Just as the group was chatting animatedly, the atmosphere at the banquet hall entrance suddenly changed.
The previously casual chatter gradually died down. Many people stopped what they were doing and turned their eyes toward the entrance as if by prior agreement.
Guests who had been chatting in the corners rose one after another, setting their glasses on the tables. Their faces shifted into more formal smiles, their relaxed postures becoming upright and proper.
The young people whispering in the corners were also signaled by their elders. They straightened their collars and skirts, then headed toward the entrance.
Before long, quite a few people had gathered near the entrance, forming a semicircular welcoming line.
Xinhai followed everyone's gaze—
Three people were entering through the doors.
Leading them was a middle-aged man in his forties. He wore a finely tailored dark gray suit, a white shirt, and a silver-gray tie. His dark brown hair was meticulously combed.
His features were handsome and deeply defined, and his brows carried an innate sense of authority—unforced, yet impossible to overlook.
Yet that authority did not feel oppressive. Instead, it was like a steady mountain standing silently in place, making people instinctively want to look up at him.
A faint smile rested on his lips, perfectly measured—not distant, yet not overly warm.
Following behind him were two boys who looked to be fifteen or sixteen.
Their features were nearly identical—equally deep-set eyes and brows, equally high noses, equally sharp jawlines.
They wore matching black suits, white shirts, and black ties. Even their hair was the same color, a deep brown that was almost black.
But on closer inspection, subtle differences could still be seen.
The boy on the left had his hair neatly slicked back, exposing his smooth forehead. A faint smile hung at the