Chapter 698: A Few Women Make a Whole Show

Spring was warm, the sun bright and lovely, and the women were on the open terrace, chatting about everything under the sun while making small talk.

Vegetation surrounded the terrace, the scenery truly beautiful; when the wind blew, the grass and plants swayed with it, bringing a pleasant coolness.

Hui Yinghong looked at Liu Tianxian's big belly, reached out and gently stroked it, her face full of envy, and said softly, "How wonderful!"

She had no children of her own, but seeing Liu Tianxian pregnant stirred deep feelings in her, a warmth inside.

"Tianxian, you must treat him well in the future, don't let him suffer or be worn out," she added.

She spoke with a thick Hong Kong-accented Mandarin.

"Of course I will, he's my child, I'll definitely love him dearly." Liu Tianxian was in great spirits, leaning back in a bamboo chair laid with a soft cushion.

The others each took a chair and sat around her, some holding drinks in their hands, some holding coffee, sipping as they went.

Zhang Jingying beside her held a cup of coffee and asked, "Sister Yinghong, have you ever thought about having a child? Adopting is fine too, just to have some company!"

Hui Yinghong had never married to this day, still living a life without children, looking rather lonely.

Her face gave people that impression.

"Never thought about it. My own path has been so hard and exhausting, I myself didn't even want to come into this world—why would I bring someone else here to go through the same thing? An adopted child isn't mine either." Hui Yinghong shook her head.

These words made everyone present exchange glances—such pessimism.

"How could you say that? Don't you feel terribly lonely and empty on your own? Having someone with you makes the world feel so much more beautiful." Tang Yan took a sip of her drink.

"I'm used to it already, I don't need it anymore, and there's no chance left either. But don't follow my example—cherish your own happiness." Hui Yinghong said.

She was already fifty-six, just a few years from sixty—where would the chance come from?

And her life could be called legendary: begging on the streets with her mother at three, working as a dancer in a nightclub at thirteen, entering show business at fourteen, exploding to fame at twenty-two only to be blacklisted.

At forty she suffered depression and attempted suicide; at forty-four she made her comeback!

One could say her whole life is a story, her face is a story too—even after eighty-nine stitches, her acting still transforms like a face-swap.

Others can barely stand to look at themselves after a little cosmetic work, yet her acting pulls people right into the drama—pretty impressive, though it's also forged by her own experiences.

Generally, people with great acting have very rich experiences of hardship—like Liang Jiahui.

Hearing her say this, everyone present felt rather sorry for her; such a fine person, yet she had given up on her own life like that.

"Everyone has their own brilliance, their own way of living. Blessings to you, Sister Hong." Liu Tianxian held Hui Yinghong's hand.

"Thank you." Hui Yinghong smiled easily—only this girl understood her.

Everyone else thought she was done for, her life ruined, little knowing this was the life she had chosen for herself, the passion and feelings long gone.

Even if she had money, so what—live for herself.

"Tianxian, do you have any pregnancy tips to share with us?" Tang Yan changed the subject.

"What tips could I have? I just got pregnant in a muddled sort of way. Whatever Mom told me to eat, I ate; when I was sleepy I slept; when I felt like moving I took a walk; when I wanted to throw a tantrum there was someone to let me scold—that's how I got through it." Liu Tianxian said it lightly.

She really hadn't suffered any grievances during her pregnancy; all three of them accommodated her.

"Hahaha, the Principal actually lets you scold him?!" Zhang Jingying was amazed.

Recently the Principal and Lao Wang Zong's power struggle—they had all heard about it, iron-fisted indeed; such a person, yet at home he was the one who yielded, quite a novelty.

"He lets me, if he doesn't I just cry and show him."

Liu Tianxian said this, then added with wonder, "I don't know what's going on, but since getting pregnant I love to cry."

"That must be the hormones." Shuchang said.

"Hey, how long did it take you to get pregnant—I mean how long after being together, did you do any preparation?" Tang Yan raised an eyebrow, hinting at something.

The other girls' eyes all lit up—they loved hearing this kind of gossip.

"No special preparation either, we just did it whenever the mood struck, though the process takes countless thrusts, countless friction."

"Ahahaha!"

Hearing this, the onlookers covered their mouths and laughed uproariously, laughing with abandon.

When several women get together, things inevitably get raunchy—just as men together enjoy chatting about women's topics.

Liu Tianxian was about to become a mother, so naturally she was open about these things; just chatting with good friends.

"Then you enjoyed it too, right?!" Zhang Jingying said.

"How could you not enjoy it? You definitely enjoyed it too, right?!" Liu Tianxian shot back.

This drew endless "hehe" laughter from the others.

"So what positions do you like?" Tang Yan asked with great interest.

"Whatever position you like, I like too." Liu Tianxian was a wit—meaning we're all women here.

Tang Yan laughed "hehe" and patted her arm.

When these women started running off at the mouth, they held nothing back—after all, they were all older, had seen everything, and with no one else around, they chatted to pass the time.

Just then, Fang Hong appeared, holding a fruit platter, and asked, "What are you all talking about?"

"Nothing, nothing." Tang Yan, seeing the Principal appear, looked quite shy.

The others were about the same—mainly because they had just been chatting wildly; the moment the Principal arrived, they all blushed, looking a bit shy.

Chatting among themselves was fine, but with a man present it wasn't proper—people would call them loose.

They still had some sense of shame.

Hui Yinghong, however, sat perfectly composed, not a blush on her face, as if nothing had happened—after all, at her age, she wasn't like the young girls.

"Then why are all your faces red?" Fang Hong glanced at them.

"It's the heat, the weather's too hot." Tang Yan made an excuse.

Liu Tianxian, meanwhile, covered her mouth and laughed quietly; she felt no awkwardness, the two of them often chatted about such things.

"Oh, then have some fruit." Fang Hong, not suspecting anything, set the fruit platter in his hands on the table among them.

"Thank you, Principal. Oh my, a Principal serving us food—we're truly overwhelmed, can't bear it!" Zhang Jingying laughed and teased.

"If you can't bear it then don't eat, let someone else have it." Fang Hong said casually.

"Hahaha!"

That remark made the other women laugh, and the slightly awkward atmosphere eased a bit.

"How could we not eat it, it'd be a waste not to." Zhang Jingying said, then picked up a piece of Hami melon and started eating, gesturing for the others to eat as well.

Fang Hong didn't join their chat, tossed out a couple of casual remarks and left early; the women kept chatting about their off-color topics.

"Continuing the topic from earlier, Tianxian, how many minutes can your husband last?"

In an office of classical, elegant style, it didn't look anything special, nor was it luxurious—just very grand, a kind of settled gravitas.

There was a sweeping, majestic grandeur, steady and dignified; the huge landscape painting hanging on the wall was especially eye-catching, also very grand.

Guoxin Mo Dongshizhang reported the earlier conversation with Fang Hong, word for word, without omitting anything, nothing hidden.

"This little fellow is quite savvy, isn't he—five years, putting up 6 billion himself, we put up 4 billion, he has the heart to get things done." An old man leaned back in a single sofa, a cigarette still pinched between his fingers.

And the unit he spoke in was knives (i. e., US dollars).

"It's like this—he said doing this is doing it for a belief, paying for the belief; as for the future, once the belief is built up, naturally more people will pay for the belief." Mo Dongshizhang sat ramrod straight, only half his backside on the seat, his body angled toward the old man.

"This awareness is very good—not talking about money, not talking about profit, arming a research institution like this with ideology." The old man nodded, took a drag of his cigarette, very much in agreement.

If everyone was just after money, then this country couldn't compete with the outside world, because in the beginning it had started from nothing.

Ideological purity and purity of intent are still very important.

"So do we follow or not?" Mo Dongshizhang asked for instructions.

"Follow, of course we follow—how could we not? We can't chill the heart of someone who wants to get things done. Anyone who wants to get things done, we must support; you need to understand this clearly." The old man was nonchalant.

4 billion knives isn't even a hair, but perhaps it can produce results, gather the hearts of those talents who want to go abroad—still worth it.

"Yes!" Mo Dongshizhang indicated he understood.

"You just coordinate and handle this; whatever results come out, let him go at it himself. We shouldn't get too involved, and we shouldn't put too many restrictions."

The old man's meaning was: give the greatest convenience.

As for whether in the future there really is good technology, revolutionary technology—if it needs to be made public, we'll talk about it then; that's a matter for later.

Of course, with Fang Hong's intelligence, if he doesn't want to make it public, he can also cook up a set of excuses—for example, it's too advanced, not suitable for disclosure; if disclosed, it might scare you; it's for your own good.

As long as he doesn't want to make it public, he can always find a reason.

Mo Dongshizhang got his instructions, so there was no more nonsense—4 billion knives, no dragging of feet, delivered in one lump sum.

For them, this wasn't even real money, already a very small investment. Of course, this money was transferred directly to the main entity of "Yifei Xianju," not to any individual.

Seeing so much money, even Fang Hong's heart stirred; in his whole life he had never seen so much cash—he only saw the numbers, and in one glance they were gone.

Because the places his money went were too many.

And on Zhenzhen's account, several hundred billion lying there was a first; however, this money was supervised—it could only be used for research, nothing else.

Without supervision, how could that be allowed? You may fail to produce anything from your research, but you can't take this money away.

(End of this chapter)