Once Nan Song took her seat, Fu Yu snapped his fingers, and the waiters began serving dishes and pouring wine in an orderly fashion.
Nan Song had no patience for small talk with strangers. She cut straight to the point. "Young Master Fu mentioned wanting to collaborate. What exactly did you have in mind?"
Fu Yu didn't beat around the bush either, adopting a businesslike tone. "I'm quite interested in that plot of land in the northern suburbs of Nancheng."
"Oh, really?"
Nan Song gave him a once-over. His deep V-neck suit and peach-blossom eyes brimming with charm and amusement made him look less like a serious negotiator and more like a playboy on the prowl.
Fu Yu sat there, utterly unbothered by her scrutiny, even leaning into it. "So? Not bad, right? I clean up pretty well in this outfit."
It was a statement, not a question—confidence oozing from every pore.
Nan Song, never one for empty flattery, gave an honest assessment. "Passable."
Fu Yu grinned. "Mostly because the person who picked it out has excellent taste."
Smooth talker.
Nan Song smirked faintly. "Since you're so good with words, I'll return the favor. That land was acquired by my second and third uncles, but I have no intention of turning it into a golf course."
"Of course not. The terrain and soil conditions make it completely unsuitable for golf. It's perfect for a horse ranch." Fu Yu spread his hands. "Great minds think alike. We're clearly on the same page."
At the mention of a "horse ranch," Nan Song's guarded expression softened slightly, a flicker of interest crossing her face. "And what would collaborating with President Fu bring to the table?"
The shift from "Young Master Fu" to "President Fu" told him the negotiation was 80% secured.
He smiled. "The Fu family tends to dominate partnerships, usually taking an 80% cut. But to win you over, I'm willing to concede 30%. Let's split it down the middle—50-50. How's that?"
Nan Song actually laughed. "Young Master Fu, you're quite the comedian. Dinner's on me. Enjoy yourself."
Her expression turned icy as she stood to leave.
The mood shift was whiplash-fast.
Fu Yu blinked, momentarily stunned by her abruptness. By the time he processed it, Nan Song was already striding toward the door. He darted forward, blocking her path.
"Miss Nan, I'm not joking. I'm completely serious."
Nan Song lifted her gaze slightly, her cold eyes sweeping over his face. Three years by Yu Jinwen's side had honed her patience to near-saintly levels—otherwise, she wouldn't still be entertaining this nonsense.
"First, I separate business from personal matters. And I *despise* men who use work as an excuse to hit on women. Do you really think you're that charming?"
"Second, the Fu family may be domineering, but this isn't Rongcheng. This is Nancheng. And Nancheng doesn't bow to the Fu name."
"Third, you come begging for a partnership and still expect 50%? Dream on. I wouldn't even give you 30%!"
Fu Yu listened to her three points, nodding as if taking notes, then asked amiably, "Just those three? Any fourth?"
The man truly had no shame.
"Fourth," Nan Song obliged, stepping closer with a glare, "is poaching your best friend's ex-wife something a decent human being would do?"
Fu Yu didn't miss a beat. "But you and Old Yu are already divorced, aren't you?"
A knife to the heart. Nan Song responded by driving her stiletto heel into his foot.
"Ah—*shit*."
Fu Yu got his first taste of high-heel justice. The pain was sharp, exhilarating even.
Watching Nan Song's retreating figure, he couldn't resist calling after her, "Old Yu's wedding is tomorrow. You going? We could go together!"