Power and Wealth

Chapter 1865

It was 5 PM.

At Fang Wenping’s house.

The lighting was excellent, and since it was a top-floor duplex apartment, the soft golden sunset gradually poured into the room, creating a scene as beautiful as a painting.

Of course, the scene in the kitchen was far from beautiful.

Dong Xuebing, drenched in sweat, was struggling to scrape the fish scales off, the smell of fish filling the entire room, and he had absorbed a fair share of it himself. He couldn’t help but complain. Damn, I came all the way here to celebrate your birthday and didn’t even bother to change clothes. I even bought you a gift, and here you are, not even offering to cook. And I have to cook for you? What is this?

“Is it done yet?” Fang Wenping called from outside.

Dong Xuebing was fuming. “It’s not done yet.”

Fang Wenping, with her typical air of superiority, said, “Hurry up, or just close the kitchen door. The sound of you scraping fish scales is making me anxious.”

Dong Xuebing was practically seething with anger, wishing he could kick her out. He muttered back, “You’re eating my home-cooked meal. At least stop being so picky about it.”

Fang Wenping, clearly irritated, shot back, “Say that again.”

At that moment, her phone rang. It was her call. She immediately dismissed Dong Xuebing’s remark, answered the phone, and said, “Hello? Yeah, I know. I said I know. About this matter, go talk to Governor Li. It's not my responsibility. I’m off today and not at the office. If you don’t understand me, then I’m telling you again: go ask Governor Li. If he doesn’t deal with it, you can wait until I return to work on Monday. That’s it.”

Dong Xuebing overheard, thinking that her working style hadn't changed even though Fang Wenping had moved from the Central Commission for Discipline Inspection to here and was promoted to the Deputy-provincial level. She was still as hard-nosed and foul-tempered as ever. She was the same domineering woman from Beijing, the kind everyone avoids. No matter where she goes, it’s always the same. Dong Xuebing shook his head helplessly, finishing up with the fish. Checking the time, he decided it was time to start cooking.

Deep-frying fish.

Stewing meat.

Stir-frying vegetables.

Dong Xuebing was busy in the kitchen all by himself.

Meanwhile, Fang Wenping sat in the living room, watching TV calmly, with no intention of helping. Not only did she not offer any help, but she also started bossing him around. She complained about the smell of the oil smoke and told him to turn the extractor fan up. Then she said he used too much sugar in the stir-fry, claiming she didn’t like things too sweet. She kept giving instructions from the couch.

Dong Xuebing was so furious that he could hardly describe his feelings.

The only way to describe his emotions now was that he wanted to kick Fang Wenping out. He was beyond frustrated.

What’s with the picky attitude?

If you’re so particular, why don’t you come over and cook?

“Try this one too.”

“Mmm, it’s okay, not bad.”

Dong Xuebing didn’t ask anymore. He just continued eating and drinking. He was hungry by now. He hadn’t eaten since breakfast, and after a whole morning of running around, plus the time spent cooking, he was famished. Now, he ate faster and faster, feeling hungrier with each bite. He didn’t care much about how it looked anymore. After all, they’d argued, gotten physical, and even kissed before. He didn’t feel the need to act formally around Fang Wenping. He didn’t see her as just a leader anymore, so he was relaxed and comfortable.

Fang Wenping frowned. “How many meals have you missed?”

Dong Xuebing sighed. “I haven’t eaten all day. I’m starving. Don’t just look at me. You should eat, too.”

Fang Wenping ate very slowly, with grace and poise. She’d likely developed this habit from a young age, being raised in a large family. Dong Xuebing ate quickly but ate a lot, and since he was drinking as well, the meal dragged on for a long time.

After dinner, Dong Xuebing glanced at the clock—it was already past seven.

He hadn’t bothered with washing the dishes today. He rubbed his stomach and sipped the last drink, not moving from his seat. He had already done the cooking and washing, so he wasn’t about to start cleaning up now. Fang Wenping didn’t move either. She didn’t leave the dining table; she just turned on the TV to watch the news at the provincial station and on CCTV. Neither of them said anything, and by eight o'clock, they hadn’t spoken a word. This was supposed to be a birthday celebration, but to Dong Xuebing, it felt more like a complete waste of time. He couldn’t help but laugh bitterly.

It was past eight now.

The sky had turned completely dark.

Dong Xuebing spoke up. “I’ll go check on the clothes.”

Fang Wenping didn’t even look at him and simply responded, “Upstairs, on the balcony.”

“Got it.” Dong Xuebing went upstairs, walking up to the second level of the duplex.

The place still looked luxurious, with spacious rooms. It was a far cry from his staff quarters. After a few glances, he found a large balcony extending from the hallway, opened the door, and stepped outside. He casually brushed his shirt and pants, only to find they were all wet—not just a little damp, but fully soaked. They hadn’t dried much at all. Well, it was only a few hours since the afternoon, and with winter just passing into the cold spring, it was no surprise they hadn't dried. Dong Xuebing had to take the clothes down and head downstairs.

“They’re still not dry,” Dong Xuebing said. “Where’s the heater? I’ll try hanging them there.”

Fang Wenping casually pointed, and Dong Xuebing followed her finger, finding the heater. He didn’t dare hang his clothes directly on it, as the high-quality fabric would likely burn. So, he hung them on a hook above the heater and returned to the living room to watch some random TV programs with Fang Wenping.

It was nine o’clock now.

Another hour had passed.

The clothes were still the same, with no sign of drying.

Dong Xuebing could see that there was no way he could wear them out. “Fang Da Jie, don’t you have anything else I could wear? Otherwise, I can’t leave in these wet clothes.”

Fang Wenping glanced at his clothes. “Then just wait for them to dry. When they’re dry, you can leave. There’s a guest room on the first floor. If you want to stay, you can. I won’t bother you.” She stood up, adding, “It’s getting late. I’m going to bed,” before heading upstairs to brush her teeth and wash up, completely ignoring Dong Xuebing.