After the group finished their bank transfers, they left the boutique.
"We just agreed whoever spends the most foots the bill for the night, so—big brothers—where to next?" Jiang Cheng beamed, admiring his new watch.
He still had four Consumption Cashback Cards burning a hole in his pocket and was racking his brain for somewhere to splurge.
The others didn't bother to demur; at their level a hundred-odd grand was pocket change.
"Yeah, after we buy watches we usually party on—though nine times out of ten it's Brother Qin who pays. Haha," Wang Zheng said, rubbing his palms together.
"Fine by me. I don't know this city—pick a spot," Jiang Cheng shrugged.
"A buddy of mine just opened a resort-style bathhouse. Top-tier service, first-class setting—how about there?" Qin Fen suggested.
"Bathhouse resort… Is it a legit place?" Jiang Xin asked, eyes sparkling.
"Who bothers with legit?" Qin Fen lifted a brow, grinning wickedly.
That single line had everyone instantly pumped.
Jiang Cheng kneaded his lower back. "Now that you mention it, my lumbar region feels shot—urgent massage needed to stay alive."
The quip drew laughter; they all seemed to enjoy his style.
"Same here—sitting too long. Like Jiang Cheng, I need a life-saving rubdown."
"I'm different—I just want a soak, preferably with a Pretty Girl in the tub."
Amid the hoots Qin Fen laughed and cursed, "Bunch of pervs—quit pretending. Let's roll—I'll lead, you follow."
Wang Zheng knew this meant Qin Fen had accepted Jiang Cheng; if the meeting had gone badly he'd never invite him to the next round.
In their circle a Second-generation rich kid won't play with you merely because you have money.
You need both the bankroll and the right temperament.
If Jiang Cheng had rubbed him the wrong way today, Qin Fen would have ignored him no matter how loaded he was. Though the Qin family couldn't show its face in public, its off-the-books coffers ran deep.
Vroom… Night had fallen and the Bund was thick with crowds.
Neon lit up; beauties and Handsome Guys, super-cars and luxury rides began prowling.
A five-super-car convoy, engines growling in unison, still drew every eye.
"Holy crap, plate 'Shanghai A-99999'—isn't that Young Master Qin?"
"Whoa, another one—'Shanghai A-88888' on a porsche 918? Which prince is that?"
"I'm so jealous—those goddesses are gonna be harvested."
…
After fifteen minutes the traffic thinned; Qin Fen's car turned into a straight, quiet lane.
A few hundred metres on, several grand Chinese-style buildings came into view.
Every step felt like poetry.
Though stunned, Jiang Cheng kept his cool façade.
They exited the cars and a Waitress ushered them inside.
"The setting's really nice."
"Looks great."
"Air's fresh too."
Seeing their praise, Qin Fen said with pride, "The lower floors are standard. I'll take you to the top—that's where the real fun is."
"By 'fun' you mean the shady stuff?"
"Thought we came to relax, turns out we're here for a lumbar workout."
Jiang Cheng added, "Sure, it's for relaxation—relaxation for the Girls."
Qin Fen guffawed. "Exactly. Only members reach the top floor. I'll get you cards so you can drop by anytime."
They rode straight to the penthouse; the manager swiped a card—beep—and the doors swung open.
Beyond them a lobby glittered with gold and jade; a colossal crystal chandelier cast warm light over décor both opulent and tasteful.
A blend of classical culture and modern comfort, it felt luxurious yet inviting.
Just inside, two rows of hostesses bowed in unison: "Welcome."
Crisp, melodious voices—each Girl fair-skinned and lovely, coolly dressed in short slip-dresses.
"Let's eat first, massage after—sound good?" Qin Fen asked.