The saleswoman had received the email too. She casually opened one, and after a single glance, couldn't help opening a private chat window to whisper to Zhu Ling: "Her old father passed away early last year, and I even chipped in for the funeral money. The company asks employees to submit this information so they can contact family members in case of an emergency. Her old father's been dead for over a year now—why bother writing him down? I don't need her family tree, and I can't get in touch with her old man six feet under. What do you think she's thinking? Weird, isn't it!"
The saleswoman was talking about Qian Xinyi, who was married. She had a husband, a daughter, a mother, and no father—but for some reason, she'd written out detailed information about her father who'd passed away over a year ago, though it was marked in red to indicate he was deceased.
Zhu Ling wouldn't even acknowledge a living person like Qian Xinyi, so why would she care about her dead relatives? She hastily saved the information form, and when she happened to look up, she noticed that this elegant, beautiful woman—so favored and relied upon by her father—was sitting perfectly straight, motionless, observing her expression.
Seeing Zhu Ling look at her, Qian Xinyi knew she'd spotted the specially noted "Lakeside Villa" and gave a reserved smile, a sense of superiority rising within her.
There was a meeting that afternoon where new and old employees had to introduce themselves. The self-introductions needed to be presented as a PPT on screen—a comprehensive introduction covering alma mater, work experience, and hobbies. This was a long-standing tradition at Santian Trading Company. The company wasn't big, but it had plenty of flair. These were rules established during the company's heyday—those golden years in Zhu Zhangyang's memory, and the source of his confidence for the rest of his life. That was why he valued them so much.
When it was Qian Xinyi's turn, Zhu Ling lowered her head to pick at the loose skin around her fingernails. The saleswoman quietly nudged her, telling her to properly watch Qian Xinyi's self-introduction.
Qian Xinyi opened her PPT and read the contents aloud word by word for everyone. She started with her education and work experience: "Chiba University of Commerce, Japan, undergraduate degree, bachelor's. Joined Mitsubishi Bank in 2008, entering the compliance department. Transferred from compliance to the president's office in 2014…" At this point, she paused briefly, a smile playing at the corners of her mouth as she swept her gaze across the room.
Vice President Zhu said, "That's quite a long time at one bank."
She smiled in response: "Yes, indeed. I stayed at that one bank for so many years—the longest being in the compliance department, a full six years."
Next came her miscellaneous personal information: "Registered residence: Changning District, Shanghai (currently residing in the Shanghai suburbs). Zodiac sign: Leo. Hobbies: travel, music, calligraphy…"
When she read out the word "calligraphy," Vice President Zhu and Zhu Zhangyang both cast a glance at her simultaneously—both looks of appreciation. She received both men's gazes and smiled again, a look of reserve and coyness alternating across her face.
After the employee introduction meeting concluded, Zhu Ling finished updating and consolidating the information management sheet, forwarded it to the saleswoman, and mentioned it to her father. He transferred two thousand yuan over—this was her reward for making a special trip back today for the welcome meeting.
Zhu Ling said, "I'm about to pay rent soon. Can you give me a bit more?"
Zhu Zhangyang frowned and added another thousand. Since Zhu Ling had appeared in the office, Qian Xinyi had been keeping an eye on her every move. Seeing Zhu Zhangyang transfer money twice in a row, she couldn't help but make a comment with a smile: "Young Miss, your father gives you whatever you ask for. When he needs something from you, please don't pretend not to see it—respond promptly, alright? You can't just keep living in your own world."
Zhu Ling treated her as air as usual. She accepted the payment, and without a second's delay, turned off her phone and walked out the door. Before reaching the subway station, she found a secluded corner, lit a menthol cigarette, and took a deep drag. Only then did she feel alive again.
Monday evening, Huo Shize was summoned back to his parents' mansion. His parents' mansion was quite a distance from his own residence—he lived in the central city, while his parents lived in the western suburbs villa district. Besides holding one or two honorary titles in the family business, Mrs. Huo also ran a cooking school thanks to her superb culinary skills, teaching a dozen or twenty wealthy ladies year-round.
The western suburbs villa district had beautiful scenery, nestled in greenery, and the Huo family garden was especially meticulously maintained. Several walls of the living room were made of glass, so the ladies could enjoy the changing seasonal garden views while cooking—very lovely. However, Tuesday evening was not a cooking class day. Mrs. Huo and Mr. Huo had summoned their son for other important matters.
Before discussing the important matters, Mrs. Huo asked her son the usual questions—whether he'd been eating and sleeping well, whether the dojo had many students, whether his affairs kept him busy—and also touched on his taking over the hotel the following week. Finally, Mrs. Huo said to her husband: "This is our son's first formal job. There's a bunch of old-timers at the hotel, especially that Anthony—smooth-talking and arrogant. Why don't you go stay at the hotel for a few days and give our son some support."
The hotel had been open for over twenty years, with each department controlled by senior managers who were veterans of the establishment. The foreign deputy general manager, Anthony, wasn't exactly old—still under fifty—but his impressive resume, outstanding abilities, and remarkable track record gave him a somewhat arrogant demeanor. Mrs. Huo couldn't help but worry. Mr. Huo, however, didn't seem concerned and simply said, "I've been traveling a lot for business lately. We'll discuss it when I get back."
The hotel work arrangements had long been settled, so there was nothing special to discuss. They moved on to the day's main matter—one that irritated the entire family. The moment Mrs. Huo brought it up, she sighed first: "It's all that boy Du Song's doing, really…"
Du Song was the son of a relative of the Huo family, of the same generation as Huo Shize—a younger cousin. He'd only been in Shanghai a short while before getting into trouble. The boy had originally lived in Canada with his parents. This year, as a freshman in college, he'd been caught smoking weed at school and simultaneously embroiled in a campus bullying case that blew up big—he nearly got taken to court before his family paid to make it go away. His parents were currently in the middle of a divorce, screaming and threatening each other whenever they met, with no time or energy to deal with him. So they'd sent him to stay with the Huo family in Shanghai temporarily, asking Mr. Huo to help discipline him.
Mr. Huo had been married twice and had three children—two daughters from his first marriage and a son from his second. All three had attended prestigious schools and turned out well. The Huo family's relatives and friends all admired Mr. Huo, saying he had a real knack for raising children.
When young Du Song first arrived in Shanghai, Mr. and Mrs. Huo felt especially sorry for this boy whose family was falling apart. They took him seriously under their wing, shelling out a hefty sum for school selection fees to get him into an international school that ranked highly across the board. Worried he might fall behind academically, they hired multiple tutors both online and offline, and even specially employed a live-in teacher to supervise his studies from morning to night.
Who would've thought that just a few weeks later, word came from the school that he'd skipped class and gotten into a fight, sending a classmate to the hospital. Relying on his family's money, he didn't do the dirty work himself—instead, he hired a few helpers, directing from behind while his hired thugs did the fighting. When the classmate got injured this time, his little violent gang was exposed. The school had a zero-tolerance policy toward campus violence, so expulsion was the only option. In a fit of rage, Mr. Huo fired all the tutors too, declaring he was done with the boy.
Mrs. Huo sighed and said, "A kid can't just not go to school. If no one keeps him in line and he just roams around outside all day, he'll end up ruined. I'll find him another school so he has somewhere to go. If he still won't study properly this time, then there's really nothing more we can do."
Mr. Huo said to his son, "I'll be away on business, your mother's very busy too, and no one else in the house can manage him. Take him back with you and keep an eye on him. In a few days, your mother will have contacted a new school, and you can send him over then."
Huo Shize currently spent his days as a sparring partner at the taekwondo dojo—not particularly busy—so he agreed and brought Du Song back to the dojo.
Du Song knew he'd messed up and had been walking on eggshells, staying cooped up in his room for days without stepping foot outside, treading carefully in everything he said and did. After being confined like a prisoner for several days, getting to leave the Huo estate felt like a fish returning to the sea—his breathing came easier, and his words and movements regained their vitality. In front of Mr. and Mrs. Huo, he'd still respectfully call Huo Shize "big brother," but within half an hour, he was chummily calling him by his first name—Jason.
Huo Shize parked the car, and the two entered the dojo together. The staff greeted them one after another: "Young Master!"
Du Song's eyes lit up at the sound, and his demeanor grew lighter and more cocky. He let out a frivolous exclamation: "Whoa!" Tilting his head, he asked, "Jason, why do they call you Young Master?"
Huo Shize didn't know him well and found his glib, slick tone annoying. He glanced sideways at him and said, "No idea." He called over a staff member, shoved Du Song into a beginner's class to train with a bunch of chattering middle schoolers, and went about his own business.
Du Song was just past eighteen, right in the most rebellious phase of his life. The mere mention of schoolwork gave him a headache, but thinking about how he didn't have to go to school for the next few days, he cheerfully practiced kicks and punches for a good while. Then, seizing an opportunity, he slipped over to the front desk and asked a gentle receptionist: "Hey, what does 'Young Master' mean? Why does everyone call Jason that?"
Du Song's features were plain, but he had a sweet tongue and sharp eyes, plus that easygoing, carefree air of a rich young master. His appearance was extremely deceptive—no one who met him for the first time could help but like him. So the receptionist enthusiastically told him the story behind the title: "When our dojo first opened, the boss was too busy—dealing with all sorts of external matters while also coaching classes. He was so swamped he didn't even have time to get a haircut; it was all messy and long, the kind of length you could tie back. Plus, he's a sixth-degree black belt with serious fighting skills. Anyway, the whole look gave him this wild, distinctive image and aura. That's when everyone started calling him Young Master."
Just then, Huo Shize happened to pass by, and Du Song, with a wink and a grin, called out, "Young Master!"
Huo Shize had been training his legs, kicking the sandbag until now, his head covered in sweat. Seeing him lounging lazily over the front desk, he strode over and gave a mock kick at his backside: "In my place, if you don't behave yourself, you'll be in for it!"