Chapter Eighty-One: Murphy’s Invitation

The racetrack was oval-shaped, with a circumference of just over thirteen hundred meters—slightly smaller than the international standard. In the center, a stretch of verdant grassland separated two arenas reserved for equestrian competitions, and there was even a clear, man-made lake glimmering in the sun.

After enjoying his steak in peace, Hong Chen made his way to the infield to join Jiang Tao and the others. By then, three races had already concluded. The expressions of Jiang Tao's group were far from pleasant: out of three matches, they’d managed only one win and two losses. Most critically, Cao Renjie had been defeated by a professional jockey invited by Lu Huarong.

“What’s wrong with you? With skills like that, you still have the nerve to call yourself the province’s top jockey? Are you kidding me?” Jiang Ying furrowed her brows as she scolded Cao Renjie. As the eldest daughter of the Jiang family, her future marriage, if not a strategically arranged alliance, would at the very least be between equals. Cao Renjie was merely a jockey; unless he reached world-class status, there was virtually no chance for the two of them.

To Jiang Ying, their romance was nothing more than a fleeting amusement—a way to brighten her mood. Now, however, Cao Renjie had thoroughly ruined it.

Cao Renjie had lost all composure, his face flushed with embarrassment, shrinking into himself like a rooster bested in a fight. Under Jiang Ying’s verbal onslaught, he could only muster feeble excuses, bracing himself for scolding and ridicule.

The rest of the group watched coldly, no one stepping in to defend Cao Renjie. This was the brutal indifference of their circle: background determined status, and without Jiang Ying’s protection, Cao Renjie’s six-figure annual income meant nothing to these people.

“All right, enough with the long face. Whatever you lost, I’ll cover it,” Hong Chen interjected, giving Jiang Tao a friendly punch on the arm. In the eyes of the crowd, this guy clearly didn’t understand the rules—Young Masters of Qing City cared nothing for wins or losses, only for face. Making a joke at such a moment was asking for trouble.

Anyone who’d seen the scene at the King’s Club that night would know: when Jiang Tao declared his intention to protect Hong Chen, he had done so with a swaggering dominance that brooked no contradiction—this was not a man with a gentle temper.

Everyone expected Hong Chen’s ill-timed remark to draw Jiang Tao’s ire, but to their astonishment, Jiang Tao merely glanced at him and retorted, “Money’s not an issue, pal.”

Then Hong Chen picked up two bottles of mineral water from the table, tossed one to Jiang Tao, who unscrewed the cap and took a long drink without a second thought.

What was going on?

The onlookers were dumbfounded. Lu Huarong exchanged a knowing glance with Wang Shaokun, their eyes filled with intrigue. Jiang Ying paused her tirade against Cao Renjie, glaring coldly at Hong Chen, fury and confusion warring within her. What kind of magic had this man worked on Jiang Tao to blunt his sharp edges?

Cao Renjie, too, witnessed the scene, his heart filled with envy and resentment. He’d already heard from Jiang Ying that Hong Chen was nothing more than a prospective son-in-law to a second-tier family, and merely a driver for the company’s executives—yet somehow, he’d managed to latch onto Jiang Tao, who genuinely treated him like a brother.

By contrast, what did he, the boyfriend of the Jiang family heiress, receive?

Nothing stings more than comparison, especially for those whose own standing is shaky and who rely on others for favor. The sting of unequal treatment is all the sharper.

“What are you all staring at? There are still two more races left in this best-of-five. Are we continuing or not? If you’re afraid to lose, just say so and I’ll settle up now.” Jiang Tao, feeling the heat of their stares, suddenly darkened, snapping at Lu Huarong.

He then shot a cold glance at Cao Renjie. “Are you up to it or not? If not, just say so and I’ll have one of the club jockeys take your place.”

Cao Renjie jolted, nerves taut. “Young Master Jiang, please, just give me one more chance. I promise I won’t let you down again.”

Jiang Tao grunted. “This is your last chance. If you lose again, don’t ever show your face around me.”

Cao Renjie hurried to agree, his head bowed.

The group drew a collective breath—Jiang Tao was still very much himself, and this was no time to provoke him, not even in jest.

Hong Chen shook his head at Jiang Tao, exasperation on his face, but Jiang Tao ignored him. The looks from the others grew even more complex.

In the next race, Cao Renjie mounted up once more. This time, he redeemed himself, winning by a margin of four lengths. Jiang Tao’s mood visibly improved. After a brief rest, just as the fifth race was about to begin, another group entered the arena.

“It’s Mo Fei!” cried Qiao Chu’s girlfriend, drawing everyone’s gaze. Among the newcomers, a young woman stood out, the center of attention. She wore a dark helmet, a form-fitting dark riding jacket, white breeches, and tall black boots—the very image of an equestrian competitor.

She was statuesque, at least five feet nine, her features strikingly perfect as if carved by the gods, her eyes clear as spring water and bright as the stars, her bearing elegant, her stride light, and an air of nobility about her that defied description.

This was a woman who could captivate both men and women alike.

Hong Chen followed the crowd’s gaze, and with a start of surprise, realized it was her—the woman who, in a drunken haze, had mistakenly entered his car that night and whom he’d ended up taking home.

Mo Fei. The name rang a bell. He quickly scanned the crowd and saw that several were visibly excited, like fans meeting their idol.

“You know her?” Hong Chen asked quietly. At once, those nearby shot him looks of disbelief.

“You really don’t know her? I’m speechless. She’s one of the hottest celebrities in the country, the only one whose endorsement fees have topped a hundred million,” Jiang Tao muttered, keeping his voice low.

Suddenly, Hong Chen remembered—no wonder she’d looked familiar that night, and the name had sounded so familiar just now. He didn’t watch much television or entertainment news, but he knew of Mo Fei. She was the face of Prestige, the country’s top luxury mobile phone brand.

“Jiang Tao, let’s hold off on the fifth race. I want to say hello,” said Lu Huarong with an apologetic smile, striding off to greet the newcomers. Jiang Tao wasn’t surprised; he’d heard that the Lu family’s new mall, slated to open next week, was hoping to have Mo Fei, who was filming in Qing City, attend the ribbon-cutting. Among the group was the local representative for her brand—Lu Huarong’s uncle.

“Come on, let’s get a drink,” Jiang Tao said, patting Hong Chen on the shoulder and leading him to a nearby table laden with drinks.

A little while later, Lu Huarong returned, his face aglow with pride. “Jiang Tao, the fifth race is on hold for now. Miss Mo Fei has challenged me to a friendly match—if I win, she’ll agree to attend the opening ceremony.”

Jiang Tao gave him a cool glance. “Whatever.”

As soon as Lu Huarong walked away, Jiang Tao scoffed, a note of jealousy in his voice. “Look at him, acting like he’s won her heart. To the public, Mo Fei is just a superstar, but in reality, her background is very mysterious. That’s why she’s never had a single scandal. I’ve heard she’s only ever endorsed a handful of brands, but every one of them has become a best-seller. That’s not just because of her popularity—it’s got a lot to do with her background.”

He glanced toward Lu Huarong’s uncle, who was now deep in conversation with Mo Fei’s manager, then at Lu Huarong himself, warming up on horseback. “The Lu family is desperate to have Mo Fei at the ceremony. Sure, her star power is valuable, but what they really want is a connection to her background.”

Hong Chen nodded in silent agreement. That morning, five martial artists had stormed the villa for Mo Fei’s sake—her status was clearly far beyond that of a mere celebrity.

“Since that’s the case, if the Lu family can get Mo Fei as their endorser, doesn’t your Jiang family have any ideas?”

Jiang Tao rolled his eyes. “The Lu family is just inviting her to the opening, not for a brand endorsement. All the brands she’s endorsed are national leaders in their fields. Even for commercial appearances, it’s always for the best of the best in any city. The Lu family might lead in three industries here in Qing City, and their new mall is the biggest in town. My family has a hand in many businesses, but we never compete to be number one. Even if we could, we wouldn’t.”

He seemed to think of something, glancing at Hong Chen. “Actually, the West District Mall under Hongcheng Group is on par with Lu’s new mall. Why don’t you call your boss and have him send someone to talk to Mo Fei’s manager? Maybe you can throw a wrench in Lu’s plans.”

Seeing the excitement in Jiang Tao’s eyes, Hong Chen was speechless. Clearly, there was deep-seated rivalry between him and Lu Huarong—or perhaps the Jiang and Lu families were business adversaries.

Hong Chen had no desire to get involved. As for the network-building needs of Hongcheng Group, that was none of his concern.

Just as he was about to brush off the suggestion, Mo Fei’s manager approached, stopping directly in front of him.

Even Jiang Tao, accustomed to all manner of surprises, looked incredulous. Fortunately, there was no one else within ten meters; otherwise, everyone would have been floored by what she said.

“Miss Mo Fei would like to invite you to join her for a trial ride,” the manager said to Hong Chen.

His heart skipped a beat. He opened his mouth, startled—not so much by surprise as by a desire to refuse. He’d assumed Mo Fei would pretend not to know him, and he’d had no intention of greeting her. Yet now, she was inviting him to join her, putting him squarely in the spotlight, right where everyone’s attention would converge. Hadn’t he just seen Jiang Ying and the others lining up for her autograph?

“Miss Mo Fei says it doesn’t matter if your riding skills are lacking. There are ponies for beginners at the club, all very gentle. If you refuse, she’ll have to come over and invite you in person,” the manager added, as if anticipating his attempt to decline.

There was no way out of this now. If he kept refusing, where would that leave the superstar’s pride? And if she decided to take revenge for losing face, that would be trouble—especially since he still hadn’t cleared up the misunderstanding from that night.

“Miss Mo Fei has extended the invitation, and I can’t refuse her,” Hong Chen said with an awkward smile, throwing Jiang Tao a look of comic resignation before lowering his voice. “I’m off, then.” He followed the manager away.

“Damn, your luck with women is enough to make me jealous! You look like you’re heading to the gallows, though—are you trying to make the rest of us feel bad?” Jiang Tao cursed, downing more than half his drink in one go.