MG CH4

Yinghan Group, built on the Fu family’s foundation, is a titan in China’s art industry. Though only a part of the Fu empire, it was Fu Zhizhang’s life’s work. With uncanny foresight, Fu Zhizhang seized the transformation of the nascent art market in its wild, untamed phase, aligning Yinghan with the international art scene. He turned massive losses into staggering profits, expanding its reach relentlessly.

Today, Yinghan’s Jiabaoli Auction House is no exaggeration—a force that can sway half of Asia’s art auction market, serving as a bellwether for booms or busts. For artists and collectors alike, it’s a spectacle not to be missed. The web of resources and collaborations behind art transactions is a tangled, inescapable mess.

Fu Jinchi’s maneuvers were minor in comparison. After securing the avant-garde artworks from Hong Kong’s exhibition, he volunteered to host a heavyweight client from there, the “Jewelry King,” Zeng Chuyi.

A major player in art investment, Zeng Chuyi attended Dongcheng’s auctions almost annually, spending lavishly. His art investment fund could account for half of Jiabaoli’s transaction volume at its peak, making him a perennial VIP at Yinghan.

While in Hong Kong, Fu Jinchi, leveraging his status as the Fu family’s eldest son, had connected with Zeng’s family, becoming quite chummy thanks to his charm. Fluent in Cantonese and a master at socializing, he seemed the perfect choice to host Zeng. There was no reason to deny him.

Having gotten his way, Fu Jinchi then told Fu Weishan that Dongcheng had changed so much he felt out of place since returning. He insisted on borrowing Yan Zishu, claiming it would let him keep tabs on him for Fu Weishan.

He had all the excuses covered.

Yan Zishu remained impassive, serving Fu Jinchi with the same impeccable professionalism he gave Fu Weishan.

Two cars were sent to the airport: one driven by a company driver, the other by Yan Zishu. Fu Jinchi naturally chose Yan Zishu’s car. On the way, he remarked, “I hear you usually drive my little brother around too? He has chauffeurs at his disposal, yet he works you to the bone. What a waste of talent.”

Yan Zishu merely smiled politely.

This year, unlike others, Zeng Chuyi brought his two children to Dongcheng. His son, 28, and daughter, 16, were a full zodiac cycle apart but both got along well with Fu Jinchi. At the airport, one gave him a warm hug, the other slung an arm around his shoulders. Fu Jinchi stood among them, chatting and laughing effortlessly.

Observing from the side, Yan Zishu noted Fu Jinchi’s towering height—nearly 1.9 meters, slightly taller than Fu Weishan. His looks were flawless, likely inherited from his singer mother, with captivating, amorous eyes.

The group of attractive figures at the arrivals hall drew frequent glances from passersby.

Yan Zishu had already booked a presidential suite for the Zeng family at a five-star hotel near the company.

After checking in, Zeng Chuyi, ever gregarious, told Fu Jinchi, “I know Dongcheng like the back of my hand. You don’t need to follow me around—it’s annoying. Take Zhanpeng and Peirong out to have fun. They don’t come here often.”

Speaking in accented Hong Kong Mandarin, he addressed Fu Jinchi’s entourage. Yan Zishu smiled, “I understand some Cantonese but can’t speak it. Feel free to use it.”

Zeng Chuyi sized him up, finding him familiar. “Oh, it’s you! I’ve seen you every year I’ve come, young man. You’re sharp. But this time, you’re not with your boss, so I didn’t place you. What, you’re working for Alex now?”

Yan Zishu guessed “Alex” was Fu Jinchi’s English name. Fu Jinchi laughed, “Me, afford him? Mr. Zeng, you don’t know how busy Assistant Yan is. If not for hosting you, my brother wouldn’t have parted with him.”

Zeng Chuyi roared with laughter. “Is that so? I’m flattered!”

After a welcome banquet, Zeng Chuyi went off to handle other business in the city.

The next day, Fu Jinchi and Yan Zishu took Zeng Zhanpeng and Zeng Peirong sightseeing. If Fu Jinchi couldn’t charm the father, he’d charm the kids—especially since they were already friends.

Compared to their father, Zhanpeng and Peirong spoke fluent Mandarin, thanks to Zeng Chuyi’s insistence. A self-proclaimed patriotic businessman, he’d made his children practice perfect pronunciation from a young age to tap into the mainland market.

Both siblings were spirited but easy to get along with.

Yan Zishu, seasoned in hosting VIPs, arranged a full itinerary of Dongcheng’s historic sites, gourmet dining, and entertainment, fulfilling Yinghan and the Fu family’s hospitality duties.

But when it came to the evening’s hot spring visit, Yan Zishu consulted Fu Jinchi, hoping he and Helen would accompany the guests while he sat it out.

That hot spring resort was, without question, Yan Zishu’s most despised place in Dongcheng.

He loathed the idea of being “vulnerable” with strangers—even in swim trunks. Yet the resort was famous, top-ranked on travel sites, and skipping it for out-of-town clients felt almost rude.

Fu Jinchi raised an eyebrow, probing, “What, does Assistant Yan have a few inconvenient days each month like the ladies?”

With Zhanpeng and Peirong out of earshot, Yan Zishu gave a wry smile. “Sure, let’s go with that.”

“I’ve noticed you’re good at dodging questions,” Fu Jinchi said. “The company’s expense account isn’t short your share. Let me guess: you’re scared of water, or maybe you’ve got a tattoo or scar you don’t want seen?”

He leaned closer. “Or is it that you don’t like getting too close to others?”

Yan Zishu leaned back, silent. The last guess hit the mark.

“Did I get it right?” Fu Jinchi gently gripped Yan Zishu’s wrist, as if testing his tolerance for contact, though the sleeve kept skin from touching.

He always acted with calculated restraint.

Yan Zishu glanced down, unfazed.

Fu Jinchi smiled, letting go. “Alright, we’ll go. You head home. Drive safe.”

Hypocritical or not, it was better than Fu Weishan, whose vocabulary lacked phrases like “head home” or “drive safe.”

The family-friendly itinerary lasted about two days.

But with their age and interests diverging, Peirong and Zhanpeng wanted to split up. On the third day, Helen took Peirong to an ocean theme park, while Fu Jinchi and Zhanpeng headed to a shooting club, with Yan Zishu driving.

Without the young girl, the vibe shifted to a guys’ outing, the conversation more relaxed.

At the range, Zhanpeng’s hands went numb from recoil. Taking a break, he saw Yan Zishu lost in thought. “William, what’s on your mind?” He glanced over and laughed. “You’re hopeless. Want me to teach you?”

Yan Zishu wasn’t offended, smiling. “I told you, I’m no good at this. I’d just waste bullets.”

“William” was Yan Zishu’s English name, rarely used but adopted for foreign clients. Hong Kongers like calling him that, so he let it slide.

Fu Jinchi, seeing them chat, strolled over with a quip. “It’s just not knowing how to shoot, no big deal. But if you ever decide to try a triathlon, you’d never beat him.”

“Why’s that?”

“Someone like Zishu, a workaholic who’s on call 24/7 for his boss—what is he if not made of iron?”

Yan Zishu laughed. “Mr. Fu’s joking. It’s not that bad.”

Zhanpeng sighed dramatically. “Seriously, that’s the work pace in Hong Kong too. What’s the point of living?”

Fu Jinchi teased, “You two should balance each other out. You learn to work hard, and he learns to live a little.”

Zhanpeng laughed unabashedly.

When Fu Jinchi wanted, he could be a master at setting the mood. Zhanpeng warmed to Yan Zishu quickly.

Yan Zishu had brought a book, Common Cantonese Phrases, to study in spare moments, hoping to pick up a few lines and avoid making the Zengs accommodate him. He disliked feeling passive.

But on the drive back, Fu Jinchi and Zhanpeng switched to Spanish.

There was always a way to keep him out of the loop.

Unbeknownst to Yan Zishu, the two in the backseat were discussing him less than honorably.

Zhanpeng was praising his looks, confident he could pursue him, sensing Yan Zishu was “one of them.”

Fu Jinchi countered, “I bet you won’t succeed. Iron men don’t have feelings.”

Zhanpeng insisted, “I think it’s worth a shot.”

Fu Jinchi replied, “Go for it. Good luck.”