Chapter Twenty-Eight: Let Go!

Chapter Twenty-Eight: Let Go!

Tang Zhong sat in the chair, with Ah Ken tending to his hair. Tang Zhong not only had a double identity but also sported two entirely different hairstyles. When he went to school, Ah Ken would tousle his hair with a hairdryer, sculpt it into a messy beehive with styling clay, and finish it off with a special spray Ah Ken gifted him. The result looked as if he hadn’t washed his hair in ages—long-lasting and hard to alter.

But when he transformed into “Tang Xin,” his entire demeanor had to change. As Tang Zhong, he played the part of an ordinary, awkward, unremarkable man. As Tang Xin, he became the elite among elites, the “handsome gentleman” amidst socialites.

Thus, Ah Ken would first wash his hair, then use a different solution to remove the previous styling product, cleansing it thoroughly before beginning the new design—a tedious process, indeed.

“Don’t be impatient, my dear. It’ll be done soon. Trust my expertise—I’m a professional,” Ah Ken assured him, living up to his nickname, “Magician.” His slender, deft fingers moved as if performing magic, working with astonishing speed, transforming Tang Zhong’s appearance bit by bit. Though Ah Ken worked the hardest, he kept comforting Tang Zhong, trying to keep him from growing restless. Truthfully, Tang Zhong thought, aside from Ah Ken’s rather flamboyant looks and flirtatious speech, he wasn’t a bad person at all. Of course, if he’d stop calling him “dear heart,” Tang Zhong’s impression of him would be even better.

Bai Su wore a silver uniform, her fitted blouse barely containing her ample curves that seemed ready to spill out at the slightest movement—a stunning and dangerous allure. Her short skirt hugged her full hips, tracing a sensual, shapely arc. Leaning against the desk, arms crossed under her chest—no doubt many would wish to be that desk.

“I texted you, but you never replied,” Bai Su said with a bright, sly smile.

“I didn’t know what to say,” Tang Zhong answered.

“I asked if you were busy on the first day of school. You could’ve just said yes or no,” Bai Su replied.

“I thought if I didn’t reply, you’d know I was busy,” said Tang Zhong.

“You—!” Bai Su fumed. “You’re so heartless. See if I ever text you again.”

Tang Zhong laughed. “Best if you don’t call either.”

Bai Su looked embarrassed. “Alright, alright, I admit it’s my fault. I know you had military training today and it was exhausting. Trust me, it’s just a meal—it won’t take long.”

“It’s just dinner. Why must I go?” Tang Zhong protested helplessly. “Why not bring Lin Huiyin and Zhang Hepburn? What if my voice gives me away during the meal?”

“I wish I could,” Bai Su sighed, exasperated. “It’s President Liu Mingwei of the MIFU Group. About that time with the fan—”

“The fan harassed me. That’s why I kicked him,” Tang Zhong corrected her. What did she mean, “the incident where you assaulted a fan”? It sounded like he had violent tendencies.

“Alright, alright.” Bai Su conceded. Sometimes this man was disturbingly mature, other times obsessively fixated on trivialities. “Let’s call it the fan harassment incident. Anyway, MIFU helped resolve it. Despite minor conflicts, our cooperation has been pleasant. Liu Mingwei knows his little tricks were seen through and fears a rift, so he personally called to invite us, repeatedly requesting the Butterfly Ensemble attend tonight’s banquet. He was quite humble, saying he wanted to apologize to Miss Tang Xin in person. With that, I have no excuse to decline.”

Tang Zhong knew the matter was settled. Ever since he’d read Tang Xin’s diary and promised Bai Su he’d do his best as a celebrity, he had foreseen such things—stars dining with business magnates was hardly unusual.

Still, one matter deeply concerned him. If it wasn’t resolved, nothing else mattered.

“Lin Huiyin and Zhang Hepburn will be wearing gowns, right?” Tang Zhong asked.

“Of course,” Bai Su replied matter-of-factly. As the manager, she dressed formally and conservatively; as for Lin Huiyin and Zhang Hepburn, both archetypal socialites, evening gowns were the obvious choice—uniforms were too stiff, casual wear too informal—neither suited the occasion.

“Then... I don’t have to wear one, do I?” Tang Zhong asked anxiously. He’d decided that if she said yes, he’d jump out the window immediately.

Bai Su burst out laughing, unable to contain herself, tears streaming down as she bent over, gasping for breath. Tang Zhong rather liked how she looked when she laughed, for it revealed an expanse of snow-white skin.

Ah Ken joined in, giggling, “Oh dear, you’ll be the death of me—oh my, this is too funny—”

Wiping away her tears, Bai Su pointed at Tang Zhong. “I’d actually like to see you in a gown.”

Tang Zhong looked at her seriously. “I’m not wearing one.”

“Could you even fit into one?” Bai Su laughed. “If you wore a gown, what would you stuff down the bodice? Tang Xin may not be well-endowed, but she’s not completely flat—”

“That’s a relief,” Tang Zhong finally relaxed. Thank you, sister, for staying flat-chested all those years before I met you.

After more than an hour, Tang Zhong was finally “transformed.”

When the three descended, Lin Huiyin was watching TV on the sofa, Zhang Hepburn clutching a laptop, engrossed in a video game, muttering under her breath—who knew what she was playing.

Lin Huiyin’s hair was swept up, revealing her long, elegant neck. Dressed in a simple black evening gown, she perfectly embodied her cold and aloof temperament—one glance, and she stunned all who beheld her.

Zhang Hepburn wore a white cocktail dress that accentuated her soft, flawless skin. She wasn’t seductive in the way of a woman but radiated a girl’s charm to the fullest. She looked like a life-sized porcelain doll; set her in a shop window, and no one would doubt she was real.

“Hmph, what a fuss,” Zhang Hepburn grumbled as she played her game. “More troublesome than a woman. I’m starving!”

Clearly, her complaint was aimed at Tang Zhong.

“Tang Zhong is always more troublesome than you two,” Bai Su laughed. “Alright, let’s go. We can’t be late.”

Lin Huiyin said nothing, quietly switching off the TV.

——

Wilson Grand Hotel. One of Mingzhu’s most luxurious establishments.

The Mercedes van stopped at the entrance. Bai Su was first out, followed by Lin Huiyin and Zhang Hepburn. Tang Zhong, feeling uneasy, lingered until he had no choice but to get out last.

“Manager Bai,” a tall man strode forward.

He stood at least 1.85 meters, robust and imposing in a tailored white suit with matching shoes. His white shirt was open at the collar—less formal, more casual. His long hair was slicked back and tied with a black ribbon. Tortoiseshell glasses, rare to see, gave him the air of a successful artist.

A man and woman followed behind, but the aura of the man in front was so commanding that they faded into the background.

“Master Liu?” Bai Su’s face lit up as she shook his hand. “When did you return to the country? You shouldn’t have troubled yourself to greet us.”

“Manager Bai, you’re too polite,” the man replied graciously, his eyes sweeping over Bai Su with a fleeting glint of desire. “Manager Bai and the Butterfly Ensemble are our distinguished guests. If my father weren’t worried about attracting reporters, he would have come himself.”

Then, turning to Zhang Hepburn, he extended his hand with a smile. “Miss Hepburn, you grow more beautiful each day.”

“Thank you,” Zhang Hepburn replied sweetly, shaking his hand.

Next, he approached Lin Huiyin. His gaze brightened, his expression softened, and his voice dropped low. “Miss Huiyin, you haven’t changed a bit. Even in America, I often listened to your music—truly the voice of an angel.”

“Thank you,” Lin Huiyin replied with only those two words, no matter how effusive the praise.

“This trip home was mainly to see you, Miss Huiyin—it’s been some time since we last met, hasn’t it?” He held her hand and seemed to forget to let go.

“Yes,” Lin Huiyin’s brow furrowed—her sign of displeasure.

“I had plans to dine with friends tonight, but when my father told me his guests were the lovely ladies of the Butterfly Ensemble, I canceled at once. To see you so soon after returning—what incredible luck.” Clearly, this Master Liu was very taken with Lin Huiyin.

It is said that the harder a woman is to win, the more men are drawn to her. Lin Huiyin’s cold and proud nature was precisely what captivated these young elites.

Lin Huiyin tried several times to withdraw her hand, but Liu Weidong seemed oblivious, still holding her tightly, gazing at her with deep affection.

“Let go,” Lin Huiyin commanded in a crisp, cold voice—sharp as the ring of a drawn sword.