Cheating CEO

Chapter 7: Acting

Chapter 7: The Performance (Part I)

"Darling—"

She had wanted to call out his name, ‘Ling Yanhong,’ but what escaped her lips was a soft, beseeching plea, tinged with a faint coquetry. This was the ‘respect’ she afforded him. She was no actress, yet after more than a month of practice, she had become adept at playing her part.

Ling Yanhong’s face was a mask of frost. He seemed not to hear her call, as though frozen in a state of rigid petrification.

Gong Shichen couldn't be certain if he was doing it intentionally. Curious gazes were already drifting their way, instantly making the two of them the center of attention.

They were the two prodigies of the business world, the two most lauded young men among Shencheng’s elite families. Many had speculated about the nature of their relationship. While there was no tradition of merchants disdaining one another, the gossips loved to draw their habitual comparisons and make their jests.

Some said that Ling Yanhong was a dark horse who swept all before him; in terms of ruthless cunning, talent, and methodology, even Zhuang Wentian might not be his match.

Others argued that Zhuang Wentian was a man of overflowing brilliance and an affable nature, with a vast network of connections. He was like a prince from a bygone medieval era, his graceful bearing effortlessly captivating countless rivals.

In the end, the two men were like two distinct brands. As for which brand held the greater value, there was no quantifiable measure yet. It was like preferring two different styles of clothing; whether you favored Armani or Cerruti more was, at times, beyond comparison.

And so, in the hearts of innumerable high-society debutantes, some dreamed of marrying Zhuang Wentian, while others yearned to marry Ling Yanhong.

But now, tragically, both men had married on the same day. The objects of envy and jealousy were, of course, the two women present. Of the two, Luo Wenke received the most admiration. After all, among the countless socialites, she reigned supreme, a woman others could never hope to reach. Thus, they could only look on with envy.

In contrast to Luo Wenke, Gong Shichen—the upstart who had appeared out of nowhere—was a target of jealousy and resentment. Her looks were not the finest, her figure not the most ideal, and her status was hardly commensurate with Ling Yanhong’s. Yet, she had vaulted into the position of Mrs. Ling, a seat countless women had coveted for over a decade. It was only natural, then, that she became the object of their collective jealousy.

At that moment, Gong Shichen maintained a polite smile. With one hand, she secretly gave the sullen-faced Ling Yanhong’s arm a firm tug. “Darling,” she reminded him intimately, “more guests have arrived!”

Could he really afford to snub such distinguished guests? Of all the illustrious figures and magnates present, at least half were likely here for Ling Yanhong.

In any case, Ling Yanhong was Gong Jialiang's son-in-law, making him a semi-host of sorts. With such esteemed guests arriving, it was only proper for him to greet them. Moreover, many were curious: what was the relationship between Ling Yanhong and Zhuang Wentian? Did they even know each other?

Of course, they knew of each other. Both were fixtures in the newspapers. If the financial channel featured Ling Yanhong one week, Zhuang Wentian was likely to appear the next.

But as for their personal relationship, no one knew.

“So they have.”

Ling Yanhong suddenly smiled. It was a warm smile, but his eyes were glacial. It reminded Gong Shichen of the first time she’d met him, of the way he had kissed her in front of the reporters. This smile was hauntingly similar.

A charade. It had always been a charade of intimacy. A fog of confusion settled in Gong Shichen’s heart. What kind of man had she truly married?

As Ling Yanhong turned, he wrapped an arm around Gong Shichen’s waist, pulling her into an intimate embrace that managed to look natural rather than contrived. A faint smile played on his lips as he faced the approaching, picture-perfect couple.

Yet, Gong Shichen could feel the hand on her waist tighten, and tighten again.

Clearly, the arrival of this pair had disturbed him. Was it because of Zhuang Wentian, or Luo Wenke?

“Wentian, welcome.”

“Yanhong, a pleasure.”

So they were acquainted. The cordial, smiling greetings they exchanged suggested their relationship was not entirely hostile.

“Mrs. Zhuang is truly beautiful,” Ling Yanhong remarked, his gaze on Luo Wenke. He drawled his praise, but the lazy, casual tone was devoid of any genuine admiration.

Gong Shichen maintained her polite smile, but her eyes involuntarily flickered toward Luo Wenke. She saw a hint of awkwardness and displeasure in Luo Wenke’s responding gaze.

“I never imagined Yanhong would be so swift and decisive with his wedding. And for such a beautiful wife,” Zhuang Wentian said, ever the suave and magnanimous gentleman. He smiled at Gong Shichen, his praise sincere. Gong Shichen smiled back shyly, only to notice the hostility in Luo Wenke’s eyes deepen.

Women were prone to jealousy, especially with such a striking husband by their side. Fortunately, she didn't love Ling Yanhong, so she was spared the anxiety and pain. Her expectations of him were already at rock bottom.

“Hmph. Shichen can’t compare to Mrs. Zhuang,” Ling Yanhong murmured, looking at Gong Shichen with a gaze full of adoration. “She is simply sweet and shy.”

His voice was laced with a proud admiration, sounding for all the world like a husband besotted with his wife. Ling Yanhong, she thought, you are a master of this stage.

Chapter 7: The Performance (Part II)

Ling Yanhong's dazzling smile instantly became the highlight of the birthday banquet, a new morsel for gossip and conversation. Gong Shichen’s demure and faintly bashful smile, in turn, led the crowd to a unanimous consensus: a perfect match of talent and beauty, a portrait of newlywed bliss.

“Darling, aren't you going to invite Mr. and Mrs. Zhuang inside?” she said, her smile tinged with a delicate shyness, a hint of a charmingly petulant pout. He wanted her to feign sweetness, and she would comply. He wanted her to feign shyness, and she would not retreat. In that moment, Gong Shichen’s eyes shone with a pure, lovely light, a captivating mix of timidity, coquetry, and spirit.

“Of course. How could I leave my guests at the door? Wentian, Mrs. Zhuang, please.”

Ling Yanhong’s smile was a mask. Gong Shichen knew it all too well. The more handsome his smile, the more a chill crept into her heart. This man’s ability to conceal his true self was formidable.

“Yanhong, there’s no need for such formality,” Zhuang Wentian replied with his typical grace. Upon seeing Gong Jialiang, he offered his felicitations with polite deference. “My congratulations to the old master. May your fortune be as vast as the Eastern Sea and your longevity rival the Southern Mountains.”

Gong Jialiang hadn't expected Zhuang Wentian to grant him such face by attending, and a cold sweat broke out on his brow. To outsiders, he appeared flushed with happiness, but those who knew better understood the tension gripping the room. Among them, Gong Shichen’s elder brother, Gong Shijun, was the most anxious.

Zhuang Wentian was the youngest chairman of the Chamber of Commerce, and it was widely believed that his triumphant streak in the business world could pave his way into politics. Every chamber election was a pivotal turning point; whoever won the position was destined for greater success.

In this year’s election, Zhuang Wentian had defeated his rival, Ling Yanhong, by a single vote to win the chairmanship. While many were unaware of the inside story, a few knew the truth. Seeing Ling Yanhong’s icy demeanor earlier, several old guards who had participated in the election had worried he might give Zhuang Wentian the cold shoulder. But Ling Yanhong had clearly weathered many storms and showed no such pettiness.

A subtle tension permeated the banquet hall. Gong Jialiang's expression was more strained than benevolent. Compared to the other businessmen present, he was not a particularly outstanding one; the Gong family’s standing in the business world was largely due to the good reputation he and his son had built.

“Mr. Zhuang’s presence brings our humble home great honor. Please, come in,” Gong Shijun said, stepping in for his father to welcome their guest. Gong Shichen did not miss the flicker of frost in Ling Yanhong’s eyes. A curiosity sparked within her about the subtleties at play. She didn't know what had transpired, but she sensed that her own marriage might have been born from this very tension.

The banquet, which had been buzzing, now reached a fever pitch with the presence of Ling Yanhong and Zhuang Wentian. A throng of dignitaries and socialites quickly surrounded Zhuang Wentian and his wife, a flurry of greetings and laughter. Meanwhile, gathered around Ling Yanhong were not only businessmen eager to curry favor with the Ling Corporation but also several gossipy matriarchs, endlessly probing him with questions.

“Mr. Ling, you haven't been on your honeymoon yet? I hear the Aegean Sea is lovely this year, especially for newlyweds!”

A woman’s gossip always revolved around married life, and a look of impatience had already crossed Ling Yanhong's face.

“I hear the scenery at Mount Wutai is also quite nice. Why don't you go pay your respects to the Bodhisattvas, Mrs. Gao? It might help you conceive a son soon.”

Ling Yanhong’s retort made Mrs. Gao’s face fall. She turned and stormed away, her ample hips swaying in indignation.

Over on the other side, Zhuang Wentian was being swarmed by a crowd of sycophants.

“Mr. Zhuang has such impeccable taste in honeymoon destinations! The Aegean Sea is the perfect place for a romantic getaway!”

“Indeed! And with Mrs. Zhuang's elegance and beauty, you could shoot a photo album that would put all those starlets to shame.”

“Isn’t that the truth! Mrs. Zhuang is so fortunate to have married such an ideal husband. Not like us, having to put on a show all day. It’s exhausting.” The last comment came from a woman from a moderately wealthy family, a starlet who had never quite made it big, her tone dripping with acid.

The entire situation had become farcical, with the true guest of honor all but forgotten.

Gong Shichen signaled the orchestra to change the music, then picked up a microphone. Her clear voice rang out:

“Today is my father’s sixtieth birthday. We sincerely thank all our friends for their presence and well wishes. Please eat, drink, and enjoy yourselves, and forgive any shortcomings in our hospitality. We will now begin the ball. To all who love to dance, please join us!”

This kind of lavish banquet was not something Gong Jialiang particularly enjoyed. It had been organized on the spur of the moment at the urging of a few business associates. He never expected such a large turnout. Gong Shijun quickly instructed the event planner to alter the evening’s program, hoping to disrupt the strange standoff that had formed with the arrival of Ling Yanhong and Zhuang Wentian.

Chapter 7: The Performance (Part III)

At Gong Shijun’s announcement, the atmosphere shifted. As the music began to swell, people started moving toward the open space in the center of the grand hall. Most were young, but there were also some skilled older dancers, still spry and spirited.

For Ling Yanhong, who had been besieged by the crowd, this new arrangement was a welcome reprieve. His expression, however, remained grim. His gaze swept across the room with a glacial intensity, drifting over Zhuang Wentian and Luo Wenke before finally settling on Gong Shichen beside him.

Without a word, a smirk tugged at the corner of his lips as he pulled Gong Shichen onto the dance floor.

He was, of course, once again the focus of all eyes. In stark contrast to Zhuang Wentian, who remained off the floor, Ling Yanhong immediately commanded everyone’s attention. It was rare to see this more recreational side of the young man. He was known for being cold and defiant, exuding an aloofness that made him unapproachable. It was rumored that at past high-society galas, women who had dared to ask him for a dance had been met with nothing but humiliation.

This man’s arrogance was blatant, but he possessed the capital to back it up.

His coolness, his devilish charm, his smile, his ruthlessness—they were all a fatal temptation, making women swoon and men burn with jealousy. Even some of the hale and hearty older tycoons, who had been heartthrobs in their youth, couldn't help but inwardly curse this enviably charismatic young man.

His hand clamped around her waist, leaving her no room to create a respectable distance. Perhaps this was the closest they had been since the wedding—so close she could smell the faint scent of cologne on his collar. His strong jawline was just above her forehead; a slight dip of his head and his lips would be upon hers.

The slow, melodic music signaled that the first dance would be a waltz, likely chosen with the older guests in mind. A faster, brighter tempo would have been unsuitable for many.

And so, this dance was not only perfect for the older couples but also for lovers to whisper sweet nothings.

Sweet nothings? A faint blush crept up Gong Shichen’s face. She had never been this close to any man before. She tilted her head up, instinctively trying to pull away, but the powerful hand on her back held her fast.

“You truly enjoy this performance.”

Finally, she summoned her courage. Looking into his cold eyes, which were set in a smiling face, she couldn't stop the accusation from escaping.

She was merely a marionette on his strings; this much she now profoundly understood. But having been manipulated so many times, she felt an irrepressible urge to protest, just this once.

“Do I?”

His smile deepened, but his eyes grew colder still. An invisible chill made Gong Shichen shrink back. Had her words angered him?

Her eyes, bright and clear, held a glint of bravery, yet it was mingled with a faint cowardice, like a fool who had caused trouble and now wished to retreat into her shell. She chose to fall silent.

But he would not permit her silence. He lowered his head and kissed her. It was an unapologetic kiss, one that appeared tender and lingering to the onlookers, drawing a collective sigh from the room. Ling Yanhong was indeed shockingly unconventional. Ling Yanhong was indeed devoted to his beloved wife.

As Luo Wenke and Zhuang Wentian stepped onto the dance floor, Luo Wenke stumbled, stepping on Zhuang Wentian’s foot. She smiled apologetically, and he simply curved his lips, seemingly unconcerned.

But he did not miss the direction of her gaze, which traveled over his shoulder to land on the couple locked in a kiss.

“How could you—”

Gong Shichen’s face was crimson as she accused Ling Yanhong of his outrageous act. To sacrifice her dignity for the sake of his performance—it was despicable. She had never in her life been so publicly toyed with. Her face burned a deeper shade of red, making her breathtakingly vibrant.

Gong Shijun’s face held a flicker of embarrassment as he and his father quickly turned to attend to other guests.

A near-threatening look from Ling Yanhong silenced Gong Shichen. She knew that if she said another word, he would kiss her again. Though they were husband and wife in name, it was a hollow title. To be kissed repeatedly by a man who did not love her was an infuriating ordeal.

But she didn't realize that the sight of her flushed face prompted Ling Yanhong to lower his head once more. Just as she was about to kick him—assault, taking advantage of her, that's how she classified his actions—she found herself unable to escape his kiss.

Luo Wenke stumbled again, treading on Zhuang Wentian's foot once more. He maintained his faint smile, but a flicker of understanding entered his eyes, a detail no one else noticed.