Guide to Rising to Power as a Wife in Beijing's Elite Circle

It's not that he's not interested; it's that he's not qualified to be his choice.

He reached his position.

Jingjing, 29, is a reserve member of the National Development and Reform Commission at the division chief level, and is the most stable piece in the third generation of the Fang family.

What kind of woman haven't I seen?

Gifts came from all sorts of people: those offered to them, those arranged by their families, and those given by business partners.

He didn't accept it not because he was arrogant, but because he was too lazy to bother.

If you accept it, you have to give benefits, you have to owe favors, and you have to deal with the aftermath.

Fang Jingxiu hates two things the most: trouble and being out of control.

Chen Nuo took a sip of champagne, tasting the slightly astringent bubbles on her tongue. She knew that in Fang Jingxiu's eyes, she was probably no different from those other women.

She's pretty, sensible, and has a few ulterior motives, but that's about it.

Insufficient.

But she wasn't in a hurry.

My father once said: The more capable a man is, the more he hates women who throw themselves at him. You have to make him feel that he chose you, not that you seduced him.

Chen Nuo, holding a wine glass, slowly walked towards the terrace outside the banquet hall. This spot was carefully chosen by her. It was neither too close nor too far from the main table, enough to be noticed but not too obvious.

More importantly, this is the only way to get to the restrooms and smoking area.

She leaned against the railing, her back to the noise.

The night breeze ruffled the stray hairs around her neck, and her moon-white cheongsam shimmered softly under the lamplight.

From behind, she looked like she was admiring the night view, but in reality, her ears were perked up, listening to the sounds behind her.

Chen Nuo knows what he looks like right now.

Like the most expensive item displayed in the shop window, with a clearly marked price, but customers need to come in and take a closer look.

Five minutes later, she heard footsteps behind her.

It wasn't the light, stealthy footsteps of a waiter; it was the sound of leather shoes tapping on marble, steady and composed.

Chen Nuo didn't turn around. She picked up her wine glass, took a sip, and then happened to turn around.

It crashed into a solid chest.

The champagne spilled out, splashing onto the front of the other person's suit jacket.

"I'm sorry!" She hurriedly stepped back, her high heels twisted, and she fell to the side.

An arm wrapped around her waist just in time, supporting her steadily.

"Be careful." The voice came from above, deep and hoarse with a hint of tobacco.

Chen Nuo looked up and met Shang Jingxiu's eyes. At such close range, she could see the color of his pupils.

Dark brown, like aged whiskey, it gleams with an amber luster under the light.

His hand was still on her waist, and the warmth seeped through the thin fabric of her cheongsam.

"Mr. Fang..." Chen Nuo steadied himself, placed his hand on Fang's chest, and then withdrew it as if he had been burned.

She took out a handkerchief and helped him wipe the wine stains. "I'm sorry, Mr. Fang."

Fang Jingxiu released his grip and took out a cigarette case from the inside pocket of his suit. It was a black leather case with no logo. He opened it with one hand, took out a cigarette, and put it between his lips.

"Is there a fire?" he asked, his voice muffled.

Chen Nuo paused for two seconds before realizing the question was directed at her. She shook her head: "I don't smoke."

Fang Jingxiu smiled and took out a lighter.

He twirled the silver Dupont cigarette between his fingers and struck it with a "snap." He tilted his head slightly, brought the flame close to the cigarette butt, took a deep drag, and then slowly exhaled the smoke.

The whole process was slow and deliberate, exuding an air of nobility.

"What year are you in?" he asked, leaning against the railing, his face turned towards her.

"Junior," Chen Nuo replied, her fingers unconsciously twisting the strap of her handbag. "Directing major."

"Studying directing, coming to a place like this? Do you even know what it means to come here?" Fang Jingxiu flicked his cigarette ash, his tone devoid of emotion.

"Part-time job." Chen Nuo lowered his eyes. "My senior said it's 5,000 for two hours, which is enough for my living expenses for two months."

Half true, half false.

It's true that she owes five thousand, but she doesn't lack that amount of money.

My father gives me five thousand yuan a month for living expenses, not including any extra costs. I say this just to make it seem like I need it, but without being overly stingy.

Fang Jingxiu didn't speak, he just looked at her.

The gaze was so direct that Chen Nuo felt her cheongsam collar begin to burn.

"I saw you in the main hall just now," he suddenly said.

Chen Nuo's heart tightened.

So he noticed it from the very beginning?

"I often come to Zhao Mingkai's parties," Fang Jingxiu continued, a cigarette slowly burning between his fingers. "There are always new faces. Pretty ones, sensible ones, and those who want to climb the ladder."

He paused, then turned to look at her: "And you? Do you want to climb up?"

The problem came too suddenly and too directly.

Chen Nuo bit her lower lip, thought for three seconds, then looked up and stared directly into his eyes: "Yes."

His frankness made Fang Jingxiu raise an eyebrow.

"But I know the rules," Chen Nuo added, her voice lowering. "I won't look at what I shouldn't see, and I won't ask what I shouldn't ask. Mr. Zhao said we're just decorations."

Fang Jingxiu laughed, this time a genuine laugh, fine lines appearing at the corners of his eyes: "He does know how to teach."

His phone rang halfway through the cigarette.

I took it out, glanced at the screen, didn't answer, and hung up.

"You can continue enjoying the scenery," he said, straightening up. "I'm going back."

"Mr. Fang," Chen Nuo called out to him.

Fang Jingxiu turned around.

"Your suit..." she pointed to the dark wine stain on his lapel, "Do you need me to pay for the dry cleaning?"

"No need," he said, pausing for a moment, "but you owe me a favor."

"What?"

"When I helped you up just now," Fang Jingxiu said, a playful glint in his eyes, "I risked being pulled down by you."

Chen Nuo was stunned, then chuckled: "So, Mr. Fang, how do you want me to repay you?"

Fang Jingxiu didn't answer immediately. He looked her over, from her loosely tied hair to her moon-white cheongsam and slender ankles.

The gaze was like that of someone appraising a work of art—calm, restrained, yet with undercurrents surging beneath.

"I'll let you know when I've thought it through," he said finally, turning to leave.

"Fang Jingxiu," Chen Nuo suddenly spoke, calling him by his full name.

The man stopped in his tracks.

This was the first time she had called him by his name that night.

There were no honorifics, no excessive caution, just three simple words.

Fang Jingxiu turned around, his gaze deepening.

"The handkerchief." Chen Nuo held out her hand, palm up. "You haven't returned it to me yet."

Fang Jingxiu stared at her for a few seconds, then suddenly smiled. He took the white handkerchief out of his suit pocket, but instead of handing it over, he held it to his nose and sniffed it again.

"It smells like gardenias," he said. "Did you do that on purpose?"

Chen Nuo's heart pounded, but he didn't show it on his face: "What do you mean, intentional?"

"Knowing I like gardenias, I specially scented it with this fragrance." Fang Jingxiu took two steps closer and placed the handkerchief in her outstretched palm.

"Very clever. But next time..."

His fingers gently brushed against her palm.

"There's no need to be so deliberate."

Chen Nuo clenched the handkerchief tightly; the fabric still retained his body heat and a faint tobacco scent.

"I didn't," she said softly, looking up at him. "I just like gardenias."

Fang Jingxiu didn't expose her. He took a step back, creating distance, and resumed his aloof demeanor.

"Junior year," he repeated the question, "Do you have many classes?"

"This semester isn't long; I'm mainly preparing my graduation project."

"What kind of subject matter should we film?"

"It's not decided yet," Chen Nuo said carefully, "It might be filming...the plight of women."

Fang Jingxiu raised an eyebrow: "A predicament?"

"Yes." Chen Nuo took a deep breath. "For example, a girl wants to climb the social ladder, but the only assets she has are her beauty and youth. That's the dilemma."

The air was still for a few seconds.

Music drifted from the banquet hall in the distance; it was languid jazz.

Fang Jingxiu suddenly laughed and shook his head: "Interesting. Next time you have a video, you can send it to me."

Chen Nuo's heart tightened: "Where should I send it?"

Fang Jingxiu took out a business card from the inside pocket of his suit and handed it to her.

Pure white, no title, just a name and a phone number.

Private number.

Chen Nuo took it with both hands, her fingertips touching his fingers, which were icy cold.

"Thank you," she said, carefully placing the business card into the inner pocket of her handbag.

After watching her finish all this, Fang Jingxiu suddenly asked, "Are you a dance student?"

Chen Nuo was taken aback: "How did you know?"

"Standing posture." Fang Jingxiu's gaze fell on her. "People who study dance have a different standing posture than others. Back straight, shoulders open, and neck stretched out."

He paused, then added, "Like a swan."

Chen Nuo's cheeks flushed slightly: "I studied ballet for ten years when I was a child, but then I injured my back and switched to directing."

"What a pity," Fang Jingxiu said, but there was no regret in his eyes, instead, there was a sense of knowing that it was indeed the case.

No wonder.

No wonder she has such a beautiful figure; no wonder every step she takes looks like it's been measured.

"I'm leaving," he said finally, and this time he really turned and left.

Chen Nuo stood there, watching him disappear into the lights of the banquet hall.

A night breeze blew by, and she shivered, only to realize that her back was covered in a thin layer of sweat.

In her palm, the business card felt like a branding iron, burning her heart and making it race.

She succeeded.

It wasn't completely successful.

Fang Jingxiu gave her his business card, indicating his interest. But his comment, "No need to be so deliberate," was like a bucket of cold water, reminding her not to get too cocky.

High-end prey often appear as hunters.

Chen Nuo leaned against the railing, slowly calming her breathing.

She knew that playing hard to get was the best aphrodisiac for men, especially for someone like Fang Jingxiu who was used to men throwing themselves at her.

The less you care, the more curious he becomes;

The less you take the initiative, the more he wants to know what you're thinking.

She acted perfectly in that conversation just now.

It was an accident that I bumped into him, returning the handkerchief was only natural, discussing the film was to show my depth, and I wasn't overly excited when exchanging business cards at the end.

Like a rose with thorns, beautiful, but hard to pick.