TIL - 21

Chen Cheng had a party that night, so he didn’t stay with Wen Huo for too long.

Wen Huo was used to his habit of turning cold after getting what he wanted, but this time, seeing his “escorting out” demeanor, she felt playful. Before getting out of the car, she lunged over and kissed him on the cheek, leaving a rose-red mark: “Teacher Chen, have a good meal tonight.”

Teacher Chen frowned. Before he could say anything to her, she had already gracefully exited the car.

Looking in the rearview mirror again, he saw the mark she had indeed left. He reached up and wiped it, trying to smudge the whole area red to cover it, but after a long time, it didn’t come off at all. It remained as it was.

He looked in the direction Wen Huo had run off. She was quite carefree in her departure.

Wen Huo was indeed carefree. After getting out of the car, her expression became indifferent again, like two different people compared to when she was with Chen Cheng.

She had an appointment with Cheng Cuo. She wanted to learn more about the conditions of mental patients from him.

Cheng Cuo was very busy, with countless patients to diagnose every day.

In his consultation room, there was always a book, “Madness” by Manfred Lütz. The twelfth page quoted Friedrich Nietzsche: “Madness is rare in individuals, but in groups, parties, nations, and epochs, it is the rule.”

He needed such a quote to remind himself that ‘different’ is the norm, so he could truly enter the minds of his patients.

The two met at a Japanese barbecue restaurant in Gongti. Cheng Cuo handed “Madness” to Wen Huo.

Wen Huo took it: “Isn’t this the book you keep in your consultation room? Are you willing to give it to me?”

Cheng Cuo ordered freshly cut, aged beef and a platter with 200 grams of sirloin. Then he said, “I bought you a new one.”

Wen Huo smiled. She knew it.

Cheng Cuo said: “Today I saw a patient with paranoid personality disorder. He has one thing very similar to you: he is very clear about his condition, and he even understands how his conditions occur better than I do.”

Dying in sobriety—this is the most common way modern people die.

Cheng Cuo rested his elbows on the table and said, “He told me that mental patients just want to live in a state they feel comfortable with, so they appear different from those who conform, which makes people think they’re sick.”

Wen Huo agreed: “So he came to see you just to tell you his insights on mental health issues?”

“I think he just wanted to confide.”

“Confide what?”

“That’s not convenient to tell you.”

“Then why did you bring it up to me?”

“You keep inquiring about my consultations every now and then, aren’t you just trying to find a way to cure your insomnia through their symptoms and my therapies? Let me tell you, this patient is as sober as you are, but still can’t relieve mental pressure and still needs to confide. So you, you should confide, you should vent. Insomnia is not formed overnight, so it won’t be cured overnight either.”

Speaking of venting, Wen Huo hadn’t actively vented in a long time.

Passive venting with Chen Cheng didn’t count.

Cheng Cuo saw her expression and knew what she was thinking: “Is the Nightclub Queen making a comeback?”

Wen Huo put the meat the waiter had placed on her plate into her mouth: “I can consider it.”

Cheng Cuo smiled: “Just us two? Should we call a few more?”

Wen Huo didn’t speak, so Cheng Cuo sent an invitation in the clubbing group he was in: “Gongti, Mr. 13. Getting a big booth, anyone want to come?” As soon as the message was sent, girls popped up.

Cheng Cuo called a friend who frequently hung out there and asked him to book a booth at 13, then bought some drinks from him, considering it as supporting his business. “These people are only active when they can snag a free booth.”

“Are they all women?”

Cheng Cuo raised an eyebrow: “Do you dare to invite men?”

Wen Huo looked at him, “Why not?”

Cheng Cuo admired her courage and opened a group chat with his buddies, sending out a call for gathering.

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Next month, there will be a technology patent exhibition in Beijing. It’s very specialized and has a high threshold. Chen Cheng was invited to attend, and this dinner party was held by the organizer to express their sincerity in inviting him.

Chen Cheng had never said he wanted to be the leader of domestic patent technology agents, but no one thought otherwise.

The organizer saw the red mark on Chen Cheng’s face, didn’t recognize what it was, and thought he was having an allergic reaction. He asked with concern, “Teacher Chen, what happened to your face? Are you allergic to this crab? Or perhaps the gold leaf?”

Chen Cheng said, “It’s nothing, just bitten by a little dog at home.”

The organizer chuckled: “Well, the dog you’re raising is a bit fierce then.”

Chen Cheng said: “It’s just a little beast that bullies others by relying on its owner; a bit too playful.”

Everyone present laughed.

The dinner went smoothly. After it ended, Chen Cheng invited the organizer for a steam bath. The organizer looked troubled and confessed, “I’m really sorry, Teacher Chen, but I have to rush to another engagement. I have an appointment with a friend.”

Chen Cheng showed regret: “That’s a real pity. I was hoping to talk to you about the patent application matters for Dongfeng Technology’s two technologies.”

Dongfeng Technology was a tech company the organizer had invested in. Upon hearing this, he became interested: “Oh, is that so? Well then, let me ask my friend if we can reschedule.”

Chen Cheng suggested: “If you really have an urgent matter, you can invite your friend to come along.”

The organizer didn’t say anything immediately, but it was clear he was considering it.

Chen Cheng added more fuel to the fire: “That way, you won’t delay either matter, what do you think?”

“Alright!” The organizer walked aside to contact his friend.

Chen Cheng put away his polite demeanor, which immediately turned indifferent.

The person the organizer had an appointment with was the head of the Discipline Inspection Group of the local tax bureau. They had a private relationship, and their meeting was also a private gathering. However, Chen Cheng arranged it this way to discuss something more formal.

It was time to expose the shell companies Lu Xingchuan used for tax evasion, which he had previously asked Tang Jun’en to investigate.

Chen Cheng was not a great philanthropist. He bought Hanxing Media, but he never said that money was meant to fill the holes of Lu Xingchuan’s illegal manipulations. Lu Xingchuan still owed a pile of taxes; how could he let him get away with it?

Lu Xingchuan should never have targeted Chen Cheng because Chen Cheng would always teach him a lesson.

________________________________________

SIRTEEN, Mr. 13.

Cheng Cuo invited many people, and there wasn’t enough space. So, when they arrived, they upgraded their table to a VIP booth, paying double the price.

Wen Huo didn’t go back to change. She took off her shirt, leaving only her camisole, revealing her beautiful back and collarbones, which were more impactful than any other outfit.

Cheng Cuo reminded her: “I suggest you take it easy while dancing. If my cousin finds out, your thin arms and legs won’t be enough for him to snap.”

“If you don’t say anything and I don’t say anything, how could he possibly know?”

“Then you’re underestimating him.”

Wen Huo wasn’t stupid: “Don’t think I don’t know how he finds out I go clubbing. Besides your mouth, I can’t think of anywhere else he could get the information. Do you think he’s omnipotent and omniscient, and I’m an idiot?”

Cheng Cuo was speechless: “Alright, alright, you go dance. I’ll just keep my mouth shut.”

Wen Huo entered the dance floor. Cheng Cuo, holding a glass of Jägermeister, watched her back.

She was a realistic and clear-headed woman, yet she had fairytale-like long hair and eyes. Everyone liked her, but not everyone dared to encroach.

He shook his head and smiled. He had never thought of encroaching either. Some women are just meant to be friends; any other kind of feeling just wouldn’t feel right. The moment Cheng Cuo saw Wen Huo, he felt they were friends.

Putting his thoughts aside, Cheng Cuo put his arm around the waist of a young girl next to him and handed her his glass.

The two started chatting, leaning close to each other’s ears until the atmosphere became ambiguous. Someone tapped him on the shoulder: “Hey.”

Annoyed, he turned his head, ready to curse, but saw it was Tang Jun’en and rolled his eyes: “I thought it was someone with no sense.”

Tang Jun’en sat down: “Out partying again?”

When Cheng Cuo was a child, he always trailed behind Chen Cheng and Tang Jun’en, like a little tag-along. Looking back on it as an adult, he always felt it was a dark chapter, so he didn’t keep in touch with them much.

Chen Cheng was his cousin, so there was no avoiding him. But Tang Jun’en wasn’t related to him, so they stopped hanging out later.

Tang Jun’en looked at his setup: “Is your money so easy to earn? You’re opening a big VIP booth on a weekend just like that?”

Cheng Cuo said: “I’m freeloading.”

Tang Jun’en turned to look at the men and women around him, all younger than him, none of them looking like trust-fund babies: “Who is it? Introduce me. I’ll mooch next time too; I can’t afford to open one myself anymore.”

Cheng Cuo thought Tang Jun’en didn’t know about Chen Cheng and Wen Huo, so he pointed to Wen Huo dancing enthusiastically on the dance floor: “That girl right there.”

Tang Jun’en looked over, “Whoa, isn’t that Chen Cheng’s little darling?”

He quickly recorded a video and sent it to Chen Cheng.

He had no idea that this scholar could club so intensely. Her waist movements were so captivating that the eyes of the young men crowded around her were glued to her, their hands constantly reaching out to touch her.

When Chen Cheng saw the video, he was still soaking in a medicinal bath. The muscles of his bare upper body suddenly tensed, and the veins in his neck bulged.

This little dog really is young. After all the trouble he put her through, she could still jump around like that?