly be a loss. Everyone was certain that Yang Shao would win, since his gift was valued at over 50 million. Qin Feng smiled gently and said, "Actually, I've prepared a gift!" He flipped his hand, and a jade pendant glimmered softly in his palm under the light—this was a high-grade jade, specifically a classic emerald. "Is this really that green?" one of his roommates remarked, raising an eyebrow. If this is truly jade of grandmother-green quality, the pendant's value will be significantly elevated. As the saying goes, "gold has a price, but jade does not"—exactly this principle. Especially in recent years, with the dwindling supply of raw jade materials, prices have soared by tenfold, or even several times that. Yang Jiajun narrowed his eyes, beginning to believe the jade was genuine. Just a few days ago, he had attended a jade exhibition and sales event where he saw a piece of jade with a color and luster very similar to this one, priced at 120 million. Although the exhibition prices often contain a significant markup and differ greatly from actual selling prices, the fact that a piece was priced at 120 million suggests it is of truly excellent quality. "It's so beautiful, I really love it,姐... Husband, would you mind wearing it for me?" Zhou Muzi knew he wouldn't be deceiving her with a fake piece, given the number of valuable items he already held. "Of course, if you like it, I'll wear it for you." He stood up, fastened the pendant around her pale neck, the jade reflecting off her fair skin and making it even more vibrant green. She demonstrated her stance clearly, never glancing back at Yang Jiajun's key once. Yang Jiajun's eyes darkened with resentment; the key felt like a burden in his hands—uncertain whether to hold it on, or to tuck it back into his coat pocket. "Sisi, Yang Jian has put in so much effort," their roommate persisted, still advocating for Yang. Zhou Muzhi huffed, "His gift is too precious—I simply can't afford it, Yang Jian. Thank you for booking the room today, but my boyfriend will cover that expense. You needn't worry about it. Also, your cake is lovely, though—I'd still prefer to eat the one my boyfriend brought. As for yours, you might want to share it with others who'd like it—perhaps my three roommates!" The three roommates blushed deeply, clearly sensing that Zhou Muzhi was implying they were being self-serving. Yang Jiajun was utterly embarrassed. He had assumed that presenting a villa worth five million would win over the beautiful woman, but to his surprise, she barely glanced at it. Two months ago, he had stumbled upon photos of Zhou Muzhi from the Beijing Film Academy and instantly fallen in love. He leveraged all his connections and finally managed to secure an opportunity to meet her. Since then, he launched a steady campaign of courtship. But just when he was building momentum, Zhou Muzhi took leave to return to the Plain Province—reportedly to celebrate her aunt’s birthday. Later, news broke that she had been appointed as a brand ambassador for a company. As a result, Yang waited for over forty days. When his goddess finally returned, she arrived in a luxurious sports car—more expensive than the one he often drove to impress potential dates—and it was also reported that she now had a boyfriend. Yet Yang Jiajun wasn't giving up. He believed he still had a chance. In the capital, no one dared to compete with him for a girl—let alone those provincial outsiders from outside the capital who had never seen the world. How could Zhou Muzi possibly choose someone so ordinary? Moreover, he felt a greater sense of achievement in reclaiming Zhou Muzi from others' hands. But now, that sense of achievement had turned into a complete and open embarrassment. He sat down angrily, finished off the glass of red wine in one go, and forced a smile, asking, "This friend seems rather new to me. Could you tell me where you're from?" Qin Feng replied, "I'm still in school. I'm a second-year student at Pingplain University." Yang Jiajun’s eyes flashed with a touch of disdain as he asked, “Where did your parents work? I’m not trying to outshine you—just hoping to become friends. My mother is the chairman of Shiyu Group, which isn’t exactly a big company; it’s somewhere in the mid-tier of the Fortune 500. My father is a vice minister at the Ministry of Industry and Information Technology—definitely not a top-tier official. Heh!” He spoke with a composed, open demeanor, as if revealing all his cards. Qin Feng shrugged and said, “My parents have both passed away—there’s simply no way I can compare with you.” “That’s truly unfortunate,” Yang said, feigning deep sorrow. Zhou Muzi couldn’t hold back any longer and said, “Yang Jiajun, just compare yourself directly with Feng. Isn’t it a bit of a stretch to keep playing the ‘family background’ game?” The roommate protested, “Muzi, you’re being unfair. Yang is a truly exceptional talent. Even without relying on his family connections, he’d still outshine many of us!” “Of course,” she replied, “he’s not just a wealthy "Qin Feng smiled and said, 'We really can't compare, since we're not the same generation!' Yang Jiajun thought he was giving in and smiled, saying, 'We're all the same age—what's the point of talking about generations?' 'No, it's you who's off in terms of generations,' Qin Feng said, waving a single finger, speaking calmly and deliberately. 'You're a second-generation wealthy and political family, while I'm a first-generation wealthy and political family. By generation, you should at least call me uncle!' Thud... Yang Shao slammed his palm on the table, his face darkening. 'What did you just say!' 'Exactly—what right do you have to call yourself a first-generation official and first-generation wealthy?' His roommate remained firmly on Yang Jiajun's side. Qin Feng stared at Yang Shao's face and said, "I'm the chairman of Qin Group. You're the son of a chairman—so I'm one generation older than you. Your father was a vice minister; what about you? What position do you hold? Let me be honest—I'm a major in the Ministry of National Defense. Of course, in terms of rank, I don't surpass your father, but I'm younger. If I were to reach your father's age and only ended up as a vice minister, I'd simply collapse from despair!" Zhou Muzi added, "Can you really act so confident in front of someone from the first generation?" The three roommates were stunned. While they might not have heard of other companies before, that was understandable. But Qin Group has been rising rapidly lately—its cosmetics are in high demand, and everyone knows about the company. Combined with your status as a major, you'd instantly outshine any peer of the same generation.