Chapter Ninety-Eight: The Enchanting Smoke of Vengeance!

This was a quiet corner of the socialite club, a space of relative tranquility. While not large—hardly comparable to the grand banquet hall outside, which spanned thousands of square feet—the room’s decor and furnishings were exquisite and sophisticated, far surpassing the layout of the space beyond.

Only three people were in the room: two men and a woman.

Some people enjoy standing in the sunlight, while others prefer to lurk in the shadows.

The woman standing directly facing the spotlight was the kind that would leave any man who saw her once with an unforgettable impression. Her face was delicate, yet that was not the most striking part of her physique.

Her breasts were full. Her hips were rounded. Her waist was slender. Her legs were long and lithe. If a woman could excel in these four aspects, even if her face were less than ideal, she would still be a prize that men dreamed of.

Furthermore, she was far from unattractive.

Of course, to describe her beauty using only those points would be far too vulgar. In truth, what drew the eye most was the temperament that radiated from her every movement.

She stood there quietly, exuding a mature, noble aura, like a queen descending upon her subjects. She was like a perfectly ripened peach; one only needed to break the thin skin to see her overflow with nectar.

Yes, she was a woman who seemed to drip with femininity from head to toe.

Men, fashioned from clay, naturally crave the nourishment of a woman who is like water.

She peered through the one-way glass wall at the farce unfolding in the hall, a maternal, benevolent smile gracing her lips. Anyone who looked at her would feel the comfort of a warm sun bathing a frozen landscape.

"What an overbearing girl. They say Southern women are better endowed than Northern ones, but it seems that is too sweeping a statement. If we are talking about gentleness and docility, the South might have a slight edge. But when it comes to the courage to take charge and that fiery spirit, Northern women are a cut above. I find myself quite fond of this girl," the woman said with a light laugh, sipping the red wine in her glass.

"It is rare to see a girl who catches Yanmei’s eye," said a man with a voice full of magnetic charm.

He sat in the room's only shadowy corner, his face obscured. He held a wine glass, lounging lazily on the sofa. Yet, despite his casual posture and nonchalant tone, he projected a confidence that suggested he had everything under control.

"I don’t think she compares to Sister Mei," said a man with features as delicate and handsome as a woman's. The look he gave Qiu Yanmei was peculiar—greedy, yet devoid of any lust. It was like the gaze of a child who cannot bear to look away from his mother.

"Xiao Zhao, is it that in your eyes, any woman younger than me lacks my charm?" Qiu Yanmei shifted her gaze to Wenren Zhao’s face, smiling as she looked at his flower-like beauty. She held a fondness for this boy; after all, simple people are easily liked.

"It is... and it isn't..." Wenren Zhao looked embarrassed, his fair, handsome face instantly flushing red. He knew Qiu Yanmei must have discovered his predilection for mature women through some channel, which explained her question.

"If that’s the case, haven't I won the jackpot? Those younger than me lack my maturity, and those older than me lack my looks. In Xiao Zhao’s heart, I must be the number one beauty," the woman said, teasing herself with a light laugh as if to ease his discomfort.

"Regardless, I just think Sister Mei is the most beautiful," Wenren Zhao confessed, his face still red. This was no lie; he truly could not find the tender, maternal warmth he sought in Wang Jiujiu.

"Yanmei’s fame has spread far and wide in the few days she has been in Yanjing. It is not an exaggeration to call you the number one beauty," the man in the shadows said with a smile.

"And how do I compare to Wenren Muyue?"

"She is more beautiful than you." The man’s answer was unexpected. He did not offer polite platitudes about "spring orchids and autumn chrysanthemums having their own merits," but instead delivered a sharp, direct comparison.

"And yet, Young Master still calls me the number one beauty? Is that not lying to my face?" Qiu Yanmei did not take offense; she continued to speak with a spring-like warmth in her eyes.

"The woman I love is her, so naturally, I find her the most beautiful. If I thought you were the most beautiful, then you would be the woman I love. The title of 'number one beauty' cannot be determined by my eyes alone; it should be judged by the public. In terms of status in the hearts of Yanjing’s men, you are naturally stronger," the man chuckled.

"Sigh. With that explanation, Young Master, I realize the gap between myself and Wenren Muyue. If we are to use flowers as a metaphor, she is the laurel of the heavens—aloof and untouchable. I am, at best, a peony of the mortal realm; with a little effort, one might just manage to pluck me," Qiu Yanmei sighed softly. "Having hope brings a sense of intimacy. A woman like Muyue... I fear she only inspires despair."

"There is no point in arguing over such things," the man said gently. He gestured toward the center of the hall. "However, I know that if Yanmei doesn't go out to smooth things over, the banquet you held specifically to announce your takeover of the Socialite Club will be ruined. Do not underestimate the power of a Wang family woman."

"A Wang? If she is someone worth Young Master remembering, her background must be extraordinary. I was just about to go meet this fierce girl," Qiu Yanmei said with a nod.

Only after her long, red dress trailed out of the room and the expanse of her bare back disappeared from view did Wenren Zhao withdraw his gaze, looking dejected.

"Now, Xiao Zhao, can you tell me who that man is?" the man in the corner suddenly asked.

"Ah. Brother Zongheng, you noticed?" Wenren Zhao asked in surprise.

"You really are a simple child. Your face is a living, breathing emotional map. How could one not be suspicious, seeing the shock and anger on your face when you looked at him?" The man shook his head with a faint smile.

"Heh, I really tried to control it. I thought none of you saw," Wenren Zhao said sheepishly. "He is the man my sister likes. Qin Luo."

"Oh. So it is him. His surname is also Qin? It seems we are of the same clan." The man’s eyes in the darkness burned brightly, though the light vanished as quickly as it had appeared.

"Brother Zongheng, are you not angry?" Wenren Zhao looked closely at Qin Zongheng’s face. Seeing he remained calm and unruffled, he felt deeply disappointed. Weren't all men supposed to be furious when facing a love rival?

"Angry? Why should I be angry?" Qin Zongheng countered.

"He stole my sister," Wenren Zhao insisted. He was full of expectation that Qin Zongheng would fly into a rage and deliver a thunderous blow to Qin Luo. That way, he could finally avenge the torment he had suffered at Qin Luo’s hands.

"Is that so?" Qin Zongheng laughed noncommittally. *Silly child, how could a woman like your sister ever fall for such an ordinary man? She merely sought a convenient excuse for rejection—clumsy, but effective. Wenren Muyue, you proud woman, what will you do if one day he decides to give up on you? At that time, you will have to submit to the arrangements of fate. I came into this world for you, and I am the only one worthy of you.*

***

As a handsome man, Guan Xu had always lived his life amidst the pursuit and flattery of women. He believed all women in the world were the same; with a few tricks, they would be easily captured. This was why he had flown into a rage when Lin Wanxi escaped the emotional trap he had set for her years ago.

Yet, today, a woman was shouting at him: "What are you laughing at? Apologize."

No matter how refined his manners were, he could no longer keep smiling. Guan Xu wiped the smile from his face, trying to keep his gaze calm and avoid looking too murderous. "Miss, I have already expressed my apologies. We are all in the same circle; we are bound to see each other again. There is no need to make things so tense over a small misunderstanding, is there? If you could, please show me some face. Let’s leave this matter here, shall we?"

"Who are you? I don’t even know if you’re human or a ghost, so why should I give you face? When your group was bullying Teacher Qin earlier, why didn’t you leave him any face?" Wang Jiujiu sneered.

When Wang Jiujiu returned with her drink, she saw a group of people standing arrogantly before Qin Luo, pointing fingers at him. Their expressions and mocking gazes made her feel deeply uncomfortable. When she walked closer and heard their demands that Qin Luo apologize, she was filled with pure fury.

For a man, what is most important? Face. Especially for people at their level, they hold face dearer than life. If one person causes another to lose face, it could lead to an irreconcilable feud between two families. *But since you want to take away Teacher Qin’s most important thing, I will trample the dignity you hold so dear into the dirt.*

It is better to offend a villain than to offend a woman. If a woman goes on a rampage, there is no reasoning with her.

"And if I refuse to apologize? What then?" Even a clay figurine has a temper, let alone the proud Guan Xu. Having been pushed repeatedly by this woman, he had reached his breaking point. Hearing her say she didn't know if he was human or a ghost, he stopped caring about her family background. He was cornered; even if it meant throwing an egg against a rock, he would not back down.

"When I was little, someone told me that those who do wrong must be punished. If the offender isn't willing to punish themselves, then someone else will do it for them," Wang Jiujiu said, striding toward Guan Xu.

She wouldn't mind slapping that handsome face of his twice. It was something she was perfectly capable of doing.

Qin Luo reached out and grabbed Wang Jiujiu’s hand. As she turned toward him, looking both shy and puzzled, Qin Luo smiled and said, "When I was little, someone also told me: no matter how frail a man is, in a fight, he should always stand in front of the woman."