Standing before the floor-to-ceiling windows of the Peninsula Hotel, Fu Sihan locked eyes onto that Maybach with a single glance. When Shen Yanzhou pushed open the door to step out, that face—pale to the point of being nearly transparent caused his brow to furrow a fraction.
He dismissed the vice president of HSBC with a few brief words, stepping downstairs. For this fiancée whom he had met only a handful of times and was marrying purely for interest, he originally believed he couldn’t offer much patience; yet catching sight of his lean silhouette at this moment, an anomalous care strangely birthed within his heart.
Drawing closer, Fu Sihan discovered his complexion looked even paler than when viewed from a distance. This person’s face was sculpted exceptionally small, looking as if it couldn’t even match the scale of his palm. His features were exquisite to an absolute extreme everywhere, yet his entire being was packed to the brim with rebellious bones, presenting an image of a character who refused to submit to anyone.
“Complexion this poor?” Fu Sihan’s voice was low, extending that hand wrapped in Buddhist prayer beads toward him. “Give me your hand.”
An aristocratic gesture of this nature, falling into Shen Yanzhou’s eyes, instead transformed into an act. Staring at this coarse-jointed hand before him one that handled firearms year-round he felt as if he could smell that repulsive rum-flavored scent radiating from his frame, recalling that wild statement of “devouring the entire estate” inside the teahouse yesterday.
He slowly lifted his head. Within his beautiful, silver-gray eyes, there was completely zero reflection of this person. He was too lazy to even offer a polite phrase, directly ignoring the extended hand as he tilted his face toward Shen Xici.
“Xici, let’s go.”
Shen Xici obediently kept pace, his arm tightening as he dominant-ly encircled his brother’s waist, leading him to cut right past Fu Sihan, walking toward the Peninsula Hotel without breaking his focus.
Fu Sihan’s hand remained suspended in empty space, only being awkwardly retracted after a long moment. However, this crown prince of the Fu family didn’t turn wrathful from the embarrassment. He rotated his frame, tracking Shen Yanzhou’s lean, stubborn, black-swan-like high-and-mighty back silhouette, his tongue tip pressing against his upper palate as he suddenly laughed.
Yet that arm encircling Shen Yanzhou’s waist area was intensely eye-searing.
The Felix restaurant on the top floor of the Peninsula Hotel was the most expensive money-squandering pit in all of Hong Kong. There were zero nouveau-riche-style clinking of glasses, containing only flutes of champagne and shrewd faces that had been soaked inside the vanity fair for decades. People one grew weary of seeing in the business arena normally still had to be met within a ghostly place like this.
Shen Yanzhou and Shen Xici selected an inconspicuous corner, working with difficulty to sit down.
The moment he took his seat, that unvoiceable injury suffered immensely. A burning, stinging pain transmitted from the red, swollen area, yet he could only suppress his expression, forcibly swallowing the bloody taste rising into his throat. Inside his heart, Shen Yanzhou held zero idea how many times he had cursed that wild dog.
Even if he hid this covertly, tucked away this deeply. Inside a circle the scale of a palm, Shen Yanzhou’s face itself was a walking gold-stamped brand, a heavenly ladder countless people desired to climb.
Before long, several sharks possessing highly sensitive nostrils caught the scent and swam over.
“Aiya, isn’t this Mr. Shen?” A man possessing a beer belly, his face shaking with excess flesh along with his smile, walked over. “I heard that plot of land for the logistics park in the New Territories has finally been approved? Mr. Shen truly wields fine methods; an approval document that us old-timers couldn’t secure even after running our legs off was finalized the moment Mr. Shen took action. Some other day you must show some face, giving this old brother a chance to invite you for tea, so I can learn from Mr. Shen’s experiences.”
“Director Su is too polite,” Shen Yanzhou forcefully pressed down the discomfort inside his stomach, revealing a businessman’s faint smile. “It was merely fine luck, I still must rely on the guidance of you seniors.”
“Mr. Shen is far too modest! Right now who across Hong Kong doesn’t know the Shen and Fu families are on the verge of an alliance? In the future, with a massive ship like the Fu family firm, won’t Mr. Shen be walking sideways across Hong Kong?”
Nearby, a minor celebrity dolled up with immense flamboyance also crowded over, wanting to take the opportunity to familiarize their face: “Yes, Mr. Shen truly displays brilliant grace tonight. Don’t know if I can have the honor of inviting Mr. Shen for a dance during the ballroom party later?”
Dance? Thanks to that dog, his current state left even sitting down uncomfortable; how could he possibly dance? Who knew if that dog was kneeling properly right now.
“Apologies, physical discomfort,” Shen Yanzhou declined coldly.
Seeing he was completely unyielding and maintained this high-and-mighty demeanor that kept people a thousand miles away, the pack recognized this Eldest Master Shen had always been difficult to handle. Sullenly voicing a few scene-setting phrases, they didn’t continue asking for a snub, turning around to seek the next target that held more profit margins.
Just then, a person stepped onto the primary stage.
Catching sight of the newcomer, everyone stopped the movements within their hands with absolute seamlessness. Whether it was the business tycoons preparing to clink glasses or the socialite wives currently joking around, they all turned their frames, looking toward the primary stage area with expressions of respect mixed with a few parts of dread.
In Hong Kong, the only person capable of wielding a lineup and pressure of this nature was the true “Supreme Emperor” the Old Master Fu.
This old man, who had called the shots across both the underworld and legitimate circles for half a century, didn’t dress in a business suit and leather shoes like the others. Instead, he wore a dark cyan brocade Tang suit, thousand-layer-sole cloth shoes, and held a dragon-head walking stick within his hand. Though he had passed his seventy-year mark, his spine was straight as a ramrod; wrinkles ran across his face, yet his gaze leaked the shrewd edge of total decisiveness.
“Grateful to everyone for showing face.”
“Braving a massive typhoon signal of this nature to support an old man like me.”
“Tonight’s charity fund is merely a pretext; everyone eat well and drink well, be casual. Don’t turn constrained simply because an old man like me is present.”
He voiced the words casually. Yet who among those seated wasn’t a total human expert? Everyone knew this so-called charity gala was merely a front. The true objective behind Old Master Fu staging this hundreds-of-tables rolling banquet tonight and summoning every single figure with status across Hong Kong was solitary.
Sure enough, Old Master Fu’s tone shifted. Turning his frame sideways, he waved a hand toward the tall man standing inside the shadows:
“Sihan, come over.”
Fu Sihan, who had been standing in the dark area, stepped forward, positioning himself beside the Old Master. Father and son stood side-by-side. Identical tall, upright statures, identical brooding, unyielding eyes, and even the half-smiling curve across the corners of their mouths was a perfect match. It looked exactly like catching sight of the Old Master Fu who had taken the world by storm thirty years ago, and exactly like catching sight of a young, powerful male lion presently receiving the staff of territory dominance from the old lion king.
“I am old; my energy and physical stamina ultimately can’t keep pace.” That large hand of his, covered in age spots, clutched heavily onto Fu Sihan’s shoulder. “In the future, the group’s operations across the New Territories and the South Seas will be handed to the youth to run errands.”
“Sihan just returned to the country; his character is direct and his methods are unyielding. If there are areas where his performance lacks thoroughness in the future…” The Old Master voiced the words very lightly, yet a warning spark leaked from his murky eyes. Though his tone was conversational, it leaked a dominant aura of compliance bringing prosperity and defiance bringing destruction: “…I must request everyone seated, out of consideration for my meager face, to bear with him a fraction more.”
Who didn’t know Fu Sihan’s reputation across Hong Kong? He had just taken a tumble inside the Kowloon Walled City last night, entering the police station overnight. His public evaluation was a complete mess, and there were even plenty of people waiting in the shadows to watch a joke play out at the Fu family’s expense, waiting to see this crown prince get dismantled.
But these words from Old Master Fu were clearly erecting rules for all of Hong Kong even if this son was a complete demon king of the world, he was still his seed, his chosen successor. Even if he poked a hole through the heavens outside, even if his reputation was a complete mess, as long as he, Old Master Fu, remained for a single day, whoever dared deny Fu Sihan face was denying him face. And across this small plot of land in Hong Kong, people who denied Master Fu face typically met zero pleasant ends.
Clap, clap, clap.
Who knew who took the lead to clap first; immediately following, thunderous applause echoed through the banquet hall. Shen Yanzhou naturally didn’t clap; seeing his brother didn’t clap, Shen Xici naturally didn’t grant him face either.
Fu Sihan also caught sight of Shen Yanzhou not clapping. To put it accurately, his focus remained locked onto Shen Yanzhou from start to finish watching him drink champagne while clutching his stomach, not even casting a single glance toward him.
As Old Master Fu stepped off the stage, the pressure anchoring over everyone’s heads eased a fraction, and the air inside the banquet hall began to flow once more.
The first auction item a pastel porcelain vase from the Qianlong era was pushed onto the stage. The auctioneer began reporting the price in a standard accent of British English, and the attendants below shuttled through the round tables like swimming fish, refilling the premium-vintage Lafite for the distinguished guests.
Shen Yanzhou sat inside the dim corner, his body in extreme misery; he could only drink champagne glass after glass to ease the pain. Seeing him constantly drinking liquor, Shen Xici delivered a dish of exquisite pastries over. “Brother, I saw you didn’t eat much tonight. Do you want some pastries?”
Shen Yanzhou shook his head; he truly possessed zero appetite.
In truth, anyone who had mixed inside this circle for a longer duration knew that the main highlight of a charity gala was frequently not the auction, but rather those unknown whispers shared during the auction intervals.
The front foot of Old Master Fu had just stepped off the stage, when from behind the thin Japanese-style privacy screen on his back foot, the voices of several socialite wives transmitted over.
“Hey, look at the stage Old Master Fu’s line-up today makes it look like this successor position is anchored as hard as iron.”
“Isn’t that right? The Fu family only possesses those two solitary seeds in this generation. The second boy, Fu Siqi, is a complete bookworm, spending his days holed up inside a laboratory doing some biological scientific research, thoroughly ignorant about business. Who else can this position be given to besides the eldest boy?”
“Not necessarily, right…?” Another voice dropped even lower, looking ready to extract a piece of long-standing rot from this decaying wealthy family: “I heard the person at my house blur out a secret one day when he drank too much the Fu family… actually possesses a younger one.”
“Shh! Have you gone mad? That is the Fu family’s taboo! Why bring up that ‘natural-born evil’?”
“How is it a taboo? Who among our older generation doesn’t know about this matter? That wealthy family scandal back in the day kicked up a storm across the entire city, far more brilliant than modern television dramas; it’s merely the current youth who are ignorant of it.”
Shen Yanzhou’s fingers clamping the high-stemmed glass paused a fraction. Changing to normal times, he held absolute zero interest toward this kind of wealthy family gossip whose house lacked some ruined matters? Yet currently he happened to drag this layer of relationship out with the Fu family.
Evil? Younger one? The Fu family possesses a younger young master? This he truly held zero awareness of.
He only heard that socialite wife continue saying: “If you ask me, that younger son was also miserable. His mother was Old Master Fu’s legitimate primary spouse back in the day! That was the eldest daughter of the Lin family a genuine scholarly lineage, a talented woman who returned from studying overseas, possessing what a magnificent brilliance back then, pursued by countless people. Unfortunately, she was a top-tier romance-brain. Insisting with absolute devotion on marrying this syndicate leader who was covered entirely in a bandit aura; her family couldn’t block her even a fraction. The result? The split second she conceived, she was designed against by that true love Old Master Fu kept outside none other than Sihan’s biological mother.”
“That mistress wielded fine methods, relying on her belly to scramble for favor, while knowing how to bow low and act small. How could the proud character of the Lin family’s eldest daughter battle against that? While pregnant, she was locked inside the mid-levels attic; word was that when she gave birth to that younger son, she suffered a difficult labor and massive hemorrhaging, nearly dying on the bed… later, though the person was salvaged back, her brain was no longer clear.”
“Mad?”
“Isn’t that right? Frantic and delusional, spending her days holding a pillow as a child, biting people upon sight. Old Master Fu loathed the bad luck, not even casting a single glance over.”
“A sin… what is born from a madwoman is naturally a minor lunatic, isn’t it?”