As soon as they entered the house and sat down, just as Jiang Siming had expected,
the red envelopes from Zhao Xiaoxiao's family flew toward Zhao Xiaoxiao and Xiao Luoyu like snowflakes.
By rights, why would the World's Richest Man need red envelopes? But they were simply tokens of affection from relatives and friends, so Jiang Siming accepted them all.
Xiao Luoyu's little backpack came in handy. It was perfect for carrying the red envelopes.
Jiang Siming reciprocated in kind, giving each of the children among the Zhao family's relatives a large red envelope.
Once the red-envelope ceremony ended, it was time for chatting and catching up.
Jiang Siming sat majestically in the living room, surrounded by Zhao family relatives, young and old.
He chatted with them amiably, as if making casual conversation, taking the initiative every time.
If he did not speak first, no one would have dared to strike up a conversation with him.
They were relatives, yes, but Jiang Siming's status was simply too lofty. Even as relatives, they still did not dare speak carelessly to him.
It was like having CEO Ma or the CEO of JD.com sitting in front of you. Would you dare say whatever came to mind?
Of course not. You would sit obediently at the side and only reply after he spoke.
That was normal and entirely understandable.
So Jiang Siming did not want the atmosphere to become awkward, nor did he want to put on airs like some great lord and keep people Thousands of Miles Away.
He took the initiative to chat with them, asking the elderly about their health, the middle-aged about their families and children, the young people whether they were married, and the children how they had done on their exams.
They were all utterly "ordinary" questions.