Chapter Sixty-Eight: A Chance Encounter with Beauty

The second-generation leader carefully read through the cooperation plan drafted by Weihua and the three women, then smiled at his staff and said, “This young fellow truly has a talent for business. This cooperation plan is written excellently, very comprehensive, and he’s already considered many issues that we haven’t thought of. Clearly, he understands the current state of the country very well. Look here! He mentions in the plan that the enterprises he invests in have the right to hire anyone they wish from all universities and research institutions in China, including students, postgraduates, doctoral candidates, and professors. Ha! He even included academicians from the National Academy of Sciences. His appetite is certainly not small! Further on, he writes that the movement of talent helps improve the nation’s overall scientific and technological level. Hmm! That’s a very insightful idea. This cooperation plan should be shown to most of our enterprise leaders.”

Weihua had little interest in how domestic leaders discussed his plan. He knew that most of his conditions would be accepted by the country; a few might prove difficult. He understood that China’s reform and opening up was not a process completed in one step, and whether it could be accelerated depended on fate. If the central government agreed to all his conditions, the pace of reform and opening up would advance by at least ten years.

On March 6, 1979, Weihua led Selene, Jessie, Mary, and a dozen bodyguards onto a plane bound for France. Just two days prior, Weihua had staged what the three women called the most romantic—and the most unromantic—proposal. It was considered romantic because Weihua might have been the first in history to propose to three girls at once, each holding a rose. Proposing to three women simultaneously—what a romantic gesture! Yet it was deemed the most unromantic because, realistically, proposing to three women at once was unheard of. But Weihua did it. Fortunately, the three women had long anticipated this outcome, so his proposal succeeded. The wedding rings had been ordered in advance, each ring engraved with the names of Weihua and the respective woman; Weihua’s ring bore the names of all three.

After landing, the group settled into the most famous hotel in Paris: the Maurice Grand Hotel. The rooms had already been reserved—Weihua and the three women took two presidential suites, while the bodyguards stayed in regular rooms on the same floor. The three women went straight to rest and adjust to the time difference, already preparing their energy for tomorrow’s grand shopping spree. Paris is a paradise for women, with the world’s most avant-garde and beautiful fashions, the most expensive perfumes, cosmetics, and exquisite jewelry. Of course, Paris also boasts the finest wines. Weihua’s robust constitution made him indifferent to jet lag. In his previous life, he’d never traveled abroad; Paris was his first time. His French was fluent, so he slipped out alone to wander the streets of Paris.

March in Paris was still chilly, people dressed in thick clothing, but the cold could not dampen their passion for art—Paris, after all, is called the City of Art. Not long after, Weihua encountered a violinist, who seemed utterly relaxed amidst the biting wind. Weihua placed a few coins in the man’s hat; the violinist ignored him and continued playing. Weihua, unperturbed, listened for a while, then continued down the street. Along the way, he saw portrait artists, violinists, Irish pipers, clowns, living statues—so many kinds of artists, all busy with their craft. Weihua felt admiration for their tireless pursuit of art.

He didn’t wish to wander too far; sightseeing was not on his agenda, lest he be asked to accompany the three women later and feel bored. So he found a bar and went in. Although it was afternoon, the bar was bustling. Weihua ordered a tequila and sat down. He had little knowledge of alcohol and couldn’t distinguish its quality; he simply wanted to sit quietly alone for a while. For reasons unknown, he just wanted to be alone.

But before long, someone disturbed him—a voluptuous, stylishly dressed woman approached, sitting flirtatiously across from him, and asked, “Are you Japanese?”

“I’m Chinese,” Weihua replied, frowning at the woman’s forwardness, realizing he seemed to recognize her. She appeared to have drunk quite a lot, and, hearing his answer, casually said, “Sorry, I thought you were Japanese! Most Asian men I’ve met were Japanese, not many Chinese. Where are you from? What brings you to Paris? Looking for romance? Japanese men are mostly useless—loud in talk, but not much in bed! I wonder about Chinese men—don’t you have Chinese kung fu? Must be impressive in bed! And you—are you impressive?”

Weihua was at a loss for words; he’d wandered out, only to run into a hopeless flirt—what rotten luck! He was about to leave when the woman grabbed his arm. Just as Weihua was about to forcefully pull her away, he noticed a few men in the bar who looked like bodyguards preparing to act. Weihua’s mind sharpened; he studied the woman closely and finally realized who she was.

Christina Onassis—the daughter of the late Greek shipping tycoon Onassis. This unfortunate woman married four times and ultimately died from a drug overdose, leaving only a daughter behind. At this moment, she had just inherited her father’s fortune and should have been full of vigor, though reality seemed otherwise. Under her care, the shipping empire had not expanded but rather diminished; most of the ships were sold off, and the crown of the shipping king had passed to Hong Kong’s Bao family.

“Miss Christina, you’re drunk,” Weihua said, naming her and causing her to pause in surprise. Seizing the moment, Weihua freed himself from her grasp and left the bar with an air of nonchalance.

Everyone, no matter what you throw my way, I'll take it! I love it!!!!!!!!!!!!