New York, Metropolitan Opera House.
It was Saturday, January 11, and the final performance of the Guofeng Art Troupe's Book of Songs-themed dance production had just concluded. Simon, as per his weekend routine, had traveled to the East Coast to visit the pregnant women in his life. He had taken Grace along for her first in-person experience of the performance, with Bryce Levison tagging along as well.
After the performance ended, Simon had no intention of meeting the troupe members and instead quietly left with Grace and Bryce. They headed to a nearby restaurant that had been rented out for the evening for a late-night meal.
After ordering, Simon handed the menu back to the waiter. Bryce, seated across from Grace and Simon, couldn't resist making a sour comment. "I thought the performance was pretty mediocre. It's just a bunch of little nymphs someone's raising. I don't get why so many people are fawning over them lately."
Simon ignored her completely.
Grace, with a faint smile, looked at Simon and said softly, "I read an article in The New York Times that said ticket scalpers have made over a million dollars in just two months reselling tickets to the Guofeng Art Troupe's performances at the Met."
Simon nodded. "I've heard about that too."
Since its debut on December 7 of last year, the Guofeng Art Troupe had performed at the Met Opera every Wednesday and Saturday, totaling nine performances. The combination of high-quality performances and clever publicity had created growing buzz, making tickets almost impossible to obtain. This scarcity greatly benefited scalpers.
According to preliminary statistics, the official ticket revenue for the nine performances was $5.3 million, while scalpers, through markups, had made over $1 million—turning it into a minor news sensation and further boosting interest in the troupe's performances.
Scalpers, of course, were not uncommon on Broadway.
The Guofeng Art Troupe's success was relatively small compared to the phenomenon of Hamilton, the musical that debuted in 2015. At its peak, ticket scalpers had reportedly raked in $60 million in a single year from reselling tickets to Hamilton.
Bryce, who rarely read anything beyond fashion magazines, wasn't particularly concerned with newspaper coverage. But after hearing this, she immediately switched her stance: "If that's the case, why not just raise ticket prices?"
Simon sipped his coffee without responding.
Grace stepped in to explain. "Once a Broadway show sets its ticket prices, it's hard to adjust them later. After all, no show remains hot forever. If prices are raised and attendance drops, it could trigger a chain reaction. Besides, scalpers raising prices can actually act as a form of advertising, creating the impression that the show is highly in demand."
Bryce felt enlightened by this explanation. She then shot a glare at Simon, who had ignored her twice in a row, and said, "Grace is over three months pregnant now. What's your plan?"
Simon finally spoke. "The plan is simple: the baby will be born, raised, and eventually inherit the family legacy."
Bryce widened her eyes slightly. "That's it?"
"What else do other parents do?"
"I mean," Bryce hesitated for a moment, then said, "You need to take responsibility for Grace."
"Of course. Other than marriage, I'm ready to provide anything she needs."
"Will you publicly acknowledge the child?"
"If Grace wants to make it public, then we'll make it public."
Bryce immediately objected, "That's just pushing the responsibility onto her. Grace loves you so much, she'd never make it public because she'd want to protect you."
"Fine. Once the baby is born, I'll put an announcement on the front page of The New York Times."
"I'll hold you to that. Don't you dare back out later."
Grace finally stepped in. "Enough, Bryce. I don't want my child to be under the constant scrutiny of the media."
Bryce gave Grace a disapproving look, as if lamenting her friend's selflessness. "You're just letting him off the hook. Hopeless."
After their meal, it was close to 10 p.m. Simon planned to take both women back to his Fifth Avenue apartment, but Grace insisted on going home. Since her pregnancy, Grace had moved to a new residence for privacy reasons—a spacious apartment on the 11th floor of a building near Park Avenue and 66th Street.
In the underground parking lot of the building, Simon said goodbye to the two women, watching as they entered the elevator with their security detail before instructing his driver to leave.
Inside the elevator, Bryce couldn't help but ask, "Why not spend the night at his place?"
Grace, gently stroking her slightly showing belly through her coat, replied, "You've been pregnant before; you should know that women don't look their best during pregnancy. I don't want him to see me like this."
Bryce rolled her eyes dramatically before countering, "I looked great when I was pregnant."
Grace smiled softly. "I asked you to go with him earlier. Why didn't you?"
"I…" Bryce glanced at the two female bodyguards behind them. She couldn't exactly admit that she couldn't handle Simon's "energy" alone. After a brief pause, she blurted out, "I've decided to cut ties with him. I don't want to risk getting pregnant all of a sudden."
Grace didn't respond, though inwardly, she was certain of one thing: unless by accident, Simon would never allow someone like Bryce to get pregnant. It wasn't a matter of morality; Simon simply took his offspring very seriously. Bryce, in his eyes, wouldn't make a suitable mother. If Grace hadn't raised her two children, Rita and Ray, so well, she doubted the baby in her belly would exist now.
Meanwhile, after saying goodbye to Grace and Bryce, Simon instructed his driver to head to a block at Madison Avenue and 53rd Street in Midtown.
The destination was a newly completed 36-story luxury apartment building, purchased the previous year.
Since the Guofeng Art Troupe needed accommodations during their Manhattan performances, and the accompanying support team added up to quite a crowd, Simon had outright purchased the entire building to serve as a dormitory. With 36 floors and 150 apartments of various layouts, the building easily housed the troupe's 200-plus members, including their maids and security staff.
In essence, the building had become a kingdom of women.
When Simon arrived, his male bodyguards stayed outside, with security inside discreetly handled by two of the Westeros family's personal female guards. Taking the elevator to the 32nd floor, Simon knocked on the door of an apartment where Liu and her daughter, whom Simon had renamed MiuMiu, were staying.
The maid who answered the door was surprised to see him. In the living room, a group of women who had been chatting all stood up nervously.
Simon scanned the room. Aside from Liu and her daughter, the others appeared to be choreographers from the troupe.
"Daddy."
MiuMiu ran over excitedly. But as she approached, her exuberance gave way to shyness.
Simon picked her up and carried her to the sofa, sitting her on his lap. Looking at the other women, he asked with a smile, "What were you all chatting about so late?"
He spoke in standard Mandarin, surprising the women, who hadn't expected him to suddenly appear. Liu was the first to respond. "Simon, it's like this. Today was the last performance, and the past two months have been a great success for the troupe. None of us could sleep, so we gathered to celebrate."
"Definitely worth celebrating," Simon nodded, glancing at the open bottle of red wine and fruit salad on the table. "Though it seems like I've interrupted your party."
Liu quickly shook her head. "Not at all."
Simon noticed her flustered expression. Adjusting the little girl in his arms, he said, "The performances have indeed been a success. Since you'll be heading back to China for the New Year soon, I'll have Chen draft a reward plan tomorrow—everyone will get something."
The women's faces lit up with joy. Liu spoke on their behalf. "Thank you, Simon. We're all very grateful."
"No need to be so formal." Simon smiled and rested his chin on MiuMiu's head, making the girl squirm and giggle. Then he looked at the others and added, "But the celebration ends here, or you can take the wine to another apartment."
Hearing this, Liu's face turned a shade redder, and the other women quickly took the hint and made their excuses to leave.
However, their departure was not particularly swift.
The disparity between Liu's family and the other troupe members was glaringly obvious. Liu and her daughter lived in a lavish duplex with six bedrooms, three living areas, and a full staff of maids and guards. The other women, by contrast, shared modest two-bedroom apartments and had no staff to assist them.
Thus, while leaving, they couldn't help but feel envious—and perhaps a little regretful. If Simon had asked them to stay for another drink, they might have hesitated, but it was unlikely they would have refused. After all, who wouldn't want to take a step closer to the man who held so much influence over their lives?
Unfortunately, Simon said nothing to that effect.
Once the women had
left, Liu and the head housekeeper, Angraye, quickly set about tidying the living room. Moments later, Liu brought over a freshly opened bottle of red wine and joined Simon, who was chatting softly with MiuMiu.
Pouring him a glass, Liu couldn't help but glance at her daughter, who was comfortably perched on Simon's lap. She then asked, "Simon, didn't you mention plans for a world tour? We've received many invitations from theaters recently."
Simon fed a sip of wine to the doll-like girl in his arms before taking a sip himself. "You can decide for yourselves. Perform more if you want, or take a break if you don't."
"I've heard that most countries take a break in February for the performance season. Should we start again in March?"
"That works," Simon nodded. Watching MiuMiu tilt her head up for another sip, he laughed and teased, "Little kids shouldn't drink too much wine. You'll turn into a little drunkard."
The girl, clearly enjoying the game, deliberately took a big gulp. Swallowing, she looked up at him with sparkling eyes and pouted playfully. "But it was Daddy who gave it to me."
"Okay, my mistake." Simon finished the remaining wine in his glass and handed it back to Liu, asking, "What are your plans for the New Year? Heading back to China?"
Liu hesitated briefly. "MiuMiu and I aren't planning to go back this year."
Simon raised an eyebrow. "The others too?"
Liu nodded. "Most of the girls don't plan to return. Only about thirty have expressed interest in going home."
Simon shrugged. "Fine. Just coordinate with Angraye or Chen on these matters."
In his lap, MiuMiu suddenly piped up, "Daddy, when are you going back to China? I want to go with you."
"Oh? Then next time, I'll take you with me."
"Really?"
"Of course."
"Then let's pinky promise!"
Simon looked at her tiny outstretched pinky finger and pretended not to understand. "What's a pinky promise?"
"It means you have to keep your word—'pinky promise, hang it high, a hundred years, no lying.'"
"Oh, alright then."
Smiling, Simon hooked his pinky with hers.
As the evening wound down, the conversation shifted to discussions about the troupe members' families. Liu cautiously brought up the subject of some choreographers wanting to bring their children or spouses to the U.S., prompting Simon to explain the limitations of visa sponsorship and his selective approach to offering scholarships for exceptional children of his employees.
In the end, the talk veered back to MiuMiu's education, with Simon reassuring the little girl that, as his daughter, no school—including Ivy League institutions—would ever be out of reach for her.
Of course, he made sure to tease her in the process.
"Daddy," MiuMiu asked, "what if I'm not smart enough for those schools?"
Simon chuckled. "You don't need to be smart, sweetheart. Even if you get zero on your exams, you'll still get in."
Satisfied, the little girl rested her head against his chest, clearly content.
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