Chapter 976: Take It

At this time, Hong Kong was relatively chaotic, given its connection to the handover issue; there were plenty of messy things. Yet, conversely, its development was truly impressive—this was Hong Kong’s golden era, having recovered from the 1987 stock market crash and seen its economy surge.

To some extent, this rapid development masked and weakened those chaotic issues, ensuring social stability without major upheaval, and ordinary people seemed unaffected in their daily lives.

Wang Yan knew Hong Kong intimately—he had stood atop its peak multiple times, under different identities: as a thug, as a businessman, as a businessman-thug, even as a Hong Kong police officer; back then, he had been the top cop, the leader of the Chinese community.

Even with his thousand-year-long life, Hong Kong accounted for one-tenth of it. By comparison, his life in the real world amounted to barely one-thirtieth. This alone reveals the depth of Wang Yan’s attachment to Hong Kong.

The Peninsula Hotel was Hong Kong’s oldest luxury hotel, one of the best in the world.

A taxi pulled up to the hotel entrance; Wang Yan stepped out from the back seat and stamped his foot…

The weather was hot; he wore no suit jacket, only a white shirt, sleeves rolled up as usual, tied with an embroidered patterned tie. Below, he wore dress pants and leather shoes—normal attire, nothing unusual.

Without Wang Yan lifting a finger, someone fetched his luggage from the car and helped him check in; then he went downstairs to the restaurant and ordered a full table of dishes.

“Betty, right? Just these dishes—hurry up the order, get them out fast.”

Wang Yan sat there, loosening his tie, smiling warmly at the woman in the server’s uniform before him.

Betty—or Xue Zhi—had never seen anyone like him: dressed plainly yet distinctly unbusinesslike, sleeves rolled up, tie undone, top button unfastened, slouching casually, radiating an effortless, natural swagger. One man, yet ordering a whole table of food.

She knew he was from Shanghai; most people coming here tried to act proper, careful not to appear foolish—after all, in this era, simply being able to travel out was no small thing. But this man was utterly different. Of course, he left her with no favorable impression.

“Mr. Wang, do you have any other friends coming?”

“I already said—I’m alone. I just have a good appetite. Wasting food is shameful; I know that. Also, I saw some disdain in your eyes. Let me explain: though I’m among the first in the mainland to get rich, I’m not yet a nouveau riche.”

“I simply have a big appetite—I’ve always loved to eat, and this is my first time in Hong Kong, at such a famous hotel. I assumed the food here wouldn’t be bad, so I ordered more to taste it.”

“Mr. Wang, you’ve misunderstood—I…”

Wang Yan chuckled and shook his head: “No need for lies. I’m not going to complain about you—no need to be nervous. Go place the order, hurry up the food—I’m truly hungry.”

“Your Cantonese is excellent.”

“Thank you. From your speech, you’re from Shanghai, right?”

Betty, about to leave, paused and turned back in surprise: “Everyone says my Cantonese is good.”

“Who would tell you to your face that it’s lacking? But I’m certain of one thing: anyone who says you’re beautiful is telling the truth.” Wang Yan raised an eyebrow at her.

Betty covered her mouth and laughed: “Thank you. I’ll go place the order.”

With that, she walked away gracefully.

Wang Yan lit a cigarette, propped his chin, and watched her back…

That was a distant past. Often, in new worlds, he encountered old faces he hadn’t seen in ages. Fortunately, his iron-willed, ice-cold heart made memories feel like a swift, blood-drawing blade piercing his heart.

The dishes arrived quickly; Betty didn’t stray far—she stood at a distance, watching Wang Yan devour his meal. She was astonished to find his eating manner utterly natural: though he used both hands, he was never coarse; instead, a touch of elegance lingered.

Only after Wang Yan finished eating did she approach to pour tea: “Mr. Wang, you truly have an excellent appetite. How do you find Hong Kong’s flavors?”

“Fine,” Wang Yan nodded, then asked, “How long have you been here?”

“Over ten years—I’ve been here three years.”

“I’m not familiar with Hong Kong. What time do you finish work? If you don’t mind, could you show me around, take me to some street snacks?”

She hesitated: “I’m off early today.”

Wang Yan smiled and nodded: “Good. I’ll wait for you at the entrance. Go ahead, don’t mind me.”

Betty smiled and turned away again.

After smoking one cigarette and drinking a pot of tea, Wang Yan strolled out leisurely for a walk—he hadn’t been to Hong Kong in ages; a little wandering was good.

Betty watched Wang Yan’s departing back, lost in thought…

Wang Yan had eaten lunch already, and it was barely past six-thirty.

Betty was punctual—as hard as it was for anyone to stay a second longer than necessary after work.

She had changed from her server’s tight uniform into a floral long dress. She found Wang Yan squatting outside, smoking. She smiled: “Sorry to keep you waiting, Mr. Wang.”

“I just came back from the seaside. Let’s go—follow your lead.”

“First, let’s eat. Causeway Bay is lively—shall we go there?”

Wang Yan nodded with a smile: “Your call.”

Causeway Bay had its kingpins, but this wasn’t the world of Young and Dangerous. Though the bustling streets had their share of rough types, no gangs fought over territory here.

They bought plenty of street snacks and a few bottles of cold beer, then sat at a roadside stall, tackling a full table of food.

Betty said: “The person who eats with you must be very happy.”

Wang Yan raised an eyebrow: “Are you happy?”

“Of course I am.” Betty paused, then nodded and smiled: “To eat what you want without worrying about waste—who wouldn’t be happy? I’ve wanted these dishes for a long time, but I never had time. When I did, I just wanted to rest, not go out. To you, Mr. Wang—thank you.” She raised her glass.

“When I was a kid, they called me a food hog. Never thought one day someone would say I bring happiness. Thank you too.” Wang Yan laughed, raising his glass and clinking it with hers.

After some small talk, Betty asked: “What business are you in, Mr. Wang, in Shanghai?”

“I’ve got plenty of time—I can tell you the whole story from the beginning.”

“I’d love to hear it.”

Wang Yan spoke plainly: from how he arrived in Shanghai, to how he started making seasonings, to building up his business, to wanting to open a clothing factory, all the way to now.

Betty hadn’t expected he’d reveal everything without her asking. She exclaimed: “So you made over a million in just four months?”

“About that—but I still owe the bank tens of thousands. Look at me, staying at the Peninsula, eating like this—but I don’t have much cash. I just caught a lucky break: I’m middle-aged, no parents, no wife or kids, no good job back home. I could eat, but not well. I never imagined my family’s seasoning recipes could earn so much.”

“So why come to Hong Kong…?”

“Someone told me foreign investment had good policies—lower taxes, more loans. My operation back home? No one would invest in me. Even if they did, they’d want my barbecue spice. So I came here to set up a company, make some money, then reinvest it back into my Shanghai factory—then it becomes Hong Kong capital. But in the end, it’s still my company.”

…Betty said: “Good idea.”

What else could she say?

“What business will you do here? Still selling barbecue spice? I don’t know if locals will like the taste.”

“I also have a cooling tea recipe—better taste, better health effects. We can do both. Can’t make big money, but small profits should be easy.”

Betty shook her head: “Mr. Wang, let me say something discouraging: if your barbecue spice is truly as good as you say, someone will target it—and your cooling tea recipe too. In the mainland, maybe not so much, but here, there are real triads. Look at those people.”

She pointed to a group of rough-looking thugs nearby, tattooed with dragons and tigers: “They’re triad foot soldiers—not even full members. Just following a minor boss, doing work for higher-ups. You’ve got no connections, no backing, and you’re in the most basic business. When they see you making money, they won’t hesitate to take an interest.”

“You’ve known me too briefly—you don’t understand me yet. You will.”

“You will?” Betty paused again, puzzled: “Mr. Wang, I don’t understand what you mean.”

“I’m going to develop in Shanghai. I need someone here to manage things. Got it?”

“So you mean… you want me to be this manager?”

“What do you think?”

“But we’ve only met today—for the second time.”

Wang Yan smiled: “It’s not about whether I trust you—it’s about whether you trust me. Maybe I’m lying, trying to swindle your money. You don’t just need to trust me—you need to be ready to work hard. The barbecue spice I can export, packaged from Shanghai, but the cooling tea must be made here. In the early stages, you’ll be working alongside me.”

Betty fell silent. After a long while, she looked across the table at Wang Yan, who was still eating heartily: “Why me?”

“Because you’re beautiful.”

“You want to sleep with me?”

“Yes.” Wang Yan laughed. Her question was direct, so his answer was honest: “I think you should give yourself a chance.”

Undoubtedly, this Betty, like the woman from Wang Yan’s distant past, craved material things, pursued something. But that didn’t make her a woman who sold her body—it was merely one method of chasing material gain.

Betty wasn’t like that. She was an elegant woman. She loved reading, adored music. Her desire for wealth stemmed from hating poverty. That’s why she left Ah Bao and married into Hong Kong—only to suffer misfortune later.

Now, Betty was a woman who no longer held illusions about life. The books she loved? She no longer read them. The piano she adored? She never played it anymore. Her spirit, her soul, had withered.

So she was direct—it saved energy. Being a server wasn’t easy; to keep her job, she had to fake everything. Now, outside work, she could be honest.

Wang Yan liked this directness.

“Do you think you need this chance?”

“You’re thirty-one. You won’t last long at the Peninsula. I know you’re not a woman who sells her body for money. If you wanted to earn that way, you wouldn’t have worked at the Peninsula for three years. I don’t think you’re content with your current life—just like you left Shanghai over ten years ago. You don’t know how to make money—I do. I’ll tell you how. You just do it. That’s all.”

Wang Yan raised his glass with a smile: “This affects the rest of your life. No need to answer right away. I’ll stay at the Peninsula two more days—you can decide anytime before I check out.”

Betty smiled, raised her glass, and took a sip with Wang Yan…

This night wasn’t particularly special—but Wang Yan was certain Betty wouldn’t sleep, because no one had ever spoken to her like this…

Betty indeed couldn’t sleep. In her cramped, narrow public housing unit, a sliver of light fell through a small window beside the courtyard. A tiny ember glowed between her slender fingers, slowly approaching her lips. The ember flickered as Betty exhaled a long stream of smoke.

She had asked if he wanted to sleep with her—he said yes. But she was certain she hadn’t misread: in that man’s deep eyes, she saw no lust, only admiration. She was sure—she’d been stared at with lust too many times to mistake it. She was confident she was beautiful.

Yet she had never imagined that one day, a man from her hometown of Shanghai would tell her he wanted to sleep with her—and urge her to give herself a chance.

The man spoke casually, as if wealth were clouds, appearing at a wave of the hand. He radiated unshakable confidence—even his questions sounded like declarations. She felt she had no secrets before him—he was certain she’d agree.

But she had only thought: he was a fellow townsman from Shanghai, an interesting man. She hadn’t returned home in years and wanted to hear about its changes. She never imagined the conversation would turn to starting a business in Hong Kong together—with him inviting her to join… and to sleep with her.

She kept thinking back to the distant past: two paths had once lain before her—in Shanghai, or to Hong Kong. Now she was in Hong Kong. Two paths lay before her again: remain a server at the Peninsula, waiting for age to creep in—or follow this man, who came from the northeast to Shanghai, then to Hong Kong, and who told her to give herself a chance.

It didn’t seem like a hard choice—she had nothing to lose…

That night, Wang Yan returned to the hotel and saw Betty waiting by the entrance, clutching a small bag.

At once, she said: “I quit.”

Wang Yan wasn’t surprised. He smiled and nodded: “You haven’t eaten yet? Let’s go. Yesterday we went to Causeway Bay—today, we go to Yau Ma Tei.”

“Aren’t you surprised?” Though she knew the answer, she couldn’t help asking.

“Before me, did anyone ever tell you to give yourself a chance?”

“No.”

“What do you have left to lose?”

“Nothing.”

“So tonight—do we stay at the Peninsula, or go to your place?”

“I…”

“If you don’t want to, don’t. That’s fine.”

Wang Yan smiled and said, “You need to understand our relationship—we’re first and foremost partners, and only secondarily do I want something more with you. You’re beautiful; no man wouldn’t think about bed matters with someone like you. It’s a human need, and women feel it too—unless they’re into the same sex or have some other twisted preference.”

Of course, I can’t deny that if our relationship goes beyond mere partnership, I’ll feel more at ease about how your Hong Kong company runs, because you’ll truly be mine. We won’t marry in this lifetime, but we’ll be a de facto husband-and-wife operation. I’m not asking for much—you make money, get what you want, and under these conditions, you won’t betray me for any other reason.”

But then again, nothing’s certain—none of us know what tomorrow will bring.”

Betty looked at Wang Yan and asked, “Do you always speak so bluntly?”

“Pretty much—but it depends on the person. Some things just can’t be said outright. I liked what you said yesterday: ‘I want to sleep with you.’ Simple, direct. So I’m being clear with you now, so you won’t overthink or guard yourself against me like I’m just after one thing.”

“I still don’t get why me. We’ve only met twice. Is it just because I’m pretty?”

“There are plenty of beautiful women. You’re not special.”

Wang Yan shook his head. “I see no spark in your eyes, no vitality. But when I talked about how I got from Northeast China to Shanghai and how I made money, your eyes lit up with longing—you probably didn’t even realize it, but you became a different person then. Also, during our conversation, your speech showed depth and cultivation.”

So, combined with your beauty, that’s what sets you apart. Of course, you also appeared at just the right moment. I came, and you were there—that’s all. I don’t overthink things. I’m used to seizing what’s right in front of me, not wondering if someone better will come after you.”

As he spoke, Wang Yan had already waved down a taxi. He opened the door and turned to Betty, who hadn’t moved. “What are you standing there for? Come on.”

Betty looked at Wang Yan—the man she’d met for the third time.

She said, “Let’s go back to the hotel. I’ve been here for years, but I’ve never stayed there…”

Wang Yan raised an eyebrow, turned back, and smiled apologetically at the taxi driver, who gave him a friendly curse in return. He turned and walked back to the hotel with Betty…

Betty wasn’t a talkative person. When she was silent, she looked like the heroine of an art film—sitting by a sunlit window, holding a book, her long hair swaying, dappled with light, calm and beautiful.

She didn’t speak much, but she knew her own mind. Her decisive choice to follow Wang Yan and give herself to him was just like when she left Shanghai for Hong Kong all those years ago.

She wasn’t selling herself to Wang Yan—she was entrusting herself to him. Just as he said, she was giving herself a chance. Her future began after this night.

If Wang Yan slept with her and then turned his back, she’d lose. But if her career started tomorrow—whether she made big money or not—she’d have a path. Right now, in the Peninsula Hotel, she saw no path. Even if others wanted to sleep with her, she still saw no path. But in Wang Yan, she saw one.

Betty’s quietness was fine in daily life. Wang Yan, driven mad by the noise from the Tokyo Night crowd, found her peaceful. But in bed, it was bad—she always held back.

Fortunately, Wang Yan was skilled. After their contact, Betty’s years of suppressed emotion finally found release—not the restrained beauty of a film heroine, but wild, unrestrained passion. Wang Yan loved helping women like this…

He asked, “How’s the view from the Peninsula Hotel?”

Betty looked out the window at the sea and neon lights and said it was beautiful…