Further down was the basement — the layout and furnishings much like upstairs, but far quieter than the ground floor and second floor.

A room along the corridor stood open; Lu Shicheng didn’t go in, but simply stopped in the doorway, watching Wen Tingli.

Wen Tingli caught up and came to a stop, glancing at the same time at the room on the left, discovering it to be a billiard room.

“Is there something you need from me, Mr. Lu?”

Lu Shicheng’s expression was calm, and yet Wen Tingli felt another chill run down the back of her neck. She had only wanted to use some pretext to strike up conversation with him — she’d never meant to actually anger him. She hastily put on an expression of sudden realization. “Mr. Lu wants to ask about the dresses? You see, last time I wanted to return the dresses to you, but you wouldn’t have it. Then when I ran into Mr. Kuang, I asked him about it again, and he still didn’t give me a definite answer. I simply couldn’t bear to let such expensive dresses sit there gathering dust.”

As she spoke, she watched his expression closely.

“It just so happened that Miss Duan Miaoqing of Golden Films couldn’t come to the auction because of a cold, and Sister Huang gave me her ticket. I figured, since it was a charity auction anyway, why not take the opportunity to donate those dresses. But since you’re the one who paid for them, I couldn’t shamelessly use your money to build up my own charitable reputation, so I specifically instructed the registration clerk to write down your name. It was purely a good intention on my part — you’re not upset about this, are you?”

This explanation was reasonable enough on its face, yet Lu Shicheng laughed again — this time there was a note of exasperation in it. Wen Tingli might as well have had the words “making unreasonable trouble” branded on her forehead.

He suppressed his irritation and glanced around — it was his own fault, really, for not bringing along even a single attendant, all to spare this Miss Wen’s dignity. Now it was inconvenient to even reason with her properly.

There was no paper or pen to be found in the billiard room. He gave Wen Tingli a sidelong glance, then reached without hesitation into his suit pocket and pulled out a fountain pen and a silver note. Realizing what he intended to do, Wen Tingli hastily pressed down on the silver note in his hand. “Are you going to write on this again? Don’t you have a calling card? Wouldn’t it be better to write on that instead?”

Lu Shicheng, without a word, pulled the silver note out of her grip. Wen Tingli bit her lip. “Silver notes are meant to be spent, not written on. Here, take this — whatever lesson Young Master Lu wants to teach me, write it in here.”

She took a small notebook out of her handbag and handed it to him with both hands.

Lu Shicheng was silent for a moment, then took the notebook from her decisively.

Opening it, he found row after row of handwritten English homework. He kept patiently flipping through it.

“You can write here.” Wen Tingli leaned over to flip to the blank pages at the back for him, then withdrew to her original spot. She had cut this notebook herself from an unused ledger at the shop, deliberately trimming it very small so she could hold it in her hand and memorize vocabulary while riding the tram.

He soon handed the notebook back to her, several lines now added to it in bold, flowing script:

[Thanks to Miss Wen Tingli, all of Shanghai now knows I have a peculiar hobby of collecting women’s dresses.

I hope next time Miss Wen intends to do something like this, she’ll give this Lu some warning beforehand.]

Wen Tingli looked utterly ashamed, murmuring with her head bowed: “I did want to give Young Master Lu some warning beforehand, but I had neither your telephone number nor any way to reach Mr. Kuang. Tonight, seeing you at the entrance, I’d wanted to discuss it with you, but you were surrounded by too many people for me to get a word in.”

Lu Shicheng took the notebook back once more.

[There won’t be a next time. Miss Wen, because of a private matter of mine, you were caught in the crossfire and injured last time. For that, I sincerely apologize to you. If Miss Wen has any other grievances, feel free to raise them all at once — the way you did that time with Principal Michelle. But I don’t want Miss Wen to use the Lu family’s name for anything, ever again.]

Having written this, Lu Shicheng handed the notebook back to her, and without looking at her again, walked past her toward the stairs, as if whatever he had to say was finished.

He’d only taken two steps when he heard a faint sound of crying behind him. Turning back, he saw Wen Tingli clutching the little notebook, weeping mournfully.

Her tears fell in a torrent as she sobbed and said, aggrieved: “So Young Master Lu already knew I nearly got expelled from Wushi last time, and yet you have the nerve to say things like ‘feel free to raise any grievances’ — hah, Young Master Lu talks big! If it hadn’t been for me finding my own way out last time, I’d already have been thrown out of school by now.”

Lu Shicheng stood frozen where he was, watching her. There wasn’t the slightest trace of pretense in Wen Tingli’s crying — from the look of it, she really was heartbroken.

“Raise it — with whom, exactly?” Wen Tingli hiccupped through her sobs. “Yes! Last time I did want to use the excuse of receiving my award to get on Young Master Lu’s good side, but I only did it because I was afraid Principal Michelle would give me trouble again someday. But that day I only wanted to discuss returning the dresses with you, and you wouldn’t even bother with me — clearly you were worried I was hiding some scheme! How would I dare raise any request with you all now? If I really had, who knows what Young Master Lu would secretly think of me.”

Lu Shicheng’s body shifted, and he stepped back over to her side.

Wen Tingli, even as she voiced her grievances, didn’t want Lu Shicheng to see her in this red-nosed, swollen-eyed, wretched state, and hastily turned her head away. Her hand suddenly felt empty — Lu Shicheng had taken her little notebook again.

When he handed it back, there was one more line written on it.

[When do you graduate?]

Not understanding his meaning, Wen Tingli glanced at him warily through her tears. “End of August, for the joint entrance exams.”

[Before you graduate, if anyone at school gives you trouble again, you can call this number directly.]

He took out a thin card from his jacket pocket and handed it to Wen Tingli.

Wen Tingli’s heart gave a violent leap.

It was Kuang Zhilin’s calling card — the very thing half the businessmen in Shanghai’s industrial circles would give anything to possess!

And yet, in front of Lu Shicheng, the more delighted she felt inside, the less she could let it show on her face. So she took the card reluctantly, still crying, only careful to grip it tightly in her hand.

Lu Shicheng had thought this would make her stop crying; instead she cried even harder. He couldn’t help but turn his face away. After a long moment, he pointed downward at Wen Tingli’s feet. Though busy crying, Wen Tingli kept an eye on Lu Shicheng’s manner and expression out of the corner of her eye, and curiously followed his gesture, lowering her head to look — only to find nothing at all beneath her feet. Looking back up, Lu Shicheng had already gone up the stairs on his own.

After a moment’s thought, Wen Tingli finally understood what that gesture had meant.

[Miss Wen may cry here at her leisure.]

Watching the direction where Lu Shicheng’s figure had disappeared, Wen Tingli let out a laugh through her tears. Holding up the calling card in her hand, she muttered quietly, “I really hope I never have a reason to look for you again, because I don’t want to run into any more trouble.”

Whether Lu Shicheng heard this or not, his footsteps had already faded into the distance.

Wen Tingli wiped her tears dry with her handkerchief and went upstairs in good spirits.

However one looked at it, tonight’s goal had been accomplished.

Upstairs, things were as lively as ever — no, even livelier than before.

A group of uninvited guests had arrived at the front entrance.

Cao Zhenyuan, the old boss of the Bailong Gang, had come uninvited.

Among the guests, half rushed forward to greet him warmly, while the other half retreated as far as they could — unless absolutely necessary, no one wanted to have anything to do with such a local strongman.

Boss Cao hadn’t come empty-handed — he’d actually brought a pair of antique vases to donate. This gesture was clearly meant as a bid for goodwill with the Lu family. In any other household, whether they liked it or not, they’d have had to accept the favor.

But the man now responsible for receiving Boss Cao — Kuang Zhilin — simply sat there smiling, signing checks. He was willing to purchase the pair of vases on behalf of the Nanyang League, but under no circumstances would he allow Boss Cao to join the League. Once the Bailong Gang was admitted, at least half the League’s older members would resign on the spot.

Cao Zhenyuan, for his part, remained composed, strolling leisurely through the hall with his pipe in hand. Wherever he walked, the guests in that area showed some measure of fear. Finally Cao Zhenyuan stood before the French windows, stroking his snow-white beard, and said with surprise, “How is it I haven’t seen Young Master Lu? This Cao has something good he’d like to have him take a look at.”

Kuang Zhilin laughed. “This Kuang is looking for our young master too, as it happens.”

Wen Tingli, squeezed in among the crowd, watched all this unfold, and overheard the guests behind her murmuring: “Look, Lu Shicheng doesn’t give the Bailong Gang the time of day at all. The Lu family’s foundation is in Nanyang — none of the Bailong Gang’s usual tactics work on the Lu family. I hear the Bailong Gang has dreamed for ages of getting connected to the Lu family for business, only they’ve had no way in. Now it’s come to this — the old boss himself had to swallow his pride and come out personally.”

Just then, a man slipped out from behind Cao Zhenyuan and murmured something into the old boss’s ear, evidently offering him some suggestion. Wen Tingli’s eyes narrowed sharply — Qiu Dapeng!

Qiu Dapeng had grown noticeably rounder since she’d last seen him, his face wreathed in an ingratiating smile, slicked-back hair gleaming. The suit he wore was clearly custom-tailored at a high-end shop — he stood out from the rest of the crowd.

Judging by Boss Cao’s attitude toward him, Qiu Dapeng seemed to have already worked his way up into some minor leadership position within the Bailong Gang.

Wen Tingli’s fists clenched involuntarily. Qiu Dapeng, turning his head, spotted Wen Tingli in the crowd too. Unexpectedly, he smiled at her — a fairly restrained smile — but it still made every hair on Wen Tingli’s body stand on end.

Before long, a director of the Nanyang Chamber came to invite the guests out to the garden to enjoy the entertainment. Wen Tingli had no wish to linger any further and was about to leave when the young man surnamed Wang came pestering her again: “Miss Wen, are you leaving already? You still haven’t answered my invitation.”

Wen Tingli had no patience to deal with him right now and simply kept walking with her head down. Young Master Wang looked rather put out. “Miss Wen, won’t you say something to me at least? By the way, where did you go just now? I couldn’t find you anywhere.”

Someone else cut in: “Wherever the lady goes, does she owe you a report of it?”

Looking over, she saw Qiao Baoxin, arm linked with Meng Qiguang’s, standing over there.

The young man surnamed Wang bristled. “Mr. Meng, I’m talking to Miss Wen — what business is that of yours? I insist on talking to her. Miss Wen, you haven’t yet told me where your esteemed father is employed?”

Wen Tingli and Meng Qiguang both opened their mouths to speak at the same time, but someone else cut in first with a laugh: “Miss Wen’s father — this Qiu happens to know him quite well.”

Wen Tingli’s expression darkened at once — the Bailong Gang’s people had arrived. Dozens of them poured into the center of the garden like a swarm, dark as storm clouds; even the night sky overhead seemed to dim a shade.

“This is the Miss Wen your subordinate mentioned to you last time, sir,” Qiu Dapeng said, hurrying to clear a path for Cao Zhenyuan, all the while smiling warmly at Wen Tingli.

Cao Zhenyuan narrowed his eyes. “Quite the sharp little lady.”

“Indeed, such a fine-looking child is rare to find — no wonder my worthless boy keeps thinking about her,” Qiu Dapeng sighed. “It’s a pity Miss Wen doesn’t think much of him.”

Cao Zhenyuan looked faintly surprised. “Even Lingyun couldn’t win her over?”

Qiu Dapeng gave a bitter laugh. “Miss Wen has very high standards. It’s not her fault — it’s Lingyun’s own lack of ambition.”

Cao Zhenyuan shook his head kindly. “That was the past. Lately Lingyun has been learning to manage affairs in the gang as well — his learning and his abilities are both a different man now. Go ask this young lady’s opinion again properly, and who knows, she might just be willing after all.”

Qiu Dapeng smiled. “It’s you, sir, who sees things clearly. Very well then — I’ll personally escort this child home later. Tingli, you and Lingyun have a bit of a misunderstanding between you — on the way, Uncle Qiu can have a good talk with you about it—”

Meng Qiguang cut Qiu Dapeng off coldly: “Boss Cao—”

Cao Zhenyuan walked over to Meng Qiguang and patted his shoulder. “Qiguang, it’s been a long time.”

As they spoke, several more people surrounded Wen Tingli. Qiao Baoxin, somewhat at a loss, tried to shield Wen Tingli behind her: “You all — Cousin.”

Meng Qiguang, his face grim, made to walk over, but Boss Cao gripped his shoulder tightly. “It’s rare to have such a lively evening — sit down with this old fellow and catch up. Come, let’s go over there.”

In an instant, Wen Tingli was surrounded completely by the crowd, and she couldn’t help but clench her fists in secret.

But the more urgent the situation, the faster her mind worked. She suddenly caught sight of Kuang Zhilin passing through the garden ahead, and hastily raised her voice: “Mr. Kuang, didn’t you say the school would arrange a car to take students home? Where might that car be?”

Kuang Zhilin froze for a moment.

Seizing the moment, Wen Tingli pushed through the crowd to reach him, and, hidden from everyone else’s view, discreetly revealed a corner of the calling card in her hand to Kuang Zhilin.

“Mr. Kuang,” she said, holding her breath, speaking quietly, “please help me find someone to take me home.”

Kuang Zhilin’s expression grew even more astonished — that was his own calling card. Apart from himself, only Lu Shicheng could authorize handing that card to anyone else.

When had Young Master Cheng—

He stared at Wen Tingli in uncertain suspicion, then glanced at the menacing Bailong Gang members standing behind her. After hesitating for only a second, he put on a smile and responded: “Of course. Wushi does have a school car to take Miss Wen home. I was just about to send someone to find you. Let’s go — the car’s this way.”

Wen Tingli let out a long breath of relief and turned back to give Qiao Baoxin a reassuring look. Qiao Baoxin, her eyes still full of worry, walked over and whispered a few instructions very quietly into Wen Tingli’s ear.

Wen Tingli nodded. “Yes, I know. Don’t worry. I’m off now.”

Boss Cao and Qiu Dapeng exchanged glances, but in front of Kuang Zhilin, neither dared act rashly, and could only watch helplessly as Wen Tingli left the garden.