The Marriage Harbor CH31
Chapter 31: "Wife, I Love You!"
At 4:00 PM, the gala officially commenced. Following a high-energy opening dance, the four hosts delivered their introductory remarks.
The VIP section was a carefully curated hierarchy of power. Seated at the head was Elder Mr. Qin, the seventy-year-old titan of the national real estate industry, whom Jiang Chengxiao had personally invited to anchor the event. To Mr. Qin’s left sat Jiang Chengxiao; to his right, Tang Zhisong. In terms of age and seniority, Tang Zhisong was a junior, yet in terms of commercial stature and global influence, he was peerless. Thus, he occupied the seat of honor beside Mr. Qin.
These seating arrangements were a delicate science, the result of hours of negotiation between Jiang Bin and her father. As it stood, the order was met with absolute silence—not a single grievance was aired.
After the hosts finished, Jiang Bin stepped onto the stage to set the tone. Amidst a thunderous roar of applause, she made her entrance. The Jiang Group employees in the stands cheered wildly: "Little President Jiang!"
"Thank you..." She took the microphone and walked to the center of the stage. She wore a fitted cerulean blue gown, adorned with fine silver flecks, the sweeping train patterned like a peacock’s tail. Coupled with her vivid, striking features, she radiated an aura of national grace and prosperity.
"Thank you, Mr. Qin, Chairman Jiang, honored guests, and all our friends in attendance. Good afternoon, I am Jiang Bin."
The venue utilized state-of-the-art holographic projection technology. As the cheers continued, the cameras tracked her movements, projecting screenshots of various audience sections onto the central stage.
"Today marks the thirtieth anniversary of the Shanghai Charity Gala. Thirty years ago, my grandfather hosted this event. In a way, this is a passing of the torch." Her voice wasn't loud, but it possessed a quiet strength and a palpable warmth. An old photograph flashed onto the screen—her grandfather standing with the key guests of the very first gala.
"Back then, there were fewer than fifty guests. Today, we have two hundred VIPs, thirty thousand audience members, and millions watching via livestream. This is a testament to how our ranks have grown. I believe that while the charitable force expands, the sense of social responsibility passed down through generations remains unchanged."
Jiang Bin moved a few steps toward the VIP section, her smile widening as she pivoted to a lighter tone. She began introducing the veterans of the industry with a series of witty anecdotes, poking gentle fun at their golf handicaps and investment habits.
It was a masterful display of social engineering. Only Jiang Bin had the tact to tease these industry giants while making them feel respected. The VIP section, usually a bastion of stiff formality, erupted in laughter.
However, Mr. Qin remained a challenge. He sat stone-faced, his aura imposing. To introduce him with a standard resume of his achievements would be too formal; it wouldn't reach him.
Jiang Bin walked directly opposite him. "In truth, I wasn't sure if I could actually persuade Mr. Qin to attend. When I saw your name on the list, I was lost in thought for a long time. Mr. Qin, you might not know me, but I first encountered you eight years ago. You visited Colchester University in the UK for a guest lecture. Do you remember the hall full of international students?"
Mr. Qin lifted an eyebrow slightly, a flicker of recognition appearing in his eyes.
The music slowed. Jiang Bin’s gaze was fixed. "That period was the darkest moment of my life. I was just an insignificant listener in the back. I didn't even have the courage to approach you. But you said something that I have carried with me ever since."
She recounted his story of rising from a rural teacher to a top-tier university student. "Someone asked you if you ever looked back at those hardships. You replied: 'Never begrudge a low point in your life, for it will provide you with the courage to forge ahead at a moment you least expect.'"
Jiang Bin’s expression was genuinely moved. "That sentence was the light that led me out of the shadows and brought me here today. Thank you, Mr. Qin. You are a mentor to me in every sense."
The applause was deafening. Her tribute had bypassed Mr. Qin's professional defenses and touched his heart. He stood to applaud her, then leaned toward Tang Zhisong.
"To have a wife like this... President Tang, you are a lucky man."
Tang Zhisong offered a faint smile, a hidden pride gleaming in the depths of his eyes.
"And finally," Jiang Bin said, her smile returning to its professional brilliance, "we have one last guest to introduce."
The camera, sensing the narrative arc, immediately cut to a close-up of Tang Zhisong. His sharp, handsome features filled the massive screen, triggering a wave of screams from the crowd. He looked every bit the young aristocrat—composed, elegant, and inscrutable.
"You see," Jiang Bin teased, "even the camera knows my heart. I can't even pretend to be reserved."
The audience roared with laughter. Tang Zhisong nodded gracefully toward the guests.
"Finally, I thank my husband, President Tang Zhisong, for his presence."
* * *
The gala proceeded smoothly until the midpoint, when Li Yang rushed into the control room, looking panicked. "President Jiang, we have a crisis. Li Li just had a sudden heart attack!"
Li Li was a legendary soprano and a pivotal highlight for the gala. Her solo was a cornerstone of the program. Cutting it would be a disaster.
Jiang Bin’s face paled, but she moved instantly. She called Mu Yun, who was in the VIP section, to attend to the medical emergency. While the singer was stabilized and sent to the hospital, the program now had a gaping hole.
"President Jiang, what do we do?" the director asked.
"Move all programs forward," Jiang Bin commanded. "I’ll close the show myself."
She called Zhou Zhou and told her to bring her drums to the stadium immediately. Then, she recruited a bar singer she had worked with before to join her. With only twenty minutes to spare and a single rehearsal of the rhythm, Jiang Bin prepared to go on.
When the host finished the penultimate introduction, the stage plunged into darkness. A melody resembling a guzheng began—slow at first, then accelerating into a frantic, rhythmic pulse. Suddenly, the lights flared.
In the center of the stage stood a female drummer with flowing hair, wearing a white mermaid-cut gown. She gripped her drumsticks, sliding them across the modified strings of the instrument to create a haunting, modern melody.
"It’s Little President Jiang!" the employees screamed.
Tang Zhisong, who had been replying to a work message, snapped his head up. She had changed her makeup; her skin was luminous, her brow bold and heroic. Her slender arms moved like dancing notes, orchestrating a visual and auditory feast.
She was entirely immersed, her movements fluid and full of spirit. It was a modern adaptation of an ancient style, infused with an electric-like energy that set the stadium on fire.
Tang Zhisong crossed his legs, his phone forgotten in his palm, his gaze locked on her. In the darkness of the stadium, she was the only source of light—radiant and magnificent.
On social media, the livestream was exploding. The hashtag #LittlePresidentJiangSavesTheShow began to trend.
The director, playing to the crowd, cut back to Tang Zhisong. By pure coincidence, he was looking down at his phone, his expression cool and indifferent behind his silver-rimmed glasses.
The netizens were outraged.
"President Tang, where did you drop your eyes? Tell me, I'll help you pick them up!"
"I want to gouge my own eyes out and give them to him!"
The PR department of Ningsheng Technology, monitoring the sentiment, quickly released a candid clip from a different angle. In the video, a man in the audience had been so moved by Jiang Bin’s performance that he shouted: "Wife, I love you!"
The clip showed Tang Zhisong adjusting his glasses and casting a cold, razor-sharp glance toward the source of the shout. His dark eyes, hidden behind the lenses, carried a silent, terrifying warning.
The netizens immediately pivoted.
"I'll translate that look from President Tang: 'Come outside and meet your end.'"
Translator's Note:
At 4:00 PM, the gala officially commenced. Following a high-energy opening dance, the four hosts delivered their introductory remarks.
The VIP section was a carefully curated hierarchy of power. Seated at the head was Elder Mr. Qin, the seventy-year-old titan of the national real estate industry, whom Jiang Chengxiao had personally invited to anchor the event. To Mr. Qin’s left sat Jiang Chengxiao; to his right, Tang Zhisong. In terms of age and seniority, Tang Zhisong was a junior, yet in terms of commercial stature and global influence, he was peerless. Thus, he occupied the seat of honor beside Mr. Qin.
These seating arrangements were a delicate science, the result of hours of negotiation between Jiang Bin and her father. As it stood, the order was met with absolute silence—not a single grievance was aired.
After the hosts finished, Jiang Bin stepped onto the stage to set the tone. Amidst a thunderous roar of applause, she made her entrance. The Jiang Group employees in the stands cheered wildly: "Little President Jiang!"
"Thank you..." She took the microphone and walked to the center of the stage. She wore a fitted cerulean blue gown, adorned with fine silver flecks, the sweeping train patterned like a peacock’s tail. Coupled with her vivid, striking features, she radiated an aura of national grace and prosperity.
"Thank you, Mr. Qin, Chairman Jiang, honored guests, and all our friends in attendance. Good afternoon, I am Jiang Bin."
The venue utilized state-of-the-art holographic projection technology. As the cheers continued, the cameras tracked her movements, projecting screenshots of various audience sections onto the central stage.
"Today marks the thirtieth anniversary of the Shanghai Charity Gala. Thirty years ago, my grandfather hosted this event. In a way, this is a passing of the torch." Her voice wasn't loud, but it possessed a quiet strength and a palpable warmth. An old photograph flashed onto the screen—her grandfather standing with the key guests of the very first gala.
"Back then, there were fewer than fifty guests. Today, we have two hundred VIPs, thirty thousand audience members, and millions watching via livestream. This is a testament to how our ranks have grown. I believe that while the charitable force expands, the sense of social responsibility passed down through generations remains unchanged."
Jiang Bin moved a few steps toward the VIP section, her smile widening as she pivoted to a lighter tone. She began introducing the veterans of the industry with a series of witty anecdotes, poking gentle fun at their golf handicaps and investment habits.
It was a masterful display of social engineering. Only Jiang Bin had the tact to tease these industry giants while making them feel respected. The VIP section, usually a bastion of stiff formality, erupted in laughter.
However, Mr. Qin remained a challenge. He sat stone-faced, his aura imposing. To introduce him with a standard resume of his achievements would be too formal; it wouldn't reach him.
Jiang Bin walked directly opposite him. "In truth, I wasn't sure if I could actually persuade Mr. Qin to attend. When I saw your name on the list, I was lost in thought for a long time. Mr. Qin, you might not know me, but I first encountered you eight years ago. You visited Colchester University in the UK for a guest lecture. Do you remember the hall full of international students?"
Mr. Qin lifted an eyebrow slightly, a flicker of recognition appearing in his eyes.
The music slowed. Jiang Bin’s gaze was fixed. "That period was the darkest moment of my life. I was just an insignificant listener in the back. I didn't even have the courage to approach you. But you said something that I have carried with me ever since."
She recounted his story of rising from a rural teacher to a top-tier university student. "Someone asked you if you ever looked back at those hardships. You replied: 'Never begrudge a low point in your life, for it will provide you with the courage to forge ahead at a moment you least expect.'"
Jiang Bin’s expression was genuinely moved. "That sentence was the light that led me out of the shadows and brought me here today. Thank you, Mr. Qin. You are a mentor to me in every sense."
The applause was deafening. Her tribute had bypassed Mr. Qin's professional defenses and touched his heart. He stood to applaud her, then leaned toward Tang Zhisong.
"To have a wife like this... President Tang, you are a lucky man."
Tang Zhisong offered a faint smile, a hidden pride gleaming in the depths of his eyes.
"And finally," Jiang Bin said, her smile returning to its professional brilliance, "we have one last guest to introduce."
The camera, sensing the narrative arc, immediately cut to a close-up of Tang Zhisong. His sharp, handsome features filled the massive screen, triggering a wave of screams from the crowd. He looked every bit the young aristocrat—composed, elegant, and inscrutable.
"You see," Jiang Bin teased, "even the camera knows my heart. I can't even pretend to be reserved."
The audience roared with laughter. Tang Zhisong nodded gracefully toward the guests.
"Finally, I thank my husband, President Tang Zhisong, for his presence."
* * *
The gala proceeded smoothly until the midpoint, when Li Yang rushed into the control room, looking panicked. "President Jiang, we have a crisis. Li Li just had a sudden heart attack!"
Li Li was a legendary soprano and a pivotal highlight for the gala. Her solo was a cornerstone of the program. Cutting it would be a disaster.
Jiang Bin’s face paled, but she moved instantly. She called Mu Yun, who was in the VIP section, to attend to the medical emergency. While the singer was stabilized and sent to the hospital, the program now had a gaping hole.
"President Jiang, what do we do?" the director asked.
"Move all programs forward," Jiang Bin commanded. "I’ll close the show myself."
She called Zhou Zhou and told her to bring her drums to the stadium immediately. Then, she recruited a bar singer she had worked with before to join her. With only twenty minutes to spare and a single rehearsal of the rhythm, Jiang Bin prepared to go on.
When the host finished the penultimate introduction, the stage plunged into darkness. A melody resembling a guzheng began—slow at first, then accelerating into a frantic, rhythmic pulse. Suddenly, the lights flared.
In the center of the stage stood a female drummer with flowing hair, wearing a white mermaid-cut gown. She gripped her drumsticks, sliding them across the modified strings of the instrument to create a haunting, modern melody.
"It’s Little President Jiang!" the employees screamed.
Tang Zhisong, who had been replying to a work message, snapped his head up. She had changed her makeup; her skin was luminous, her brow bold and heroic. Her slender arms moved like dancing notes, orchestrating a visual and auditory feast.
She was entirely immersed, her movements fluid and full of spirit. It was a modern adaptation of an ancient style, infused with an electric-like energy that set the stadium on fire.
Tang Zhisong crossed his legs, his phone forgotten in his palm, his gaze locked on her. In the darkness of the stadium, she was the only source of light—radiant and magnificent.
On social media, the livestream was exploding. The hashtag #LittlePresidentJiangSavesTheShow began to trend.
The director, playing to the crowd, cut back to Tang Zhisong. By pure coincidence, he was looking down at his phone, his expression cool and indifferent behind his silver-rimmed glasses.
The netizens were outraged.
"President Tang, where did you drop your eyes? Tell me, I'll help you pick them up!"
"I want to gouge my own eyes out and give them to him!"
The PR department of Ningsheng Technology, monitoring the sentiment, quickly released a candid clip from a different angle. In the video, a man in the audience had been so moved by Jiang Bin’s performance that he shouted: "Wife, I love you!"
The clip showed Tang Zhisong adjusting his glasses and casting a cold, razor-sharp glance toward the source of the shout. His dark eyes, hidden behind the lenses, carried a silent, terrifying warning.
The netizens immediately pivoted.
"I'll translate that look from President Tang: 'Come outside and meet your end.'"
Translator's Note:
- Taishan Beidou (泰山北斗): A Chinese idiom used to describe a person of great distinction and authority in their field—literally "as tall as Mount Tai and as bright as the Big Dipper."
- "Both Noob and Love to Play" (又菜又爱玩): A popular internet slang term used to describe someone who is unskilled at a game or hobby but is incredibly enthusiastic about it.
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