During the Q&A session at the fashion show, a reporter from an unknown tabloid shoved a microphone toward Jiang Quyan.

“Vincent, you’ve been back in Hong Kong for a while now. Have you met Mr. Guan?”  

Jiang Quyan smiled graciously. “Yes of course. I see my boss at work.” 

The reporter pressed further. “There were rumors that you went to Japan because Mr. Guan wasn’t interested in you. Is that true?”

Jiang Quyan glanced at the logo on the microphone, still maintaining his pleasant smile. “How would I know what my boss is thinking? Why don’t you ask him instead?” Then, he gently pushed Guan Xuexin forward. “Joanne is the main focus today. Thank you all for supporting her first show since returning to Hong Kong. Let’s keep the questions about her.”

Even after getting into the nanny van, Guan Xuexin could tell he wasn’t in a good mood.  

“These reporters really talk too much. They’re only bringing up these old rumors now because the Madam isn’t doing well. Otherwise, they wouldn’t dare gossip like this,” Guan Xuexin huffed, feeling indignant on his behalf. “I’m going to tell Daddy!”

Jiang Quyan leaned back in his seat, crossing his legs. As he absentmindedly twirled a lock of hair around his fingers, his other hand tapped away at his phone keyboard. “You’re a grown woman now. Don’t run to Daddy with every little thing. He dotes on you, but he’s busy too.”

“I’m helping you!” Miss Guan pouted.  

Jiang Quyan burst out laughing. “Telling your dad is helping me?”  

“Isn’t it?”  

“Missy, I’m an employee. Your dad is the boss. It’s my job to take care of problems for him, not the other way around. Otherwise, why would he hire me? And what do I do for a living? I’m in PR—Public Relations. My job is literally to deal with the media and handle gossip. If I can’t even manage this, what would the boss think of me?”

Gossip wasn’t new to him. It wasn’t the first time he had heard such rumors, and it certainly wouldn’t be the last.  

For the past fifteen years, reporters had written countless versions of his story with Guan Zhengying. One moment, they said he had climbed into Guan Zhengying’s bed willingly. The next, they claimed Guan Zhengying had forced him into it. Some even ran a photo of him shopping with the Madam, alleging that he was originally her lover before stealing her husband. The most shameless ones even suggested a threesome. That particular issue had sold out instantly, reviving a tabloid on the brink of bankruptcy.  

At first, Jiang Quyan used to buy the newspapers himself to read the stories. Later, as he expanded his media connections, industry friends would bring them up as jokes. If he was in a good mood, he would laugh along. If not, he’d make a call to the press and demand an apology—or have the legal team handle it.  

Everyone knew him now—not as the insignificant model from the Hong Kong Auto Show fifteen years ago, but as Vincent Gong, Director of the Modeling Department and Head of Public Relations at Fuzheng Group.

“I came from nothing, while your dad is on a whole different level. Of course, people write nonsense,” Jiang Quyan said indifferently.  

Guan Xuexin believed him but was curious. “Honestly, if you had continued modeling, you would’ve been a star. Daddy always says that Fuzheng hasn’t seen a face like yours in fifteen years.”

Jiang Quyan scoffed. “Your dad also said my walk looked like a drunk cat chasing butterflies—an embarrassment to Fuzheng. That’s why I moved behind the scenes. Because he told me to.”

Guan Xuexin chuckled. “I just think it’s a shame.”

Jiang Quyan used himself as an example. “Everyone has their own fate, but you have to rely on your skills to survive. Don’t think that just because your dad is influential in Hong Kong, you have nothing to worry about. If you’re capable, you’ll stand firm and go far.”

Having been mentored by him, Guan Xuexin had been heavily influenced by his mindset. “I get it. It’s better to support myself. I don’t want to keep tiptoeing around the Madam or flattering my older brother.”

She was indeed proving herself—one of Fuzheng’s top-earning models now.

Jiang Quyan ruffled her hair. “Good girl. Take the weekend off. On Monday, we’ll review your schedule for the month. I’ve booked several must-attend events for you, and the press releases are ready. It’ll be a bit exhausting, but this is the best time to build momentum. No matter how tough, it has to be done.”

The car first dropped Guan Xuexin off at her private apartment in Causeway Bay. The moment she left, Jiang Quyan’s smile faded, and he instructed the driver to head to Hong Kong Sanatorium & Hospital.  

His assistant, Maggie, finally spoke up from the front seat. “Going to see the Madam?” At present, she was the only one in the Guan family staying at the hospital.  

Jiang Quyan ran a tired hand down his face. “Ugh. After dealing with the daughter, now the mother. I must owe the Guans from my past life.”

Maggie had heard worrying news. “Madam doesn’t seem to be doing well. Maybe it’s best not to get involved right now?”

But Jiang Quyan wasn’t going to make a wasted trip. “This might be the last time I see her.”

When they arrived at the hospital, a doctor was already waiting at the entrance.  

“Mr. Guan was here this morning. He stayed for about twenty minutes before leaving for the office. The Madam insisted on seeing you. At first, Mr. Guan refused, but later, he changed his mind.” 

Jiang Quyan nodded in acknowledgment and followed the doctor to the VIP suite on the top floor. 

The room was dry and warm. During this period of late spring cold, Hong Kong had been experiencing intermittent rain for half a month, with temperatures barely reaching ten degrees outside. But inside, it felt like early summer. All the lights were on, and there were no visitors, making the room appear even brighter in its silence.  

Madam Lin Zhifang lay on the hospital bed, a tube inserted into her nose. Her brows were sparse, her lips pale, and her graying hair scattered across the pillow. She looked completely different from the woman in Jiang Quyan’s memory. The first time he saw her, she had accompanied her husband to a car exhibition, dressed in a white cheongsam with silver sequins and black trim, her hair permed, her brows painted into delicate arches, a faint touch of lipstick on her lips—a melancholic beauty.

That was 1988, the year ‘Rouge’ was a sensation across Hong Kong. In the film, Anita Mui had worn a similar qipao when she visited the Man Mo Temple for a fortune reading. Because of that movie, women started reviving the trend of wearing qipaos and curling their hair. The wealthy wives and daughters of Hong Kong were particularly enamored with this “retro beauty” look. Lin Zhifang, whether deliberately or not, had chosen her attire that day. Standing beside her husband, Guan Zhengying, they truly resembled the tragic couple from the film—Twelve Young Master and the reformed courtesan.  

A coarse rasp came from Lin Zhifang’s throat, her voice hoarse like a man’s. “How long… have you been back?”  

Jiang Quyan had to lean close to her ear for her to hear him. “Half a month.”  

Lin Zhifang nodded with difficulty. “It’s good that you’re back. Now that you’re back, I can be at ease.”  

Jiang Quyan caught her meaning. “If you have any instructions, just let me know.”  

“I’m already halfway into my coffin, what else can I instruct?” Lin Zhifang sighed. “It’s just that you and Ah Xue are always out there, and I worry. Now that you’re back, it’s good to have family looking out for each other.”  

“Ah Xue has a packed schedule these days. Once she’s free, she’ll come visit you.”  

“Young people don’t like spending time with the elderly, that’s understandable. Don’t force her. Let her enjoy herself for now. When she’s had her fill, have her go have a meal with her brother. Siblings should spend more time together—there’s always a bond between them.”  

“Of course, that’s how it should be.”  

“And Ah Hong, now that he’s in the company, look after him. He doesn’t know how to handle things. You have the experience.”  

Now, she was getting to the real point. Jiang Quyan knew it was time to respond. “If the young master needs anything, I will certainly do my best. You can rest assured.”  

Lin Zhifang lifted her head and looked at him deeply.  

She should be reassured. It was she who had brought Jiang Quyan into the Guan family. Without her, he wouldn’t be here.  

Back then, the young model who had burst onto the scene at a car exhibition, causing a stir in Hong Kong’s media and earning the title “The White Magnolia of Hong Kong,” had actually been dismissed by her husband with a single, mocking comment—”He doesn’t even know how to move his hips.” But she had been married to him long enough to understand his tastes. Not just anyone could get Guan Zhengying to offer an opinion, let alone someone with a face that perfectly matched his preferences.  

By then, she had already lost her husband’s affection. Her son was too young, her family was in decline, and there were countless younger women throwing themselves at him. She needed an ally—someone who could please her husband but wouldn’t be a threat to her. Rather than letting an unknown outsider seize the opportunity, she might as well choose someone herself—someone clean, someone she could control. A man was even better; there would be no risk of children. And if her husband took a liking to him, perhaps he would remember the favor she had done. Even if his interest eventually faded, she would lose nothing.  

She personally handed Jiang Quyan to her husband.  

He had only been nineteen at the time and had been unwilling. But with a single check, she forced his agency’s boss to sell his contract. When he saw her, he was terrified, but truthfully, she had been scared, too. It had been a gamble for her as well.  

Thankfully, she had bet correctly. Her husband had not only liked Jiang Quyan—he had valued him.  

Jiang Quyan had been obedient and respectful, helping her in many ways. Even when her husband’s interest in him waned over the years and he was sent to Japan, he never voiced a single complaint. Now, her son had grown up and successfully entered the company. If nothing unexpected happened, he would inherit her husband’s position and become the true leader of the Guan family. She should have no more worries.  

Shouldn’t she? Should she really feel at ease?  

How could she be at ease? Jiang Quyan now held a central position in the company, with a title even higher than her son’s. If he harbored any ambitions, would he become a threat? Would he truly support her son? Was he genuinely as grateful and loyal as he appeared?  

She had spent her whole life fighting, scheming, surviving countless storms both in the open and in the shadows. Even her own flesh and blood had turned against her. Until she saw her son firmly in power, how could she ever let her guard down? How could she ensure that Jiang Quyan would remain obedient?  

“You worked hard in Japan. I spoke with Zhengying about promoting you,” she finally said, offering what little leverage she had left. “In a few days, the board will discuss it with you. You should consider your salary and benefits—it’s what you deserve.”  

Jiang Quyan remained calm, his tone neither humble nor arrogant, as if he was completely indifferent. “Thank you, Madam.”  

The more he behaved like this, the more unsettled Lin Zhifang felt. But she couldn’t push too hard.  

“In the future, I won’t be able to look out for you anymore. You need to be careful. Don’t draw too much attention to yourself. And don’t get involved with those women around Zhengying. Just do your job—don’t provoke him and bring trouble upon yourself.”  

Jiang Quyan listened patiently. “The boss… barely sees me now.”  

Lin Zhifang assumed he was feeling neglected and took a twisted satisfaction in it. “That’s how men are. Don’t take it too seriously. Look at me—I’m this sick, and he barely cares. He’s probably just waiting for me to die.”  

“Don’t say that, Madam.”  

“That’s why you need to think long-term. Make sure you have people in the company who support you, hold your position steady, and align yourself with Ah hong. With your help, he’ll mature faster. And with him backing you, no one will dare to push you out.”  

“It would be an honor if the young master values me. Supporting him is my duty.”  

Jiang Quyan lowered himself repeatedly, and only then did Lin Zhifang feel somewhat satisfied.  

She continued to lecture him, her words circling back to the same points—urging him to be cautious, to know his place, to remember the kindness she had shown him. She repeated her past favors over and over again, until she finally became too exhausted to speak. When her words turned fragmented and incoherent, Jiang Quyan held her hand and watched as she drifted off to sleep.  

Only then did he step out of the hospital room.