Chapter 80: Spread Too Thin

Riding the scenic elevator along the exterior of the building up to the rooftop garden on the 27th floor, Pan Jieying found herself almost instantly enamored with the apartment. Bright, spacious—the sunroom on the observation deck looked southward, affording a view of West Lake a kilometer away.

Liang Jingjing followed a few meters behind, careful and respectful, and only when she saw the look of approval on Pan Jieying’s face did she softly begin her pitch: “This apartment’s high ceilings and views are exceptional. There’s only this one unit, because it’s at the corner of the complex. They could tweak the floor area ratio a bit—otherwise it couldn’t have been built like this. If you miss it, there won’t be another opportunity.”

Though her words were meant to sell, they weren’t lies. Real estate developments are subject to floor area ratio regulations—ensuring the total built area doesn’t exceed a certain value relative to the plot, to prevent unscrupulous developers from cramming in too many high-rises, which would ruin sunlight, greenery, and shared facilities per capita.

The White Horse Residences had a reputation for being “law-abiding”—six towers, each over twenty stories, and a floor area ratio of just over three, all strictly observed, resulting in lush greenery. The building Pan Jieying was viewing, Tower 3, was the only one where the rules had been stretched.

Because the building sat right at a bend of the Grand Canal, with two sides facing the water, even if it was built higher than the others, it wouldn’t block anyone else’s sunlight. It was already the tallest, and the top two floors, 26 and 27, had especially high ceilings—creating a sense of openness.

As if to underline this apartment’s VIP status, there was even a private scenic elevator running straight to the penthouse from outside—no need to squeeze in with everyone else on the communal elevators.

Looking south, all the other buildings gradually receded in height until they were half-hidden among the willows and peach blossoms by the lakeshore, unable to obstruct the panoramic view from this tower.

After she’d seen it all, Pan Jieying said decisively, “This is it. Let’s sign the contract.”

“All right, miss, will you be paying in full or…”

“In full,” she replied.

Liang Jingjing, nearly trembling with excitement, hurried back to the signing hall, darted into the sales manager’s office for the paperwork, and then, with careful steps, led Pan Jieying and Gu Cheng into the VIP signing suite.

A few other salesgirls had been alerted, eyeing the suite with curiosity, but Liang Jingjing quickly shut the door, blocking out their prying gazes.

Inside, Pan Jieying reviewed the contract. Two floors totaling 960 square meters, seven million yuan—no problem.

She’d just finished signing and was about to swipe her card when she remembered something.

“I don’t have enough cash on my card. Use yours instead,” she said to Gu Cheng. It wasn’t a request, just a notification. Without waiting for a response, she took Gu Cheng’s wallet herself, pulled out his card, swiped it, and entered the password. When the receipt printed, she prepared to sign.

“Miss, the cardholder has to sign!” Liang Jingjing panicked as she saw Pan Jieying about to sign. This wasn’t like buying clothes at a department store—signing for a man’s card on a purchase worth millions was a huge legal risk.

If she allowed Pan Jieying to sign, and it came to light, she’d certainly lose her job.

Pan Jieying removed her sunglasses and gave Gu Cheng a helpless look—a silent exchange. She checked to make sure the suite door was locked, then nodded. “All right, you sign.”

Gu Cheng had no choice but to take off his sunglasses and sign his name.

Liang Jingjing stared at the two characters, feeling her heart race wildly.

“Ah—you’re Hua Ze Lei! You’re Gu Cheng!” she exclaimed, unable to contain herself, before Pan Jieying silenced her with a sharp glare.

“I’m sorry, I’m so honored. May I have your autograph?”

Gu Cheng smiled warmly, nearly making her swoon. “As long as you keep quiet about it, of course.”

“Then… could I have a photo with you? I have a digital camera,” she blurted out, only to realize she might be asking too much. “I can apply for an extra discount for you… Oh, but you’ve already paid. How about I arrange for an additional parking space instead?”

With that, she scurried out, locking the door behind her. A few minutes later, she returned with a gift addendum and a digital camera—this was before mobile phones had cameras, after all.

She also brought a box set of “Meteor Shower,” hoping to get his autograph on it—clearly, she was a fan.

She handed the parking space documents to Pan Jieying to sign, then tried to squeeze beside Gu Cheng for a selfie. But digital cameras were awkward, with no preview screen, and after fumbling for a while, she couldn’t get a decent shot.

Pan Jieying couldn’t watch any longer. She strode over, snatched the camera, and scolded, “Stand properly! Don’t get too close. My Chengcheng doesn’t have a girlfriend yet—if these photos get out, it won’t do his reputation any good.”

“Sorry, I didn’t mean anything by it,” Liang Jingjing stammered, her mind a swirl of stars and petals, barely able to stay upright.

“All right, keep it to yourself, no sharing. Just for your own collection,” Pan Jieying said, pressing the camera back into her hands, her expression sour.

Really, what a mess. Chengcheng was far too kind to his fans—letting anyone take a photo…

Brother and sister put their sunglasses back on and left. Only then did the other girls approach Liang Jingjing, eager to know who this mysterious VIP was.

“Hey, who was it? So secretive—was it the mayor’s son?” one asked.

“Pfft! The mayor’s son is nothing!” Liang Jingjing replied haughtily, cradling her camera as she dashed away, hearts in her eyes.

The others, unwilling to give up, went to check the signed credit card slips.

“Gu Cheng?! The Gu Cheng who played Hua Ze Lei? Why wasn’t I the one to greet him?” a tall girl with flaxen hair lamented.

Beside her, a short-haired, competent-looking woman dug her nails into her palm in regret. “A seven million yuan apartment, bought as easily as groceries. He’s really like those domineering CEOs from TV dramas. Is this a dream? Xiao Yang, pinch me.”

Another, with a baby face and an impressive figure, had stars in her eyes. “No wonder he plays rich heirs so well—he’s nothing like that loudmouthed male lead Yan Chengxu. I can’t take it—I’m melting.”

“I heard they went to see the penthouse in Tower 3. Why don’t we sneak in after work to tidy up before the keys are handed over?”

“I heard he was just on the rooftop, leaning on the rail, looking out at West Lake!”

“I can’t take it—I want to go up and lick the railing!”

“You minx! Why not lick the pen Xiao Liang just used, or the chair he sat in?”

The three of them dashed into the suite, sniffing around like foxes.

…

“It seems I’ll really need bodyguards in the future. Sunglasses and a baseball cap can only do so much. What will we do when you’re even more famous?” Pan Jieying worried aloud as she drove home. She had never considered what it would be like to live as a celebrity and was unprepared for it.

“By the way, did you get all the floor plans and take photos? Remember to scan them and send them to me. I’ll forward them to my friend to help with the interior design,” Gu Cheng said, reminded of the renovations. “I met a friend last year in Taiwan who runs a design studio—he did the office and recording studio for my agency, and they turned out well.”

The apartment came with only basic finishes, and Gu Cheng found the style a mishmash of East and West, so he wanted to tailor it to his own tastes. He planned to use the most eco-friendly materials, not caring if it delayed moving in.

He preferred an interpretative artistic style, enjoying the revelation of freshness and essence in the ancient. It wasn’t about aesthetics—just personal values.

Pan Jieying nodded and, once home, organized the photos, compressed them, and Gu Cheng sent them off by email to Jiang Youbo’s Orange Fruit Design Studio.

The next two days passed uneventfully. Pan Jieying oversaw the final preparations before “Alipay” went live, renewed their visas, and they planned a trip to Seoul to handle the shell investment deal for Kwon Soon-woo.

Pan Jieying could also enjoy a few days of sightseeing—she never tired of it.

Gu Cheng had wanted his aunt and grandmother to travel abroad for a change of scenery, especially since learning last year that his grandmother was from Tōi. He wanted to fulfill her wish to visit her homeland, but had always been too busy and worried to let her travel alone.

But his aunt, Gu Wen, advised him earnestly that with the CEO, COO, and CFO all absent, it wouldn’t be proper. Better to wait a couple of months for cooler weather, after the summer travel peak, and she would take their mother to Tōi herself.

Since his aunt put it that way, Gu Cheng couldn’t say more—though in 2001, there was barely a summer peak for overseas travel.

On the first day of summer vacation, the siblings packed their luggage, drove themselves to the airport, and boarded a flight to Seoul.

At Incheon Airport, Kwon Soon-woo was there to meet them. He hadn’t met Pan Jieying before, but Gu Cheng introduced them.

Since the Kwon family needed Gu Cheng’s help, their hospitality was impeccable—they booked the finest hotel near the Kwon residence in Gangnam, with two suites, and all their transport was by stretch Lincoln.

On the way from the airport, Kwon Soon-woo spoke to Gu Cheng with unusual candor.

“Next year’s an election year—officials everywhere will be reassigned. Since you’ve agreed to help, I won’t hide anything from you. For the ‘North-South Normalization’ project, all credit for those involved is determined by Deputy Minister Pan. If he puts in a good word with the President about the ‘cultural exchange’ going well, my father’s promotion to director is assured.

“Deputy Minister Pan was embarrassed recently when northern officials blocked Samsung and LG from entering—he was supposed to be transferred as a roving ambassador, but this incident delayed it, so he’s stuck as UN ambassador for a few more months. Even if we lose a little money now, helping Deputy Minister Pan save face will secure everything for us in the future.”