Chapter 23: Man Proposes, God Disposes

Wei Guan was not particularly acquainted with Fengzhou Lu; it was only through her connection with Jiu Qiao that she had seen him more often lately. In her limited recollection, she had never seen Fengzhou Lu so gentle.

She pressed her lips together and, after he came over and sat down, she asked, “Mr. Lu, are you expecting more friends to join us?”

Fengzhou Lu responded with a quiet assent, directing his words to Xiujin Liang, “Would you mind, Mr. Liang?”

Xiujin Liang, adept at social graces, naturally replied that he had no objection.

Fengzhou Lu nodded, “She’ll only stay for a short while, and then she’ll leave.”

Wei Guan hesitated, “Is it a business acquaintance of yours, Mr. Lu? Should I have someone bring more drinks?”

There were just the three of them in the private room, and the drinks were few.

Fengzhou Lu glanced at the coffee table. “No need, she doesn’t drink.”

Wei Guan smiled faintly, “I see.”

A few seconds later, she turned to check her phone lying on the other side of her lap; Jiu Qiao had yet to reply.

Perhaps it was just as well—this situation was certainly not one where she ought to show her face.

...

Jiu Qiao claimed her tolerance for alcohol was poor, yet every time Xiucheng Liang poured her a drink, she would empty it in a single gulp.

Xiucheng Liang smiled, “Miss Qiao, what brought you to the temple today? Are you a believer?”

Jiu Qiao cradled her glass, thinking before she answered, “I am.”

She leaned forward, asking, “Do you believe?”

Xiucheng Liang replied, “I believe more in the power of human will.”

Jiu Qiao nodded, “I used to believe in that as well.”

Otherwise, she would never have persisted after knowing Fengzhou Lu did not care for her, and in the end, married him. Was it not because she thought that if she tried hard enough, nothing was unattainable?

But reality had proven that some things, once acquired, brought nothing but burns and blisters—no use at all.

They exchanged drinks for a while longer, and soon the bottle was nearly empty.

Jiu Qiao felt pleasantly tipsy and stood up. “Wait, I’ll find a waiter and order another bottle.”

Xiucheng Liang rose as well, “Allow me.”

“No, no,” Jiu Qiao waved her hand, “I know this place well, I’ll go.”

Her steps were light as she headed toward the lobby; waiters usually stood beneath the columns along the lobby, ready to greet new guests.

After walking a bit, she spotted the same waiter from before. Not knowing the name, Jiu Qiao called out softly.

The waiter, engaged in conversation, did not hear her. Jiu Qiao quickened her pace, but just then, her gaze shifted and she saw someone entering the lobby from outside.

That person wore a hat and dark glasses; though the weather was sultry, she donned a high-necked coat with the collar raised, concealing her chin.

It was Wan Song—Jiu Qiao recognized her instantly.

Wan Song, trying to keep out of sight, spotted the elevator resting at the ground floor and hurried toward it.

Jiu Qiao stopped and watched as the elevator doors closed.

Earlier, she had thought Fengzhou Lu ruthless, leaving Wan Song alone at home—but it seemed she had been naive.

She could not quite name the feeling in her chest, but it was stifling.

Wan Song, though not adorned with gold or jewels, was clearly a connoisseur; her attire, at a glance, was not cheap.

Hers, hers—all those things should have belonged to her.

Fengzhou Lu, that bastard—at such thoughts, she wanted nothing more than to destroy him.

Upstairs, Wan Song exited the elevator and immediately saw Fengzhou Lu.

He had taken off his jacket, stood at the private room door in a white shirt, hands in his pockets, obviously waiting for her.

Wan Song rushed over, throwing herself into his arms, “I thought I wouldn’t see you today.”