Chapter 9#

— CEO Fu Weishan appeared to have taken a liking to an intern.

Helen, the head of the secretarial office — a capable and thoroughly professional woman — shared the same gossipy curiosity as everyone else. But when people began speculating amongst themselves about the nature of Ji Chen and Fu Weishan’s relationship, she stepped in decisively to put a stop to it.

Her authority, however, only extended as far as keeping Ben and the others from gossiping outside the department. She could hardly stop every last employee from talking.

After the victory banquet that evening, the entire company had witnessed it with their own eyes: Fu Weishan, all warmth and graciousness, had spent the entire second half of the evening in animated conversation with a Ji Chen who had seemingly appeared out of nowhere. The CEO had even personally fetched him food with his own hands.

What richer material for a real-life fairy tale could one ask for — the domineering CEO and the humble university boy, a romance of the highest order. It was more than enough to keep people gleefully entertained in the margins of their busy workdays, and versions of the story sprouted up like mushrooms after rain.

In the time since, Fu Weishan and Ji Chen had become conspicuously close. He took Ji Chen everywhere that might pass for a date, and gave him all manner of small gifts. Quite possibly the only person in the entire company who hadn’t realized Fu Weishan was pursuing Ji Chen was Ji Chen himself.

Ji Chen naively believed all of it was “business.” He really was terribly easy to fool.

It also meant he hadn’t noticed that people had begun to fawn over him to his face while gossiping about him behind his back.

“That Ji Chen — I never would have guessed he was CEO Fu’s type. But what I can’t figure out is how they even got tangled up in the first place.”

“Oh, I heard about that. He was apparently in the secretarial office at first — that must be when it happened.”

“Wait, but even if he had some trick up his sleeve, why did he end up transferring departments? There’s a missing episode in there somewhere.”

“Apparently Director Yan wasn’t happy with him…”

“What does that have to do with Director Yan?”

“Maybe he was worried about him bewitching the CEO? ‘Beauty leads great men astray?’”

From just outside the break room, Yan Zishu gave a quiet cough.

The voices inside cut off abruptly.

He walked in. The gossiping employees launched into an animated discussion about client requirements and work arrangements.

Behind him came the quiet wailing: “…Lord have mercy, how much did Director Yan hear? Why is he even on our floor today?”

Naturally, Yan Zishu had only come down to coordinate with another department. He had no interest in enforcing workplace conduct, and let it wash over him without a word.

Back in the office, a new email had arrived in his inbox — the DNA paternity results from Yuan Mu’s blood draw.

Thanks to advances in science, the technology now existed to conduct fetal paternity testing in the early weeks of pregnancy.

The child was indeed Fu Weishan’s. Yan Zishu was not particularly surprised.

In the original plot, Fu Weishan had given her a sum of money, which in turn set off a conflict with Ji Chen. Yuan Mu then attempted to exploit the situation to elevate her own standing, before a jealous Yan Zishu stepped in to “handle” her. The small life that had never seen the light of day drifted away in its mother’s womb, quietly, without a sound.

He frowned at the screen for a long moment, then picked up his phone and arranged a time to meet with Yuan Mu.

Yuan Mu chose a secluded tea house on the outskirts of the city as their meeting place.

Yan Zishu went as agreed. The tea house operated on a membership-and-reservation system — you weren’t admitted without an appointment — and had the distinct air of a place designed for the wealthy to unwind and posture. The décor was impeccable, the atmosphere beyond reproach: carved beams and painted eaves, pavilions over still water, a deep and quiet pool, drifting fallen petals.

He handed his keys to the valet. A server in a blue-grey changpao led him deeper inside.

The staff uniforms here were nothing like those awkward, ill-proportioned hanfu imitations one so often encountered. These were practical and elegant — they had the flavor of 1920s and ’30s Shanghai. Yan Zishu found himself looking twice.

The two of them sat at a waterside booth. Around them it was quiet and still.

“The paternity test is done. It really is his child — a boy.” Yuan Mu was as polished as ever, only the slight swell of her belly betraying her condition. She rested a hand over it, and seemed to have found a new confidence there, her earlier wariness replaced by composure. “Fu Weishan couldn’t even be bothered to come himself?”

“I’m afraid not.” Yan Zishu chose his words carefully. “CEO Fu isn’t particularly fond of children, and he isn’t ready to become a father.”

Following the line of Yuan Mu’s hand, Yan Zishu let his gaze drop. He’d been told that a pregnancy typically began to show around four or five months, and that the later an abortion was performed, the greater the physical toll. She ought to have dealt with this sooner. He thought, with mild exasperation: one after another, these people truly had a gift for making his life difficult.

It wasn’t even his child. So why was he the one being wedged in the middle, playing the villain.

“A bit clichéd, I know —” He produced a cheque, set it on the table, and slid it toward her. “This is a token of compensation. Please take it for now.”

Yuan Mu raised one hand and knocked over her teacup. She quickly retrieved her overturned phone, and a server appeared at once to clean up.

Yuan Mu’s voice sharpened with indignation. “What is this supposed to be? Even a tiger won’t devour its own cubs. You think you can send some errand boy to throw money at me and be done with it?”

This particular errand boy chose not to rise to the bait. “Then tell me your terms.”

“I want to give birth to the child. I don’t need anything else. Only that he takes the Fu name.”

“If you don’t need anything else, why insist on him taking the Fu name? Legally, a child can take the mother’s surname just as well.”

“I’m a traditional woman. My child will take his father’s name.”

“I’m not sure who has been coaching you.” Yan Zishu said. “But speaking personally, if your hand isn’t strong enough and your wits aren’t sharp enough, I’d advise against nursing too many grand ambitions. Don’t just look at the ‘success stories’ — not everyone is fortunate enough to be born a young master Fu.”

He lifted his cup and took a sip. “Speaking of young master Fu — do you know whether his mother is still around?”

Yuan Mu bit her lip and played dumb. “You men don’t understand — once you become a mother, you always want to protect your child.”

Yan Zishu conceded the point. “I genuinely don’t understand. Whether you want to protect him or use him, the fact remains—”

“Then what do you want from me!” Yuan Mu’s voice went shrill. “You slide a cheque across the table and drone on and on, and now that the money’s been offered, what — are you going to have a few men drag me to the hospital for an abortion?”

Yan Zishu hadn’t moved. But several servers, having heard the raised voice, had quietly positioned themselves closer.

He glanced up. In the corner, the security camera blinked steadily red.

That was to be expected. If he were Yuan Mu, knowing she was the weaker party in this exchange, she wouldn’t have come without some form of insurance.

“Don’t misunderstand — I do have a baseline of lawfulness I adhere to.” He said this without irritation. “I’m only here as an intermediary, relaying CEO Fu’s intentions. That said, you should be prepared: among Fu family illegitimate children, those who fare poorly vastly outnumber those who fare well. If you insist on bringing him into the world, he will face all manner of discrimination and hidden blows throughout his life. The child himself might not thank you for it.”

Yuan Mu was silent. Yan Zishu added: “Take your time thinking it over. Get in touch when you’ve decided.”

He drained the now-cold dregs of his tea in one swallow, smiled briefly, and rose to leave.

He was nearly at the front gate when he suddenly stopped walking. A perceptive server fell in step beside him. “Sir, your car is being brought around now. Is there anything else you need? Did you leave something behind?”

Yan Zishu furrowed his brow slightly. He turned his head and asked: “Could you tell me — what is the name of your proprietor?”

*

He was led back into the depths of the tea house, to a two-storey building with red walls and blue-green tiles. The area was marked for staff only — guests were not permitted beyond this point.

Fu Jinchi stood with his hands in his trouser pockets. His usual style of dress leaned toward a kind of refined rakishness, and here in this office with its richly antique atmosphere, bathed in the colored light streaming through the stained glass, he looked not the least bit out of place — the very image of a Shanghai playboy from the glamorous days of the International Settlement.

It all made sense to Yan Zishu now — how Yuan Mu had managed to access this establishment, and why she had insisted on meeting here.

As for himself: even knowing the plot in advance, he had only known in broad strokes what Fu Jinchi was up to — a vague outline at best. The novel had certainly never gone to the trouble of listing Fu Jinchi’s various business interests property by property. Villainous bosses, after all, were entitled to their mystique.

This was, however, more than a little awkward. Rather like saying something unkind about a person behind their back, only to turn around and find them standing right there.

Fu Jinchi leaned against his desk and gestured toward the armchair with his chin. “Please, have a seat, Assistant Yan. It’s a rare pleasure — you honor this humble place with your presence. We have a chef on hand as well; would you care to stay for dinner?”

Seeing that Yan Zishu hadn’t moved, Fu Jinchi walked over himself and pulled out the chair. “Sit down — do you think my chairs bite?”

Yan Zishu sat, and grasped for something to say. “I had no idea this was your establishment. It’s quite a distinctive place.”

Fu Jinchi waved a hand. “Mine? Not really — the old man left it to me. I’m just idly keeping it running.”

He kept his hand on the back of the chair. The posture, and the atmosphere, held a certain edge. Yan Zishu shifted slightly to one side.

Compared to the oblivious Ji Chen, he was far from slow to pick up on these things. Anyone who was reasonably good-looking had rarely lacked experience being pursued. And Fu Jinchi’s masculine energy was practically emanating across the room — the suggestion was anything but subtle.

Fu Jinchi leaned in. “After all, I’m one of the illegitimate Fu children who actually landed on his feet — that’s what you meant, isn’t it?”

So here came the reckoning. Yan Zishu acknowledged it without hesitation. “I owe you a genuine apology. I spoke without thinking — that was my fault.”

Then he immediately mounted a counterattack on moral grounds: “Though if we’re keeping score — eavesdropping is hardly to your credit either. Shall we call it even?”

“Now that’s an unfair accusation.” Fu Jinchi said, lazily. “The camera was installed in plain sight. As the proprietor, I have every right to review the footage. If you want to take issue with someone, it should be Ms. Yuan — ask her why she booked that particular seat.”

“She managed to get a membership at your establishment?”

“It went like this: Ms. Yuan came to me and said she was carrying my younger brother’s child, and that she feared someone might try to harm her. She asked if she could use my premises for a certain negotiation. I could hardly refuse such a small request — I only agreed to keep an eye on things. I didn’t expect it would turn out to be you.”

“…”

“But thinking it over,” Fu Jinchi said, “that line about the ‘success stories’ of yours — remarkably well-aimed.”

The back of Yan Zishu’s neck prickled. He no longer had the appetite for sparring.

He wasn’t without manners, and knew that speaking ill of someone behind their back put him in the wrong. The only reason he’d said those hard words to Yuan Mu was that he had no intention of “handling” her the way the plot demanded — he’d hoped to talk her into making her own decision and walking away, rather than getting into a standoff with a pregnant woman and accumulating a debt of ill karma over someone else’s business.

And besides, conversation with Fu Jinchi was exhausting. You were constantly being led by the nose — back and forth, point and counterpoint, an endless drain on one’s brain cells.

But as long as Fu Weishan remained the protagonist, as long as the plot continued on its course, everything moved according to its destined path. Why would a mantis throw itself before a carriage?

He thought now that it would have been better to have pretended he’d noticed nothing, and simply walked out.

So Yan Zishu said, cleanly: “All right. I was wrong. You can tell me directly — what do you want from me? I’ll accept whatever it is.”

Fu Jinchi made an objective observation: “Not a trace of actual remorse. You’re probably cursing me under your breath right now.”

Yet Fu Jinchi then, of his own accord, adopted a perfectly amiable tone: “In any case, it’s not that serious. There are plenty of people who speak ill of me behind my back — what you said doesn’t even rank among the worst. If you really feel bad about it, consider yourself owing me one small favor. I’ll let you know when I think of something.”

Yan Zishu’s first instinct was to decline — but after hearing the rest, he said: “All right.”

Fu Jinchi smiled. “Good. Then it’s settled.”