Chapter 1 The Horse Race

Chapter 1: The Racetrack

The first to notice Tan Youming’s arrival at the racecourse was the young horse Toffee. Horses possess keener instincts than humans; the moment Toffee spotted Tan Youming, it broke free from its handler and bounded over, its magnificent mane flowing majestically.

“Hey, hey,” Tan Youming chuckled, embracing the horse’s neck and gently pushing it back. “Don’t crush me—I can’t lift you anymore.”

Though Toffee was still a young horse under five years old, it had already achieved remarkable results in Members' races and jump races, boasting an impressive physique.

The track manager approached with a beaming smile, his voice booming: “Mr. Tan, it’s been a while.”

Tan Youming grinned, shaking his hand. “Been busy.”

Manager Huang handed him a cigarette, speaking in heavily accented Mandarin: “Busy or not, you can’t forget our Toffee. It’s been pining for you every day, stretching its neck out.”

Tan Youming chuckled, the cigarette between his lips.

“We’ve been waiting for you every day too.” Among all the young masters, Tan Youming was his favorite.

“Really? Seems like I’ll have to visit more often then,” Tan Youming said, rolling the cigarette and patting the horse’s back as he circled it. “It’s filled out. How’s the leg injury?”

Manager Huang followed behind him, replying, “The Achilles has healed. Mr. Shen sends a veterinarian for follow-ups every month. The doctor said it needs another half month of rest before starting rehabilitation. All the monthly metrics and recovery reports are with Mr. Shen.”

“Good,” Tan Youming said, waving a hand and patting the horse’s head. “Let it rest well.”

Manager Huang assured him, “We’ll definitely take good care of it, make it fighting fit. Once it’s almost back to speed, we can send it to Yingxi Estate.” Tan Youming owned a racecourse in Yingxi, even larger than this one. “If you prefer to keep it here, we can assign people for specialized training.”

Tan Youming rejected both suggestions: “Moving would mean acclimating to a new environment. Just let it stay here. No rush with training or scheduling races.”

The manager understood his meaning. “Understood.”

Horse racing is a luxurious yet brutal sport. Many racehorses that get injured during competitions are immediately put down right by the track.

The workers at the racecourse often said that Toffee was the luckiest horse in Shawan. It had caught Mr. Tan’s eye and cheated death. Despite being the most unruly and hard-to-train rebel, it had even defeated Horse No. 23, on which Tan Youming had placed a large bet, causing him to lose a significant amount of money.

But Mr. Tan was an unpredictable man—he insisted on spending a fortune to save a rival’s horse. The racecourse staff had no choice but to follow his orders and treat the horse like royalty.

Treating a racehorse’s fracture was costly, and Tan Youming worried they might not put in enough effort. He instructed, “If you need anything, just contact my assistant.”

“Don’t worry, Mr. Tan. Mr. Shen has Miss Zhong touch base with us every two weeks.”

“Good.” Tan Youming walked up the steps, with Toffee following closely behind. Tan Youming laughed heartily as the horse nudged him, gently pushing its head away. “Go back. I’ll visit you next time.”

Toffee tried to follow again but was held back by a groom. Tan Youming glanced toward the outdoor bleachers. “Why are there media here?”

“Today is the debut jump race of Darley, the star thoroughbred from the British Royal Racing Center. It’s being broadcast.”

Manager Huang led the way, chatting and laughing as he escorted Tan Youming to the owners' lounge.

“Mr. Xie and the others are already inside. Let me know if you need anything.”

Tan Youming nodded and pushed the door open. About a dozen people were inside, making noise. Xie Zhenlin and Li Baihao stood on either side of the door. Tan Youming raised an eyebrow. “What's with the reception committee?”

The group lit up. “If you hadn’t shown up soon, we were going to send Ah Lin to look for you.” Tan Youming was approachable, but given the gap in status and background, getting to see him wasn’t always easy.

Tan Youming scoffed and asked deliberately, “Why didn’t you go, then?”

Li Baihao glanced behind him, confirming no one else was there, and relaxed with a sheepish grin. “Next time, next time.” He motioned for a woman beside him to pour Tan Youming a glass.

Tan Youming was puzzled. “Are you all that afraid of him?”

“It’s not fear,” they exchanged glances, insincerely, “it’s…respect.”

Whenever that person came to pick up or drop off Tan Youming at gatherings, everyone would sit up straight and behave.

Whether it was a nightclub with bizarre performances or a wild party on a yacht, that person could take Tan Youming away at any moment, leaving the others fuming quietly.

Tan Youming took the head seat reserved for him, crossed his legs, and mocked, “Some nerve.”

Outside the outdoor bleachers, whistles and cheers erupted as the central giant screen began displaying the numbers, names, breeds, birthplaces, and recent odds of the racehorses in the eight lanes.

A woman in an equestrian outfit with lace finished serving drinks and brought out a tray to collect betting tokens from the young masters.

The commotion outside seeped into the room, amping up the energy. Someone shouted over the noise, “Which horse are you betting on, Tan Shaoye?”

Tan Youming wasn’t paying much attention. He swiped past a read but unanswered chat message, glanced up briefly, and said offhandedly, “No. 7.”

The other person exclaimed, “Such a wild card?”

The Friesian horse, with traits of a Labrador Retriever, performed better in rugged environments but was also unruly and prone to fouls, making it a long shot.

Tan Youming slipped his phone away, nodded, and smiled. “I just like them fiery.”

Fiery or not, it was gorgeous though.

Horse No. 7 ran with grace, prancing and swishing its tail, exuding a cocky demeanor and freedom.

Tan Youming liked beautiful things.

Almost everyone else bet on PLA, backing the star horse Darley. PLA only needed to finish in the top three, which had good odds.

Tan Youming insisted on betting on a win, backing the temperamental No. 7 to take first place, though he wasn’t overly concerned about the outcome.

During the 2,400-meter race, he watched for a while before lowering his head again to send the photos he had just taken.

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“Its mane has grown longer, and so has its temper.”

“Its eyes are quite beautiful, though.”

“I don’t think the grooms can handle it.”

He forwarded images of several horse tack items, all selected by his personal trainer.

“Pick one.”

The woman in the equestrian outfit with lace returned to his side and offered him a drink. Tan Youming knew Li Baihao had arranged it specially but didn’t refuse, taking a sip.

“Would you like to add or change your bet, Mr. Tan?”

“Hmm?” Tan Youming was still sending images and didn’t look up. “I’m not changing. If you want to add a bet, go ahead—charge it to me.” Racecourse attendants received a cut if they could get guests to place additional bets.

The woman smiled happily. “Thank you, Mr. Tan.”

Tan Youming swiped through his phone. “No problem.”

A dozen messages sent with no reply, but that didn't stop Tan Youming from monologuing.

"This one?"

"Or this one?"

"Are two enough?"

"Toffee's frame probably needs more time to develop."

"Buy two saddles as well." The ones prepared by the stablemaster were too ugly—Tan Youming couldn’t bear to look at them.

A horse race lasted half an hour, and outside, the excitement had already reached a fever pitch. During the break before the next round, Li Baihao opened several bottles of expensive liquor. By the time Tan Youming looked up again, a few people across from him were already drinking directly mouth-to-mouth with their companions.

The person beside Tan Youming also raised a glass to toast him. Tan Youming put away his phone, took the glass, and declined politely, "No need. Go and call Mr. Xie over for me."

Xie Zhenlin, who had been on a phone call, was summoned back. He sat down with a sigh and said, "Brother." Noticing Tan Youming’s untouched drink, he asked for a glass of iced lemon tea.

Tan Youming took a sip but found it wasn’t to his taste. Putting the glass down, he teased, "Checking in with someone?"

Xie Zhenlin scratched his head sheepishly. "Don’t make fun of me, brother."

"So… did they agree?"

Xie Zhenlin’s smile faded slightly. "Same as before."

Tan Youming didn’t press further, simply saying, "If you need anything, come to me."

Xie Zhenlin downed half his glass and sighed. "You’re the only one I can turn to, brother."

His relationship with Fang Sui had been discovered by his family. Unable to withstand the pressure, Xie Zhenlin’s career had been pushed to the brink. His company's cash flow started drying up in the first half of the year, and several of Fang Sui’s major shows had been canceled, putting his modeling career hanging by a thread. If it weren’t for Tan Youming, Fang Sui might have already disappeared from Haishi.

Seeing Xie Zhenlin’s lost and dejected expression, Tan Youming hesitated but ultimately said nothing. Instead, he quietly changed the subject. "What was that painting you mentioned last time that failed to sell at auction?"

Amid the noise and whistles, Xie Zhenlin looked at Tan Youming. It was only then, at that moment, that he belatedly realized why Tan Youming had come today.

"An auction house friend arrived late during dinner and mentioned that the auction had gone on for two days without a gavel fall. Someone asked what the painting was—their reputation is at stake, so it’s rare for items to go unsold."

"My friend said it was a piece attributed to Sun Zhen of the Yuan Dynasty, titled 'Precious Canal Inkstone Painting.'"

There were originally seventeen volumes of the "Precious Canal Inkstone Painting." Apart from the missing eleventh and final volumes, the rest were kept in the Shen family.

When the Shen family’s estate was divided, the majority of the shares went to the youngest grandson, while the calligraphy, paintings, antiques, and cash and movable assets were distributed among the others.

Xie Zhenlin added, "But he specifically said it was 'attributed to Sun Zhen,' which means the auction house couldn’t guarantee it was an authentic work. I asked him—the consignor wasn’t surnamed Shen, and it wasn’t Shen Xiaochang either."

That name had vanished from Haishi nearly a decade ago.

"But brother, you know how it is—there’s an entire underground industry now dedicated to customs fraud operations, smuggling cultural artifacts through customs undetected. By the time the item goes through several rounds of consignment, it’s impossible to trace the original owner."

Tan Youming tapped the armrest of his chair but remained silent.

"Using replicas and forgeries to test the waters is common." Overseas-originating antique paintings often fetch inflated prices at auction, making them a conventional method for money laundering and cashing out.

"Wait, brother," Xie Zhenlin suddenly realized, "shouldn’t you be asking Jiang Ying about this kind of thing?"

Tan Youming didn’t respond. Jiang Ying and Shen Zongnian were too close.

Xie Zhenlin reminded him, "The chamber of commerce is holding elections this year, and the gambling industry operating rights are up for rebidding too."

A turbulent time indeed.

Tan Youming shrugged, "So be it." He had no worries. Glancing again at the still-unanswered chat window, he asked Xie Zhenlin about other matters.

As the twilight races ended, Tan Youming stood up to leave. The crowd urged him to stay—Tan Youming was easygoing, fun to be around, and loyal. Beyond those trying to curry favor with the Tan family, many genuinely enjoyed his company.

"The night races are followed by the Royal Club’s equestrian exhibition, young master. Stay a bit longer—it’s been ages since we last saw you. We could even cruise out to sea in the early hours."

"Wow, that’s pretty wild," Tan Youming slung his jacket over his shoulder. "I’ve got things to do. You all enjoy yourselves—today’s on me."

The group was genuinely reluctant to see him go, pouring on the sweet talk. Tan Youming responded with a half-smile, deflecting lightly, "If you don't let me leave, I'll have no choice but to call for backup."

That quieted everyone down.

Tan Youming laughed and pointed at them. "You all really have no backbone."

Xie Zhenlin knew he was serious about leaving—Tan Youming almost never stayed out overnight with them. "I’ll see you out, brother."

"No need, stay and enjoy yourself."

Xie Zhenlin insisted, "It’s fine, I’ll walk you out." Who knew when he’d see Tan Youming again?

As Tan Youming was about to protest, Xie Zhenlin added, "I’ll take you through the executive passage. The stands are too crowded."

Tan Youming gave him a disapproving look. Xie Zhenlin’s career was in a rebuilding phase, and as the host, abandoning a room full of guests was improper.

Reluctant but always obedient, Xie Zhenlin called over the woman in the equestrian uniform and instructed, "Take Mr. Tan out through the executive passage. Avoid the grandstand entirely."

"Understood."

Tan Youming turned with a dismissive wave and made his exit.

The door closed.

"Stop looking, he’s gone," Zhang Junqian said bluntly to the girl in his arms. "He’s not interested in you—he won’t take you with him."

The girl quickly averted her gaze from the door, forcing a nervous smile.

Zhang Junqian scoffed. He didn’t need to look to know what she was thinking. As if to crush her hopes, he added, "He’s Tan Youming."

The girl snapped back to reality.

During the sixth race that afternoon, several horses had unexpectedly underperformed, and some losers were looking for someone to blame. It was only because that young man had accidentally spilled a weak cocktail that she’d been spared.

That man had been languid throughout, generous with his spending, occasionally bursting into radiant laughter. When his peach-blossom eyes casually swept over someone, his careless glance alone could make hearts race.

So that was Mr. Tan.