Futile Devices Scans

Inside the resplendent private room, the waves of noise nearly overturned the starry-sky canopy above.

The crystal chandelier scattered colorful halos of light, falling on Zhou Ruo An’s hair like shimmering ripples across a lake. The young man lounged lazily against the velvet sofa, cigarette between his lips, watching as amber liquid was continuously poured into the champagne tower.

“Happy birthday, President Xiao Zhou.” A young man dressed in high luxury brands leaned over the edge of the booth. “Cohiba Siglo VI, freshly airlifted in. I specifically had someone detour through Havana to pick it up.”

The expensive cigar carried a distinctive scent where cedarwood and ambergris intertwined. Zhou Ruo An happened to remember Old Master Jin’s teachings, but he could not detect all those winding, elaborate scents. To him, only the smell of money was truly pleasing to both body and mind.

Zhou Ruo An smiled and raised the cigarette in his hand. “I’m not used to smoking this.” Even so, he accepted it and handed it to the personal assistant beside him. “But since Young Master Gao went through the trouble of getting it, I should at least try something new.”

The moment his words fell, a burst of cheers erupted from the crystal bar counter. Zhou Ruo An turned to look at the champagne tower. The liquor overflowed, the sharp liquid winding across the marble surface. Girls in fishnet stockings laughed as they jumped onto the sofa, while young wastrel heirs excitedly whistled.

Lively and absurd.

“Around this time last year…” Zhou Ruo An took a sip of wine, and the cloying sweetness from memory suddenly surged up. That day, Lin Yi had ordered a three-tier cake, vulgar pink in color, with both Doraemon and the God of Longevity standing on top.

“Fucking ugly.” Zhou Ruo An remembered that his evaluation at the time had been very fair.

Lin Yi’s taste had always been indescribable, yet he himself was completely unaware of it. He stuck candles into the cake and argued, “It looks pretty good.”

“President Xiao Zhou, happy birthday!” The lights in the private room suddenly dimmed, and the custom cake was slowly pushed out. A Rolls-Royce front end cast in frosting bore a chocolate license plate with eight number eights hanging on it.

Zhou Ruo An looked at the cake and, imitating the tone from memory, laughed and cursed, “This is fucking ugly too.”

“Come on, everyone, let’s take a photo!” someone suggested.

“Fourth Young Master, smile a little.” The personal assistant, who had only recently started working for him, half-knelt on the carpet and framed everyone in the camera. Before the flash went off, Zhou Ruo An glanced at his phone. The screen was black. No incoming calls.

Leaning against the cake cart, he casually made a tacky peace sign to get it over with, but he posted the photo to his Moments seriously. Appropriate high-profile display was sometimes part of doing business too.

Three minutes after the photo was posted, the phone vibrated in his palm. When Zhou Ruo An saw the three characters “Zhou Ran Ming,” he immediately raised a hand to pause the resident singer’s performance. The private room instantly became so quiet that only the hum of the central air conditioner could be heard.

“Uncle?” He answered respectfully. “You’re back from your business trip?”

“Xiao An, happy birthday.” Zhou Ran Ming’s birthday greeting was even more perfunctory than Zhou Ruo An’s peace sign just now. “I saw the photo you posted. Your birthday banquet looks very lively.”

Before Zhou Ruo An could exchange pleasantries, the voice on the other end came again. “The boy on the far right of the photo is not bad.”

Zhou Ruo An’s heartbeat skipped. He was far too familiar with Zhou Ran Ming’s tone. Every time he heard it, it meant someone else was about to become a sacrifice for his selfish gains.

With a hook of his hand, the personal assistant immediately offered up the camera. Zooming in on the photo, Zhou Ruo An’s gaze landed on the far-right corner.

It was a boy wearing a pure cotton shirt, smiling refreshingly among the crowd, also making a peace sign. A pale wrist peeked from his sleeve.

“…Fang Fei.”

Zhou Ruo An could no longer remember the occasion on which he had first met Fang Fei. It had probably been some private gathering or a chaotic midnight party. Fang Fei had merely been an insignificant ornament among them, like a pretty pair of serving chopsticks at a banquet—held in one person’s hand today, then replaced by another tomorrow.

The first time he truly left an impression was at a drinking party half a year ago.

That day, Zhou Ruo An had just been “ruined” by Lin Yi. The third button of his shirt was still torn open. He was in a foul mood, so naturally he spoke little, his eyes filled with vicious gloom.

Fang Fei had spent the entire night curled in the shadow behind the song-selection screen, wearing an ash-gray hoodie, looking out of place among the room full of expensive clothes. He had come with a companion, but from time to time, he secretly glanced at Zhou Ruo An. Yet the moment their gazes nearly touched, he would look away as though burned, glancing left and right while pretending nothing had happened.

Another clichéd attempt at playing hard to get.

Zhou Ruo An grew annoyed from being looked at and glared viciously back, only to see Fang Fei stuffing cherries into his mouth. The pits had already been stacked neatly into a little tower beside the porcelain plate.

“Remove his fruit plate.” At the time, Zhou Ruo An hated gay men so much his teeth itched. He did not care that the method was childish and low-level; he only wanted a moment of satisfaction. Yet three to five minutes later, Fang Fei quietly moved to the other side of the sofa, his fingertips once again picking up a strawberry.

Fuck.

When the gathering ended, the spring rain was thick. Fang Fei suddenly tugged lightly on the corner of Zhou Ruo An’s clothes. Zhou Ruo An waited coldly for him to use some seductive little trick, only to hear a sneaky voice say, “President Zhou, there’s a lock of hair sticking up at the back of your head.” His fingertips hovered near Zhou Ruo An’s hair but did not dare touch. “Right here.”

Then he pulled a plastic comb from his pocket. “I took it from the washroom. After you use it, you must remember to return it.”

Zhou Ruo An held that comb and watched the slender figure slip into a taxi. That night, he finally remembered the beautiful boy’s name—Fang Fei.

A few days ago, when his assistant was organizing the guest list for the birthday banquet, Fang Fei’s name looked especially conspicuous sandwiched between a jewelry tycoon and a rising private equity star.

“Should I cross him off?” The personal secretary’s mouse hovered over the Excel spreadsheet.

One more person made no difference. For someone like Fang Fei, who took odd gigs for quick money, Zhou Ruo An did not mind giving him an opportunity. He took out his phone and dialed the number. “Fang Fei, next week is my birthday…”

“Xiao An, why aren’t you speaking?” On the phone, Zhou Ran Ming’s voice had clearly turned impatient. Zhou Ruo An looked back toward that corner and saw Fang Fei stirring ice cream with a spoon, picking out the dried fruit inside and putting it into his mouth.

“His name is Fang Fei.” Zhou Ruo An lowered his voice. “Uncle is interested?”

“Mm.” Zhou Ran Ming paused. “Send him to the mountain villa.”

After hanging up, Zhou Ruo An casually accepted a cigarette offered by the person beside him. The music started again. He held the cigarette between his lips, smiling faintly, his gaze winding through the smoke, unclear and indistinct.

Although Zhou Ruo An was now the general manager of Jinggui Electronics and held considerable power, he still had no official position in the parent company. Within the Zhou family’s intricate power structure, if he wanted to truly establish himself, he had to enter the core management team. And in this matter, the only person with absolute authority, the one who could decide the direction of his fate, was Zhou Ran Ming, chairman of the group’s board of directors.

Only one corner of the enormous, expensive cake had been eaten. Zhou Ruo An pressed his cigarette out against the Rolls-Royce emblem on the cake. The melted frosting was not a pleasing sight and reminded him of the little celebrity sent out from the mountain villa last month. Miserable, yes, but the benefits obtained had also been generous enough.

“A’Jie,” he called over the personal assistant and said quietly, “go ask Fang Fei whether he’s willing to go to the mountain villa. If he is, aside from whatever that side gives him, I’ll reward him too.”

“Alright.”

“Also, if he agrees, make him look prettier.” Zhou Ruo An unfastened one cuff button. “Remember to film an unboxing video for the chairman.”

A sharp gleam flashed through A’Jie’s eyes. “Understood. Fourth Young Master, don’t worry.”

Previous

Main

Next