Siyuan envied Bailu’s height, because a woman like that stood out wherever she went, bringing a man immense prestige just by being by his side. As for herself, she was barely five feet three, and it seemed unlikely she would ever grow any taller.

She also envied Bailu’s figure. Built upon a frame of five feet ten, Bailu’s curves were exquisitely alluring—full in the front and back, with a slender waist. Her skin was fair and delicate; surely, no man disliked that type of woman.

However, in those two respects, she and Bailu were like plum, orchid, chrysanthemum, and bamboo, each excelling in her own way. Tallness was a kind of sexiness, and petite was another. Fullness was one kind of beauty, and delicacy was yet another. So, she understood clearly that she wasn't losing out in these aspects.

Yu’er envied the birds for their ability to fly, but didn't the birds equally envy the fish for their ability to swim in the water?

Yet, there was one area where Siyuan had to admit complete inferiority. She couldn't figure out from which ancestor Bailu had inherited a rather rare gene. While Bailu’s features were clearly those of a standard Northern Han Chinese woman, her physical chest profile was distinctly more pronounced than others, hinting at mixed ancestry. What Siyuan truly envied was Bailu’s “tiger tongue,” which perfectly catered to Director Wang’s favorite pastime!

Ordinary people had thin, soft tongues, but Bailu’s tongue possessed a unique friction. Siyuan once described that being licked by Bailu’s tongue felt like being licked by a puppy. Only Bailu could achieve this effect; thus far, Wang Zhuo hadn't encountered a second person capable of it, not even the notorious womanizer Fei Long...

So, Siyuan could only look on with envy. Director Wang most enjoyed sitting high, like a king, savoring the feeling of a beauty submitting below him to serve him with her lips and tongue. Bailu’s innate talent seemed tailor-made for him, and it was clear that when she performed this service, she also took pride in being able to bring Wang Zhuo pleasure that felt like ascending to the clouds.

Therefore, when Wang Zhuo said, “See which of you can make me happier,” Siyuan, despite her reluctance, could only huff and let it go. With time and experience, Bailu would inevitably catch up and surpass her. Her jealousy was useless, wasn't it?

“Give your phone; I need to say a few words to her,” Wang Zhuo instructed.

Siyuan made a face at Bailu and handed over the phone, leaning forward slightly to eavesdrop on their sweet talk.

Holding the phone, Bailu felt a surge of sweetness in her heart and murmured a soft greeting.

“Miss me?” Wang Zhuo asked with a smile.

Bailu smiled and answered truthfully, “Yes, always.”

“Miss what part of me?” Wang Zhuo asked teasingly.

Eavesdropping Siyuan let out a soft chuckle. Bailu glanced around self-consciously before finally saying, “Every part.”

“Isn't there one part you miss the most?” Wang Zhuo gently prompted.

“There is...” Bailu giggled. “I miss your sweet talk!”

That answer clearly didn't satisfy Wang Zhuo. He pressed, “Then guess what part of you I miss the most?”

Did this even require guessing? Siyuan covered her mouth, stifling her giggles from the side. The usually shy Bailu blushed deeply, but her desires were already stirring. Taking a rare moment of boldness, she whispered softly into the phone, “You miss my tongue.”

This bold statement was worth more than a hundred sweet nothings. Wang Zhuo’s gloom instantly vanished, and he burst into hearty laughter, saying, “Xiao Bai, you truly are my cotton candy! I’ll be waiting for you to come back quickly so your little tiger tongue can give me an itch!”

Bailu’s cheeks burned, and she replied in a low voice, “Okay, wait for me.”

... That night, Siyuan and Bailu’s conversation revolved around the topics of "how to scratch" and "where to scratch." As they drifted off to sleep in the Paris time zone, Wang Zhuo finally stepped onto the freshly renovated Royal Princess.

However, this luxury liner, formerly an aircraft carrier, now bore a new name: ileenrine. You could interpret it as Princess Eileen or Queen Eileen; the specific meaning was left for one to feel!

The orange-yellow behemoth was moored in the harbor, looking grand and stunning. The English name ileenrine was written in striking sapphire blue along both sides of the hull, signaling to everyone who knew the name's origin both Wang Zhuo's audacity and the enviable harmony of his harem.

Wang Zhuo held no ribbon-cutting ceremony for the ship. In fact, apart from commercial necessity, he disliked such formal displays. But the grand celebration with fireworks and salutes was still necessary. Even though the ship was purchased cheaply, its significance to him far outweighed that of the Big Man.

While he considered a ribbon-cutting ceremony tedious, for those paying attention, the launch of Jiangzhou's Wang Xiaolong's luxury cruise ship without a single high-ranking official present for the ceremony was certainly worth pondering.

Was it that they couldn't invite sufficiently high-ranking people, so they skipped the ceremony altogether? Or had he lost his powerful backing and couldn't manage one even if he wanted to? In the two days following the ileenrine's maiden voyage, people discussed this sensitive topic in private and public forums.

Around the same time, news began to spread widely that Customs had seized three of the Dynasty Group's freighters on suspicion of smuggling. Those who looked into it discovered the seizures happened sequentially and that the accusations were rather thin—"unsubstantiated charges"—and that the Dynasty Group had swallowed the loss without being able to resolve the issue.

People began to wonder uneasily: If he couldn't even manage something at this level, was Wang Zhuo truly losing influence?

Rumors quickly intensified. Luo Kelong, the first to expose Wang Zhuo’s "painted skin," strutted about with his chin practically touching the sky. When everyone else dared not touch a hair on Wang Zhuo’s head, he was the first to leap out and deliver a harsh blow, gaining such notoriety that it secured his standing as a true yanei (princeling).

While everyone was busy speculating about Wang Zhuo's future, he was already sailing across the vast, blue Pacific Ocean aboard the Princess Eileen, accompanied by his confidantes, friends, and family.

Qi Fei was deeply envious of Gu Meixue, whose slight baby bump was just beginning to show, and often chatted with her about this and that. Wang Zhengdao, meanwhile, had fully transformed into a party animal, hosting his friends for feasting and revelry throughout the entire cruise ship, treating his son's prized vessel as his own personal infrastructure, determined to make everyone feel right at home.

This father truly had far-reaching connections; he even spent an entire day on the ship filming a music video, though the script hilariously replicated the plot of the Titanic sinking, leaving the maiden-voyaging Wang Zhuo both amused and exasperated.

The ocean surface was calm that afternoon, and the sunlight was intense. A row of large parasols was set up on the aircraft carrier runway on the deck—perfect for an afternoon nap.

Wang Zhuo, holding a glass of chilled, fresh-squeezed coconut juice and breathing the crisp sea air, enjoyed a moment of peaceful contentment as he watched Xu Chu professionally applying sunscreen to Fu Xinran.

Guan Yingying, dressed in a two-piece, bright red bikini, came briskly up the stairs from the cabin, casually picked up a plastic stool, and sat down next to Wang Zhuo’s lounge chair.

“Jiangzhou is about to explode; Customs still refuses to release our ships,” she said, picking up a mango from the table and taking a bite. “How long do you plan to stay out here?”

Wang Zhuo smiled faintly. “That depends on Boss Qin’s intentions.”

Guan Yingying glanced at him. “If he doesn’t bring it up, you’re just going to drag it out?”

Wang Zhuo nodded nonchalantly. “Dragging it out is good. Right now, I actually hope Customs pushes things even further.”

“Aren't you setting people up to fail?” Guan Yingying chuckled. “Our relationship with Customs has always been fine. If you keep playing this game, you’ll end up offending everyone.”

“I don't owe them anything,” Wang Zhuo scoffed dismissively. “Their function is to guard the nation’s borders, not to take advantage of merchants for bribes or lord their power. I contribute so much in taxes and duties to the nation every year, bring back so much foreign exchange, create so many jobs, and donate so much money and support. If even a functional agency dares to ride on my head and shake me down, justice is on my side. Why should I be afraid of offending them?”

Gan Lin, sitting beside Wang Zhuo, interjected with a smile, “Why does that sound a bit like a nationalistic rant to me?”

“It’s a rare moment of righteous anger,” Wang Zhuo replied with a smile, continuing to Guan Yingying, “Sister, don't worry about them. Just let them fuss. If Qin Xue doesn't care, fine; we’ll just file a formal complaint directly to the higher-ups and see who ends up unlucky.”

“Sacrificing millions in profit just to spite one person,” Guan Yingying asked, half-laughing, half-exasperated. “Is it worth it?”

“That’s a Customs Chief. If one million covers the cost of bringing down a Customs Chief, then for a man of justice like me, it is absolutely worth it,” Wang Zhuo huffed. “I’ve long been disgusted by this kind of improper conduct. The power granted by the state is meant to protect people’s interests, but they use it to target people like me, who are the people’s people! Aren't they undermining the interests of the entire populace? What kind of trash!”

Gan Lin and Guan Yingying burst into laughter. Xu Chu, who had just finished applying sunscreen to Fu Xinran, looked up and laughed, “Can you represent the interests of the entire nation?”

“I think your perspective is a bit narrow,” Fu Xinran said, stifling a smile. “You should represent the interests of the entire world. The lyrics of the Internationale should be changed, because you are our savior.”

The women erupted in fits of laughter, while Wang Zhuo deliberately scoffed disdainfully, clearly already regarding himself as the savior of the world’s people.

Ding-ding several times, and his phone, resting on the small table beside him, rang. He picked it up and saw it was from Yuanye.

“Leader, I have an update for you: Guan Huijun has finally been caught!” Yuanye got straight to the point. “The kid ran off to Suzhou. We got the tip and didn't sleep all night, but we managed to stop him from escaping.”

Wang Zhuo paused in thought and asked, “If that rat contracted AIDS, how would this person be sentenced?”

“It’s not just about that rat anymore,” Yuanye said with a wry smile. “After this kid injected the rat, he started compulsively visiting prostitutes every day. He's completely gone off the rails; he confessed to me that over the past ten-plus days, he’s visited at least five women daily, and every time, during the rear-entry position, he secretly removed the condom. Now I have to rush him around to trace every single establishment he visited—nearly a hundred women! This is going to give me a massive headache!”