Chapter 2 The Lucky Money Tree

Chapter 2: Money Tree

Stepping out into the open-air outer area, the sky was ablaze with fiery clouds. The racetrack’s grassy field glowed golden, while the crimson sunset burned over the sea, casting layers of rosy hues.

The sound of the horse racing whistle, the shouts of bets being placed, and the foghorns of night voyages from the harbor made the wind on the tropical island feel even hotter. Palm trees and club flags flapped noisily in the breeze.

Tan Youming took out his phone and opened the still-blank dialog box. Losing patience for small talk, he issued a firm command.

"Where are you?"

"Reply."

The young woman escorted him to the parking lot, hesitating for a moment before speaking softly, "Mr. Tan, we have a performance race with major clubs this Thursday. Will you be coming?"

Tan Youming looked up, meeting a pair of hopeful eyes. He took the jacket from his arm and said breezily, "We’ll see."

The Bentley drove out of Sandy Bay. As it crossed the sea-crossing bridge, the phone that had been silent all day finally vibrated.

In the single-sided dialog box, the first reply of the day appeared—a cold, impersonal location pin: Huantu Complex.

Tan Youming rolled his eyes and tossed the phone aside.

When Shen Zongnian returned to 15 Left Shideng Road, Tan Youming was playing video games.

The living room was dim, illuminated only by a floor lamp that hovered above him like a glowing jellyfish. Beyond the floor-to-ceiling windows, the night sky resembled a fallen galaxy, and further in the distance, Victoria Harbour was visible. Tan Youming sat on the carpet, one long leg bent, his wide-collared silk shirt unbuttoned to his chest, a small patch of skin glowing like white jade in the darkness.

Shen Zongnian, on a work call, freed one hand to switch on the overhead light.

The living room brightened instantly. Tan Youming, eyes fixed on the game, didn’t look up but exaggeratedly exclaimed, "Wow, wrong door, huh? I thought you lived at Huantu now."

Shen Zongnian ignored him and walked straight through the living room. A lazy voice followed him: "Shen Zongnian."

"I haven’t eaten."

After finishing his work call in his room ten minutes later, Shen Zongnian went straight to the kitchen without changing clothes. He opened the fridge—the meals prepared by the housekeeper remained untouched.

Without asking Tan Youming, Shen Zongnian directly put a pot of water on to boil, took out instant noodles from the fridge, washed some greens, sliced meat, and prepared the broth—efficient and practiced.

Tan Youming stretched his numb legs, picked up his tablet, and shuffled to the kitchen, leaning against the doorway to start another game.

He’d tried seven or eight beta versions throughout the evening, but none stood out.

With the current downturn in the real economy and the decline of traditional industries, even a powerful conglomerate like Huantu had to turn to emerging sectors to seek new growth opportunities.

Tan Youming had begun delving into video games and internet businesses half a year earlier, intending to upgrade and restructure online systems. He aimed to build interconnected economic spaces through scenario development and blockchain technology to expand the market, but the model versions available were disappointing.

His phone buzzed again. Tan Youming glanced up briefly—the man in the black shirt was on another call, expressionless as he cracked an egg with one hand.

Shen Zongnian hardly spoke during work calls, hanging up as soon as his assistant finished. He nudged Tan Youming aside from the doorway and said coolly, "Don’t block the way."

Tan Youming straightened up and paced around the kitchen like he was inspecting his territory. "Why didn’t you reply to my messages today?"

Shen Zongnian put the remaining ingredients back in the fridge and answered succinctly, "Meetings."

With the periodic re-tendering of Haishi’s gambling franchise approaching, meetings, inspections, negotiations, and strategy planning had taken over. If Tan Youming had skipped dinner, Shen Zongnian hadn’t even eaten lunch.

Hearing that, Tan Youming let it go.

"Did you look at the horse gear and saddles I picked out?"

"Mm." Shen Zongnian, annoyed by his sleeves, undid his cufflinks, tossed them on the counter, and rolled up his sleeves to reveal toned forearms.

"Which one’s better?" Tan Youming trailed closely behind him.

Unable to shake him off, Shen Zongnian moved him from the island to the fridge and dropped the noodles into the boiling water. "About the same."

Tan Youming cut the small talk and reached directly into Shen Zongnian’s pants pocket for his phone.

The water in the pot was boiling fiercely, steam scalding Shen Zongnian’s hand.

The phone’s lock screen showed a Tan family portrait—one Tan Youming had set himself, updated yearly since Shen Zongnian joined the family, a reminder of whose side he was on.

The management system opened, automatically logging into Tan Youming’s account. He decided to filter through the options again.

But Tan Youming quickly noticed that the selections added that day had been cleared, some even already delivered to the racecourse.

Shen Zongnian finished cooking quickly, brought the noodles to the dining table, set out the bowl and chopsticks, and nodded at Tan Youming. "Eat."

Tan Youming, still on his phone, sat cross-legged, picked up his chopsticks, and took a slurp. It wasn’t as elaborate as the housekeeper’s cooking, but it was exactly what he craved.

He snapped a quick photo of the bowl and sent it to the family group chat, receiving a flood of replies almost instantly.

He snapped a quick photo of the bowl and sent it to the family group chat, receiving a flood of replies almost instantly.

Elder Tan: "Thumbs up/Thumbs up/Thumbs up.jpg"

Tan Youming: "Handshake/Salute/Hug.jpg"

Old Mrs. Tan Gao Shuhong: "Thumbs up/Thumbs up/Thumbs up.jpg"

Tan Youming: "Rose/Blowing kiss/Spinning.jpg"

Tan Zhongshan: "Zongnian made this, right? Thumbs up/Thumbs up/Thumbs up.jpg"

Tan Youming: "Smug/Playful/Grinning.jpg"

Guan Kezhi: "Link: 'Royal Jockey Club Debut with Stunning Lady Companion, Mr. Tan All Smiles and Dazzling,' featuring explosive photos!!"

Tan Youming: "?"

Thinking it was nonsense and not wanting to read tabloid rumors, Tan Youming didn’t even click the link. He tossed his phone aside and buried himself in eating the noodles.

He chattered nonstop, complaining to Shen Zongnian about Toffee’s bad temper and sharing gossip from the day’s gathering. Shen Zongnian, who believed in not speaking during meals, had no interest in rumors or Tan Youming’s dubious friends.

Tan Youming didn’t mind, continuing his monologue while trying to sneak the greens from his bowl into Shen Zongnian’s.

Once, twice—Shen Zongnian said nothing. The third time, Shen Zongnian lifted his eyelids and gave him a casual glance, causing Tan Youming’s hovering chopsticks to freeze mid-air.

“Oh.”

Shen Zongnian finished eating quickly and said, “Leave the bowl when you’re done.”

The living room was scattered with Tan Youming’s game controllers—one on the coffee table, another on the rug, some cords tangled into knots. Shen Zongnian walked over and tidied them one by one.

There was also a jacket, a tie, and a notebook on the sofa. The notebook contained notes that Tan Youming had copied, but as he grew impatient, his handwriting became increasingly messy, with a few fierce-looking tigers and turtles scribbled in the margins.

“…” Shen Zongnian slightly frowned as he sorted and put everything away neatly.

In the family group chat, Guan Kezhi posted a few more sneak photos of Tan Youming and asked, “Has Nianzi eaten? What’s he up to?”

Tan Youming glanced around the living room and replied without batting an eye, “Yeah, he’s already eaten. He’s exercising now.”

He followed it with a cheeky laughing emoji.

Shen Zongnian, who was “exercising,” moved the jellyfish floor lamp back next to the prosperity tree. The prosperity tree had been brought home a few months earlier.

Back then, the two had been invited by their friend Chen Wan to a bowling club in Hong Kong. After Chen Wan scored a Christmas tree for the young master, Tan Youming asked Shen Zongnian if he could do it too. While replying to work emails, Shen Zongnian gave a curt reply: “No.”

Zhao Shengge offered an apologetic smile, but Tan Youming grew indignant and pestered Shen Zongnian relentlessly until, unable to tolerate the annoyance, Shen Zongnian eventually brought home a prosperity tree.

It was a tradition from their childhood at the Tan family during New Year—hanging lai see packets on kumquat or money trees placed at the entrance or in the living room to attract wealth.

The money tree was half a person tall, and since it wasn’t the season for tiny kumquats yet, Shen Zongnian had solid gold ones carved and hung on the branches, so realistic they looked genuine.

The lai see packets were made of pure gold foil—quite simple yet extravagant, which matched perfectly with the opulent and lavish style of Tan Youming’s home decor.

Within a week of the prosperity tree’s arrival, a deal that Tan Youming had been negotiating for half a month on the mainland suddenly saw a breakthrough. From then on, he cherished it even more, often sharing photos of it in his friends’ group chat. The photos earned admiration and envy from his friends Zhuo Zhixuan and Jiang Ying.

Quite pleased, Tan Youming set a photo of the prosperity tree as his private social media profile picture and declared that if anyone faced stalled projects, they were welcome to visit No. 15, Leftstone Path to come pay their respects—specifically tagging Zhao Shengge, whose pier project was about to break ground.

Zhao Shengge did not respond and simply left the group chat after being @mentioned several times.

Tan Youming was greatly puzzled and asked Shen Zongnian, "What's wrong with him again?"

Shen Zongnian silently took his phone back from Tan Youming’s hand to prevent him from unnecessarily harassing other group members.

Thanks to Tan Youming’s meticulous care, the lucky money tree was thriving. On sunny days, Tan Youming would move it to the open balcony to bask in the sun, and bring it back indoors during typhoon days.

Shen Zongnian swept up the fallen leaves from the lucky money tree, watered it, and soon restored the living room to its original tidiness and order.

"Hey—don’t turn off the computer," Tan Youming directed from the dining room. "Help me finish the last few levels."

Shen Zongnian had work piling up, but he still sat down on the sofa, placed the laptop on his lap, rubbed his temples while speed-reading the rules on the bulletin board, his fingers typing swiftly on the keyboard.

During this time, work calls came in, and Shen Zongnian multitasked, taking calls with one hand while gaming with the other. His expression remained stern, yet he breezed through several levels.

Tan Youming finished the last sip of his soup just as Shen Zongnian put down the laptop and came over to clean up. "I saved it to your folder."

Tan Youming paused, looked up, and blinked. "So fast?"

"Mm."

After finishing his noodles, Tan Youming waited and waited but didn’t see any dessert. He opened the fridge, but the usual spots for Mango Pomelo Sago and red bean soup were empty. He followed Shen Zongnian into the kitchen and saw that the other had already started cleaning the kitchenware. He asked, as if it were the most natural thing, "Nothing to drink today?"

Shen Zongnian was loading the dishes into the dishwasher. Hearing this, he turned around and looked at Tan Youming with a puzzled expression. Tan Youming could clearly read "Are you a pig?" in his eyes.

Tan Youming rolled his eyes and explained seriously, "The alcohol from this afternoon scratched my throat. Five glasses of Rémy Martin—I need something to clear my throat."

Shen Zongnian’s dark eyes lowered, fixed on him, and he said coldly, "Serves you right."

With his high brow bone and sharp features, Shen Zongnian looked intimidating when expressionless. Tan Youming stood between him and the counter, acting defiant. "Just tell me if there’s any or not."

Shen Zongnian stared at him quietly. Just as Tan Youming was about to back down, Shen Zongnian brushed past him, took out some Zhengshan Xiaozhong tea to brew, and then pulled a few Tahitian limes from the fridge and started slicing them.

The thin-skinned, seedless limes, with their sharp, fresh scent, burst with tart juice as Shen Zongnian squeezed them forcefully with a juicer, almost aggressively, the sour aroma aggressively filling the air.

They had a full set of shakers, measuring cups, a digital scale, and a muddler. Tan Youming didn’t drink coffee or alcohol but had loved lemon tea since childhood. His family had strict rules about not eating out, so Shen Zongnian, driven crazy by his whining, had learned to make it himself.

During school days, it helped him stay alert; after starting work, it helped him sober up. Tan Youming had been drinking the same lemon tea for over a decade.

No measuring cups or scales were needed—Shen Zongnian had the recipe memorized. His fingers were long, and his movements were swift. Tan Youming, so focused on watching, took a sip and immediately scrunched up his face. "Damn, why is it so sour!"

"If it wasn't sour, how would he learn?" Shen Zongnian leaned against the counter, coolly watching him grimace, and said lightly, "Oh, maybe I forgot the honey."

Tan Youming’s eyes widened.

Shen Zongnian leisurely washed the shaker, his words even sharper than the tart green lime: "If five glasses of Rémy Martin are nothing to you, a few Tahitian limes should be no problem either."

Tan Youming, completely exasperated, went to get the honey while grumbling, "Shen Zongnian, what did I do to piss you off this time?"

Author's note: Fight, fight, fight (just kidding)

Note: 'Lucky money tree' refers to a plant associated with prosperity, often given during Chinese New Year.