The Urban Heir to the Uncanny Way

Moonlight streamed through the grilles of an old apartment window, spilling across Jiang Chen's face, a face so beautiful it put even women to shame. His sharply angled brows swept back toward his temples, and his nose rose like a mountain peak, outlining a flawless profile. His peach-blossom eyes always held the faintest hint of a smile, their corners tilted just enough to make even a stray dog feel cherished. His skin was fair and smooth, almost translucent, yet the Adam's apple at his throat gave off an unmistakably masculine allure. He wore a loose white T-shirt and a pair of faded, ripped jeans, but somehow even this simple outfit gave him the air of a top male model. The neighborhood aunties always clicked their tongues when they saw him. “That Jiang family boy looks like he stepped right out of a painting. What a shame he’s a useless charlatan.” But in the author's eyes, he was “perfectly ordinary”: the kind of “perfectly ordinary” man who could make a ninety-year-old woman turn around in the street, make a female traffic cop forget to write him a ticket, and make a female sorceress from the enemy camp go easy on him. At that moment, he was sprawled lazily on the sofa, turning a Five Emperors coin that shimmered with a green light between his long fingers. He smiled at the ravishing widow on the other end of a video call. “Mrs. Wang, there’s nothing wrong with the feng shui in your home. The real question is… have you been hearing a child cry in the middle of the night lately?” The ravishing widow on screen instantly turned deathly pale and nodded pitifully.