After slaying demons several times, Jiang Cheng finally got up satisfied.
Looking at Qiao Yinyin's sleeping face, Jiang Cheng tossed the soiled sheet into the washer, hit the auto-wash and auto-dry cycle, and only then left her apartment complex.
When he came downstairs, Wang Sheng was already waiting at the gate in the rolls-royce.
Jiang Cheng threw the lamborghini reventón key to the valet behind him.
"Park it in the garage and drive it back to the villa."
"Yes, young master."
Just as Jiang Cheng climbed into the rolls-royce Wang Sheng had brought, a wechat voice message rang out.
Seeing it was from An Xin, Jiang Cheng was a little surprised—this was the first time she'd ever sent him a voice note.
Then again, it might be that little troublemaker Annie.
He tapped play, and a voice quickly sounded from the other end.
"Jiang Cheng, are you free right now?"
Recognizing An Xin, Jiang Cheng answered at once, "I am, I just walked out the door."
An Xin asked, "Then how about dinner tonight?"
Figuring she probably had something to tell him, Jiang Cheng nodded. "Of course—where would you like to go?"
"Master Huang's? It's quiet there."
Master Huang's was an upscale, private-custom restaurant in Shanghai, running three to five thousand yuan per head.
That price didn't include service; you still had to add another ten percent when you settled the bill.
The place only served two tables a day.
One upstairs, one downstairs.
Jiang Cheng knew nothing about it but still nodded. "Sure, never tried it—send me the location."
"All right, should I head over now?"
"See you soon."
As soon as the call ended, An Xin sent the address.
Half an hour later Jiang Cheng arrived at the Tianping Road branch of Master Huang's.
Led by a Waitress, he slowly stepped through the entrance.
By now it was seven in the evening, yet the doorway wasn't brightly lit.
Every lamp was a candle, giving the place an old-world feel.
The Waitress explained considerately, "Our restaurant has two floors, two tables per meal: one on the ground floor, one above. Each floor has its own entrance, so diners never disturb one another—very private. Your reservation is for the upstairs table; please follow me."
On the stairway, warm yellow spotlights finally supplemented the candles.
The entire corridor was elegantly and quietly decorated, perfectly matching the refined name "Master Huang."
All this fancy ambience—only the food would tell if it lived up to it.
When the Waitress showed him into the private room, Jiang Cheng found An Xin already seated inside.
The lighting was soft; the layout resembled a small lounge, complete with sofa, dining table, and tea table.
An Xin sat at the window table, gazing out quietly.
Seeing Jiang Cheng enter, she turned and smiled. "You're here."
Tonight she wasn't in a dress or business suit.
Instead she wore a simple white linen two-piece slip set by Christian Dior and Valentino sneakers.
The casual outfit melted much of her executive aura.
Jiang Cheng, surprised, complimented her: "You look young tonight—someone who didn't know you'd think you were eighteen."
An Xin rolled her eyes, then laughed. "So in your eyes I'm that old?"
"Don't twist my words—it's a roundabout way of saying you look young."
Perhaps because of the relaxed atmosphere—or her casual clothes—the usually steady An Xin joked, "Then I'll dress like this more often and see if any guys your age hit on me."
"You like them young?"
"You men like young women; women naturally like young men."
After that, as if struck by something, she asked, "Your girlfriend looks older than you too, right? Very professional—already working?"
When she brought up Yu Xiaoxiao, Jiang Cheng answered openly, "Yep, I like older women. Older women are great—sensible and caring."
Those words left An Xin with an odd feeling.
A faint pang of sourness rose in her; she pushed it aside and said, "Let's have some tea first; I'll ask them to serve."
She pressed the table bell and poured Jiang Cheng a cup.
"This Biluochun smells nice—try it."
Jiang Cheng downed it in one gulp and shrugged. "To me, tea that costs tens of thousands a jin and tea that costs a few hundred are the same—just something to quench thirst. A waste, really."
An Xin smiled. "You're not picky at all."
The dishes soon began arriving.
After the starters, the Waitress brought the pre-decanted red.
An Xin took a sip. "Not bad—tastes a bit like Penfolds. It's their recommendation; because it's a second label, the price isn't scary."
Jiang Cheng tasted it too, letting it slide slowly down.
He knew little about tea, but after frequenting bars he could pick out differences in wine.
"Good mouthfeel, great value."
Seeing him pleased, An Xin smiled and told the Waitress who came to explain the dishes, "No need—I'll do it."