Chapter 15: Dining And Dating With Other Girls
At this time, on the other side.
Mark had just finished summarizing today’s work when his mobile phone received a message.
He conveyed it truthfully to Mister Pei, “Mister, Miss Meng is asking about you.”
The man was wearing a bathrobe, with the collar loosely open, lazily leaning on the sofa, gently shaking a wine glass in his hand.
Mark asked: “She probably wants to know where you are. Should I tell her?”
Mister Pei took a shallow sip, the red wine moistening his throat, his tone rising, “What benefits did she give you?”
Mark immediately stated, “I wouldn’t dare. I am Mister’s man.”
The mobile phone vibrated two more times in succession.
Mister Pei’s long fingers pressed against his temple, his chin lightly nodding, “What did she say?”
Mark looked down at the message.
“When does he have time?”
“Or give me his contact information, and I’ll ask him myself.”
“Miss Meng is asking when you have time and wants your contact information.”
“She sure knows how to think.” Mister Pei tugged at the corner of his lips, “Tell her I’m not free.”
Mark did as instructed and replied to Meng Shuyou: “Sorry, Mister is not free.”
The next moment, her telephone call came in.
Mark looked to Mister Pei for instructions.
The man’s eyebrow tips lifted, “Answer it.”
Only then did he press to answer and turn on speakerphone.
The girl’s clear and gentle voice came through the receiver, “Is Mister Pei really not free?”
Mark: “Mm.”
Meng Shuyou’s emotion was low, “Why doesn’t your Mister keep his word? He clearly promised me that day…”
Before she finished speaking, she was suddenly interrupted, “What did I promise you?”
The voice line was low, rich, clear, and magnetic, simply a blessing for audiophiles.
Meng Shuyou didn’t expect him to be listening nearby and was stunned for a few seconds before softly finishing, “You promised to give me an opportunity.”
Mister Pei asked lazily: “When?”
“You clearly meant that that day.” Meng Shuyou bit her lip, “Anyway, you can’t go back on your word.”
Mister Pei set down the wine glass, “So what do you want?”
“Are you free this weekend? Can we have dinner together, or do something else?”
He said faintly: “I have a meeting to discuss business.”
Meng Shuyou sighed helplessly, “Alright…”
As the ending tone was about to fall, she heard him say again: “Xita Resort.”
A town near Chicago, about a two-hour drive.
Meng Shuyou’s eyes suddenly lit up, a smile spreading at the corners of her mouth, “I got it. Thank you, Mister Pei.”
Even across the mobile phone, just listening to the voice, Mister Pei could imagine her bright smiling face.
–
Xita Resort is a newly developed tourist attraction this year and has not yet officially opened to the public.
Meng Shuyou had recently seen a promotional video online; it boasts lakeside scenery, a serene environment, and lush greenery.
Experiencing it in person, the photos had no filter—it was indeed very beautiful.
Retro buildings clustered neatly, with independent courtyards and exceptional landscaping.
As soon as she arrived, staff inquired about her identity and took her to the room to settle in first.
Along the way, the staff also introduced it to her, “There’s a zoo nearby where you can feed small animals up close, take interactive photos. Evening is best for boating on the lake, when the scenery is the most beautiful. The town has many specialty snacks and craft shops…”
The weather in April is perfect for outdoor activities—not cold, not hot, just right.
The villa was adjacent to the lake; standing on the balcony and looking out, distant mountains were deep green, and green waves rippled.
In the afternoon, with nothing to do, Meng Shuyou took her drawing board and paint to the lakeside to sketch.
On the lake surface was a pair of swans, one black and one white, their beaks touching, their slender necks together outlining a heart-shaped curve, echoing playfully with their reflections in the water.
It would be a real waste not to sketch such a scene.
She found a good spot, set up the easel, prepared the paint palette, sat down, and focused on painting.
Painting scenery was her strength; even the light and shadow layers between the feathers were restored lifelike.
She painted for three hours straight.
She stopped her movements, rubbed her sore arm, asked the staff for feed, and ran off to feed the swans.
On the terrace of the villa behind her, a tall figure stood by the railing, taking it all in.
“Do you know that girl?” asked the middle-aged man with slicked-back hair beside him.
Mister Pei withdrew his gaze and did not answer, “The cooperation project is settled. Mark will handle all subsequent matters.”
“I’m not worried about that.” Peter took the initiative, “Let’s have dinner together tonight to celebrate our pleasant cooperation in advance.”
Pleasant cooperation was insincere; cooperating with Kerwin, the benefits were squeezed again and again by him—not surprisingly, as the head of the Hers family, his negotiation methods were unmatched, and no one could get a bargain from him.
Yet even so, there was no shortage of people begging to cooperate with him.
Who could match the vast network resources and capital flow in his hands, able to minimize project risks.
Mister Pei’s voice was faint, “I’ll have someone arrange the restaurant.”
Peter nodded with a smile, “Then I’ll go back to my room to change clothes first. I got coffee stains earlier. See you later.”
Unnoticed, it was already five o’clock.
Meng Shuyou squatted by the shore, bored watching the swans peck at the feed.
Having fed all the feed in her hand, she clapped her hands, took out her mobile phone from her pocket, and messaged Mark: “When will Mister Pei be done with his work?”
Two minutes later, the reply came: “Not until evening.”
“If Miss Meng wants to play nearby, you can ask the staff to accompany you.”
Meng Shuyou: “Alright, I got it.”
It really was hard to even see him once.
Putting away her mobile phone, she turned back to pack the drawing board and paint.
The staff were very perceptive and came forward to help, taking them back to her room for her.
Meng Shuyou had paint on her clothes, so she took a shower before going out for dinner.
The sky was dimming, with colorful lights illuminating the path; a breeze blew, tree shadows swaying, comfortable and pleasant.
She walked slowly, stopping now and then, taking quite a few photos.
The staff recommended she try the French cuisine here.
Only upon entering did she realize the interior was in a French Chinese style design.
Elegant wooden doors and windows, carved column heads, screens painted with ink wash paintings, rich in Eastern atmosphere.
Brass chandelier lamps spaced along the walls, with side windows facing the lakeside, offering an excellent view.
In the trial operation phase, there were very few guests.
Meng Shuyou walked inside to find a seat.
Unfortunately, the seat with the best view was already taken.
One man and one woman, probably a couple on a date.
Her peripheral vision swept over and suddenly froze.
That sharply contoured side profile was clearly Mister Pei.
Sitting across from him was a big wavy-haired woman with heavy makeup features, wearing a purple puff-sleeve cinched-waist dress, elegant temperament.
So the “busy” he mentioned was having dinner and dating another woman.
Mister Pei noticed something unusual and turned his gaze over.
Their eyes met.
The air fell silent.
There was no expression on his face, always calm and unruffled.
“Miss, which seat would you like?” The server came over to ask.
Meng Shuyou pursed her lips and looked away, “Any is fine.”
She casually pulled out a chair and sat down.
The server handed her the menu.
Meng Shuyou was in no mood and casually ordered two dishes, plus a bottle of Burgundy red wine.
“Alright, please wait a moment.” The server turned and went back to the bar counter to get the wine.
Meng Shuyou reached out to fiddle with the small potted plant on the table, unconsciously plucking off a few green leaves.
In her peripheral vision, the two over there were chatting, seemingly enjoying themselves.
PS: All reference images in the book are sourced from the internet; delete if infringing.
