The gift Madam Peng sent to Xie Qian was, by volume, smaller than Wang Shuang’s gift box.
A little box.
Bai Secretary was even more deferential towards Xie Qian.
This was not only Peng’s classmate, but also the young master of the Xie family.
Peng was a high school student, and so was Young Master Xie, yet while Peng toiled to enter a 211 university, Young Master Xie already owned two companies.
Bai Secretary was not snobbish; facing elites, ordinary folk felt awe.
Xie Qian opened the box; Wang Shuang craned his neck to look.
The small box held, of course, not some cheque, but a stack of business cards.
“Just this?”
Wang Shuang felt more disappointed than Xie Qian himself.
Xie Qian took out the cards and flipped through them one by one.
Some names Xie Qian recognised; others he did not.
The recognised ones were several directors from the capital’s circles, plus two bosses of entertainment firms, both companies far larger than Jia Xin!
As for the rest, even unknown, Xie Qian could guess they were connections in the entertainment world.
“Thank her on my behalf; I like her gift very much.”
These people’s numbers were confidential to outsiders, but no secret within the circles; Xie Qian could inquire if he wished.
Yet approaching them unbidden would not do; since Madam Peng provided the cards, it meant she, directly or indirectly, could certainly arrange introductions for Xie Qian.
“You, your sensitivity lags far behind!”
Wen Ying teased Wang Shuang; Wang Shuang recognised two directors too, unwilling to admit his earlier blunder, so he said he wondered what Li Mengjiao had received.
Li Mengjiao opened her box and let out a shriek: “Too beautiful!”
Madam Peng had sent Li Mengjiao a microphone.
The gold-and-pink handset was encrusted with rhinestones, exploding with girlish appeal; its stage effect would surely sparkle.
Li Mengjiao decided on the spot to use this microphone for a performance in a few days; as she fondled it, she whispered to Wen Ying: “Whether to be friends with Peng the Green-Haired matters little; Madam Peng, I think, makes a fine friend.”
Bai Secretary naturally overheard Li Mengjiao’s mutter, but what could Bai Secretary say?
Poor Young Master Peng!
Wen Ying was the last to unbox her gift.
Even Xie Qian grew curious about what Madam Peng had sent; three pairs of eyes fixed on Wen Ying.
Wen Ying opened the box to find an envelope inside.
The envelope even bore a sachet’s fragrance… Madam Peng truly grasped the art of ceremony, making Wen Ying quite excited to open it.
What might Madam Peng have placed in the envelope?
The gifts to Xie Qian, Wang Shuang, and Li Mengjiao were all things those three needed.
So, in Madam Peng’s eyes, what did Wen Ying need?
The envelope opened to reveal a single thin sheet of paper.
“This is… a young writers’ training programme?”
Bai Secretary smiled warmly and added: “Yes; the capital’s literary academy holds a young writers’ training programme each year; ordinarily, the programmes run too long, at least half a year from start, which seems ill-suited to your situation, Wen. But this term, starting mid-June, lasts only a month, aimed at young writers like yourself; Madam thought, perhaps you might care to attend?”
Madam Peng attended to details, sending no useless gift to Wen Ying.
By mid-June that year, Wen Ying would have finished her gaokao, with university yet to begin; the timing was utterly free.
Moreover, this was no ordinary literary academy; it was an existence even Wen Ying, who wrote no novels in her past life, knew of!
Wen Ying admitted she was tempted, yet curious too: “How does Auntie Zhu know folk in literary circles?”
Such an invitation to the training programme would be no surprise from Old Fu, but from Madam Peng, it was unexpected.
Bai Secretary smiled: “Where there is will, there is way.”
Madam Peng had known no one in entertainment circles before either, yet she procured so many cards for Young Master Xie!
Wen Ying was truly convinced!
“Accept it; after the gaokao, see to your schedule; decide then whether to go.”
Xie Qian advised.
In truth, Wen Ying was still young; no need to join a literary academy training so soon; future chances abounded.
Yet since Madam Peng had arranged it, Xie Qian felt Wen Ying might as well attend early.
If Wen Ying wished to tread the literary path, sooner or later she must pass such a gate. A training programme could not make a writer, but gathering fine writers together for daily intercourse, exchanging creative insights to spark brainstorms, forging like-minded friends, birthing inspirations… even setting that aside, merely to pad her credentials, Wen Ying ought to go.
A few more halos upon her head, and literary critics would “stay their pens” towards Wen Ying; should she encounter something like judging a writing contest again, the world’s controversies over her would not loom so large!
In Xie Qian’s view, Madam Peng’s gift to Wen Ying outvalued Wang Shuang’s AJ shoes and Li Mengjiao’s rhinestone microphone; it suited her perfectly.
No wonder, no matter how Madam Peng toyed with President Peng, he harboured no thought of changing wives.
From what Xie Qian knew, the Pengs top to bottom held Madam Peng in high regard; she truly possessed a heart玲珑 of seven orifices.
“Then I shall thicken my face and accept this gift; please assure Auntie Zhu that for the remaining term, I shall progress alongside Peng Guoqing.”
Pity all parents under heaven; Madam Peng spared no expense to spur her son onward; having accepted the gift, Wen Ying naturally must supervise Peng Guoqing more.
Bai Secretary nodded: “Then I entrust it to you four; when President Peng and Madam arrive in Rong City, they shall likely invite you to dine.”
Madam Peng had not yet reached Rong City, yet with gifts she had captured her son’s circle of friends.
Li Mengjiao could not bear to part with the microphone Madam Peng sent; Wen Ying stowed the admission notice solemnly.
The great army stirs not without prior grain; Madam Peng had laid the groundwork well, little knowing her actions stirred a sense of crisis in Yuan Fenghui.
The literary academy training was a matter for the agent Yuan Fenghui to handle; with Madam Peng preempting her, what then was left for Yuan Fenghui to do?
Madam Wang fretted even more.
Madam Wang had heard from Li’s mother that Li Mengjiao adored that pink-gold microphone, polishing it daily; having accepted such a gift from Madam Peng, Li Mengjiao mentioned Peng Guoqing more often; Madam Wang looked again at her own silly son, gleefully fiddling with his AJ shoes, and inwardly worried, a blister bubbling on her tongue tip from anxiety.
Wang Jun was baffled: “They send their gifts to whom they will; why get worked up?”
Madam Wang’s tongue stung with every word, hissing through her teeth: “Worked up? Am I not anxious for your daft son? The backer you tied to him is being poached clean through, and you feel not a twinge!”
Wang Jun patted his round belly: “You exaggerate so; it is not that bad, not at all… Wen Ying is a Tianjiao shareholder too!”
Wen Ying held Tianjiao shares, bound by them, and could not flee.
With Wen Ying unmoving, Xie Qian would not stir.
No cause for worry at all!
Madam Wang itched to throttle her obtuse husband: “One lives a lifetime not solely for gain, but for emotional needs too.”
Madam Wang felt no crisis of job-snatching, but she suspected her daughter-in-law was being poached!
