What kind of money is easy to make in this day and age? Real estate is profitable, the pharmaceutical industry is profitable, the entertainment industry is profitable, and money from women and children is easy to earn.
And Enrui Group makes its fortune precisely from women and children.
Fu Ruien basically started from scratch. His birth family not only gave him no help but consistently held him back. The Fu family was once immensely wealthy, but who let Fu Ruien be the accidental love child his father produced? Once the old man kicked the bucket, Fu Ruien received a meager inheritance and was promptly shown the door.
With that small sum tucked in his pocket, he took his lumps in the business world, but eventually managed to figure things out. By chance, he started in cosmetics and women's clothing, later expanding into maternity, baby, and children's products, earning a formidable reputation in the circle.
Some who looked down on him said he "made his fortune selling sanitary pads and diapers." Fu Ruien would smile superficially and let it pass, but once the weather turned cool, he'd make sure the person who said it went bankrupt.
Every morning when he woke up, Fu Ruien would see in the mirror a domineering CEO who kept his word.
—But isn't it strange? From the very first time Fu Ruien saw Qiu Qiu, he decided he would fuck that ass wide open, yet to this day, he hasn't even kissed those lips.
He poured thirty million into a no-name little show for his sweet boy. Fortunately, his sweet boy still had a bit of a conscience, stammering that he would come visit on the weekend.
Fu Ruien agreed delightedly.
The meeting place was still the same Xiangjiang Villa. Fu Ruien had it cleaned in advance, with rose petals strewn from the entrance foyer all the way to the bedroom. A decanted bottle of red wine sat on the bar, and a seductive fragrance filled the air... while he himself waited in the living room, hair damp, wrapped in a bathrobe.
Fu Ruien felt that having spent thirty million, he should at least get three thousand positions to make it worth the price.
...
When Qiu Qiu knocked and opened the door, Fu Ruien's face immediately darkened.
There stood Qiu Qiu, holding a watermelon and apples in his left hand and milk and eggs in his right. He looked nothing like someone coming to see a sugar daddy, and more like someone visiting a lonely old man.
Fuck.
Fu Ruien thought, for other people, the emphasis in "sugar daddy" is on the "sugar," but for Qiu Qiu, the emphasis is entirely on the "daddy."
Qiu Qiu looked at the petals on the floor, then at Fu Ruien exposing a large expanse of pectoral muscles. He blushed from his neck to his face like a boiled crab.
They say a man at forty is in his prime. Fu Ruien worked out regularly, maintaining an excellent physique—his abs were rock-hard, his pecs were solid, and the muscle definition all over his body wasn't something young kids could compare to.
"Godfather... I, I think I'd better not disturb you," the timid Qiu Qiu said while backing away.
Fu Ruien shot him a glare, and with that one look, Qiu Qiu was like a puppy whose leash had been yanked by its owner.
"Get your ass in here."
Qiu Qiu could only tiptoe carefully across the petals into the house, still clutching his bags of agricultural products.
Fu Ruien lost interest in the idea of fucking his boy. He tightened his bathrobe, poured himself a glass of red wine, and sat down on the sofa, legs crossed. He stared at the young man before him, thinking he looked delicious everywhere, but frustratingly, there was nowhere to start.
When Qiu Qiu first stepped inside, he was a bit hesitant, but he was used to coming to Xiangjiang Villa. Before long, he relaxed, bustling in and out of the kitchen.
Fu Ruien didn't know how many knives, forks, or sets of dishes were in this villa, but Qiu Qiu knew.
The busy little bee first put the eggs and milk in the refrigerator, then went to wash and peel the fruit. Soon, he produced a beautiful large fruit platter: apples carved into little bunnies, their bottoms facing outward in a circle, with twenty perfectly scooped balls of watermelon flesh in the center, red like gemstones.
Qiu Qiu brought the fruit platter to Fu Ruien, a few beads of sweat on his forehead, his eyes full of earnest pleasing. This pleasing wasn't the flattery of a kept young lover towards a benefactor, but rather... a heartfelt, "I like you, so I want to be good to you."
It's just... this "liking" was far too pure.
Fu Ruien took the platter, picked up a silver fork, and leisurely speared a watermelon ball to eat. The plump red sphere was gently bitten open, juice overflowing, vanishing between his lips in an instant. Qiu Qiu watched, momentarily entranced, gulping audibly and nearly choking himself.
He was still holding the half of the watermelon he had hollowed out, now pitted and uneven, with a large metal spoon stuck in it—his own prepared summer snack.
A strange, restless heat rose in Qiu Qiu's chest. He could only lower his head and devour the watermelon. But the watermelon was too cold; after just a few bites, the chill made him hiccup uncontrollably.
Fu Ruien was utterly exasperated. He stood up, took the watermelon away, poured Qiu Qiu a glass of warm water, and only after watching him drink it all obediently did he ask, "What exactly did you come here for?"
"...I just came to see you."
"Enough," Fu Ruien said. "The chicken paying a New Year's visit to the weasel—I can't believe you thought of that."
Qiu Qiu came clean, whispering a negotiation: "Godfather, can you give my guitar back?"
Fu Ruien raised an eyebrow. "Have you saved up the fifty thousand?"
"...No... Can I borrow it, please?"
Qiu Qiu's original fifty thousand in New Year's money had been taken out and given to Little Li as "compensation for her lost youth." Little Li cried, saying she didn't want the money, she wanted him, but he really couldn't give her himself.
He ingratiatingly massaged his godfather's shoulders. "The production team said if I advance this round, there's a fifty-thousand prize! Then I'll have the money!"
For the semi-finals ten days later, although the production team would provide instruments, Qiu Qiu still felt more comfortable using his own. A fifty-thousand-yuan guitar wasn't much in the eyes of serious musicians, but it was the only "gift" Qiu Qiu had ever received from Fu Ruien, and his first professional guitar. It held great significance for him.
Looking into the young man's dark, earnest eyes, Fu Ruien couldn't bring himself to say no.
"Wait here properly."
His words were brusque, but he still got up and went upstairs to fetch the guitar. During the days Qiu Qiu was away, the guitar hadn't been stored in the basement, thrown in a storage room, or left in the study or guest room... Instead, it had stayed with Fu Ruien in the master bedroom.
Qiu Qiu excitedly opened the case, his fingertips lovingly stroking the strings. Like reuniting with an old friend, he hugged the guitar, not letting go, spending twenty minutes just tuning it.
Fu Ruien asked, "What are you singing for the semi-finals?"
"'Wishing You Peace,' of course."
"..."
Qiu Qiu blinked innocently. "Didn't you say that day I should save it for the semi-finals?"
"...You listen to whatever I say? I also said I wanted to sleep with you. How come I don't see you washing your ass clean and lying in bed?"
"But, but I already submitted it! The assistant director confirmed it with me several times that day, saying once it's submitted, it can't be changed."
Fu Ruien flicked his forehead hard. "Kid, you have connections now. If the assistant director won't change it, then have the director change it."
Fu Ruien's flick to the forehead was quite painful. He only did it once, but a large red mark immediately appeared on Qiu Qiu's brow. Fu Ruien was a mischievous sort; he insisted on flicking the other side to create a symmetrical beauty with two red marks. Qiu Qiu wasn't having it, dodging playfully, but in his evasive maneuvers, he managed to knock off the baseball cap he was wearing.
Qiu Qiu had been wearing a hat since he arrived today. Fu Ruien hadn't paid it much mind, thinking it was just a young person's fashionable choice. Who would have thought that removing the cap would reveal the truth—
"Who gnawed on your hair like that?"
Qiu Qiu covered the kiwi fruit-like top of his head. "My dad had someone do it..."
His current hairstyle was truly an eyesore. It was like a "reverse selection" in Photoshop—a "bald spot" in the middle, surrounded by barrenness, with unruly tufts sprouting in the center.
Thanks to this unfortunate haircut, whatever slight amorous interest Fu Ruien might have felt was completely snuffed out at the sight of this kiwi fruit.
...
Fu Ruien changed his clothes, grabbed Qiu Qiu by the collar, stuffed him into the car, and personally took him to the salon he frequented.
This salon specialized in styling for the wealthy, powerful, and famous. The clients coming and going were either political and business elites or popular superstars. Qiu Qiu had never been to such a luxurious place before; he was instantly dazzled, feeling even the doorman here could play the second male lead in an idol drama.
The moment Fu Ruien stepped through the door, the salon's creative director sashayed over.
"Well, well, well, Old Fu! Where did you find this little brother? Look at that tender little face—is he made of snow?" The creative director was a very androgynously dressed man, his hair tied into a mini bun, a little tuft standing up at the back of his head, exuding artistic flair. His eyes lit up at the sight of Qiu Qiu, and he reached out to pinch Qiu Qiu's cheek.
Fu Ruien, protective of his possession, swatted his hand away. "What little brother? He's a generation younger. This is my son." He pointed at Qiu Qiu's capped head. "He has an event to attend in a few days, but his hair got butchered. Fix it up nicely for him."
The creative director, all smiles, said it was no problem and that he was very much looking forward to styling the handsome young man.
However, when Fu Ruien removed Qiu Qiu's cap, the creative director nearly wanted to bang his head against the wall: "You might as well have brought me a monk for a haircut!"
His level of drama was on par with Little Li's. With his outburst, everyone in the salon looked over. Qiu Qiu already thought his hair was ugly, but now he wished he could find a crack in the floor to disappear into, too embarrassed to even lift his head.
Fu Ruien pinched the dramaking's mouth shut like he was pinching a duck's bill: "Alright, alright, stop barking. I'm paying you, not to listen to you yelp."
Only then did the creative director quiet down, sighing and lamenting as he led Qiu Qiu to the VIP room.
But even the cleverest housewife can't cook without rice. The director held his scissors helplessly, studying the situation, and had to admit he lacked the skill to fix it.
The director said, "Little handsome, I see you have nice features and a good head shape. How about I shave it all off for you? Even young girls are shaving their heads these days; it's very trendy."
Qiu Qiu thought for a moment. "I wouldn't mind being bald..."
The director excitedly picked up the clippers.
"But I'm afraid my godfather might mind..."
The director put the clippers back down.
And so, Qiu Qiu went in, made a round, and came out bewildered, holding a wig.
He glanced at the price tag on the wig and felt a pang of distress upon discovering he now owed his godfather another eight thousand, eight hundred and eighty-eight.
