Hong Kong variety show: The mastermind behind the scenes is emerging.

December 31st, the last day of the year.

Lubbers Castle was bustling with activity from the morning. Giovanni got up before dawn and directed a dozen or so waiters in white shirts and black vests to move around the castle.

Fresh holly branches, still glistening with dew, were placed on either side of the fireplace in the hall; every three steps on the stair railing was a bunch of dried lavender tied with a gold ribbon; the long dining table had been rearranged and covered with a deep red hand-embroidered tablecloth that Sofia had ordered from Milan; and the candlesticks had all been replaced with brand-new brass tall-legged models, their ivory white candles burning softly.

At four o'clock in the afternoon, the sofa area also started to get lively.

This is a semi-open space enclosed by three Florentine handmade leather sofas, with a handmade wool rug from Sicily on the floor, depicting Poseidon, the sea god from ancient Greek mythology, riding his chariot out of the waves.

Ruan Mei sat closest to the fireplace, an Italian fashion magazine spread open on her lap—she didn't understand Italian very well, but it was enough for her to read the styles. She flipped to a page of Hermès' winter collection and patted Lai Di, who was knitting next to her, on the shoulder: "Look at this one, won't this color make A-Chen look darker?"

Lai Di stopped her needlework, tilted her head to look at it, and thought about it seriously: "No, this dark gray suits his skin tone, and he's not dark-skinned to begin with."

"That's because he sits in the office all day." Ruan Mei chuckled and turned to the next page of the magazine.

Ah Ngo and Ho Man squeezed together on either side of the armrest of a single sofa, reading a gossip magazine they had brought from Hong Kong Island. The cover featured a scandal involving Lung Wai—the headline read "Kung Fu Superstar Lung Wai Meets a Mysterious Man Late at Night," accompanied by a picture of Lung Wai intimately embracing a burly man in front of Lan Kwai Fong.

Ah-E held up the weekly magazine in front of Qiu-Di, and He-Min laughed so hard she almost slipped off the sofa armrest: "Sister Qiu-Di, is this news true—"

Qiu Di was peeling a Sicilian blood orange without even lifting her eyelids: "It's fake. It seems that Long Wei drank too much that day. His bodyguard boldly helped him upstairs, but Long Wei thought she was a fan girl and started hugging and cuddling him."

After saying that, Qiu Di couldn't help but laugh.

Across from the sofa, Laura sat cross-legged on Poseidon's face, sketching Coke and Sprite in a sketchbook.

Cola was sprawled out in front of the fireplace, its hind legs stretched out and resting on Sprite's back. Sprite didn't bother with it, only occasionally turning its ears back to show its displeasure.

Laura's pencil moved quickly across the paper, occasionally glancing up at Cola's sleeping posture.

Ba Wang Hua and Ruan Wen sat by the window. On this rare holiday, Ba Wang Hua finally didn't wear her signature black blazer. Instead, she changed into a light gray cashmere cardigan and looked much more relaxed.

Ruan Wen sat opposite her, holding a phone, remotely directing Ishii Oren to handle some matters in Takamagahara.

Sofia sat in the main seat, holding Gemma in her arms. Gemma was wearing a red Christmas sweater today, with a little reindeer embroidered on the chest, grinning foolishly. She was also tightly clutching the pink dinosaur that Xiao Luqian had given her—this doll had now become her favorite thing.

Every five seconds, Sofia would reach out and pull the dinosaur's tail out of her mouth, and Gemma would shove it back in. It was like a quiet but persistent tug-of-war.

Paloma sat next to Sofia, holding a cup of hot cocoa. Every now and then, she would steal a glance at Lu Chen, who was sitting on the opposite sofa playing with his son, before quickly looking away.

She wore a beige turtleneck sweater today, her hair was loose and draped over her shoulders, giving her a more homely and gentle look than usual.

Lai Di noticed her gaze, smiled slightly, but it was nothing, and she continued knitting.

As for Xiao Luqian, he was lying on the carpet in front of the fireplace, using his excavator model to push a piece of charcoal he had picked up from beside the fireplace. The charcoal left a gray-black trail on the carpet, stretching from Poseidon's trident all the way to the wheels of Neptune's chariot.

Cola was awakened by the sound of him pushing the charcoal. He opened one eye to look, then closed it again. Sprite, on the other hand, stood up, walked over to Lu Qian, smelled the charcoal, sneezed, and then walked away expressionlessly.

"Qianzai," Lu Chen leaned back on the sofa armrest, looking down at his son, "that carpet is a hundred years old."

Xiao Luqian tilted his head back and blinked: "How long is a hundred years?"

"Older than your great-grandfather."

Xiao Luqian thought for a moment, looked down at the charcoal, then at the ash stains on the carpet, and then silently picked up the charcoal and placed it by the fireplace, wiping it on the carpet with his palm.

However, after those two swipes, the ash stains not only didn't disappear, but were instead ground evenly by his palms. His little face scrunched up, and then he decisively pushed the excavator model onto the ash stains, covering up the crime scene.

"Okay, that's all."

Lu Chen chuckled, flicked his forehead lightly with his finger, and didn't pursue the matter further.

……

At 6:30 p.m., the waiters began setting the plates in the restaurant.

Tonight's menu was personally selected by Lu Chen: Sichuan cuisine.

For no other reason than simply wishing for a prosperous and thriving business.

Of course, this doesn't mean the whole table is full of spicy dishes. Those in the know understand that Sichuan cuisine emphasizes "one dish, one style; a hundred dishes, a hundred flavors"—numbing and spicy, fish-fragrant, strange flavor, lychee flavor, salty and sweet, sour and spicy, garlic, and tangerine peel. Twenty-four flavor profiles each have their own distinct characteristics, and spiciness is just one of them.

For example, at least half of tonight's menu is non-spicy: sweet braised pork belly, chicken tofu, boiled cabbage in clear broth, crispy rice with pork slices, and chicken slices with egg white... These are all elegant dishes in Sichuan cuisine, and they take more time to make than spicy dishes.

Moreover, to ensure the authenticity of this dinner, Lu Chen brought the entire Chinese cuisine team directly from Hong Kong Island. The chef in charge was Lao Huang, the Sichuan cuisine chef from the Grand Hyatt Hotel's Chinese restaurant, who is a well-known figure in Hong Kong's catering industry and has won the gold medal at two food awards ceremonies.

Old Huang started preparing ingredients as soon as he got off the plane yesterday: Sichuan peppercorns, dried chilies, Pixian chili bean paste, pickled ginger and pickled peppers... all of which were airlifted from Hong Kong Island. He even brought the braising liquid himself on the plane in a sealed container.

Giovanni stood at the kitchen doorway for the entire afternoon, watching as Old Huang tossed the wok and flames shot half a meter high. He couldn't help but exclaim to the sous chef next to him in Italian, "Dio mio. È arte." (My God, it's art!)

The group chatted and laughed as they sat down in the restaurant, where cold dishes were the first thing served.

The sliced ​​pork belly with garlic sauce was so thin it was translucent, and the chili oil was bright but not pungent. The tripe and tongue from the sliced ​​beef and offal in chili sauce were arranged on a white porcelain plate, soaked in a layer of chili oil and Sichuan peppercorn powder, and sprinkled with a handful of roasted white sesame seeds. There was also a sweet noodle soup—this was specially added by Lao Huang at Lu Chen's request. The noodles were as thick as chopsticks, and the sauce was made of sesame paste and blended soy sauce, sweet and salty, perfect for filling your stomach at the start of the meal.

Then, hot dishes were brought out of the kitchen one after another.

Kung Pao Chicken has a sweet and sour lychee flavor and a caramelized aroma; Fish-flavored Shrimp is glistening, with minced garlic and pickled peppers coating its back; Mapo Tofu is served in a casserole, with the Sichuan peppercorn powder on top sizzling as hot oil is poured over it.

Even the non-spicy dishes are incredibly authentic: the crispy fried pork slices are fried to a golden brown, and when the piping hot topping is poured over them, they sizzle and release their aroma; the chicken tofu floats in the clear broth, so tender that it trembles when you touch it with a spoon.

The grand finale is naturally boiled cabbage in clear broth. This dish looks like a clear broth, but the base broth is actually made by simmering old hen, ham, dried scallops, and pork ribs for a whole day, and then simmering the broth several times with minced chicken. It is so clear that you can see your reflection in it, but the umami flavor goes straight to your head.

Little Lu Qian sat in his high chair, with two slices of boiled beef in his bowl, which he had insisted on picking up. This was the first time Lu Qian had ever eaten chili peppers. He stared at the beef, which was covered in Sichuan peppercorn oil, for five seconds, and then mustered up his courage to pick up a slice and put it in his mouth.

For the first two seconds, his expression was relatively calm, but when the numbing sensation of the Sichuan peppercorns rose from the back of his tongue in the third second, Xiao Luqian's entire face twisted into a grimace. His mouth was open, his tongue sticking out as he frantically exhaled, and his little hands were fanning wildly in front of his mouth, but unfortunately, his hands were too short to create much air; it looked more like he was clapping to himself.

Hearing the noise, Cola, who was lying under the table, poked its head out and saw that its little owner's face was flushed red, so it quickly pulled its head back in.

Ruan Mei quickly pushed a glass of milk next to him: "Drink some!"

Xiao Luqian picked up his water glass and took a big gulp. The numbing sensation finally subsided, but the spiciness of the chili oil immediately surged up again. Tears welled up in his eyes, and his lips were as red as if he had applied lipstick, but he wouldn't let go of the chopsticks in his hand. After catching his breath, his eyes were fixed on the second piece.

"Hiss—it's so spicy...but...hiss—it smells so good!" He gasped for breath as he stuffed the second slice into his mouth, his little brows furrowed as he ate and gasped.

Everyone at the table was amused by his appearance. Sophia reached out and ruffled his hair, her eyes crinkling with laughter.

The women at the table couldn't stop laughing at his antics, and Sofia chuckled as she ruffled his hair.

Of course, not everyone at the table can handle spicy food. For example, Paloma's chopsticks hovered over the spicy dishes three times before she finally picked up a piece of garlic pork belly—although the dish was dressed with chili oil, it was actually very mild in spiciness and mainly had a garlic flavor.

She took a bite, and her eyes lit up instantly: "It's really delicious!"

Dinner lasted for nearly two hours amidst laughter and conversation. Finally, Lao Huang brought out dessert to finish the meal—brown sugar glutinous rice cakes. The glutinous rice balls were fried in oil until the outer shell was crispy, then coated with a layer of soybean powder and brown sugar syrup. When you bite into them, the inside is so soft and chewy that it can be pulled into strands.

Little Lu Qian's belly was already bulging, but he still stood up when he saw the glutinous rice cake. Ruan Mei smiled and broke off half of it for him, which he swallowed in a few bites. Then he set his sights on the big piece in Lu Chen's hand.

Lu Chen glanced down at him, broke off a small piece and put it on his plate, then put the rest into his mouth.

"Dad is stingy."

"You've already eaten half of it."

"Half a piece is practically nothing, so it doesn't count."

"If it doesn't count, give me back this half."

Little Lu Qian quickly stuffed the small piece of glutinous rice cake from the plate into his mouth, his cheeks puffing out like a hamster.

……

11 o'clock.

After the waiters cleared away the dinner plates, the castle hall returned to its tranquility. New firewood was added to the fireplace, and the sofa area was reclaimed—the feeling of fullness and the lingering noise of the dinner slowly subsided, replaced by the quiet unique to New Year's Eve.

Ruan Mei and Lai Di shared a cashmere blanket on the sofa, huddled together reading fashion magazines; A'e and He Min played a card game on the carpet; Qiu Di leaned against the sofa armrest, holding a glass of red wine, chatting with Laura about her experiences at Milan Fashion Week.

Sofia leaned against the sofa armrest, holding the sleeping Gemma in her arms. The pink dinosaur was still tightly clutched in her hand, its tail twisted from being bitten.

Lu Chen sat on the armrest of the sofa next to her, gently brushing aside a tuft of naturally curly brown baby hair on Gemma's head with his fingers. Sophia leaned her head against his arm, her eyes closed, and remained silent.

Paloma sat in the spot closest to the fireplace, looking down at the sketch Laura had just drawn for her—a sketch of her holding a wine glass, head tilted, smiling slightly. She studied it carefully for a while, then folded it neatly and put it in her notebook.

She looked up and met Lu Chen's gaze, which was fixed on her over Sophia's shoulder. Her face flushed, but this time she didn't look away; instead, she gave a slight smile.

Little Lu Qian had already showered and changed into his pajamas, and was lying on the rug in front of the fireplace. Cola and Sprite were flanking him on either side; Cola rested his head on Lu Qian's stomach, occasionally twitching his ear in his sleep. Sprite, on the other hand, stared quietly at the adults on the sofa with wide eyes, seemingly lost in thought.

Around midnight, Lu Chen instructed that the television be turned on.

The screen was broadcasting a countdown to the opening of Piazza del Popolo in Rome, a scene of massive crowds and cheers. The host led the audience in a loud countdown, the sound carrying throughout the hall through the speakers. Even through the screen, the excitement of the square was palpable.

"Five—four—three—two—one—Buon anno!"

The bells of St. Peter's Square rang out, their sound emanating from the television speakers, passing through the Vatican dome and the cold wind of the Tiber River, through the stone walls of the castle and the crackling of burning wood in the fireplace, filling the entire hall to the brim.

In the video, countless tiny lights illuminated the square as people held fireworks, cheered, and embraced each other. The reporter's voice was drowned out by the sound of bells, and the screen displayed "Buon Anno 1987" in Italian.

Sofia spoke first, kissing Lu Chen's lips: "Buon Anno."

"Felice Anno Nuovo." Paloma also mustered up her courage and walked to his side, standing on tiptoe to give him a light kiss on the right cheek.

Then came Ruan Mei, who gently pecked his lips, her eyes full of smiles: "Happy New Year, Achen. May everything go smoothly in the new year."

Lai Di, Ba Wang Hua, Qiu Di... all the women came forward, offering their most sincere New Year's blessings in Cantonese, Mandarin, and English, along with a series of warm and soft lip prints.

Little Lu Qian was woken up by the clock on TV. He groggily lifted his head from the back of the cola, rubbed his eyes, and found that the adults were all hugging each other.

He stood up blankly, walked to Lu Chen's leg, and tugged at his trouser leg: "Dad, is it New Year's already?"

"Yes." Lu Chen bent down, picked him up, and kissed him on the forehead. "It's 1987 now, Qianzai is another year older."

"May I drink that red wine?" he asked, pointing to the wine bottle on the table.

"No, let's wait another fifteen years."

"How much is fifteen years?"

Lu Chen gestured to the top of his head: "When you grow as tall as your dad."

Little Lu Qian looked up and measured the difference, his face falling: "That'll take a long time."

"Was it a long time? Actually, it was very short." Lu Chen smiled and put him back on the ground, patting his head.

"Soon is a lot—"

Before he could finish speaking, Xiao Luqian was led upstairs to his bedroom by two maids with smiles, and he was unable to finish asking the question.

At one o'clock in the morning, the castle fell silent.

The children were all fast asleep, while Coke and Sprite were snoring loudly in front of the fireplace.

Lu Chen sipped the last drop of red wine from his glass and placed the empty glass on the table.

"Oh, by the way," he suddenly said, his tone casual as if he had just remembered, "the West Tower has just been renovated, would you like to go and take a look?"

The women exchanged glances, and Sophia's face revealed a faint smile—she was clearly aware of the situation. Ruan Mei raised an eyebrow; she probably guessed as well. Paloma blushed again for some reason; perhaps it was the red wine, or the fireplace was too hot, or perhaps… none of these.

The domineering woman stood up and sized him up: "Come on, let's see what tricks you're up to tonight."

……

The west tower's corridors were carpeted in brand-new, dark gray, and every few steps a brass wall lamp was dimly lit. At the end of the corridor stood an unusually large double oak door.

Lu Chen stopped, glanced back at the group of beautiful women behind him, a smirk playing on his lips, and pushed open the door.

The main lights weren't on inside; only a few warm yellow floor lamps in the corner cast a dim glow in the center of the room.

The center of the room is less a bed and more a "vast land" pieced together from top-of-the-line custom mattresses, filling almost half of the room.

The dark gray silk sheets were laid out neatly, with a dozen or so soft down pillows piled haphazardly on them. A large, brass-framed full-length mirror was mounted on the wall above the bed, tilted slightly downwards, taking in the entire bed.

The carpet was a brand new wool carpet, even thicker than the Poseidon carpet in the hall; when you stepped on it, your entire instep would sink in.

Lai Di's mouth dropped open, and after a long pause, she managed to stammer out, "...Brother Chen, how many people are sleeping on this bed?"

Laura squinted and looked around, then rested her chin on her hand and teased, "Judging by the looks of it, it can squeeze in fifteen people... Looks like we still have a few empty seats here."

Ba Wanghua stood at the door with her arms crossed, glanced at the bed, then at Lu Chen, and made no comment. She just snorted and then stepped inside first.

"Fine, this Lunar New Year, let's indulge Ah Chen's 'filthy thoughts'~"

Lu Chen stepped aside to let the door open, tilting his head slightly towards the corridor. The firelight from the fireplace shone from the other end of the corridor, cutting a faint, warm edge along his profile.

Outside the window, another distant chime rang out from the direction of St. Peter's Square, its sound shattered by the night wind of the Tiber River, drifting and scattering into the winter night of the Abruzzo Hills.