Chapter 62: Jinxiu Pavilion's Golden Card

Early the next morning, Su Pingnan watched the still-dazed Su Dingbei and laughed so hard he leaned back and forth, clearly very pleased. Su Dingbei glared at this unscrupulous second brother in front of her, her teeth itching with hatred, but her mood was immediately soothed by the thick red envelope Su Pingnan handed her.

Su Pingnan’s envelope was fat, almost bursting the thin red paper. Su Dingbei hesitated a little, but one sentence from Su Pingnan made her accept it. “Girls should be refined. Without money, how can you be refined?” The next sentence hit the mark: “Su Anxi took one.”

The red envelopes Su Dingbei and Su Anxi received were only slightly different—Su Dingbei’s had an extra handwritten note. Su Dingbei opened it and found two lines: “Justice comes from power; fairness rests on strength.”

Su Dingbei asked, “Who said that?”

Su Pingnan smiled and said, “I was afraid you’d be fooled by appearances, so this is the gift I’m really giving you.” Su Dingbei thought for a moment and solemnly put it away.

On the third day of the new year, Su Wenwen had already left. There were too many people he needed to pay respects to, and the Jinxiu foundation was still shallow—social graces couldn’t be neglected. Not just him—almost everyone under Su Pingnan had already started leaving their homes, except Su Pingnan himself.

Just when Su Pingnan was enjoying a rare stretch of leisure and planning to laze a few more days, his father came to talk to him, his tone hesitating and awkward.

That night, the fearless Su Pingnan ran away.

Du Jiu drove, glancing repeatedly at Su Pingnan’s pale face. He’d never seen Su Pingnan like this before and couldn’t help but say, “Brother Nan, it’s just a blind date. Go, say it’s not suitable, and that’s that—at least you can be accountable to the elders.” Su Pingnan shot Du Jiu a dirty stare. He didn’t tell Du Jiu that his parents had gone mad—they hadn’t asked him to go for just one blind date, but a full thirteen of them…

When Mao Limin received the golden card, he hadn’t expected it to be so sought after. His old friends, upon learning he had a top-floor golden card for Jinxiu Pavilion, eagerly gave him a pound of premium Jinjunmei tea. Then, as naturally as the way Liu Bei borrowed Jingzhou, they took his card and never returned it.

Now in Wucheng, there were few entertainment venues and even fewer upscale dining places. With the reforms just beginning, many people’s pockets were starting to swell. Some weren’t afraid to spend money—they were afraid to spend and get no additional respect in return. Was there any place in Wucheng more high-end and impressive than inviting friends and relatives to dine at Jinxiu Pavilion? No. So after the New Year, Jinxiu Pavilion became wildly popular.

Want more face? Book the Tian-class private room at Jinxiu—top-tier service and exotic delicacies will satisfy you. The higher the grade, the more wealthy clients it attracted.

A few businessmen who’d made it big literally hauled sacks of cash to Jinxiu Pavilion’s front desk, saying they wanted to get several cards to play with. The reception staff, polite but firm, said, “Sorry, sir, due to our capacity, we’ve stopped issuing sixth-floor golden cards for now. Would you consider getting a silver card first?”

The newly wealthy of this era often had a rough, impulsive air. The leader glared and was about to curse. Another grabbed him, bent down and whispered a few words. The front desk manager vaguely caught the words Little Red Robe and immediately understood everything. The leader’s face went pale and sullen. He muttered an apology and slunk away.

The manager was new—Guo Guangyao had poached her from a coastal hotel with a high salary—and she was still unclear about the big boss behind this restaurant. After this incident, she immediately grasped her boss’s clout. She was always smiling at everyone, not because she had to be deferential to customers, but because she knew she had a powerful boss to rely on.

So once Mao Limin lent his card out, it went round and round and never came back. When he finally actually needed it, he was stuck. There was nothing he could do—the card had passed from a friend to a provincial official’s relative—so he had to call Guo Guangyao. He didn’t call Su Pingnan because Su Pingnan rarely met with people and seemed mysterious, plus it was said he was hard to deal with. Instead, he called the people under him, all of whom were well-versed in social dealings and had good connections.

When Guo Guangyao heard what happened, he was also in a bind and said he’d have to consult Su Pingnan. Su Pingnan’s rules were strict. No one below dared act on their own. Although Guo Guangyao ran that operation, he always worked within set boundaries and never stepped beyond them.

“From now on, I’ll give you three special signature approvals a month,” Su Pingnan said as he hung up, rubbing his chin. The profits from Jinxiu Pavilion were staggering, and he was thinking whether to open another branch in Wucheng. He had originally planned to open one each in Tiandu and Fengcheng after the New Year. The reason for only two was, first, Lin Zunyi currently only had two disciples capable of handling things independently, and second, he wanted to build a solid foundation. Once Fengcheng increased the trade of mountain goods and Tiandu underwent enterprise reform, he would need a reliable base in those places.

Su Pingnan knew how much property in prime locations would appreciate. He wouldn’t consider renting—if he opened anything, he had to buy the buildings and operate them himself. The businesses under his name were making money like crazy. If he didn’t buy property, then what should he do with the money? Leave it in the bank to depreciate?

Mao Limin got the reply and immediately took his whole family to Jinxiu Pavilion. The moment they arrived and he mentioned a Tian-class private room in the parking lot, he instantly understood why his golden card wouldn’t come back.

He went on the fifth day of the lunar month. It was snowing heavily in Wucheng. When he said he wanted to reserve Tian No. 13, the formally dressed doorman immediately grabbed the walkie-talkie.

“Heavy snow, heavy snow. Seventeen guests for Tian No. 13.”

“Copy, copy.”

Exactly 17 security guards rushed out, so each person got an umbrella above their head. At that moment, Mao Limin was already plotting how to get his golden card back from his friend. Once inside the private room, not to mention the lavish, almost decadent decor, even the perfectly warmed snow-white hand towels handed to him convinced Mao Limin: no matter what his old friend said, he had to get that golden card back.

One meal cost four and a half months’ wages. Looking at the envy and admiration in his relatives’ and friends’ eyes, the man who had been stingy his whole life actually felt it was worth every penny.

As they left, Guo Guangyao caught up with him, wearing a wry smile, and said softly, “Mr. Su left a 30,000 yuan limit for you on that card—who knew you’d be this generous.” Mao Limin felt he couldn’t wait another moment. He suddenly thought that whoever had taken his card was no longer a friend, and he returned the tea to them.