Beijing International Airport buzzed like a living machine. The giant screens flickered with departure times, the loudspeakers barked boarding calls, and a sea of travelers flowed through the halls like rushing water.
The smell of coffee mixed with perfume and airplane fuel—modern civilization in a single breath.
And right in the middle of that chaos, one figure stepped out from the crowd.
He wasn't carrying much—just a black shoulder bag—but somehow the air around him seemed to shift.
He stood tall, about one-eighty-five centimeters, the lean build of someone who actually did the morning jogs he always promised himself.
White T-shirt. Washed jeans. White sneakers so clean they could pass airport customs by themselves.
A few girls near the exit stopped dead in their tracks.
"Eh? Movie star?"
"No way, he's too low-key. Maybe a model?"
Their whispers followed him like windchimes. The young man brushed a strand of dark hair from his forehead, his eyes deep and calm—black like obsidian, reflecting the afternoon light.
Under the enormous glass ceiling, sunlight spilled over him, and for a brief second, he looked like he'd walked straight out of an advertisement.
His name was Ethan Quinn.
He glanced up at the familiar blue sky and smiled faintly.
After all these years… I'm finally home.
Ten years overseas. Ten years living someone else's life.
Even after two lifetimes, the air of Beijing still carried that same mix of dust, ambition, and steamed dumplings.
Because Ethan wasn't just any returnee—he was a time traveler.
In his previous life, he'd been an ordinary white-collar worker: one alarm clock, two cups of instant coffee, three hundred emails, and zero excitement.
Every day felt like a copy-paste job from the day before.
Work, eat, scroll phone, sleep, repeat.
He once joked that if reincarnation existed, he hoped to be reborn as a rich man's cat—at least cats could sleep twelve hours guilt-free.
Well… the universe apparently heard him wrong.
After one drunken night, he woke up in a completely new world—parallel to his old one—but this time as the only son of the richest man in China.
The Quinn family's business empire covered everything: real estate, shopping complexes, mobile internet, finance, energy—you name it, they had a finger in it.
Some people called them the backbone of modern China. Others called them capital itself.
Ethan just called it headache.
At eight, he'd been shipped overseas to "broaden his vision."
At twelve, he was fluent in three languages but didn't know how to make friends.
At sixteen, he had a driver, a bodyguard, and zero freedom.
And at twenty-two, he graduated from one of the world's top universities… feeling like a well-programmed robot in a designer suit.
Now, standing at the airport gate again, he promised himself things would be different.
This time, I'll live the way I want.
A sudden commotion snapped him out of his thoughts.
"Look over there!"
"Is that a… Rolls-Royce Phantom?"
"No way, there's a whole line of them!"
A row of jet-black luxury cars glided into view, their chrome trims flashing under the sunlight.
The leading car's license plate read Beijing A·99999, and the following ones weren't any less intimidating—each one a "leopard number."
The kind of plates money alone couldn't buy.
Even the airport security guards straightened subconsciously.
The convoy stopped right in front of Ethan. The automatic doors opened, and a middle-aged man stepped out from the lead Rolls-Royce.
He was in his fifties, hair neatly combed with streaks of silver that made him look both wise and formidable. A perfect British-cut suit, white gloves, polished shoes—he was elegance personified.
When his eyes met Ethan's, the serious mask melted into a warm smile.
"Young Master Ethan."
Ethan blinked, then chuckled.
"Uncle Lucas?"
Lucas Wen, the family's long-time butler and his father's right hand.
Half-guardian, half-babysitter, and fully the person who used to sneak him snacks when his dietitian wasn't looking.
Lucas bowed slightly. "Welcome home. Your father is overseas meeting the Prime Minister, but he asked me to bring you back safely."
"Figures," Ethan said, rubbing the back of his neck. "Still busy saving the world?"
Lucas allowed himself a small laugh. "You know the master—one empire isn't enough."
Ethan smirked. "Guess that makes me the heir to half of civilization."
Lucas opened the car door with a gentleman's precision. "And hopefully one day, the better half."
Ethan slid into the back seat, the soft leather wrapping around him like luxury's embrace.
Outside, dozens of onlookers stared, phones held high.
"Who is that guy?"
"He looks so young—maybe a pop idol?"
"No idol drives a convoy like that."
One girl whispered, "If I could get his WeChat, I'd delete my whole contact list."
Her friend sighed. "Please, that's not a boyfriend—that's a retirement plan."
Ethan caught the faint murmurs through the tinted glass and couldn't help but grin.
So this is what it's like to be a walking fantasy.
Lucas glanced back from the driver's seat. "You seem amused, young master."
"Just thinking," Ethan said lightly, "this feels like overkill. Next time, maybe send a taxi?"
Lucas's eyes crinkled in the mirror. "Your father wanted the city to know the Quinn heir has returned. A taxi wouldn't quite… make the statement."
Ethan groaned. "So I'm basically a press release on wheels."
"Public relations at its finest," Lucas replied smoothly.
The convoy glided onto the main road, merging into Beijing's endless traffic stream. Outside the window, skyscrapers stretched skyward, and digital billboards flashed headlines about stock prices, new gadgets, and celebrity scandals.
Ethan watched silently.
Ten years ago, this skyline had been smaller, hungrier.
Now it glittered like a city of gods.
And somewhere up there, his family's companies owned a third of those lights.
He should've felt pride. Instead, there was only a quiet pressure in his chest.
This world moves too fast, he thought. If I don't learn to steer it, it'll swallow me whole.
Lucas's voice interrupted his thoughts. "You'll find many things have changed since you left, young master. The capital has grown… and so have the people watching you."
Ethan raised an eyebrow. "People watching me?"
"Your return has already reached the media," Lucas said matter-of-factly. "By tonight, social networks will explode with your name again."
"Again?"
Lucas smiled knowingly. "The last time was when you scored first in your international exams. The internet called you the perfect heir. Some still remember."
Ethan groaned inwardly.
Perfect heir? Sure—if perfection means ten years of loneliness and zero privacy.
He leaned his head against the seat, closing his eyes. "Let's just get home, Uncle Lucas."
"As you wish, young master."
The engines hummed, smooth and low. The convoy cut through the afternoon traffic like a moving wall of authority.
At the airport gate, the crowd slowly dispersed. But whispers lingered.
Some people took photos and searched the license plate online.
When the results appeared, they froze.
"Wait, that's the Quinn family? The Quinn Group?"
"You mean the Quinn Group—the one that basically owns half the internet?"
"So that guy was…"
A collective gasp rippled through social media.
In minutes, hashtags began to trend:
#HeirOfTheQuinnsReturns #RealLifePrince
And somewhere inside a luxurious car speeding toward the city center, Ethan Quinn sneezed.
"Huh. Must be the air."
Lucas chuckled softly. "Or perhaps, young master, the sound of destiny calling."
Ethan rolled his eyes. "Destiny better have good coffee."
Lucas smiled faintly, and the Rolls-Royce disappeared into the glow of the capital—
carrying with it a young man who didn't yet realize that his return would soon shake the foundations of the entire business world.