Translator: Nyoi-Bo Studio Editor: Nyoi-Bo Studio
Rousing from her thoughts, Mo Bing rationalized, “Of course, there are plenty of wealthy bosses with this kind of money, but they would not have the connections within the industry to pull this off so rapidly. Also, they would have no reason to want to help you.” Pausing, she looked at Jiang Jiusheng and asked, “Sheng, what do you think?”
“I think,” Jiang Jiusheng said calmly, then added, “I might just be an interested observer.”
Mo Bing said nothing.
Could it be that the legendary “sugar daddy” did exist and had been protecting her all this time? And who could this mysterious protector be? A supernatural force? For the past two years, Mo Bing had indeed investigated, but to no avail, so she could only conclude that her artiste was a jinx—anyone who crossed her would suffer dire consequences.
The door to the studio opened, and Yuwen Chongfeng, dapper as always in a wine-colored tailored suit, sauntered in, sat in a swivel chair, and looked at Jiang Jiusheng with exasperation. “The number of times I’ve told you to cut down on the smoking…”
This, of course, fell on deaf ears! Although angry, his tone was restrained with an air of helplessness.
Jiang Jiusheng had had this conversation before, so she asked instead, “Did you find me those trolls?”
Yuwen Chongfeng stretched his long legs lazily and placed them on a chair. Strumming his fingers on the table, he said, “Do you think I have money to burn? Would I pay to suppress this insignificant incident? From day one, I intended to groom you as an idol, so it’s no big deal if you are hit with a little inconvenience.”
Inconvenience? Oh, let’s just conveniently forget that Jiang Jiusheng had 30 million fans. Mo Bing wanted to throw Jiang Jiusheng’s cigarette case at this boss.
Neglecting to respond, Jiang Jiusheng searched her bag and found a pack of cigarettes. “Got a lighter?” she asked.
And she had the guts to ask the boss for a lighter! Yuwen Chongfeng glared at her, kicked away the chair violently, and placed his feet on the table instead. “No!” he shouted.
He did smoke, but he was not addicted to smoking. He’d forgotten when he’d started smoking, but it had most definitely been after Jiang Jiusheng picked up the habit.
Jiang Jiusheng acknowledged his response and walked around the sofa to the computer desk where she found a metal lighter in the bottom drawer.
Click!
The cigarette was lit. She drew a long drag from the cigarette and exhaled slowly.
Yuwen Chongfeng was speechless. Darn it! He was really tempted to snuff out that cigarette!
Hiding a smile, Mo Bing knew that her artiste could run rings around this boss who simply continued to act tough.
“There is no way you could keep your keyboard player,” said Yuwen Chongfeng. “It’s just too tiresome. With three more shows left on the tour, you have two options: Disband TheNine, and I will find you the best replacement band, or kick Liu Xu out and reorganize your team.” Yuwen Chongfeng retracted his legs and leaned back in the chair, speaking slowly for the effect as he said, “Of course, if you refuse to disband that half-baked lot, you’ll have to bear the consequences. I just want results, and if the concerts are negatively affected…” Pausing, Yuwen Chongfeng looked at Jiang Jiusheng and said, “Look, Sheng, I am just a regular businessman. I want to make money.”
Three years ago, when Jiang Jiusheng had insisted on making her debut together with the band, Yuwen Chongfeng had uttered these exact words to her. In the end, he’d still ended up handing over 100 million to release Jiang Jiusheng’s first album.
Without going deeper into any reasoning, cajoling, or commitment, Jiang Jiusheng simply said, “I have a plan.”
Oh, yes. She had a plan all right. Such insubordination!
At this moment, Yuwen Chongfeng’s phone rang, and he answered the call immediately. A tantalizing feminine voice at the other end cooed, “Master Feng, why are you keeping me waiting? When are you coming over?”
That voice… So, Master Yuwen had a new woman.
In a low tone, Yuwen Chongfeng sweet-talked, “Be good.”
There was silence over the phone for a short while. Then the woman responded obediently, “All right then. I’ll get the booze ready for you.” No longer sounding tantalizing or needy, she replied in an eagerly accommodating tone, “I know you’re busy. You take your time.”
Wow. Very well-trained and submissive. But then again, all of Yuwen Chongfeng’s women were submissive. There had been exceptions, of course, but those had been quickly cast aside and replaced. When Master Yuwen said to “be good,” he meant it as an order and not a request.
The woman continued talking in a sweet voice but was cut off by Yuwen Chongfeng, who hung up on her. Looking at Jiang Jiusheng with a frown, he said, “Your Weibo account is either gathering dust or used to post nonsense. Why don’t you let the company manage it?”
Nonsense such as hand fetishism.
Yuwen Chongfeng had long harbored disapproval of Jiang Jiusheng’s obsession with hands for a simple reason. Hailing from a military family, he had grown up in military boot camps, training for seven years in hand-to-hand combat. Naturally, his hands weren’t pretty. At their very first mixed martial arts sparring session, Jiang Jiusheng had broken his arm, and Yuwen Chongfeng had been furious. When he’d asked her why she had been so merciless, she had responded that he didn’t have nice hands, so she didn’t see why she needed to hold back.
It was probably starting at that time that Yuwen Chongfeng had begun to disapprove of her obsession with hands.
In a professional tone, Jiang Jiusheng said, “I hope that the company will not interfere with my private life.”
Yuwen Chongfeng huffed and puffed in frustration. “That’s it. I’m past caring!” He then got up and started to leave.
Jiang Jiusheng called after him, using his full name. He stopped in his tracks.
Drawing on her cigarette with her eyes half-shut, she said offhandedly, “You’ve got lipstick on your collar.”
Crossing his arms, Yuwen Chongfeng leaned against the door and glanced at his shirt collar. “What’s it to you?” he asked with a leer.
In a measured tone, Jiang Jiusheng advised, “Be safe.”
“Don’t you worry. I always take precautions.” And he laughed like the bad boy he was.
Jiang Jiusheng was speechless. Such an evil person!
When Yuwen Chongfeng was out of earshot, Mo Bing asked, “What do you think of our boss?”
“He’s not a bad boss.” Her matter-of-fact response was devoid of any personal opinion or feelings.
Mo Bing persisted. “Personally, not professionally,” she said.
Putting out her cigarette and taking a sip of water before replying, Jiang Jiusheng said, “Then you should ask his women.”
“Don’t you think he gives you special treatment?” Mo Bing asked, staring at her and studying her face for clues. She didn’t think that Yuwen Chongfeng was Jiang Jiusheng’s sugar daddy, just that he had a good eye for talent, even though he did appear to have overindulged this untamed talent.
Having given it some thought, Jiang Jiusheng replied, “Maybe he just respects me more, since I’m two levels above him in mixed martial arts.”
Respect—what a load of BS!
Mo Bing was stunned speechless. Obviously, Jiang Jiusheng did not understand how men were wired. Men only wanted to conquer and subdue, not to give in or compromise.
She only found out much later that the man with seven years’ worth of training in mixed martial arts who had been beaten by trainee Jiang Jiusheng was none other than Boss Yuwen. In terms of timing, Jiang Jiusheng had signed with Tian Yu at about the same time that she had beaten the boss to the ground. Which meant that, regardless of having been beaten and humiliated by his junior, Jiang Jiusheng, on the sparring mat, Master Yuwen had graciously signed her and invested in grooming her as the rising star of rock music.
Somehow, Mo Bing did not think that Yuwen Chongfeng had it in him to look past the humiliation, so the only logical explanation was that Jiang Jiusheng had meant something to Yuwen Chongfeng. She was still working out what that something was, and she didn’t want to jump to conclusions. After all, Yuwen Chongfeng was always surrounded by women, and only he would know whether Jiang Jiusheng was an intangible fantasy or someone to be pursued.
Reverting to the topic at hand, Mo Bing asked, “So, what do we do with Liu Xu?”
Jiang Jiusheng plucked a few strings on the guitar. “I don’t care whether we have a keyboard player or not,” she said. “I have been more than generous to her.”