Chapter 1 Tropical Cyclone

Chapter 1 Tropical Cyclone

Chen Wan drove an unassuming Volkswagen, slowly making his way onto the airport viaduct.

On the first day the No. 8 typhoon signal hit Haishi, the atmospheric pressure dropped to 117 hPa.

The palm and bauhinia trees lining the airport boulevard were battered and scattered by the passing typhoon. He had to keep the windshield wipers going to maintain any semblance of visibility.

The weather was atrocious, and Terminal T2 kept looping weather advisories.

"Typhoon 'Xianlu', this year's seventh typhoon, made landfall along our city's coast at 11:36 this morning, tracking from southeast to west."

"Driven by convective cloud clusters, winds near the outer eyewall reached Category 8 strength. Heavy rainfall and severe thunderstorms are expected within the next six hours. An orange-level rainstorm alert has been issued to all relevant agencies. All relevant units and personnel are urged to take necessary precautions..."

The broadcast was repeated in Mandarin, English, and Cantonese.

Chen Wan checked his watch, swung into B3, found an out-of-the-way parking spot, and settled back in his seat. One hand rested on the steering wheel, the other on the window frame. Though his posture appeared relaxed, his eyes remained sharply focused ahead.

The storm made flying conditions treacherous. The occasional passenger dashed for flights or emerged from arrivals, but none were who Chen Wan was waiting for.

He lit a cigarette to shake off the fatigue. After barely sleeping last night, he'd raced to the airport before the typhoon hit, trying to beat the traffic.

The cigarette's orange glow offered a faint warmth in the dim light.

The Hong Kong radio station played yesterday's hits, the Cantonese songs blending hypnotically with the patter of rain outside.

Chen Wan changed the channel.

"TNB reports... Minglong has finalized... mergers and acquisitions..."

"The trade association... election... vetoed by the Legislative Council..."

His phone buzzed. It was Zhuo Zhixuan, checking on the welcome banquet arrangements.

With the young master returning home, even Zhuo Zhixuan couldn't take any chances.

Chen Wan texted a few photos. "A hillside villa restaurant in the Bay Area," he wrote.

Zhuo Zhixuan reviewed them with satisfaction. Chen Wan had always been dependable.

After wrapping up business, Zhuo Zhixuan ventured, "Word is he came back with Miss Xu."

"No," Chen Wan stubbed out his cigarette, shifted gears, and hit the gas. "He came back alone," he corrected.

"..." Zhuo Zhixuan instantly woke up, pushed away the warm, soft body in his arms, and sat up. "You're tailing him?"

Chen Wan focused on the tall figure emerging from the B3 exit until the other person stepped into a black Maybach, then distractedly replied, "Not tailing, just picking up."

One-sided.

"..." Zhuo Zhixuan was silent for a while, then as if accustomed to it, finally uttered softly, "Got a death wish, Chen Wan?"

Chen Wan trailed the Maybach at a discreet distance. After a pause, he said, "I'm uneasy."

Haishi had been on edge lately, with the trade association council elections looming. Factions from Zhudao, Xialongjie, and Xigongmen were making moves.

Since last month, there had been frequent reports of hijackings and air disasters in the archipelago.

That person's recent series of aggressive and tough acquisition and merger tactics abroad had caused quite a stir...

The attack from a few years ago still haunts Chen Wan, and he has been restless for the past few days.

This is the first day of Typhoon Signal No. 8 hitting the coast, with exceptionally poor flying conditions. He figured the person must have returned on the Dassault Falcon 900 private jet.

The Falcon is sturdy, built to handle a 500 Pa storm, but the landing is hard, and he wondered if it would be forced to make an emergency landing.

Zhuo Zhixuan was speechless, chuckling in exasperation: "Why are you worrying? Worry about yourself instead."

Chen Wan just smiled and stayed quiet.

They’d been classmates for over a decade, and Zhuo Zhixuan knew Chen Wan inside out. Chen Wan always kept his cool, measured in his steps, but when he suddenly stepped out of line, it was always a big deal.

Zhuo Zhixuan frowned, puzzled: "How do you know where he disembarked?"

Aoyu Airport is a major hub for international flights, with newly established multiple exit passages. Some political figures or important individuals might exit from unpredictable locations.

Chen Wan paused, then answered vaguely, "I have my ways."

"..."

Both being adults in the thick of it, Zhuo Zhixuan didn’t press further, just objectively informed him: "If you push too far, even I might not be able to bail you out."

Chen Wan replied calmly: "No, I don’t intend to do anything."

This was the truth.

With his partner clinging to him, Zhuo Zhixuan instructed a few key points about the upcoming banquet and then hung up.

Chen Wan tailed the black Maybach until it safely cleared the undersea tunnel. Then he turned the steering wheel to the left lane, swiftly overtaking and leaving the others in the dust.

The sky darkened, and the radio played "The Foolish Old Man Moves the Mountains."

Chen Wan turned off the sound system, leaving only the white noise of rain hitting the glass. The palm and Bauhinia trees lining the bay road swayed wildly.

A few days later, at a hillside villa restaurant in the bay.

Xiaotan Mountain is surrounded by the sea on three sides. On a typhoon day, even at night, there was no moonlight. The sea tower lit up, and the low roar of white waves crashed against the foot of the mountain.

Outside, the wind and rain were gloomy, while inside, glasses clinked and conversations flowed.

The glamorous dinner party was as turbulent as the night sea outside, with undercurrents running deep.

Zhao Shengge arrived right on time, followed by Shen Zongnian and Tan Youming. Even Zhuo Zhixuan had to stand further back, with a scion of a stock king and the grandson of a former political and legal secretary ahead of him. He was just a playboy from an oil-drilling family, unable to surpass them.

Chen Wan arrived early, lingering in an inconspicuous corner, quietly going over the evening’s dishes and drinks with the manager. He whispered instructions to lower the temperature, adjust the orchids under the chandelier, and decant the wine just enough... like a meticulous director finalizing and confirming details.

The guests were few, mostly young heirs from the city’s elite families. However, Chen Wan knew these weren’t Zhao Shengge’s inner circle.

Zhao Shengge had grown more low-key and mysterious over the years, like a dragon that rarely showed its head or tail. His circle was secretive and strict, a pyramid in the social arena, with the same few people from childhood. Chen Wan, the illegitimate son of a second-tier merchant with four wives, was way out of his league, barely able to glimpse the high tower from the ditch.

It was only because Zhuo Zhixuan, who was part of that circle, had been his classmate for over a decade, and because the circle of young masters always needed someone to arrange food, drinks, and run errands.

Chen Wan was smooth and dependable, neither pushy nor submissive, which earned him some recognition from those young masters.

It had to be admitted that many occasions required someone like Chen Wan, adept at socializing and handling situations with finesse. With him around, everyone felt comfortable, and he was considered half a friend.

Chen Wan appeared composed, but he was actually very busy. It wasn’t until he finally sat down at the table that he had the chance to take a good look at the person in the main seat.

He looked even more striking now, with sharp, handsome features and a fierce charm, yet his demeanor had become more relaxed.

Honestly, Zhao Shengge has never come across as aloof or superior; in fact, he could even be described as down-to-earth.

Perhaps true power and authority don’t need to be emphasized through pretending to be cold or arrogant, so beneath his gentle and reserved exterior lies an aura and authority that others can only look up to.

Zhao Shengge’s whereabouts are unpredictable, and seeing him on a regular day is next to impossible. Therefore, many people took the opportunity to toast him tonight.

Men and women alike gazed at him with respect, eagerness, and even open admiration.

Even during his school days, he was a top student, the target of competition among the elite.

While his peers were still indulging in yachts, gold, and luxury goods, Zhao Shengge had already become the only one in recent years capable of bringing in foreign investment, turning around the struggling financial and industrial sectors of Haishi.

In recent years, he has been invited by the authorities to attend many important political events in the mainland.

In the struggling market of Haishi’s foreign trade, the name Zhao Shengge represents a certain hope and belief.

Zhao Shengge is Zhao Shengge of the Zhao family, Zhao Shengge of Minglong, and above all, Zhao Shengge of Haishi.

Zhao Shengge leaned back in his chair, listening to the small talk, occasionally nodding, remaining expressionless.

He had little interest in these social interactions, but this was not like abroad; here, social connections and etiquette still mattered. Having been away for a few years, he still had to show up when needed.

In recent days, various factions had vied for the chance to invite Zhao Shengge to welcome him back. He declined some and attended others, but none had been as comfortable as tonight.

The music, seating, and environment were unusually comfortable, and even the humidity in the air felt just right. After days of back-to-back engagements since returning to the country, Zhao Shengge hadn’t expected to find a moment of relaxation in such a setting.

Tan Youming noticed him using his chopsticks more than usual and his wine glass being emptied. He asked, “Is the food to your liking?”

Zhao Shengge, whom others might not know well, was someone Tan Youming understood.

When had the young master ever seriously eaten at such occasions? He had been very picky since he was a kid. If the ingredients were stale, the cooking overdone, or even the plating displeasing, he wouldn’t take another bite.

But Zhao Shengge never said anything or made demands; he would simply quietly stop eating, his likes and dislikes never showing on his face, making it impossible to tell what he truly enjoyed.

Having spent so much time abroad with a Chinese palate, Zhao Shengge found the local dishes somewhat comforting and responded with a soft “Hmm.”

Tan Youming: “…”

Sitting third from the head of the table, Zhuo Zhixuan couldn’t hear what the two were saying. Tan Youming and Zhao Shengge had grown up together and had always been closer than he and Zhao Shengge.

But seeing that Zhao Shengge seemed to be in a good mood, he gave a quick glance to Chen Wan, who was sitting in the corner.

The message was for him to go and offer a toast as well, not to let all the effort he had put into organizing the evening go to waste for others.

He didn’t approve of Chen Wan engaging in sneaky activities like tracking or surveillance, but as the saying goes, “Don’t let the good opportunities go to others.” Chances to openly connect with the young master shouldn’t be handed over to others.

The round table was large, and Chen Wan’s seat was far from Zhuo Zhixuan and even farther from Zhao Shengge. With good food and drinks on the table and the bustling conversation, it felt as if they were separated by a vast expanse, if not a galaxy.

Chen Wan gave Zhuo Zhixuan a calm smile but didn’t move. He lowered his head and quietly sipped his tea, continuing to listen to the others at the table talk about the latest news from Victoria Harbour and the hidden stories of Victoria Peak.

Chen Wan’s statement, “I didn’t intend to do anything,” was genuine, but it seemed Zhuo Zhixuan never quite believed it.