FY - 30

Si Wen smoked all night, while Zhou Yan slept soundly.

Around seven the next morning, Si Wen got up, washed, showered, changed, and left.

After stepping out, he paused, then turned back, walked into the bedroom, and leaned down to kiss Zhou Yan’s eyes. Only when his lips were softened by the softness of her eyelids did he feel he could leave.

Zhou Yan was woken by the doorbell. When she opened her eyes, it was already ten o’clock.

Still groggy, she went to open the door. It was a delivery.

The delivery person handed her a box: “Is this for Miss Ro?”

Zhou Yan instinctively replied: “Wrong person.”

She started to close the door, but the delivery person blocked it: “Wait, let me check again.”

Zhou Yan found it strange. Si Wen’s compound had six or seven security guards at each gate, standing ramrod straight, moving like peregrine falcons. Not even a fly could get in. Deliveries were usually left in outdoor lockers, and designated deliveries were brought by security guards in golf carts to a delivery box downstairs marked with the apartment number.

Direct doorstep delivery like this was even prohibited in her old neighborhood.

Thinking that, she tried to close the door again.

The delivery person glanced at the note: “Yes, it’s this address.”

With that, he shoved the box into Zhou Yan’s hand and left.

Zhou Yan was now fully awake.

Stepping through the mess on the floor, she walked to the sofa, sat down, and opened the package. It was a phone.

It must have been from Si Wen. And now, the direct delivery made sense.

Her reaction was nonchalant. She put the phone aside and went to shower.

After her shower, the traces of her and Si Wen’s “battle” were everywhere, making her stomach ache. Shaking her head, she started tidying the room.

After cleaning, the humid, salty smell still lingered in the air. She felt a headache coming on again, so she opened the windows to air out the room.

She sat back on the sofa, looking at the dented television. It was quite expensive, surprisingly not very sturdy.

She recalled Si Wen smashing her phone last night and his attitude, and she silently scoffed. The old bastard. Always doing bastardly things.

Normally, she could tolerate his treating her like a summoned servant, and his scowling, abusive words, but now he was monitoring her every day.

He hadn’t succeeded in making her a madam before, so now he’d changed tactics, remotely controlling her situation at Candy.

The large private rooms were mostly off-limits to her. Now only the small private rooms didn’t restrict her, but the money was less, the hours longer. Gradually, her status would drop, and she’d be excluded from the large rooms. In the future, if a boss booked a large room and requested a hostess, she wouldn’t even be an option.

He was so cunning, gradually turning Zhou Yan into a pariah at Candy, and then he’d have permanent use of her.

Zhou Yan was naturally unhappy.

The difference was that before, when she was unhappy with Si Wen, she would endure it, feeling wronged, due to his status, powerful aura, and generous spending. Now, when she was unhappy with Si Wen, she genuinely showed it.

She wasn’t a meek lamb to begin with; she just pretended to be one in front of money.

This also had to be credited to Si Wen.

He was starting to feel possessive of Zhou Yan, very intensely so, and began to care about her. Zhou Yan knew she could now push her boundaries.

People are always inching for more; there are no exceptions.

________________________________________

Si Wen went to Xizhuang Villa, his true home in Qizhou.

His secretary was waiting. Seeing Si Wen’s car, she clicked forward on her stilettos to greet him, followed by several well-dressed women holding clothes, shoes, and accessories, standing in a line. It was quite a display.

Si Wen got out of the car, stepping onto the green lawn: “How many present?”

The secretary glanced at her tablet: “Currently over two hundred members. Three hundred and sixty on the list. But forty-two members have confirmed they won’t attend.”

Si Wen’s steps were unhurried: “What’s the highlight item for auction?”

“We just received the auction catalog. The last item is a handprint painting by a Danish artist. The artist was only two years old when he painted it. The day after this painting was completed, he died of methamphetamine withdrawal syndrome. Given this background, the painting has been sold for an astronomical price in Northern Europe and was eventually donated to the host of the charity auction gala. The only request is that all proceeds from the auction must be invested in organizations for newborns suffering from withdrawal syndrome.”

After speaking, the secretary added: “Originally, the highlight item was a...”

That wasn’t important; what mattered was that this painting was the main attraction. Si Wen didn’t let her finish: “How many guests have arrived?”

The secretary glanced: “All of them.”

Si Wen liked that answer.

The main door opened, and Si Wen went directly to the cloakroom to prepare his appearance.

This was his first public appearance at a charity auction, and in the provincial capital. He intended to enjoy himself.

His suit was bespoke, silver-white, a four-piece set. A white shirt, stone-blue tie. A vest, single-breasted with four buttons. The blazer had a cross-over collar and front lapels adorned with Suzhou embroidery, depicting a black dragon. The outermost piece was a knee-length, stand-collar coat.

An eight-meter aura, it wasn’t entirely embodied by the person, but an ordinary person definitely couldn’t project such an aura.

It was just like that.

One had to admit it.

Si Wen’s eyelids drooped slightly, his entire face a picture of nonchalance.

The secretary and the team of image designers dared not look up at him. They feared his unintentional allure the most; the outcome would be nothing short of an endless hell.

Once ready, the secretary still needed to check for any flaws. She quickly glanced over him and noticed the purplish-red marks on his neck. She lowered her head, her heart pounding like a trampoline, yet her voice remained calm: “Sir, your neck needs to be addressed.”

Si Wen turned to look in the mirror. The marks on his neck were from Zhou Yan’s bites. She bit harder than he did, like a dog.

The secretary needed to ensure Si Wen’s flight time, as applying for flight routes with air traffic control had time restrictions. She reconfirmed with him: “Sir?”

Si Wen was unconcerned and walked out: “No need.”

The secretary followed him.

The car was already arranged, heading directly to the airport.

________________________________________

The organizers of this high-end charity auction gala had intricate ties with the government and possessed a certain level of credibility. It was one of the most prestigious events in the city’s charity auctions, fully compliant with the “Charity Law.”

The location was Qichishan Villa, beyond the Fifth Ring Road, next to a chain hotel.

Guests included not only leaders from various industries but also key government officials.

For example, Feng Zhongliang, Director of the Anti-Drug Bureau of the Ministry of Public Security.

Si Wen’s private jet arrived, heading straight for Qichishan Villa.

Time was too tight; there was almost no rest period. To avoid being late, he had to rush tirelessly.

If it weren’t so tight, he would have changed clothes here and checked into the chain hotel where Feng Zhongliang was staying.

It was said that the handprint painting was donated to the organizers by the original owner thanks to Feng Zhongliang’s influence, so he would participate in the gala as an important guest.

Si Wen felt he should pay his respects to Director Feng’s distinguished presence.

However, since a private meeting wasn’t possible, seeing him at the gala venue would be the same.

________________________________________

Qichishan Villa.

A doorman approached, ushering Si Wen to the entrance checkpoint: “Your invitation, sir.”

The secretary handed over the invitation. The doorman took it with both hands, scanned the barcode on the invitation with a computer scanner, and the access control unlocked.

Si Wen entered, followed closely by his secretary.

His attire was well-suited to the overall decor of the banquet hall, yet it couldn’t be called flamboyant; there were plenty of others even more ostentatious and grand. This matched his expectations and was part of his plan.

As prominent figures continued to arrive, the spotlights in front of the main stage were already on.

Si Wen’s seat was ordinary, a bit off to the side, not easily seen.

The auction began. The host stood on the main stage, reading out the auction procedures and subsequent matters for successful bids.

After the display of the auction items, qualified members would raise their bid paddles. The successful bidder would sign a contract with the organizer regarding the use of funds, and then the organizer would issue a donation receipt. Both documents were to be publicly disclosed by law.

The first auction item was brought onto the stage by a courtesan, and a large detailed image of the item was displayed on the big screen.

The auctioneer replaced the host, standing on stage. First, he introduced the item, then came the bidding phase.

The secretary noted the bid paddle numbers, conducted a rough analysis of their backgrounds, estimated the price at which they would drop out, and then told Si Wen: “Sir, you can bid.”

Si Wen nodded.

The secretary raised the number paddle.

The auctioneer looked over: “Six hundred thousand.”

The guests also looked over. Since entering, this seemed to be the first time they had seen Si Wen. He was surprisingly wearing a silver-white suit, which seemed out of place among the many dark-colored suits. But after looking for a while, they felt that it was they who were out of place.

A lady in the front row quietly asked her neighbor: “Who is that?”

The neighbor glanced towards Si Wen, only catching his exceptional demeanor: “Don’t know him. Haven’t seen him before.”

The gavel fell, and Si Wen secured the first item, a good start.

The second item, the third... until the very last highlight item, all were taken by Si Wen alone. A lavish display of wealth. So much so that by the end, half the hall of guests looked on with awe, their mood becoming excited, more nervous than if they were bidding themselves.

Si Wen didn’t look at the price; he was determined to acquire all the auction items at this charity auction gala.

The secretary hadn’t been informed of Si Wen’s intentions beforehand. Towards the end, she too began to panic.

Over twenty million yuan had already been spent, but Si Wen remained composed, showing no hesitation. What was he playing at?

The behind-the-scenes directors of the event had all come to the front hall, eager to see who this lavish gentleman was.

It even alarmed Feng Zhongliang, who was only scheduled to appear during the post-auction transaction phase. He stood by the panoramic elevator, looking at the silver-white figure on the left side of the circular hall, his eyes focused, his hands gradually clenching, yet his posture remained as straight as a pine, not wavering in the slightest.

Si Wen suddenly looked over, his gaze meeting Feng Zhongliang’s across the sea of people.

Feng Zhongliang didn’t flinch, but his gaze, far less casual than Si Wen’s, was less impactful. His dignified posture almost faltered.

It was him.

It was him.

Looking at those eyes, the 6-Hu drug manufacturing and trafficking case from years ago swept through Feng Zhongliang’s mind once more like a storm.