Chapter 103: Moffy Pays a Visit of Her Own Accord

Xiangfei Skating Rink.

When Hong Chen arrived, it was already past eight thirty, right at the peak hour for the night session. Nearly a hundred figures circled the rink, chasing each other, their laughter and shouts echoing endlessly.

Qiao Chu skated to the edge, wiped the sweat from his brow, and flashed a toothy grin at Hong Chen.

“This place doesn't quite suit someone of your privileged background,” Hong Chen said, handing him a drink. He had already been surprised enough when Qiao Chu called him earlier; the two had only met once at the racetrack. Now, having chosen a skating rink for their meeting, Hong Chen was even more astonished. In the eighties and nineties, skating was a fashionable sport, but more than a decade into the twenty-first century, the upper circles had long abandoned it, leaving it for the common folk—or even street toughs.

“I loved skating as a child. Haven't done it in years. Just felt like sweating a little tonight, letting off some steam,” Qiao Chu replied, gulping down half the bottle in one go. He gestured toward the rest area. The two found a spot in the corner and sat down.

Hong Chen pulled out a pack of cigarettes. Qiao Chu waved him off, so Hong Chen lit one for himself. “So, what was so urgent you had to see me tonight? Go ahead.”

Qiao Chu’s eyelids drooped and his expression darkened. He spoke in a low voice, “Last night, two uninvited guests came to my family's Night City KTV locations one and two. There was a conflict—two martial artists, nearly top-tier, were severely injured. This afternoon, Wang Chenghu, the second son of the Wang family, met my brother and offered two hundred million to buy out the Night City brand.”

Hong Chen's gaze sharpened. “Were last night’s intruders sent by the Wang family?”

Qiao Chu nodded. “The Wang family won’t admit it publicly, but Wang Chenghu confessed to my brother. The Wang family is planning to reshuffle the entertainment industry in Qing City. My family and the Huang family are first on their list for elimination.”

A self-mocking smile crept across his lips. “To be honest, before I called you, I went to Wang Shaokun. We’ve been classmates for seven years—maybe not sworn brothers, but at least good friends. He just tossed me a cold line: ‘No matter how close we are personally, nothing outweighs immense profit.’”

Hong Chen glanced at his gloomy face and skipped any useless consolations. “So, what do you want from me?”

Qiao Chu spoke with difficulty, “The entertainment sector is the biggest part of my family’s business. If we lose it, we’ll fall from near first-tier to second-tier. My brother has made plenty of enemies over the years; with our position weakened, they’ll surely kick us while we’re down. My father and brother have already reached out to several families—Lu and Liu, both first-tier like the Wangs, refused; the other near first-tier families were apathetic. After thinking it over, I realized you’re the only one left who might help.”

Hong Chen pointed to himself in surprise. “And what exactly can I do for you?”

Qiao Chu explained, “There are only two real powers left in Qing City who could pull my family out of this: the Jiang family and Hongcheng Group. My family has no sway with either. If we just show up, odds are we’ll be rejected. But I know your relationship with Jiang Tao is special—not just typical social acquaintances. I’ve heard about what happened at the Kings Club; Hongcheng Group’s top two executives stood up for you, which shows how much they value you. So, I hope you can act as a go-between for my family.”

Hearing this, Hong Chen understood. Qiao Chu was after his connections. To be fair, Qiao Chu had a sharp eye, though desperation might have played a part as well.

Hong Chen didn’t respond immediately, pondering through an entire cigarette before finally saying, “Wang Shaokun wasn’t entirely wrong—personal relationships and business interests shouldn’t be confused. Your family’s current dilemma is a business problem. My connection with Jiang Tao is personal, so don’t count on the Jiang family. As for Hongcheng Group, you’ll need to offer me a bargaining chip before I can talk to my boss.”

Qiao Chu was prepared. “As long as we can save the Night City brand, my family is willing to transfer thirty percent of the shares at a thirty percent discount.”

Hong Chen waved this off. “That’s not enough. Hongcheng Group is in expansion mode—they won’t care for such meager gains. If your family wants to join hands with them, you’ll need to cede controlling shares of Night City first. When the battle for Qing City’s entertainment industry is settled, Hongcheng Group can return control to your family.”

Qiao Chu was rocked to the core. Hong Chen continued, “Hongcheng Group wants allies, partners who share risk and reward. I suggest you discuss this with your family. If you have faith in the Wang family, accept their acquisition. If you believe in Hongcheng Group, bet everything on the Night City brand.”

The shock lingered on Qiao Chu’s face for a full minute before fading. He looked deeply at Hong Chen. “Are you sure, Chen?”

Hong Chen smiled lightly, opened another drink, and replied, “If you want me as the go-between, you should trust me.”

Qiao Chu nodded silently, dropped the subject, and after chatting idly for a while, took his leave.

Once Qiao Chu left, Hong Chen didn’t linger either. He exited the skating rink and called Gao Tianxiong, relaying the information Qiao Chu had brought. Gao Tianxiong was silent for a long moment before speaking cautiously. “Chen, I think we should let the Wang family swallow up the other brands first. Then, we can have a showdown with the Wangs and take over the Kings brand ourselves. That way, Paradise will dominate the entertainment scene in Qing City.”

Hong Chen thought it over and laughed. “You’re in charge of day-to-day operations. One other thing—just to give you a heads-up—soon, maybe in a few days, or at most a week or two, Hongcheng Group will be joining hands with Baojiantang. Then, we’ll be fighting on two fronts: entertainment and pharmaceuticals.”

Gao Tianxiong quickly caught on and exclaimed, “The miracle doctor who appeared at the opening match of the Saint of Medicine competition is…”

“Ha, what do you think? Anyway, I have another call coming in. That’s all for now.”

He ended the call and glanced at the incoming number—another unfamiliar caller. He shook his head, puzzled, and answered.

A cool female voice came from the other end. “Are you at the villa?”

Hong Chen found it odd and replied mischievously, “Are you the escort I ordered?”

A pause, then the voice grew even icier. “I’ll be there in an hour, okay?”

“Who are you?”

“Escort.”

Villa, a woman, and the exchange—Hong Chen gradually recognized something familiar in the voice. A stunning face flickered through his mind, and his expression turned peculiar. He chuckled and agreed, “Alright.”

He hung up and hailed a cab to the conference center, then drove his GTR back to the villa. As soon as he parked in the outdoor garage, his phone rang again. Two words came through: “Open the door.”

He unlocked the electronic iron gate. Outside stood a woman, wrapped tightly in a hat, oversized sunglasses, a mask, and a trench coat.

The woman was none other than the famous star, Mo Fei.

Hong Chen sized her up with a smile—she really had come on her own initiative.

Before he could speak, Mo Fei handed him her purse and a shopping bag, then walked inside gracefully. Hong Chen followed behind, feeling as though Mo Fei was the true mistress of the villa, while he was merely her laboring attendant.

Inside, Hong Chen turned on the lights. Mo Fei kicked off her knee-high boots, found a pair of fluffy slippers in the shoe cabinet, and changed. She sprawled on the sofa in the living room, removing her hat as she said, “I haven’t had dinner yet. Fix me something to eat.”

Hong Chen was torn between amusement and exasperation. “My lady, I’m not your servant.”

Mo Fei took off her sunglasses and shot him an upward glance. “You still haven’t explained that night to me. If you won’t make me something to eat, why not?”

That night again, and the demand for an explanation. Hong Chen felt a headache coming on. Mo Fei lowered her lashes, removing her mask, and casually remarked, “There are snacks in that bag. Just heat them up. If you have a bar here, red wine is best. If not, whiskey or even baijiu will do.”

Hong Chen recalled the unsightly mess in his room after Mo Fei left that day. She was a young lady with little self-sufficiency, probably used to having everything done for her. He sighed and carried the bag to the kitchen.

Mo Fei finally took off her coat, revealing a snug sweater and a fitted skirt that accentuated her figure. She grabbed the remote on the coffee table, turned on the air conditioning, then the TV, and tossed her hair, settling into a slant on the couch, her head resting on a pillow, legs slightly bent.

She was acting as if the villa were her own home.

Hong Chen was efficient; within ten minutes, he emerged carrying two plates—one with pasta, the other with fries, chicken nuggets, and fish sticks.

Seeing Mo Fei sprawled like a sleeping beauty on the sofa, her posture somewhat indecorous yet undeniably alluring, Hong Chen couldn’t help but be entranced. Just then, Mo Fei’s eyes wandered over, fixing on the food he carried. Perhaps she was genuinely hungry, for she licked her plump lips.

She had no idea how much charm that gesture carried, but Hong Chen, seeing it head-on, felt a jolt run through him, instinctively swallowing and trembling. The plate of pasta slipped from his hand, crashing to the floor with a clang.