Chapter 44: Falling in Love

"I know how to play ‘Fireworks Easily Fade.’"
Zhong Huayan seemed to be yearning to play the pipa herself. She took the instrument and began to play right there.
Unlike Chui’er’s obsequiousness, she emanated an intangible nobility.
After the first two passages, Chui’er’s expression visibly changed.
The gulf between their skills was so vast that anyone could hear it.
The pipa in Zhong Huayan’s hands perfectly embodied Bai Juyi’s “Song of the Pipa Player.”
Bai Juyi described it thus:
Softly plucked, gently strummed, then swept and picked again,
First the Rainbow Skirt, then Six Variations.
Heavy strings clatter like urgent rain,
Light strings murmur like whispered words.
The clatter and murmur intertwine,
Great pearls and small pearls fall on a jade plate.
Oriole’s song glides beneath the flowers,
A hidden spring flows under ice,
A chill, hesitant, string becomes silent,
Silent, the sound ceases for a time.
Today, this performance truly breathed life into the poem.
It was as if “great pearls and small pearls” fell upon a jade plate; in this murky den, it suddenly cleaved a clear stream through the haze.
She used the rotary finger technique. Only then did Chui’er realize just how crushing her defeat was.
Mastering such a technique was not something achieved overnight.
She herself had only studied the pipa for three years.
But this university student before her must have practiced for at least a decade to reach such mastery.
"That was beautiful. I’d love to hear another, perhaps something less sorrowful."
What had started as the lady’s jest turned serious when Zhong Huayan directly launched into “Huo Yuanjia”—her own arrangement.
Though she played with apparent ease, her fingers moved swiftly. The melancholy melody was instantly swept away, replaced by a battlefield of clashing blades, scenes of carnage flashing before the mind’s eye.
When she finished, she returned the pipa to Chui’er.
Her hands were tinged a soft red from the effort.
Fu Yanyan hurriedly took her hands, his eyes brimming with displeasure. Pu Jiexie, witnessing this, immediately slapped Chui’er across the face!
The crowd was stunned—only Fu Yanyan thought the blow too gentle.
His hand was icy as he tenderly massaged the redness from her fingertips.
These women of the pleasure quarters were shrewd; how could they not see the depth of Fu Yanyan’s regard for Zhong Huayan?
Quick to adapt, they flattered her, "No wonder she’s a university student—her playing leaves us all in the dust. Education makes all the difference. Playing the pipa with skill is nothing like just using one’s body to stroke the strings; the gap is worlds apart."
Pu Jiexie immediately sensed that this woman was no mere companion.
Her bearing was not that of a typical student, nor did she seem greedy for wealth. Even seated beside Fu Yanyan, she lost none of her presence.
"It was Chui’er’s loose tongue. President Fu, Miss Li, please be magnanimous."
Pu Jiexie spoke, still protective of Chui’er—his gesture appeared punitive, but in truth, he spared her from harsher humiliation.
Fu Yanyan said nothing but glanced at Zhong Huayan.

“It’s nothing, just a pipa performance. Let’s not be so petty. We can afford to be more generous; there’s no need to raise a hand over such things.”
Zhong Huayan had never been one for rivalry between women. Her straightforwardness instantly elevated the mood.
“I, Pu Si, toast you for your openness and generosity. It’s rare to meet such a woman.”
“I’ll toast you with tea instead of wine.”
Zhong Huayan hadn’t noticed, but what began as substituting tea for wine ended with her nearly finishing a whole bottle of red.
Pu Si continued recounting stories, all tales of romantic escapades or business intrigues—each more shocking than the last.
Stories like: someone killed his lover, then raised her daughter to become his new mistress.
Or someone built a private island, ostensibly for business, but in reality filled it with beautiful women raised in isolation from childhood.
...
Fu Yanyan abstained from drinking, as always.
“Have you eaten enough?”
“Hmm?”
She found the red wine surprisingly smooth, but its strength caught up with her.
She rubbed her temples with slender fingers, then reached out and rested her hand on his wrist.
“Fu Yanyan, I’m full. Carry me to the car.”
No sooner had the words left her lips than the man, as if he had been waiting for this, gently swept her up and carefully draped a cashmere coat over her shoulders.
Pu Jiexie was already in high spirits, astonished by the endless oddities he’d witnessed lately.
For instance, today he saw something unimaginable: The Buddhist Son of the capital, who never spares a glance for women, as if living a life of abstinence, was now caught privately dallying with a university student!
He dared not spread tales of Fu Yanyan, but this was simply too bizarre—a piece of gossip too big to keep bottled inside.
The woman beside him had a startling capacity for drink; the more she drank, the more talkative she became.
"Do you think Fu Yanyan is handsome? If I weren’t married, I’d risk my life for a kiss."
"Would you really? What about your husband?"
"Forget it. My husband’s only in the top hundred richest in Hong Kong, and he’s already so twisted. You think Fu Yanyan, the richest man in the capital, isn’t twisted too?"
"True enough, the most refined are often the most depraved. So, who was that woman? She tamed the great Buddha himself. Her skills are leagues above ours."
In the car, the assistant checked his watch, at last seeing them return.
He had never seen his boss spend so long at a dinner.
And carrying a woman in his arms, no less. But when he saw who it was, he immediately understood.
“President Fu, here’s some milk to help sober up.”

The assistant spoke softly, but when he turned, he saw his boss gazing down at the flushed woman in his arms with unmistakable adoration.
Her eyes shimmered, her beauty intoxicating.
Tipsy, she nuzzled against the man’s abs, looking nothing like her usual decisive, cool self; instead, she resembled a dazed, innocent kitten.
Just as when she first began her studies, living in the courtyard, surrounded by delicacies she ignored in favor of wild game.
Too short to reach, she would coax and cling to him, begging him to climb the tree and pick jujubes.
As she grew older, she stopped coaxing altogether; a single command from her, and he would brave any peril.
Sensing the mood, the assistant quietly took away the milk, a dreadful thought creeping in—
Would the boss indulge himself tonight?
Should he, as the assistant, prepare accordingly?
“Come here, I want to hit your face.”
The woman laughed radiantly, feebly patting his jaw.
She was a bit annoyed, having missed his face.
Fu Yanyan let out a gentle laugh, immediately lowering his face for her to strike.
“You will only listen to me.”
“Yes, I will only listen to you.”
She lightly tapped his face, then contentedly folded her hands over her belly, her feet swinging.
The assistant and driver were unnerved; no matter how intelligent a person, once in love, they became a fool.
Anyone witnessing this would find it terrifying.
If she could slap his face today, would she demand his life tomorrow?
The boss, meanwhile, seemed to enjoy being struck. But when he lifted his head and caught sight of the rearview mirror, his gaze suddenly turned razor-sharp—cold as blades, chilling to the bone.
“Are you idle?”
“No, no, I wasn’t trying to eavesdrop… I just wanted to ask, President Fu, that punishment draft you assigned me—it’s still unfinished…”
“Add your current feelings to it. Make it sixty thousand words.”
“Why? You only had to write thirty thousand, why do I have to write sixty?”
Fu Yanyan replied coldly, “Because you’re the assistant, and I’m the boss. What I say, goes.”
The assistant felt as if he was coughing blood. In this company, it seemed, Li Yanyan outranked even the boss, who in turn outranked him.