Chapter 43: The Place of Wind and Moon

"Fu Si, watch your tone when you speak."

Fu Jieji paused for a few seconds, wondering, to whom should he be polite? The university student brought by Fu Yanyan?

"Sorry, may I ask your name, miss?"

"Li Yanyan."

"From Jingfu University? I wonder whose young lady you are. If you’re with Brother Fu, just call me Fu Si."

"Fu Si, enough with the questions."

Fu Yanyan shot him a glance, then led Zhong Huayan to a table screened off by a folding partition and sat down.

"Do you know who that Fu Si was just now?" she asked, glancing at the man still laughing and flirting with women outside.

"I do. When I was the chairman of the Zhong family, I think I once snatched a business deal from his father. He’s from the Fu family’s entertainment club."

Fu Jieji arrived with a group of young models and several elegant, dignified women. Clearly, they were two different sets—one group looked like mistresses, the other seemed like wives.

"President Fu, what a coincidence! I just came here today on business and ran into you," he said.

His entourage of beauties threw glances their way, including several second wives from overseas who had come for a gathering. Upon hearing Fu Yanyan’s name, they all thought about joining him for dinner.

Fu Jieji, seizing the opportunity to play the gracious host, leaned over and addressed Zhong Huayan.

"How about it? Shall we all dine together?"

Zhong Huayan shrugged indifferently and nodded. Fu Yanyan’s expression remained calm, showing neither assent nor dissent, but Fu Jieji took his silence as approval.

"Let me introduce you all," Fu Jieji announced. "This is the chairman of the Fu Group. President Fu, this is the wife of Mr. Xu, former owner of Hong Kong Bathhouse City, and these ladies have come from Hong Kong as well. The rest are well-known models."

He was saving face for these women.

The young women were decked out in flashy jewelry, their style gaudy and old-fashioned, hardly the look of legitimate wives—more likely mistresses and concubines.

Their eyes drifted toward Fu Yanyan. None of them were truly qualified to share a table with him.

In this opulent, smoky, morally ambiguous atmosphere, he seemed out of place, cold and aloof as something otherworldly.

Before long, a woman in a nearly sheer gauzy dress sat down with a pipa in her arms, her every movement a clear attempt at seduction. Her posture was deliberately affected, but with such beauty and figure, she had every right. Her glances were full of meaning; though her rendition of "Lanling King Enters the Battle" wasn’t particularly skilled, every gesture was brimming with allure.

Suddenly, Fu Yanyan’s phone rang. The caller ID read "Procuratorate."

He calmly sipped his tea, stood up, and left the room.

Fu Jieji followed him out, leaving the women alone—the perfect moment for tensions to flare.

One of the Hong Kong wives made no effort to hide her disdain for the pipa-playing model.

"Sounds more like a chicken squawking than a pipa," she sneered.

The model’s face darkened visibly. "And you’re any better? A third wife, sharing a husband with two others."

"Oh my, you don’t know, do you? That pipa player is known as 'the Flute.' She’s very skilled. If your husband were here, he’d probably be utterly enchanted by her mouth."

The room erupted in laughter—everyone except Zhong Huayan.

She had occasionally witnessed these women’s power struggles in the world of pleasure, but rarely had she heard the biting remarks they exchanged behind each other’s backs.

No wonder, then, that men who dipped a toe into this world rarely managed to escape it.

One of the wives turned to Zhong Huayan, who had stayed silent.

"And who is this supposed university student?"

The laughter grew louder. One of the young models chimed in, "I’ve never heard President Fu likes college girls. You must be pretending… Which club are you from?"

They all assumed she was also in the business. After all, legitimate wives and heiresses rarely dined with them, and women in their line of work were looked down upon by both men and women alike. Very few men in business or government—unless they were exceptionally capable and attractive—could resist keeping a mistress or two.

Except for one: the Buddha of the Capital, Fu Yanyan.

Rumor had it he was either impotent or had some kind of obsessive-compulsive disorder, which explained his lack of interest in women.

But these women didn’t believe it. There’s no man immune to feminine charms—unless the woman simply wasn’t skilled enough.

They were jealous, of course. Why should such a clean, wealthy, single diamond bachelor be snatched up by someone else?

"I’m just over twenty, a college student," Zhong Huayan replied.

"You don’t look like a student," someone said.

She rolled her eyes. "I’m not from any club. President Fu brought me here for dinner."

A few models were just about to mock her when Fu Yanyan and Fu Jieji returned.

Suddenly, the pipa player burst into tears, her face a picture of fragile grief.

"Young Master Fu, she called me cheap," she sobbed, flinging herself into his arms and pointing at the third wife, her shoulders trembling pitifully.

Fu Jieji patted her shoulder and replied ambiguously, "I’m not married. Tonight, you’re my only wife. What are you afraid of? Don’t cry."

"Who are you implying, Fu Si?"

"Can’t you keep your mouth shut? No wonder he slaps you all the time. One day, you’ll talk yourself to death."

"No wonder Young Master Xu likes the Flute—her mouth is certainly agile enough."

After that, the third wife from Hong Kong fell silent. Fu Jieji’s glare had been enough to warn her off; there was no point in courting further trouble.

"How about we buy a car for the Flute later? Haven’t you always wanted that sports car?"

Fu Yanyan took his seat beside Zhong Huayan, serving her food himself.

"What’s wrong?" he asked, leaning in close.

She whispered, "Nothing. The procuratorate just wanted to ask me about a case."

"Is it tricky?"

"Matters involving the procuratorate are all trivial."

His dismissive tone startled her. Indeed, in recent years, the Fu Group had made countless private investments in original shares. No matter how serious the situation, with Fu Yanyan’s standing, he could always find a way around it—he was indispensable to the capital’s economic stability. He could not simply vanish, or the financial world would be thrown into chaos.

Besides, the collusion between officials and businessmen was not to be trifled with.

"College students should know how to play the pipa, right?" one of the wives remarked delicately, intentionally pitching her voice to sound innocent.

It was a deliberate attempt to embarrass her.

But there was no instrument Zhong Huayan couldn’t play.

"Not every university student can, you know. The pipa requires years of hard work and the guidance of a private tutor. My father arranged for me to study with a renowned teacher—each lesson costs at least a thousand. Would you like to try?"

The Flute deliberately offered her pipa to Zhong Huayan, her words both boasting and belittling.

Indeed, women in this world were like reeds in the wind, swaying with the breeze and always eager for a spectacle. They delighted in seeing others make a fool of themselves.

Their words were veiled, but the jealousy and resentment were almost palpable.