Chapter 235: That Girl

Chapter 235: That Girl

“Uncle. Uncle’s here.”

Kicked to the floor by his own father, Mao Qi was back on his feet at once and greeted Wu Chen politely.

He was eighteen, no longer a child. Yet after being kicked in front of a guest, there was not the faintest trace of injured pride on his face, no resentment, no sullen defiance.

He could even smile while he greeted Wu Chen.

The kid had a formidable heart.

In life experience and inner maturity, the vast majority of university graduates could not match this young man who had not yet set foot in a university.

His temperament still needed tempering, of course. He knew when to bend and when to stand tall, true enough, but he was young and hot-blooded, and different situations drew out different sides of him. His character had not yet set.

“Mr. Wu, come, come, this way please…”

Mao Rusong came around the table and stepped forward to welcome him. As he brought Wu Chen toward the sofa, he shot his son another sideways glare and barked, “Get out of the way. Don’t you know to make room? No manners at all.”

The whole performance said that nothing his son did could please him.

Still an act, of course.

He was putting on an attitude for Wu Chen’s benefit. Helping Wu Chen vent his anger.

Wu Chen was not angry.

From his side, today’s incident had been entirely foreseeable, something he had accounted for and prepared for. It could even be said that it had happened only because he had wanted to let it happen. Had he not wanted it, it would never have occurred at all.

And preventing it would have been simple. All Wu Chen needed to do was call Mao Rusong in advance and tell him plainly to keep his son from stirring up trouble. Mao Rusong would certainly have warned Mao Qi to stay clear of He Xinxin for the time being.

So the incident had happened because Wu Chen “permitted” it.

More than that: he needed it to happen.

He wanted to play a little psychological game with He Xinxin and make her obedient. That, in turn, would affect He Shiqin’s state of mind, laying the groundwork for the final step of his plan involving her.

It had all unfolded under Wu Chen’s control.

Naturally, he had no reason to be angry.

Mao Rusong, however, could not possibly see it that way.

Put yourself in another man’s place.

A crisis that dangerous, that close to disaster—there was no way it could simply be waved off.

So tonight, Mao Rusong was determined to send Wu Chen away happy.

Once Wu Chen was seated, Mao Rusong called out toward the door. Before long a group of scantily dressed young women brought in great platters of fruit, snacks, and alcohol.

The alcohol was all the same cognac.

Hennessy.

But not ordinary Hennessy XO. In a bar or a KTV, the ordinary kind ran only a few thousand yuan a bottle. What they carried in was not the ordinary kind.

It was Richard Hennessy.

The market price ran around twenty-eight thousand yuan a bottle.

And twenty-eight thousand was only the market price. Bars and KTVs marked liquor up several times over. As far as Wu Chen knew, the finest brandy Golden Tycoon KTV offered was Richard Hennessy, at 537819336 yuan a bottle.

And they had brought in ten bottles at once.

Mao Rusong had always been the sort of man who spent without flinching.

Once the food and drink were set out, everyone else withdrew.

This time Mao Qi did not wait for his father’s prompting. He opened a bottle himself and poured for Wu Chen and for his father, then poured one for himself. He was eighteen. From any angle, there was nothing wrong with him drinking.

“Uncle! Today was my fault. I’ll finish mine. You drink as much as you like…”

Mao Qi tapped his glass against the table, tipped his head back, and drained it in one go.

“One glass is enough? Can’t you do this properly? Are you even my son? Nothing of me in you at all…”

Mao Rusong watched Wu Chen’s expression and gave Mao Qi another look.

“Uncle! Three glasses as my punishment!”

Mao Qi poured again. Poured and drank. Drank and poured.

Three glasses straight down.

Fierce, no other word for it.

This was brandy, not low-proof beer or wine.

Wu Chen watched with a smile. Only when Mao Qi had finished the third glass did he stir at last, laying a hand on his own glass and lifting it.

Seeing Wu Chen raise his drink, Mao Rusong raised his as well.

Mao Qi hurried to fill his own again.

Wu Chen clinked first with Mao Rusong, then gestured toward Mao Qi. Standing beside them, Mao Qi quickly caught up his glass and touched it to Wu Chen’s.

Wu Chen took a small sip and set his glass down.

Mao Rusong took a small sip too.

Mao Qi drained another full glass.

Four.

After the fourth he turned and sat down on the sofa off to one side. His face was visibly flushed and something about him had gone slack. The alcohol had hit him.

Brandy was hard liquor. Lower proof than strong baijiu, but still around forty percent. And Mao Qi had just put down four full glasses. A bottle of Richard Hennessy filled only about three. He had swallowed more than a bottle in one stretch.

Anyone would have felt that.

“Mr. Wu, I truly do apologize for today. My son genuinely didn’t know you. If he had known who you were, he never would have…”

Mao Rusong went on explaining and apologizing, his manner extraordinarily earnest.

“It’s over.” Wu Chen smiled.

The two of them talked on.

Mao Qi fell quiet at the side. He wanted to keep himself sharp, but the drink had well and truly gone to his head.

Wu Chen and Mao Rusong talked a while longer. Idle conversation, nothing more, though woven through it Mao Rusong kept apologizing, reading Wu Chen’s face as he spoke.

Creak—

The door of the private room opened. A man in a suit, his hair slicked straight back, walked in.

Alone.

Gu Ruibo.

“Brother Gu, what kept you…” Mao Rusong rose at once.

“Something I had to see to… You’ve already started, I see…”

Gu Ruibo grinned.

“Uncle Gu.” Dizzy and fogged as he was, Mao Qi stood too and greeted him.

Mao Rusong glanced at his son. “Xiao Qi, you’re done here. Go find somewhere to lie down for a while.”

“Then I’ll go. Uncle… you two enjoy yourselves.”

Mao Qi agreed, added a word to Wu Chen, and walked out. He did not forget to pull the door shut behind him.

Gu Ruibo joined them. They drank together. They talked.

“I hear Mr. Wu and my young nephew had a bit of a misunderstanding today?”

Gu Ruibo held his glass and asked it lightly, smiling.

The truth was that the sole reason he had come tonight was to smooth things over for Mao Rusong. Mao Rusong had called him and laid out what had happened. Gu Ruibo was here as mediator, to talk the matter back into shape.

Drinking. Talking.

It went on past nine at night.

At first they were still on the business between Wu Chen and Mao Qi. Later the conversation wandered everywhere under heaven.

In truth, Wu Chen’s position never changed. It had been the same from the start: it’s fine.

Tonight’s drinking existed only because Mao Rusong could not put his mind at ease. Even so, the gathering was not pointless. With everything talked through, Mao Rusong could finally relax instead of inventing horrors for himself.

That was no bad thing for Wu Chen either.

Around half past nine that evening.

They had drunk enough, and said enough.

All of them were somewhat drunk. Wu Chen was the clearest-headed of them.

Time to call it a night.

Mao Rusong pressed Wu Chen to stay at the KTV instead. There were guest rooms here. The whole of the sixth and seventh floors. Ordinarily a KTV had no guest rooms for customers to rest in, but Golden Tycoon KTV did.

This was no ordinary KTV.

Wu Chen did not refuse. It made no difference where he slept; if he left he would only go to a hotel, and the rooms here were no worse than a five-star’s.

Mao Rusong escorted him upstairs personally. He had a key card brought over, walked Wu Chen all the way to the door, and handed him the card himself.

“Mr. Wu, get a good rest. We’ll talk again tomorrow…”

A few more words, and Mao Rusong left.

Wu Chen smiled and glanced down at the card in his hand.

Room 606.

He lifted it, swiped, and opened the door.

He stepped in, shut the door behind him, and slotted the card to bring up the power. The room lit all at once.

Wu Chen turned and walked farther in. He had barely cleared the entryway when he stopped.

Something subtle crossed his face.

There was someone in the room.

The guest room was enormous, extravagantly appointed, decorated in a style that would not have been out of place in a couples’ hotel. The atmosphere had been built deliberately.

Just past the entryway, a little to the right and farther in, beside a great round red bed—someone was sitting.

A girl whose looks scored above nine out of ten.

Exceptionally beautiful.

The subtle look on Wu Chen’s face was not because Mao Rusong had arranged a woman for him.

It was because he “knew” this girl.

She was the very girl Mao Rusong had quietly had people cultivating for more than a year.

The girl he had been preparing to give to Ding Ruilong.