Chapter Thirty-Eight: Watch Your Language

Mo Yinghuai glanced at him. “If you were truly set on settling down and giving me a great-grandchild, how could I bear to scold you?”

Someone chimed in, “The young lady you brought to the anniversary seemed quite nice. Why don’t I see her here? Is Young Master Luo hiding his beauty away?”

Luo Ange explained, “She’s just an artist under contract with my company. She’s talented, but that’s all.”

President Xia sensed his reluctance to continue on this subject, so he raised his glass and changed the topic. “Young Master Luo, you’re always welcome at Kangda in the future.”

Luo Ange glanced at me. “Certainly.”

What followed was the invariable ritual of any Chinese gathering—rounds and rounds of toasts. People from other rooms and floors swept into our private room, each eager to propose a drink.

President Xia and Aunt Su were busy fending for themselves and had no time to look after us. As a result, the three of us ended up being plied with far too much alcohol without knowing how.

Xia Qi and Li Wanqiu had grown up attending all kinds of banquets and naturally held their liquor well. As for me, apart from the last time I drank myself sick, my knowledge of alcohol was practically nonexistent.

Groups would pour in, glasses raised, then file out, only to be replaced by another wave. Eventually, Xia Qi and Li Wanqiu joined the ranks of those toasting others.

It seemed that business negotiations now took place entirely over drinks. A few young donors, egged on by Xia Qi and Li Wanqiu’s flattery, started making bets—one drink, a hundred thousand.

Never one to miss a chance to help her father, Xia Qi grabbed half a bottle of Maotai and asked the red-eyed men, “How many glasses are left in this?”

One man grinned, “About a million’s worth.”

Xia Qi nodded, tipped her head back, and with the men’s jaws dropping to the floor, drained the bottle to the last drop.

Someone came over to toast me. I politely made excuses, but in his drunkenness, he glared. “Little junior sister, are you refusing to honor me?”

Reluctantly, I picked up my teacup. “I’m not well—tea instead of wine.”

He was hardly pleased, pointing around at the room full of people clinking glasses. “This is Kangda’s anniversary. When I was in college, you weren’t even born. Even President Xia has to show me some respect, yet you dare act above yourself?”

His grip hurt. The room was thick with smoke and noise; my eyes and stomach couldn’t take it. I looked around for Xia Qi and Li Wanqiu.

But for some reason, what caught my eye was Luo Ange sitting serenely like a monk, surrounded by a steady stream of people eager to toast him, all praising his youth and talent.

He responded to each one with a refined air, as if the emperor surveying his ministers.

I brushed off the persistent drinker and left the private room.

He wouldn’t let it go, chasing me down and grabbing me outside the restroom, his intentions unmistakable. “You little brat, who do you think you are? Tonight you have to drink with me, or I won’t donate a dime to Kangda.”

He thought he was Luo Ange, as if that gave him license to threaten me.

I clenched my fist. “Let go.”

He brought his glass to my lips, one hand squeezing my chin, trying to force the drink on me, cursing all the while.

If it weren’t for President Xia’s sake, I would have hit him already.

“You college students act so high and mighty, but what’s the difference between you and the hookers outside?”

I struggled; his drink spilled across my face, some of it going into my mouth, making me cough.

He pulled out his wallet and slapped a wad of pink bills against my cheek. “Isn’t everything for sale? How much do you want? Is this enough? What position do you like, front or back?”

I never imagined that a guest invited by President Xia, an alumnus of Kangda, could be such scum.

Twisting his hand, I pivoted, my elbow catching his jaw with a sharp crack—the bone dislocated.

He screamed, but couldn’t utter a word. People bustled past—waiters, guests with hurried steps and glasses in hand, others vomiting in the restroom. No one noticed us.

I looked at him, utterly calm. “Sir, no matter who you are, no matter how much money you have, mind your mouth. Next time you speak this filth, I promise it’ll be your hand or your foot that breaks.”