Chapter 62 Tender Traps at the Banquet of Ambush (Part Two)

Yes, they were from the television station, and they would never risk their careers; if they disobeyed Wang Hu, and anything unsavory was exposed, they wouldn’t have the face to remain at the station for even a day.

“Two men chatting alone is dull, so I invited some company. You wouldn’t refuse, would you?” Wang Hu’s smile returned, unconcerned as he continued, “As for those two women, you’re hardly interested. Just a couple of nobodies—letting them go is my gesture of good faith.”

Upstairs, the rhythmic clack of high heels on the wooden floor echoed down, and from the sound alone, one could tell the woman descending had quite the presence.

Yet Yang Changfeng hadn’t expected Wang Hu to be able to invite a top-tier, second-line actress.

Mas Wei, a newly rising starlet, ranked twelfth among domestic celebrities for income. Last year, with earnings of ninety million, she was not only widely covered by the media, but also managed to edge out a married actress and join the ranks of the top young leading ladies. It was rumored this actress from Jiangzhou had powerful connections—who would have thought she had dealings with the underworld.

Of medium height but with a strikingly sensual figure, Mas Wei descended the stairs, greeting Wang Hu casually before pausing at the landing to appraise Yang Changfeng. She seemed somewhat puzzled but managed a polite, if reserved, “Mr. Yang? Hello.”

Yang Changfeng nodded coolly, not bothering to rise.

Despite frequently playing innocent roles, Mas Wei was no different from the scheming women in the industry. Truly, “there are no good people in Hongtong County”—they were all birds of a feather.

Still, Mas Wei clearly had her own pride. It seemed Wang Hu wasn’t her benefactor; she was here to help, holding herself with obvious distance.

Was it for money, or out of necessity?

Wang Hu stood up, personally moving a wicker chair over. Smiling, he said, “Miss Mas, I’m very grateful you came to mediate today.”

Mas Wei replied indifferently, “If it weren’t for the company’s arrangement, I wouldn’t deal with a gangster. No need to thank me—thank the company.”

So that was it.

Yang Changfeng deftly spun his pistol around his finger, swiftly dismantling and reassembling it, catching Mas Wei’s eye.

She walked over, dressed in a black evening gown with her hair swept up. The not-too-low neckline revealed a swath of alabaster neck and chest.

“Mr. Yang, were you once a soldier?” She slid her chair a little closer, asking, “I’m about to shoot a film and need to learn how to handle firearms. Could you teach me a few tricks?”

Yang Changfeng retorted, mocking, “I didn’t expect a starlet to make a living off those absurd anti-Japanese dramas. The entertainment industry truly is a mess. But if you want to train, there’s only one trick: practice. Do these dramas really require modern pistols? Oh, right—for those shows, even rocket launchers would be no surprise. After all, with their eight-hundred-mile shots, regular weapons just wouldn’t do.”

Mas Wei’s expression darkened; she snapped back, “Mr. Yang, can’t you show some respect for my profession? I wouldn’t stoop to those absurd dramas. This is a series about undercover police. You can refuse to teach me, but don’t generalize. That’s a matter of character.”

Yang Changfeng smiled. “Then you should be grateful for my character. Otherwise, I might have cursed you for being here. Still, I watched one of your films last year—you were good, especially the outfits. You must have made countless Taobao sellers rich. My compliments.”

Mas Wei nearly flipped the table.

Was there anyone more bluntly insulting?

So what if she was a pretty face? She didn’t flaunt her body or act wooden. She’d turned a supporting role into a lead just by changing outfits—what of it?

This had even landed her in the headlines several times. As a rising starlet, she was mocked by some media for gaining fame through her wardrobe. Other starlets were ingenues, controversy queens, or lauded for their acting. She, blessed with stunning looks and a perfect figure, was labeled as one who “rose to fame by dressing up.”

But wasn’t that better than those gaudy women who made their name by undressing? At least she was more dignified.

Yang Changfeng’s near-insult made Mas Wei’s anger boil over.

She was well-known, with tens of millions of social media followers, but few truly understood her. She’d trained with the spear at a martial arts school, even winning a silver medal at the National Games. In terms of fighting ability, there were few in the industry who could rival this twenty-four- or twenty-five-year-old woman.

She wanted nothing more than to smash her stiletto into that infuriating face!

Wang Hu grew anxious. Mas Wei was not someone to provoke, and Yang Changfeng was someone he needed to win over. Why were they at each other’s throats?

To secure Mas Wei’s involvement, Wang Hu had not only paid a hefty sum, but also called in significant favors. In his efforts to neutralize Yang Changfeng’s threat, Wang Hu had sacrificed a great deal—even he admitted it was like cutting flesh from his own body.

“Let’s all talk things through calmly. This is your first meeting—it needn’t become enmity, right?” Wang Hu said amiably, settling beside them with a teapot and preparing tea.

Mas Wei sat, arms crossed, visibly impatient and furious. Her posture pressed her already ample chest even higher. Yang Changfeng, comparing silently, judged her assets greater than Anya’s but less than Chen Aijia’s—a perfect match for her figure. She was indeed a first-class beauty.

What a pity. For all her beauty, she was now a plaything for capital. Yang Changfeng lost all interest.

But what was Wang Hu planning?

He’d first suspected there was poison or some stimulant in the teapot, but the appearance and demeanor of the two women in qipaos convinced him it was likely some aphrodisiac. If so, was Wang Hu planning to entrap him with Mas Wei, to gain leverage for blackmail?

Perhaps, believing he knew Yang Changfeng’s identity, Wang Hu thought this the surest method. This tactic had succeeded countless times with corrupt officials; little did he know that Yang Changfeng was only a deputy security captain at a company.

His file had not yet been made public—simply because the time had not come. As long as classified information remained sealed, Yang Changfeng’s identity would not be revealed locally, giving Wang Hu—unfamiliar with such protocols—a massive misconception.

Understanding all this, Yang Changfeng felt oddly amused.

After all, Mas Wei was a beauty on par with Chen Aijia and Anya. Few men could resist the chance for an encounter with her.

But Yang Changfeng had no interest in women from the entertainment world. He could appreciate beauty, but just thinking about the private lives of these actresses under capital’s manipulation left him nauseated.

An affair? No, that would be revolting!

Yet the thought of Wang Hu, after drinking the drugged tea, alone with this stunning actress, left Yang Changfeng equally unsettled.

What to do?