Although Jiang Cheng had never experienced the glamour of Shanghai's K11, he had visited the one in Chengdu several times.
There's no denying that K11 is indeed full of artistic flair.
Still, art means different things to different people.
The same painting can be priceless to someone who loves it, worth spending a fortune to own; to someone who doesn't, it's just another picture.
Jiang Cheng was equally blunt: "To most people, art is a mirror of life. No matter how wildly you decorate or how profound the concept, those who don't get the point won't feel a thing. I'm not deeply familiar with your circle, but my impression is that it's saturated with Hong Kong culture, which keeps the average visitor from connecting; they leave feeling overwhelmed, not moved."
His words hit Zheng Zhigang like a wake-up call.
Zheng stared at Jiang Cheng, eyes blazing, face lit with agreement.
He nodded repeatedly. "I'd never looked at it that way, but you've nailed the issue. Lately I've sensed that Hong Kong culture is losing its pull on the mainland..."
"It's inevitable," Jiang Cheng continued. "Hong Kong Island's influence is waning. The mainland economy is catching up at break-neck speed, entertainment included. Once, Hong Kong stars could summon crowds with a shout; now, when does a Hong Kong film not bomb at the mainland box office? Times change, and the young generation's mindset is shifting."
After hearing this, Zheng Zhigang's opinion of Jiang Cheng flipped completely.
He had assumed Jiang Cheng was just another useless Second-generation rich kid.
After all, since childhood he had only mixed with wealthy overachievers.
Even his wife held dual doctorates in finance, on top of a powerful family fortune.
So Zheng placed great store by scholarship.
He had planned to leave right after the meal—different paths, no need to travel together.
Though the world runs on profit and one more friend means one more road, his family's current position didn't require ties with Jiang Cheng.
Yet after Jiang Cheng spoke, Zheng simply couldn't walk away.
The keen insight and sharp thinking Jiang Cheng displayed earned Zheng's genuine respect.
While the two men talked business with growing heat, Si Qing, unable to join, picked up her phone and messaged Si Nian.
Si Nian replied the instant she saw the photo of the Boston-lobster ramen.
Si Nian: "Big spender, treating you to lobster. I'm going tomorrow—you're taking me."
Si Qing: "Already did it for you, free of charge."
Si Nian: "Who asked you to? I can handle my own eating."
Si Qing: "To be honest, it tasted a bit fishy at first, but the aftertaste is sweet. Best part? The meat's firm and huge—I couldn't stop slurping."
Si Nian: "Stop. Don't ever impersonate me to go out with Jiang Cheng again. Next time, I'll be the one doing the slurping."
When the bill came they argued briefly, but in the end Jiang Cheng paid.
Outside the restaurant, Zheng Zhigang still held Jiang Cheng, chatting about market prospects for the next few years.
Seeing Si Qing beside him, head down and focused on her phone, Jiang Cheng naturally took her hand.
Feeling her sudden stiffness, he leaned close and whispered, "I might get so wrapped up in talking I won't notice if you wander off. Let me hold you."
"No need—I'll stay with you," Si Qing said, yet for some reason she didn't pull away.
She only gave a token twitch.
To so mild a refusal Jiang Cheng simply turned a blind eye.
When he didn't let go, Si Qing's gaze drifted to his handsome profile as he spoke with Zheng Zhigang, and she had to admit his charm was formidable.