Master of the Seas

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Song Yuan glanced around the room, looking left and right. “I didn’t even know there was a Western restaurant here.”

“Perhaps you don’t often come to places like this.”

“No, no, Miss Sheng, you misunderstand,” he said. “I’ve been here many times, because there are two clubs upstairs.”

“The third floor belongs to the Hong Kong Golf Club. The richest man in Hong Kong, Paul Lee, and the chairman of Huashi Heavy Industries, Fu Zonglin, are members, of course including myself. Occasionally, we go to play at the Deep Water Bay executive course. The grounds are smaller there, but the scenery is quite nice. If you want to go, Miss Sheng, next time I’ll take you along.”

“The fourth floor is even more special. In 1889, the Leonard family, the largest shareholder of the Hui Gang Group, founded the Black Gold Club here. ‘Black Gold’ refers to oil, and since the late 19th century marked the oil and gas revolution, it was named accordingly. However, the members have little to do with the oil industry; it’s mostly dominated by Westerners. These old wealthy merchants made their fortunes trading cotton and opium between India, Hong Kong, and Britain, profiting from exchange rate differences. There are few Chinese members, though I heard there are two or three.”

“At that time, these people truly held the core power of the colony. But now, the glory is gone. Such exclusive places have inevitably opened to the public, allowing entertainment circles to come in and enjoy themselves. What a pity, don’t you think, Miss Sheng?”

Sheng Jiayi snorted coldly.

She wasn’t sure about the ‘pity,’ but she definitely picked up on the veiled insult.

She had long known that the visitor had ill intentions, but to think he had endured all these years before coming to trouble her—it made her admire his patience.

“Mr. Song,” she said patiently, “I came out with you today to discuss the matter between me and Mr. He Hengxing. I heard that Miss Xie, Mr. He’s ex-girlfriend, has an interview video held by the Oriental Daily. The content is unfavorable to both Mr. He and me. If it gets exposed, your film investment will inevitably be affected. Since you invited me out, I suppose you don’t want to suffer such a loss. Why not suppress the news first? What do you think?”

Song Yuan smiled lightly. “Miss Sheng, you only want to destroy that footage?”

“Can I ask for anything more?” Sheng Jiayi raised her wine glass.

“I personally believe such matters are trivial threats to you. Even if exposed, so what? The film might sell less well, lose some money, suffer some criticism, and it will be over. It won’t harm your foundation.” Song Yuan raised his glass and lightly clinked it with hers. “If Miss Sheng wants to block this news, it’s just a word from me. I’m willing to serve you. But meeting you in person is rare—I don’t want to waste time discussing trivial matters.”

He smiled, a sharpness laced with a hint of mischief.

“I’m actually quite curious about you, Miss Sheng,” he said. “You entered Hong Kong University at fifteen with nearly perfect scores across all subjects. This coincided with Wu Shunhua, the current chief economic advisor to the Treasury, returning from Princeton and selecting you as his protégée.”

“By sixteen, you were working as a trainee secretary under Director Liang of the Foreign Exchange Administration Bureau of the Treasury, apparently because of your excellent foreign language skills, which earned Liang’s favor. I suppose your teacher’s support played a part?”

“In 1991, your parents died under certain circumstances. I can’t understand why you immediately entered the film industry afterward. Your contract with Orange River wasn’t reasonable—was it because you needed money? The earnings from being a star should have been enough for you. Your family trust at Hui Gang Bank must have had tens of millions for you to spend freely.”

The curve at the corner of Sheng Jiayi’s mouth faded. She looked coldly at Song Yuan.

“You know me quite well, Mr. Song,” she said softly.

A breeze stirred the wind chimes hanging by the door, and a waiter entered, placing a medium-rare ribeye and sashimi blue lobster on the table.

“I really like you, Miss Sheng,” he said. “You and Mr. He together are truly a waste. I heard he didn’t even graduate high school—a mere actor. Do you really have genuine feelings? But it’s alright. Thanks to this farce, I can confirm that the two of you are indeed fake. I just didn’t expect you to be willing to sacrifice your reputation just to make more money.”

Sheng Jiayi avoided his gaze, lowering her eyes to the 1964 Romanée-Conti bottle on the table. “Actually, I find it strange. Everything feels so coincidental. Could it be that you planned this early on, so that Xie Huiling’s interview just happened to fall into the hands of the Oriental Daily?”

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“Sharp intuition,” Song Yuan smiled. “I did intend to break you two apart. Isn’t that what you want? You’ve worked with him for nearly two years, gotten everything you wanted—fame and fortune. Now is the time to leave him behind and rise on your own.”

“Mr. Song, don’t forget you’re also a shareholder of Hengxing. Both Mr. He and I are making money for you.”

“If Miss Sheng is willing, I can fund a film company just to promote you.”

“And the terms?” Sheng Jiayi asked.

“Be my girlfriend,” Song Yuan said.

Sheng Jiayi understood immediately.

Many wealthy men had pursued her. He Xiyue once said she received at least three calls a day, and powerful magnates tried various ways to get her contact information, attempting to indirectly arrange meetings through her channels.

He Xiyue once told her, “Jiayi, you shouldn’t be a star. If you hadn’t entered the entertainment industry and instead polished your credentials at the Treasury after graduation, you’d be even more sought after. The elite families would compete to marry you off as a madam. You’re like a girl groomed to be a grand lady of high society.”

But becoming a star, with all the glamour and constant scandals, inevitably made people hesitant. This profession, dazzling as it seemed, was, to put it bluntly, just as Song Yuan called it—a mere actor.

Hong Kong once scandalized over a top-tier star being supported with only three million a month. Several well-known actresses openly acted as mistresses, as if that status had become an honor, not to mention those who ousted legitimate wives to rise.

The upper echelons of the elite always guarded such beauties closely. Sheng Jiayi, as a standout, was no exception. When she and He Jihan were rumored to be dating, all the grand ladies of Hong Kong heaved a sigh of relief.

Among all her suitors, Song Yuan held the highest status and was also the most unique.

—Sheng Jiayi’s first encounter with a man who half-threatened and half-enticed her into submission.

“Are you serious?” Sheng Jiayi propped her chin on her hand, fluttering her lashes. “But I don’t want to date you.”

Song Yuan paid no mind to her refusal. “You want to marry?”

“I don’t.” Sheng Jiayi smiled faintly. “I’m not interested in the price you’re offering.”

“I can make you the most popular star in Hong Kong. Or if you don’t want to act, I’ll pay your contract termination fees.”

“Why should I care?” Sheng Jiayi tilted her head and spoke softly. “Mr. Song, you’re lying. You don’t really like me.”

She noticed Song Yuan unconsciously stroking a slender beaded bracelet on his wrist—108 agarwood Buddhist prayer beads. Wearing such a piece on a sharply dressed man of mixed Portuguese-Chinese descent felt oddly out of place.

Song Yuan’s mother was a Malaysian Datuk’s daughter, and his father was the second largest shareholder of a prominent Malaysian bank. She had lived in Penang for many years but recently returned suddenly to Macau.

“If a man doesn’t like a woman but still tries to ruin her ‘relationship,’ intimidates her, makes her afraid, then tempts her with sweet words and hope, what is all this hard work really for?” Sheng Jiayi smiled coldly. “Mr. Song, you know me well, don’t you? I recently heard a story. Would you like to hear it?”

The enamel porcelain plate on the table reflected their shadows brightly.

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Song Yuan was momentarily stunned by her words, still not fully recovered, and instinctively blurted, “What?”

Sheng Jiayi tapped the porcelain with her fingernail, producing a crisp sound. “Mr. Song, have you ever read ‘The Lover’ by the French writer Marguerite Duras?”

This time, Song Yuan’s smile froze.

“I heard something,” she continued slowly, “that you have many mistresses outside, but only one Vietnamese woman bore you a son. Having an illegitimate child, and such a scandalous one, must be troublesome to handle, right?”

The corners of her eyes curved beautifully. Her almond eyes were exquisitely shaped—not exaggerated double eyelids like Western women, nor too reserved. The deep blue pupils made her eyes appear moist and shimmering, crystal clear.

“But this matter, like Xie Huiling’s videotape, should only be a headache for you, nothing fatal. So before coming, I did some cautious inquiries.”

“I also heard,” she said slowly, “that Macau and Portugal plan to loosen gambling license restrictions, changing from one license to six—three main and three secondary—with the bidding results to be finalized before the handover. Mr. Song, have you heard this news?”

Song Yuan neither spoke nor smiled, like a tiger poised to strike. The tense muscles on his arm and the veins on his wrist revealed his mood.

After a long moment, he sneered coldly, “Miss Sheng, your sources are remarkably well-informed.”

“The entertainment industry,” Sheng Jiayi smiled brightly. “After spending so long here, I’ve heard rumors from all walks of life.”

“Perhaps this is not something one from the entertainment circle could uncover. Liang Jinsong even dared to tell you this? He truly was a good boss to you.”

Sheng Jiayi pretended not to hear him.

“Mr. Song, a marriage alliance might be difficult. Nowadays, free love is the trend. Which wealthy daughter of a suitable family would be willing to take care of your illegitimate child? But if you don’t marry, there must be other ways, right? At this moment, you need to come up with plans and find partners. If you can’t find anyone, why not boost your company’s stock price to pledge more shares when negotiating with Jardine and Hui Gang Bank, obtaining bank support and cash loans?”

“After all, one of the most important bidding requirements is that the winner must have sufficient cash flow to invest in Macau’s infrastructure. Thinking about it, obtaining this gambling license won’t be easy.”

Sheng Jiayi took a sip of wine.

Perfectly balanced with sophisticated layers, notes of berries, violet fragrance, and the fresh sweetness of black truffle. Burgundy’s steep slopes are ideal for growing Pinot Noir grapes. Wines from this premier cru vineyard easily reach astronomical prices. This 1964 Romanée-Conti costs nearly two hundred thousand per bottle, a million per case.

Sheng Jiayi said, “Mr. Song, if you want to know me better, please remember—I only love to drink the rarest noble rot wine.”

She had a sweet tooth but seldom had the chance to indulge.

“Let’s be frank. The beneficiaries of family trusts are never publicly disclosed. If what I know is mere hearsay, Mr. Song, how did you find out that I’m receiving this money? Or... did you hire someone to investigate me a long time ago?”