Chapter 345: Invite You and Your Girlfriend to Dinner

Chapter 345: Invite You and Your Girlfriend to Dinner

North District, Zunrong Donghai Huafu.

Ring, ring…

Wu Chen had just driven his blue Lamborghini out of the complex when his phone rang. Steering with one hand, he picked it up, glanced at the screen, and answered.

“Hello, Student Song,” he said with a smile.

“Senior, do you have time? Miss An is in Donghai. She’d like to meet you.” Song Xuan’s voice was sweet.

“I’m busy at noon. This afternoon I’m free.”

“This afternoon, then,” Song Xuan said at once. She was busy at noon herself and had meant to propose the afternoon anyway.

They settled on a time and place and hung up.

A little over ten minutes later.

North District, Jinzun Manor villa complex.

Li Ruobing owned an empty villa here. After He Shiqin brought He Xinxin to Donghai, the two had been settled into it. Before leaving home, Wu Chen had called He Shiqin to say he would come for lunch.

Villa No. 9, Jinzun Manor.

Wu Chen had a key. He drove straight into the underground garage, came in through the basement, and took the stairs up.

In the first-floor living room he saw no one, but sounds carried from the kitchen. He crossed the room almost without a sound, stopped in the kitchen doorway, slid one hand into his suit pocket, and watched He Shiqin work with a smile.

She wore an apron and was stir-frying a dish. The long counter was covered with prepared ingredients. By the look of it she intended at least eight dishes.

She had put on makeup.

Cooking at home, and she had done her face, bright lipstick and all.

“Ah!” He Shiqin cried out. She had turned and caught sight of Wu Chen in the doorway, and it genuinely startled her. Then she patted her chest and smiled. “Mr. Wu, you frightened me half to death. Why didn’t you say something…?”

Wu Chen smiled. “There’s no need for all this. We’ll never finish it.”

“It’s fine. I’ve little enough else to do, and of course I ought to feed you properly when you come, Mr. Wu.” She gave him a smile. She had changed a little. Who knew what she had been turning over these past few days in Donghai.

“Where’s Xinxin?” Wu Chen asked.

“Upstairs, I expect. I’ll call her. Xin—” She took a few steps toward the door, ready to shout.

Wu Chen raised a hand to stop her.

“No hurry. Don’t call her yet,” he said with a smile. “How have things been? Are you settling in?”

They had not seen each other for several days. They were hardly strangers, but some small talk was unavoidable.

They had not been talking long when Wu Chen said, “Ding Ruilong came to Donghai. He’s in the hospital.”

He Shiqin’s face changed abruptly. Her eyes widened on him. She took a moment to gather herself, then asked, “Is he crippled?”

There was a distinctly malicious turn to her thinking. Wu Chen had not said Ding Ruilong was dead, so she went straight to the next worst thing: had he been hurt badly enough to be left disabled?

“More or less,” Wu Chen said with a smile. “I doubt that hand will serve him so easily from now on.”

He Shiqin pressed her lips together, then smiled, a smile bright as spring.

The satisfaction in her was immense.

She came up to him. “Thank you, Mr. Wu!” she said, smiling, and kissed him on the cheek. Afterward she glanced instinctively out of the kitchen, as though afraid He Xinxin might come down and see.

“Oh! I’m sorry, I’ve got lipstick on you…” Turning back, she noticed the mark and hurriedly wiped it away.

“It’s fine.” Wu Chen smiled.

Once the lipstick was gone she stayed close to him and lowered her voice. “Mr. Wu, since that bastard is in Donghai, is there… anything you need me to do?”

No one wanted Ding Ruilong dead more than He Shiqin.

Wu Chen talked with her in the kitchen doorway for more than ten minutes. Then she went back to her cooking, and he went upstairs.

Before long a young girl’s startled cry rang out from above.

“Ah! Teacher! You frightened me to death! When did you get here?”

He Xinxin had been practicing her sketching in a second-floor bedroom with the door open. Wu Chen had come up behind her without warning and startled her.

“Look at you, Xinxin. So hardworking, so well-behaved,” Wu Chen praised her with a smile.

“Of course!” She gave a little snort and lifted her chin.

“This part—you can’t draw it like that. Give me the pencil…” Wu Chen pointed at the drawing board and slipped straight into the role of teacher. There was a great deal He Xinxin could not be allowed to know. The pretext for bringing her to Donghai in the first place had been that it would be easier for Wu Chen to teach her drawing.

So teaching her was part of today’s visit too.

More than an hour later it was noon.

“Lunch is ready!” He Shiqin called from downstairs.

They went down to eat.

After lunch Wu Chen talked with the two of them a while longer, gave He Xinxin another lesson, and then drove away.

Two o’clock exactly.

Central District, Donghai. The innermost private room on the second floor of Peninsula Café.

Wu Chen pushed the door open and walked in.

Two women were already waiting: Song Xuan and An Menglan. They had agreed on two o’clock, and both had come early.

“Senior!” Song Xuan called, waving, as Wu Chen entered in his suit.

“Student Song.” He greeted her with a smile, then turned to An Menglan.

An Menglan was taking his measure as well.

Her first impression was of an easy, level bearing. Then that he was handsome. And then that the clothes and accessories on him had to be worth three million yuan at the very least. He looked even wealthier than Song Xuan had described.

One detail was worth mentioning. Everything Wu Chen wore today, watch included, had been bought by Li Ruobing the day before. He had taken off the watch Wu Yurong gave him. The one on his wrist now cost a little more: also a Patek Philippe, over two million yuan.

“Hello, Mr. Wu!”

“Hello, Miss An!”

They shook hands, exchanged greetings, and sat.

An Menglan, dressed casually, sat beside Song Xuan. Wu Chen took the seat opposite them.

“When did you arrive, Miss An?” he asked with a smile.

“This morning,” she said.

They began with the pleasantries any first meeting required. Yet in those few minutes of idle talk, An Menglan developed a curious feeling about Wu Chen.

It came from the contrast.

He was simply too level. It had been years since An Menglan had met anyone who could be this relaxed on first meeting her, who spoke to her as he might to any ordinary stranger, smiling throughout, his eyes never wandering over her because she was a celebrity.

It put her at ease.

Thinking back to Song Xuan’s reaction that morning, An Menglan found Wu Chen almost astonishing.

“…Mr. Wu, let’s talk about your song. Have you been following the discussion online? People still haven’t stopped talking about you…” An Menglan steered them toward music.

“I take a look now and then.” Wu Chen smiled.

They began to talk about music.

It was common ground, and they talked at length, and enjoyed it enormously.

More than half an hour later.

“…Mr. Wu, are you really not going to debut? I honestly think you—” An Menglan raised it again.

“That’s not where my ambitions lie,” Wu Chen said, cutting in with a smile.

“Then what is it… that makes you unwilling? I’m certain that if you debuted you could reach extraordinary heights in music. Do you have other ambitions? Or is it that your… girlfriend won’t allow it?”

An Menglan had come to the crucial question.

She put it obliquely, using “girlfriend” for the “older woman” she believed was in the picture.

“Not really. And no one has told me they can forbid me from debuting. I simply don’t want to.” Something in Wu Chen’s tone was faintly peculiar, and he glanced at Song Xuan.

He had already realized An Menglan might have misunderstood something.

And when it came down to it, he had engineered the misunderstanding himself. Back when Song Xuan first got the wrong idea, Wu Chen had deliberately led her to it.

“Well… forgive me, Mr. Wu, I’m afraid I don’t quite follow your thinking.” An Menglan could not tell whether he was telling the truth. She considered, then spoke again. “How about this. If it’s convenient, may I invite you and your… girlfriend to dinner? Would that be all right?”

An Menglan was going straight for her trump card.

No more questions.

She would meet the “older woman” herself. Whoever the woman was, An Menglan was confident she could handle her.

“Dinner… certainly. When?” Wu Chen agreed, then asked.

“Would tonight suit you?” An Menglan said.