The Swapped Heir Came Home Hungry novel · Chapter 1 of 24
Chapter 1: The Bun in the Courtyard
The real Jiang heir arrives with a bag of steamed buns, refuses eight million yuan to go home quietly, and learns a second report says he is no relation to anyone in the house.
Wei Anzhi was the real Jiang heir, and he came home with a plastic bag of steamed buns.
The family had been told he would arrive at noon to be taught his place.
Forty servants stood in the front courtyard to watch him learn it.
They all looked at the bag.
Anzhi had bought the buns at a highway rest stop, six for ten yuan, because nobody in the car had offered him lunch.
"Little Master," said an old man in a black jacket, bowing low. "Welcome home. I am the butler of this house."
"Thank you, uncle," said Anzhi. "Is there somewhere I can set this down? It's still warm."
Nobody moved.
On the steps above, a handsome young man in a pale sweater stood very straight with his hands folded.
That was Jiang Yuan, the son the Jiang family had raised for twenty-two years, who was not their son.
Beside him a silver-haired man with a kind square face was smiling at Anzhi.
"Servants carry bags in this house," said a voice from the corridor.
The man who walked out of it was tall and lean and wore a dark suit with no tie.
He had a thin pair of reading glasses in his hand, and he did not put them on to look at Anzhi.
He did not need to.
"It's lunch," said Anzhi.
"Then eat it in your room."
"I haven't eaten since six this morning."
"Wei Anzhi," said the man. "I am Jiang Linchuan. You will learn that we do not eat in courtyards."
"Cousin Lin," said Anzhi, because the driver had told him the title on the road.
"Nobody ever told me what you do with a hungry person in this house."
The silver-haired man laughed softly, and a few servants looked at the paving stones.
Anzhi took a bun out of the bag.
He ate it in four bites, standing in the middle of the Jiang courtyard, and he chewed every one.
Then he took a second bun out of the bag and held it out to the butler.
"Uncle, you must be hungry too. Please."
The old butler looked at the bun.
For a moment his mouth tightened, and then he took it, and bowed again, and put it carefully in his pocket.
"Thank you, Little Master," he said.
Linchuan watched all of it without a word.
Then he turned on his heel. "Madam Su is waiting in the study. Bring him."
The study was on the second courtyard, with a red lacquer desk and a window onto a pond of dead lotus leaves.
A woman of forty-nine sat behind the desk in a grey silk jacket.
She wore a jade bracelet on one thin wrist, and a white envelope lay in front of her.
Her face was beautiful and tired, and it did not move when Anzhi came in.
"Sit," said Madam Su.
He sat. Linchuan stayed standing by the window.
"The laboratory is certain," Madam Su said. "I am less certain."
She folded her hands. "The family doctor says my son's blood type cannot belong to my husband and me. The test says you can."
"I know," said Anzhi. "I did the cheek swab at the feed store. Dad said it was a flu survey."
"You were raised in a shop."
"A feed store. We sell sacks of corn and pig supplement. I keep the books."
"My son was raised to run a company," said Madam Su.
She said it without cruelty, as a fact.
That was somehow worse.
She pushed the envelope across the desk.
"There is a bank card in there," said Madam Su. "Eight million yuan. Your parents' loan will be cleared by tomorrow."
"You will go back to Siyang as Wei Anzhi. The Jiang family will thank you, and nobody outside this room will ever know."
Anzhi looked at the envelope.
Six hundred thousand yuan was the loan on the store, after Dad's heart surgery.
Eight million would pay it thirteen times, and fix the roof, and buy Ma a new back brace.
He had done the sums on the drive without meaning to.
"Take it," said Linchuan from the window.
His voice was flat and low.
Anzhi turned in the chair. "You want me to?"
"I think this house will be unkind to you," said Linchuan. "I would rather you were unkind to it from a distance."
"It already looked at my bag."
"It will do worse than look."
Anzhi turned back to Madam Su.
"Did you want to find me?" he asked.
Her bracelet clicked on the desk.
"I wanted to know," she said. "I did not want you."
It was the truest thing anyone had said to him since he got into the car.
He found that it hurt less than he expected, because it was clear.
"Thank you for saying it plainly," Anzhi said. "Ma would have lied. She'd have been nicer, though."
He picked up the envelope and set it back, square, in front of her.
"I'm not taking this."
"You are twenty-two," said Madam Su. "You have never held that much money in your life."
"I've held a lot of receipts. Money that's paid to make a person go away is the worst kind."
Linchuan's head turned.
"I'll stay thirty days," said Anzhi. "I'll learn your house."
"If in thirty days I've shamed it, I'll sign whatever Madam likes. If I haven't, I'd like to be called what I am."
"And what is that?" said Madam Su.
"Hungry, mostly," said Anzhi. "But also your husband's son."
The room was quiet.
On the pond outside, a single dead leaf turned over in the water.
Madam Su looked at him for a long moment, and then, to his surprise, she looked at Linchuan.
"Tell him," she said.
Linchuan put his glasses on.
"Wei Anzhi. A second laboratory report reached the family this morning."
"Saying what?" asked Anzhi.
"That the first report is wrong. That you are no relation to anyone in this house."
The bun sat suddenly heavy in Anzhi's stomach.
"Who sent it?"
"Second Uncle. The silver one on the steps," said Linchuan. "He has asked the trustees to rule on which report is true."
His face did not change.
"The shareholders will sit in thirty days. You have as long as you asked for."
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