Sanlitun, Beijing’s most bustling hub for nightlife, transforms every evening into a vibrant thoroughfare drenched in neon light and teeming with crowds.

Nestled right beside the embassy district, Sanlitun is a place where encountering foreigners of every complexion and tongue is commonplace. Since the bar culture itself originated in the West, the area boasts immense inclusivity, where diverse racial cultures converge and fuse, perpetually standing at the forefront of domestic trends.

“Century Sound” is a bar that integrates leisure and entertainment. The first floor features light music, slow grooves, and live performances, while the second, third, and fourth floors host tiered KTV rooms with first-rate facilities, enjoying booming business.

In reality, celebrities like Ning Yao usually opt for high-end private clubs when socializing with friends. A venue like Century Sound, packed with too many patrons and a mixed crowd, risks embarrassing situations where they might be stared at.

However, Wang Zhuo hadn't informed Ruan Mingqing about Ning Yao's celebrity status before bringing her out. Consequently, Ruan Mingqing hadn't accounted for this when making arrangements, and by the time the three met, it was too late to switch to another venue without missing their reservation time.

So, Wang Zhuo proceeded with the two stunning women. Ning Yao was dressed in a red qipao, Ruan Mingqing in a white dress—both outfits specifically chosen to impress Wang Zhuo and fitting their respective temperaments and styles. Wang Zhuo, on the other hand, wore a casual outfit from a domestic brand, costing less than a thousand yuan for the entire ensemble, which Fu Xinran had casually spotted and bought for him while passing a commercial street.

Wang Zhuo was extremely pragmatic about his attire, caring little for labels as long as his clothes were comfortable, aesthetically pleasing, and durable. Often, he deliberately kept a low profile, avoiding luxury brands, settling instead for ubiquitous names like Kappa or Nike.

As for the Vacheron Constantin or Patek Philippe watches on Ning Yao’s and Ruan Mingqing’s wrists, Wang Zhuo had abandoned wearing watches long before earning the moniker "Action Director," as they were too prone to damage during fights!

Upon entering the private room, the first order of business was ordering drinks—three bottles of Wangchao Wuliang were indispensable. Mentioning this brought forth a shared, amused smile among the three, finding the situation quite interesting.

By now, Wangchao Wuliang had become the signature recommended product in KTVs nationwide. The logic was simple: once customers drank it, they naturally began drinking more heartily, causing overall beverage sales to soar. While some patrons who came specifically to challenge their drinking limits might initially refuse Wangchao Wuliang, most would eventually sneak out mid-session to buy a bottle from the KTV’s self-service mini-mart, down it, and return to their session.

If they were ordering alcohol, customers might choose Yanjing, Tsingtao, or Snow Beer according to preference; if they were ordering snacks, it might be cold cuts, fruit, or nuts. But Wangchao Wuliang was irreplaceable—there was no substitute. Similar products or counterfeits had tried to enter this market, but to no avail; customers simply wouldn't buy them.

Everyone across the country knew that bars sometimes sold fake liquor, but no bar dared to sell fake Wangchao Wuliang. The reasoning was that while they might earn slightly less on this specific item, it allowed them to sell significantly more other drinks. Fake liquor was hard to detect, but anyone could instantly tell if a Wangchao Wuliang was counterfeit. This comparison created a perfect market where Wangchao Wuliang achieved phenomenal sales across all national KTVs while spontaneously eliminating fake versions.

Three bottles of the KTV-exclusive Wangchao Wuliang, priced at twenty yuan each, earned the bar ten yuan profit per bottle. After deducting channel fees and various expenses, Wang Zhuo personally netted about five yuan per bottle—a profit margin bordering on the absurd. Yet, others couldn't envy it; this was the power of intellectual property. As the saying went, "Science and technology are the primary productive force!"

“May I ask a question?” Wang Zhuo asked the beer girl who was circulating to promote drinks, “How many bottles of Wangchao Wuliang does Century Sound sell on an average day?”

This wasn't exactly within the beer girl’s purview, but the girl, with her round face and sweet smile, answered readily, “Sir, Century Sound has exactly one hundred private rooms. On average, each room sells about ten bottles of Wangchao Wuliang per day. The open-plan bar on the first floor adds about four to five hundred sales.”

This proved that the service industry also required professional competence; without the ability to communicate effectively with guests, one couldn't even meet sales targets selling beer.

Wang Zhuo was quite satisfied with the answer, nodding with a chuckle, and handed her a hundred-yuan bill as a tip.

Only after the waiter and the beer girl had left did Ning Yao remove her large-framed glasses—her essential gear for preventing unwelcome attention in crowded places, which she always wore when appearing in public.

Ruan Mingqing asked curiously, “Fifteen hundred bottles daily—isn't that far more than what a shopping mall sells?”

Wang Zhuo nodded. “Exactly. The single highest volume sellers are KTVs, followed by street stalls, barbecue joints, and restaurants. Malls rank further down the list.”

“Fifteen hundred bottles, that’s thirty thousand yuan,” Ning Yao gasped. If they factored in peak holiday periods, that meant monthly sales approaching one million?

“Yes, this one venue brings in thirty thousand yuan,” Ruan Mingqing murmured before asking, “Wang Zhuo, how much of that thirty thousand do you earn?”

Wang Zhuo replied cheerfully, “About a quarter of it—seven or eight thousand yuan.”

“You truly are a tycoon!” Ruan Mingqing exclaimed with mock surprise. “This single bar generates over two hundred thousand yuan for you monthly, nearly three million annually. You’re practically a shareholder here!”

“A small shareholder, a small shareholder,” Wang Zhuo feigned humility. “One without voting rights.”

In truth, for a venue the size of Century Sound, three million yuan was a relatively small fraction of his annual income. But the sheer number of similar KTVs nationwide, each providing him the same income, resulted in a truly staggering total!

Ning Yao chuckled, teasing him, “Shareholders have to wait for year-end dividends; you get your cash immediately, right? Plus, they carry operational risks, while you’re guaranteed profit.”

As she spoke, she opened the pull tabs on the three cans of Wangchao Wuliang. This KTV-exclusive version came in small, 120ml slender cans. Once the tab was pulled, the opening was nearly as wide as the top surface, perfectly sized to be downed in one swift gulp.

The short, orange-flavored Wangchao Wuliang tasted like a small cup of uncarbonated soda—pleasant and sweet, offering no immediate distinct sensation. However, starting from the moment it touched the palate, it would double the drinker's alcohol tolerance within ten minutes, entirely without side effects—even those with alcohol allergies could enjoy a touch of alcoholic cheer.

Ning Yao’s signature soft voice lent a unique, captivating charm to her singing, though the repertoire suitable for her style was limited. Ruan Mingqing’s vocal skills were also rather average and neglected from practice, often leading to forgotten melodies or going off-key.

As Wang Zhuo sipped his beer, he listened contentedly, feeling that the singing level of both women was too amateurish, nowhere near as pleasing as their sounds when they... made love.

Wang Zhuo's own ability wasn't much better; he was naturally limited by vocal range—his lows lacked depth, and his highs were unreachable. He could only manage to get by singing milder, lyrical ballads.

Before long, Wang Zhuo felt slightly tipsy. His tolerance, like his vocal range, was naturally poor. This small amount of beer, however, was like water to Ruan Mingqing, especially after having consumed Wangchao Wuliang earlier.

Ning Yao was in a similar state to Wang Zhuo, but her qipao was tailored too perfectly. While she could eat seven-tenths full during meals, she couldn't be lazy when drinking. Now, her lower abdomen felt distended, signaling a need for the restroom.

It was only when she entered the restroom that she discovered the toilet bowl was broken, a visible crack suggesting it had been damaged today and hadn't yet been repaired!

Frustrated, she returned to tell Wang Zhuo and Ruan Mingqing. Wang Zhuo rang the service bell and asked the waiter. It turned out the previous party had accidentally dropped a liquor bottle onto the fixture, breaking it. Since all private rooms were occupied, they hadn't been offered a transfer.

“Then why didn’t you inform us earlier?” Ruan Mingqing became slightly indignant. “And you didn’t tell us after we arrived. Isn’t that commercial fraud?”

“I’m not clear on that, sir. Perhaps you could inquire at the front desk to see how they plan to resolve this?” the waiter said, forcing a smile.

“Forget it. It’s just a restroom; it’s not worth spoiling the mood over such a small matter.” Wang Zhuo waved the waiter away with a smile. “You can go; we’ll use the public facilities in the corridor.”

The waiter apologized and left. Ruan Mingqing huffed, “That’s unacceptable; that’s no way to conduct business.”

She wasn't inherently petty, but since she was the host tonight, a mishap with the reserved venue made her lose face.

Ning Yao smiled and advised, “Let it go, Mingqing. Wang Zhuo is right; don't let this ruin the evening. Even if you argue with them, the best you’ll get is a waived bill. Don’t dwell on it.”

“Then I’ll have to trouble you to use the public restroom,” Ruan Mingqing conceded with a shrug.

Ning Yao gave a gentle smile. “It’s fine; I have my escort.”

After escorting the celebrated actress to the ladies' room, Wang Zhuo made a silly face at his flushed reflection in the mirror. Fueled by alcohol, his thoughts began to wander. He covertly used his X-ray vision to sweep into the women's restroom, contemplating a bold move if Ning Yao happened to be alone inside.

Ning Yao had already loosened the hem of her qipao and was squatting in a small stall, revealing her entire round, full, alabaster bottom, just as the sound of rushing water began.

Unfortunately, two girls were reapplying makeup in front of the mirror outside the row of stalls, immediately causing Wang Zhuo to abort his spontaneous idea with a sense of deflation.

Just as he withdrew his vision, someone pushed open the door to the men's room next to him, glanced at him, and then showed a look of confusion.

“Wang Zhen? No, you’re Wang Jian, right?” The man sized Wang Zhuo up, then slapped his own palm with a fist, laughing heartily. “I remember now—you’re Wang Shuo!”

Wang Zhuo scratched his head, examining the tall man. This fellow stood well over 1.85 meters, broad-shouldered and stout, with horizontal lines etched across his face when he laughed, coupled with thick eyebrows, narrow eyes, and a bulbous nose—he did look quite familiar.

“You don’t recognize me?” The man with the bulbous nose clapped Wang Zhuo on the shoulder and chuckled, “I’m Daming. We were junior high classmates. Remember now?”

“Daming? Wang Daming?” Wang Zhuo suddenly realized—it was this guy. What a coincidence!

“Yeah, you remember!” Wang Daming laughed proudly. “We used to fight all the time back then. You can’t forget me, can you?”

Wang Zhuo didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. He thought, What do you mean ‘frequently fought’? You were the one who beat me up constantly! I later planned to fight back to regain some dignity, but you had already moved your whole family to Beijing!

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