The fiery red Lotus sped away, leaving behind a crowd of eager spectators and a crestfallen Leopard.

Li Qin sighed inwardly. This man was clearly exceptional. Despite Leopard’s formidable skills, he hadn't even managed to graze the opponent's skin before being soundly beaten. If the victor hadn't shown mercy, Leopard would surely have been left bleeding profusely.

The casual onlookers saw the spectacle; the experts saw the technique. Those who truly understood the fight knew that Leopard wasn't weak. In a clash of this caliber, victory or defeat often hung by a thread. The moment Leopard’s hidden strategy was exposed and his concentration broken, he lost the upper hand. From there, one slow step led to a cascade of errors, culminating in total defeat.

“The highest form of warfare is to attack the enemy’s strategy,” a composed, elegant woman in the crowd spoke, revealing the core truth. “The principles of military strategy are highly effective in combat. That man’s fighting prowess is on an entirely different plane than Leopard’s.”

Soon, the Chong Meng Bar was bustling again, but tonight everyone had a new topic of conversation: the incredible fight they had just witnessed. Even though Leopard had been utterly defeated, those who knew his ability recognized his inherent strength. This only served to highlight Wang Zhuo’s dominance. To save face, the bar management had secretly instructed the young master and employees to laud Wang Zhuo, making the establishment seem less inadequate in comparison.

It was like two men fighting on a Manhattan street. The loser is usually scorned, but if people later learned the victor was boxing champion Mike Tyson, public opinion would instantly shift: “Wow, that guy got beaten up by Tyson and wasn't seriously injured—that’s incredible!” That was essentially the dynamic here.

In Li Qin’s office, Leopard sat slumped on the sofa, visibly dejected. Zhang Chengye, the lobby manager, sat opposite him, his face equally grim, unsure of what to say.

Li Qin used the intercom to gather information. In a short while, he understood the whole sequence of events. Hanging up the device, he gave a wry smile. “It’s all sorted out. This whole mess was a ridiculous misunderstanding, a complete disaster brought on by sheer bad luck.”

The truth of the matter wasn't complicated. A quick inquiry to the security guards and a review of the surveillance footage would have cleared everything up. Wang Zhuo and Ruan Mingqing had arrived in the same car, so the accusation of poaching business—"digging up wild food"—was baseless. Moreover, everyone confirmed they had never seen the pair before, meaning they were simply passersby.

On the desk lay a business card belonging to Wang Zhuo—the card he had placed in Leopard’s hand after knocking him down. It now rested on Li Qin’s desk.

“With skill like that, it’s a waste for him to be a bouncer for a ‘duck parlor’.”

That was what Wang Zhuo had said as he left. Li Qin had been close enough to hear it clearly. But seeing Wang Zhuo extend an offer to his subordinate right in front of so many people, Li Qin was rendered speechless, forced to watch silently as the man stood up calmly, walked through the crowd, got into his sports car, and drove away.

The card only bore the name of “Shengshi Wangchao” and Wang Zhuo’s name; there was no title listed. Li Qin felt like he had heard of this person before but couldn't place him immediately.

“This kid,” he tapped Wang Zhuo’s card, chuckling, “trying to poach staff right in front of me. I actually wanted to ask him if he had any plans to enter the entertainment industry myself.”

Zhang Chengye offered a conciliatory smile. “With his looks and skill, he’d certainly make a fine martial arts choreographer. Whether he’d be willing is another matter.”

“Choreographer?” Li Qin shook his head repeatedly. “The composure he showed with a hundred people watching—I think he could play the lead role right away. If a director were to tailor a script for him, getting famous wouldn't be hard.”

Speaking of tailored scripts for action stars, Donnie Yen, who was wildly popular now, was a prime example. His television series Fist of Fury had made him a household name across the Chinese-speaking world of small screens, turning him into a renowned action star. Li Qin felt that given Wang Zhuo’s potential, even if he didn't eclipse Donnie Yen, reaching the level of a Wu Jing would be no difficult feat.

Just the expression and bearing Wang Zhuo displayed when he left were enough to become a classic shot in an action film—he had an incredible presence.

Zhang Chengye suddenly recalled something. “Shengshi Wangchao… isn't that the jade jewelry company?”

Understanding dawned on them. No wonder the young man was wearing a gold-inlaid jade ring on his pinky finger. It seemed rather incongruous for a twenty-year-old, usually a style reserved for the young master. But if he was in the jewelry business, it made perfect sense.

...

Having fought a satisfying brawl, Wang Zhuo felt refreshed, his very pores tingling with excitement.

“Scratching that itch?” Ruan Mingqing, stirred by the adrenaline, teased him with a smile.

Before the fight, Wang Zhuo had told her he was fighting Leopard simply because his hands were itching for action, which prompted her question.

“Extremely satisfying,” Wang Zhuo confirmed with a grin.

After laughing for a moment, Ruan Mingqing said, “Tonight was quite amusing. I can’t believe I was mistaken for someone soliciting services.”

Wang Zhuo chuckled darkly. “Sister Ruan, if you were out soliciting, the line of men willing to serve you for free would stretch from the Bund all the way to the estuary.”

Ruan Mingqing burst into a fit of laughter, her body shaking. Wang Zhuo’s comment was, indirectly, a compliment to her beauty, though the word choice was a bit suggestive. “Serve” (cìhòu) was too intimate; “accompany” (péi) would have been better.

But her smile quickly faded, and her expression turned somber. Thinking of all the women enjoying themselves at the Chong Meng Bar while she couldn't step across that boundary—having to care for a child while also looking after a husband in a vegetative state—her long period of abstinence now seemed destined to become a permanent, lonely vigil.

Feelings of grievance, frustration, and resentment flooded her mind. Her mood swung a dramatic 180 degrees; dejection was etched onto her face.

Wang Zhuo watched her expression carefully as he drove, taking in every subtle change. Finally, he couldn't help but offer comfort. “Sister Ruan, it’s not that bad. Try to look on the bright side.”

Ruan Mingqing nodded, her eyes moist, and whispered, “Can you take me home?”

The car turned at the next intersection, heading toward the hospital. Since they were still some distance away, the speed remained moderate. Ruan Mingqing began to talk, telling Wang Zhuo stories from her own life, as if she desperately needed to confide in a friend.

Wang Zhuo proved to be an excellent listener, occasionally interjecting with a question that allowed her to clarify details she hadn't fully explained. At times, he offered a comment that serendipitously aligned with Ruan Mingqing’s own thoughts.

Unconsciously, Ruan Mingqing began to open up, no longer seeing Wang Zhuo as just a much younger boy, but as a true confidant who could offer advice and suggestions. During her narration, she stopped avoiding certain sensitive or awkward details.

For instance, she mentioned that Zeng Yan had diabetes. Wang Zhuo immediately guessed that their marital life had been affected and alluded to it with vague phrasing. Ruan Mingqing found it uncanny, as if Wang Zhuo could read minds; often, before she could finish a thought, he had already anticipated the unspoken conclusion.

“You must be very popular with women, aren’t you?” she suddenly asked.

“Uh…” Wang Zhuo hadn't expected the sudden question. After thinking for a moment, he scratched his head. “Perhaps so.”

“I’d say definitely so,” Ruan Mingqing observed him, smiling slightly. “You have looks, money, and you understand women so well—you have both capability and charm. Don't lots of girls chase after you?”

“It seems so…” Wang Zhuo coughed lightly, a touch embarrassed.

The reality was that in the past year of university, he had received more than five direct confessions. His QQ account received friend requests from unknown girls daily. Girls approached him in the cafeteria, the library, and large lecture halls. Even the court where he jogged in the mornings often had unfamiliar female faces appearing. This wasn't just popularity with women; it was a veritable magnet for them.

“You have a girlfriend, right?” Her gossipy interest piqued, Ruan Mingqing’s mood finally lifted, shifting focus entirely onto Wang Zhuo as she started digging for secrets.

“I do,” Wang Zhuo admitted frankly.

Ruan Mingqing fixed her gaze on his eyes. “More than one, perhaps?”

“Beep—” Wang Zhuo accidentally tapped the horn.

Ruan Mingqing immediately let out a burst of laughter, all her worries momentarily vanishing.

“There is indeed more than one,” Wang Zhuo conceded honestly. “But I genuinely care for all of them. I couldn't bear to give up any of them.”

“You’re a greedy man,” Ruan Mingqing said, pointing a finger at him with a smile. “Zeng Yan is extremely devoted. Besides me, he wouldn't spare a second glance for another woman.”

He doesn't look at you much either, Wang Zhuo grumbled inwardly.

Ruan Mingqing winked and then asked, “So, what’s your plan for them? Are you going to find a small nation that allows polygamy and marry them all?”

“How did you know?” Wang Zhuo feigned surprise.

Ruan Mingqing laughed heartily. “Doesn’t that happen in web novels? Some write about British islands, some about Arab countries, and the grand finale is the protagonist moving there with his women to live a life of luxury in a harem.”

“Tacky, utterly tacky,” Wang Zhuo pouted, chuckling. “I’m different from them. I’m going to become a civil servant, enter politics, become a national leader, and finally amend the constitution to allow polygamy in our country.”

Ruan Mingqing leaned against the car door, laughing until tears streamed down her face, before shaking her head. “That joke is hilarious. You’re not serious, are you?”

Wang Zhuo knew his joke was funny. He laughed. “Of course not. Monogamy is the bedrock of the nation. People don't suffer from poverty as much as inequality. The social atmosphere is terrible now precisely because wealth distribution is unreasonable. If the rich cornered all the women too, wouldn’t they just tip the Earth over?”

As they spoke, the car turned into the hospital parking lot. Ruan Mingqing, still eager, said, “One last question: how many beauties are in your future harem?”

“Let me calculate,” Wang Zhuo said seriously, pondering. “Tang Bohu had three wives, Macau casino magnate Stanley Ho has four, and Wei Xiaobao had seven. It seems human capacity has limits; one man can’t possibly attend to too many wives. So, I’ve decided to keep the number within a manageable range.”

“Manageable?”

“Yes. I don’t think I should be worse off than Wei Xiaobao.”

“……”