Chapter Seventeen: The Kindly Old Butler

As dawn broke, the Star Cluster finally arrived at its destination—Jeddah, the largest port city in western Saudi Arabia and the kingdom’s second-largest metropolis. Liu Yunfei had no time to sightsee in this Islamic port city, which boasted a history of 1,300 years. He followed the old prince directly to King Aziz International Airport at the northern end of Jeddah. A fleet of luxury vehicles entered the airport through the royal VIP passageway; there was no need for visas, documents, or tickets. The old prince’s personal jet had already been prepared and awaited their arrival, ready to take off for Riyadh at a moment’s notice.

Liu Yunfei had never flown on a plane before. Stepping onto the red carpet, he gazed up at the gleaming white behemoth that awaited him. This aircraft was an Airbus A380, the largest in the world, specially modified for the Saudi royal family. It stood as tall as an eight-story building, designed to carry 555 passengers, with a maximum capacity of 840. Yet today, it was to transport only the old prince, his daughter, Liu Yunfei, and a handful of attendants—a display of sheer extravagance.

Upon entering the plane, Liu Yunfei felt as if he had stepped into a floating palace: coffee bars, restaurants, a gym, meeting rooms, bedrooms, a kitchen, and bars—all were present. There were four meeting rooms, fifteen bedrooms, and even a cinema. However, since Islamic doctrine forbids alcohol, the bars on such Saudi planes were rarely used, only opened for foreign guests who enjoyed drinking.

What astonished Liu Yunfei most was the presence of a sizable swimming pool on board. Leading him on a tour, the old prince was clearly pleased with Liu Yunfei’s amazement. “My dear brother from China, Liu, we Arabs are renowned for our hospitality. I myself rarely ride this plane more than a few times a year. If you ever need to travel, just let me know.”

“That’s very generous, thank you, but I think I’ll stick to commercial flights in the future. It feels too extravagant to have such a huge plane for just a few of us.” In truth, Liu Yunfei thought to himself, If I weren’t curious to take a look, my Somersault Cloud would be much faster than this plane.

“No matter, no matter. I also own smaller business jets, seats for just a few dozen,” the old prince replied, sounding like an aircraft salesman.

The distance from Jeddah to Riyadh was not far. After touring the cabins with the old prince, Liu Yunfei enjoyed two cups of freshly brewed, classic Arabian coffee in the onboard café. Compared to so-called Arab cuisine, their coffee was far more authentic. Coffee and tea were staple drinks here; Arabia had been the cradle of coffee cultivation and consumption. Early Europeans, upon encountering this alluring beverage, had dubbed it “Arabian wine.”

Liu Yunfei had never been a coffee enthusiast, and the amount he’d drunk in the past few days exceeded all he’d had in his life. He knew little about coffee, but he could still distinguish good from bad—just as one need not be a singer to know who sings well.

Before he could fully savor the experience, the capital city of Riyadh appeared beneath them.

A motorcade of more than a dozen Rolls-Royces, flanked by police cars before and behind, swept through the city like an official state visit, carrying the old prince and Liu Yunfei straight to the heart of Riyadh—the Natolia District.

The center of Riyadh, spanning about eight square kilometers, was the Natolia District—a royal quarter composed of dozens of palaces, countless villas, and expansive gardens. Here, the king and the royal family resided, all gathered together in magnificent seclusion.

The first stop was the old prince’s residence—a sprawling villa nestled within gardens, grand enough to be called a palace. The motorcade halted steadily before the fountain and main hall, where a large group had already assembled to greet them. The old prince introduced his four wives, their faces veiled in black, their ages ranging from about forty down to twenty. After the introductions, he left with Shalina for the rear garden. He then introduced his steward, Shadi, an elderly man with a chubby, cherubic face who always wore a kindly smile. No matter the angle, his constant smile made him seem sincerely affable.

Once Liu Yunfei was settled, the old prince left for the palace to visit his royal uncle, the king.

With nothing else to do, Liu Yunfei struck up a conversation with the steward. “You seem to be in good health, uncle.”

“Of course! In my younger days, I could take on ten men without breaking a sweat,” the old steward boasted, rolling up a plump arm as evidence.

“I wouldn’t have guessed you were a martial arts master,” Liu Yunfei joked.

“I was once hunted to the brink of death, but the late King Fahd saved me. Later, I even became captain of the palace guards,” said the steward.

“So you’ve been with the family for many years?”

“Decades! I served the old king long before the master was even born,” Shadi replied with pride.

Liu Yunfei noticed that, unlike most Arabs he had met, the old steward did not constantly invoke God. He continued, “I heard from Shalina that it was thanks to you that she got on board the ship.”

A flicker of fear flashed across the steward’s face, quickly replaced by guilt. “I was bewitched for a moment. Miss pleaded with me many times, but I never agreed—never imagined such trouble would result. Thankfully, she wasn’t harmed, or I’d regret it to my dying day.”

Liu Yunfei thought, He must be afraid the prince would punish him for letting Shalina board the ship without permission. “Don’t worry. Shalina has already spoken on your behalf. The prince promised not to blame you.”

“Thank you a thousand times, young man from China. Which city are you from?”

Liu Yunfei found this question odd. Usually, when people learned he was from China, they didn’t ask which city—Arabs only seemed to know Beijing, Shanghai, and Hong Kong. “Have you been to China?”

“Oh, no. I was just curious. Even if you told me, I wouldn’t know it,” Shadi replied, his warm smile returning.

Seeing the steward’s gentle expression, Liu Yunfei realized he’d been overly suspicious, making the old man feel ill at ease. Luckily, at that moment, the old prince returned.

“Brother Yunfei, come with me. My royal uncle, the king, has prepared a grand banquet at the palace to welcome our esteemed guest. This is the highest honor in Saudi Arabia.”

“Old prince, I’m really not used to your cuisine—everything is roasted, which is unhealthy. Studies show that frequent consumption of grilled foods increases the risk of cancer.”

“You don’t understand. Squeeze a bit of lemon juice on grilled meat and it becomes a precious food bestowed by God, reducing cancer risk. Don’t refuse—my uncle the king has invited all the princes in Riyadh for this banquet, and I must introduce you in person to thank you.”

“All the princes will be there? Will there be TV stations? I really don’t want fame—I’m just a high school student from China,” Liu Yunfei protested, knowing unwanted attention would bring endless trouble.

“This is a family banquet, all royal members. We’ll only introduce you as Liu from China, without too many details. Only my uncle the king and I know of your extraordinary abilities,” the old prince assured him.

Indeed, upon meeting someone with such remarkable talents, one would naturally wish to keep their help for themselves rather than publicize it. The shrewdness of the Arabs would never permit such a foolish move.