Jiang Cheng swore he hadn't meant it—his foot had simply brushed hers under the table, an accidental touch well within the bounds of normal social distance.
Unfortunately, Fang Yuan clearly didn't see it that way; she'd obviously read far more into it.
She ducked her head in confusion, took a sip of tea, and tried to hide her embarrassment.
Her long lashes cast faint shadows under the light, tinting her cheeks a sunset-crimson.
Just as Fang Yuan was concentrating on her food, a tall, handsome middle-aged man in a crisp suit appeared at the table.
"Fang Yuan?" President Wang stood in the doorway, face dark, eyes flashing with displeasure.
"President Wang."
He stood ramrod-straight at the door, expression suddenly gloomy, the carefully groomed hair at his temples quivering slightly.
His falcon-sharp gaze locked onto Fang Yuan, his voice thick with reproach.
"So you turned down my dinner invitation… to dine with this…?" His words broke off midway, as though he were fighting some inner surge of emotion.
His eyes swept across the table of delicacies and finally settled on the dish called Amber Glow.
That single course cost 3,888 yuan per serving, to say nothing of the bottle of 1990 Romanée-Conti already breathing beside it.
Hearing this, Jiang Cheng's expression flickered; surprise rippled through him.
So this was the "President Wang" Zhou Ying had mentioned moments ago.
Though well into middle age, he kept himself in excellent shape—no beer belly, no bald patch.
"President Wang, what nonsense are you spouting?" Fang Yuan cut in, frowning, unconsciously twisting her napkin.
President Wang merely adjusted his tie and looked down at Jiang Cheng with undisguised scrutiny, as though trying to see straight through him.
Behind gold-rimmed glasses his gaze lingered on Fang Yuan.
"I'd heard people in your company say a divorced woman who dolls up like a girl every day can't be decent. I didn't believe it—until now. Dining somewhere that costs five thousand a head—very generous, Fang Yuan. Men age, you know; youth doesn't last. Think carefully."
He had clearly seen her shy flush; he refused to believe they were innocent.
Fang Yuan had meant to explain.
But after hearing that, she decided not to waste her breath.
She simply shrugged. "So what if it is? Wang Fugui, you have no say in my private life."
He had coveted Fang Yuan for a long time.
From the first moment he saw her he'd vowed to possess her.
Watching her stand up to him for a younger man only enraged him further.
"Fang Yuan, you'd better listen!" he snarled. "I can ruin your career in this industry—believe it!"
Jiang Cheng cut in calmly. "Oh? Big words. Which industry might that be?"
He dabbed the corner of his mouth, unhurried, elegant, apparently unimpressed by the threat.
Though his tone was idle, it carried an unmistakable pressure.
Sensing the aura around Jiang Cheng,
Wang Fugui was taken aback.
Yet anger still overrode his reason.
"Young man, stay away from Fang Yuan. A woman her age isn't for the likes of you. I, on the other hand, am—"
Before he could finish, the Waitress ushered another man in.
It was Cheng Gui, twisting the jade ring on his left hand as he followed her.
The instant Wang Fugui saw Cheng Gui he broke into a fawning smile.
He hurried forward. "President Cheng! You're here at last! I reserved the entire top-floor private room at Cloud-Top for you."
Cheng Gui gave a polite smile. "President Wang, you're too kind."
But even as he spoke his gaze swept the room—and landed on Jiang Cheng and Fang Yuan.
"Jiang Cheng?" Cheng Gui's eyes lit up; he stepped past Wang Fugui and strode over.
Grinning, he asked, "When did you get back? I just liked your moments post about your private jet."
Wang Fugui was left frozen, smile stiff, cigar dropping onto the Persian carpet with a soft thud.
He stood awkwardly, not knowing what to do.
Jiang Cheng smiled and shook Cheng Gui's hand.
"Uncle Cheng, I only just returned."
"Did you receive the gifts I sent to Kyoto the other day? The Da Hong Pao was hand-picked from my family's tea garden—you must try it." Cheng Gui beamed.
In truth there had been so many presents Jiang Cheng had no idea what was what.
He praised it anyway. "I drank it long ago—rich aroma, excellent tea…"
Cheng Gui laughed even louder.
"Haha! If you like it, I'll set aside more next harvest. Those bushes were planted by my grandfather—real antiques…"
"Thanks in advance, Uncle Cheng."
"Come on, after all we've been through, no need for thanks."
Watching Cheng Gui treat Jiang Cheng with such warmth, President Wang's heart was already in a panic.
He had bent over backwards to secure this meal—loitering outside Cheng Gui's home, pulling countless strings.
And now, in a single breath, he had offended Jiang Cheng.
What now…