Chapter 8 Nameless Nebula

Chapter 8 The Unnamed Nebula

Tan Youming’s anger, however, flared up and subsided quickly; he and Shen Zongnian had never held a grudge overnight anyway.

The charity auction was held at Wankang Palace, a glittering affair attended by dignitaries and celebrities, adorned in elegant attire.

The first half was monotonous and dull. Tan Youming scrolled through his phone, occasionally exchanging a few words with Faye.

The organizers had invited children from a fishing village to illustrate the harsh living conditions on the reef island. This sight brought Tan Youming back to his childhood, when he and Shen Zongnian visited the West Peninsula to comfort underprivileged children sponsored by their conglomerate.

Utilizing family members, especially women and children, to enhance public image and goodwill was a timeless PR strategy for established financial groups.

After Zhao Shengge was dispatched to Xiaolanshan Orphanage to deliver a speech, Shen Zongnian and Tan Youming were subsequently sent to the impoverished areas of the West Peninsula. There, they shared meals and lodging with the sponsored children, all, of course, under the vigilant security of bodyguards.

At the time, the accompanying media even filmed a short documentary, which Tan Zhongshan purchased and preserved in the old mansion's media room as a record of their personal growth.

The West Peninsula, closer to the equator than Haishi's main island, had small fishing villages where even electric fans were a rarity. The pampered Tan Youming, on his first night, was so overwhelmed by the heat that he couldn't sleep. Shen Zongnian spent almost the entire night fanning him.

"Nian," the child shuffled closer.

Shen Zongnian frowned, pressing a hand against his shoulder. "Stop moving." Every fidget made him sweat more; he had already changed Tan Youming’s undershirt twice.

Tan Youming scratched his pale arm and held it out for Shen Zongnian to inspect. "Itchy."

Shen Zongnian’s frown deepened. Tan Youming’s skin was more delicate than lychee flesh, and the island’s large, venomous mosquitoes had left his arms covered in swollen, red welts.

Shen Zongnian immediately got up, lit the barely useful oil lamp, and reapplied the mosquito repellent, given by the islanders, all over Tan Youming’s body.

"Nian," Tan Youming said, his small face scrunched up, "I’m pickled in it now." The minty scent was so strong it felt like it was cooling his brain.

Shen Zongnian wiped the fresh sweat from his forehead. "It doesn’t smell bad." He urged him to lie down again.

"I can’t sleep."

"I’ll watch for mosquitoes. I’ll swat them away if they come."

Tan Youming lay down, his bright, clear eyes wide open. "But what if they come after you fall asleep?"

"I won’t sleep." Shen Zongnian tucked him tightly under the towel blanket, then rolled up his own pants to his thighs, hoping the island’s large mosquitoes would be considerate enough to leave Tan Youming alone.

Tan Youming decided a few bites weren’t so bad after all. "You should sleep. I’ll sleep if you stay beside me."

"I’m not tired," Shen Zongnian said, tucking the thin blanket around him. "Just sleep."

Tan Youming squeezed his eyes shut with effort, his hand unconsciously reaching outside the blanket. Shen Zongnian fanned more vigorously, asking, "Still hot? Are you scared if I open the door?" The breeze outside might be cooler.

Tan Youming thought for a moment. "Not if you’re here."

Shen Zongnian said, "Then I’ll open the door."

Tan Youming watched Shen Zongnian get out of bed and only closed his eyes again after he returned to his side.

"What’s wrong?" Although Shen Zongnian was only a year older, he was much taller and stronger. In the short time he’d gone to the bathroom, Tan Youming had nearly fallen off the bed.

Tan Youming looked at him, his eyes welling up with tears, on the verge of crying. "Where did you go?" He sounded utterly wronged.

Shen Zongnian had never met someone who cried so easily, as if he’d committed some grave sin. Helplessly, he said, "I went to splash water on my face." He was too tired; without a cold splash, it would be hard to stay awake through the latter half of the night. He still had to swat mosquitoes and fan Tan Youming.

He tucked Tan Youming back under the blanket and said, "Sleep."

Tan Youming said, "I’m not sleeping. You lied to me." He’d promised to stay, yet he’d disappeared in the blink of an eye, leaving him alone in this unfamiliar room.

Shen Zongnian was at his wit's end. "Sleep. I won’t leave."

Tan Youming wanted to protest, but when he met Shen Zongnian’s dark, mature eyes, he fell silent. He had always felt that Shen Zongnian possessed the eyes of an adult.

Reluctantly, Tan Youming gripped the hem of his shirt and lay down, his small head shifting restlessly on the pillow. Still uneasy, he felt for Shen Zongnian’s hand, took it, spread it open, and placed it under his cheek.

Tan Youming’s face was chubby, round, tender, and soft. Shen Zongnian’s hand, like the boy himself, was older than his years—large and bony. Having just returned from outside, it was cool and carried a faint scent of green wood.

They spent three days on that barren island. Once the media had gathered enough material, Tan Zhongshan took them back to Haishi.

The sponsored child was reluctant to see Tan Youming go and gifted him a bottle of sand from the island, containing a shell he had collected himself. In return, Tan Youming left behind all the valuable items he had on him.

This authentic moment, the only genuine part of the charity show, went unrecorded.

At eleven, Tan Youming said to Shen Zongnian on their return trip, "One day, I want to build a ship here—a big ship that can sail to Haishi."

At twenty-four, during his first year as the actual leader of Huantu, Shen Zongnian fulfilled this childhood wish. Now, there is at least one round-trip ferry daily between Haishi and the West Peninsula.

At twenty-seven, amid the ostentatious and hollow charity auction, Tan Youming was reminded once again of that night on the barren island.

He wanted to immediately message Shen Zongnian to say he had seen a lot he wanted to bid on as a gift, as if he had completely forgotten how he had accused the other of unpardonable crimes just days before.

But Tan Youming held back and instead focused on the auctioneer’s introduction to the nebula recording he was interested in.

"Captured at 43 degrees 50 minutes south latitude."

"Approximately 170,000 light-years from Earth, located in the nearby Large Magellanic Cloud, it is the product of a sun-like star in its late evolutionary stage, exhibiting a highly symmetrical bipolar structure."

"Two mutually orbiting planets, facing inevitable separation, shed their original forms, expelling outer gases that spread toward both ends, forming the shape of 'butterfly wings.'"

"The splendid drama light-years away represents the final breath of a binary star system. Two planets, on their destined orbits, can draw no closer nor linger for one another. Their only recourse is to intertwine in death, entangled until they dissipate into nothingness, each yearning for their next reincarnation encounter."

The nebula remained unnamed; the buyer would receive certification of its designation number and star chart from the planetarium and astronomical association.

Faye suddenly turned to him and whispered, "Mr. Tan, I want this."

Before the event, Tan Youming had told her she could speak up if anything at the auction caught her interest—giving gifts to female companions was a Pinghai tradition.

She hadn’t been particularly interested in the jewelry or calligraphy, but after sitting through half the auction, this piece caught her interest.

Tan Youming was taken aback but smiled apologetically. "This one won’t do. A friend of mine likes it—I’m bidding for him." Though he hadn’t consulted Shen Zongnian, Tan Youming knew instinctively. He immediately placed his bid as soon as the auctioneer finished speaking.

Faye raised an eyebrow, intrigued.

Tan Youming said politely, "Would you like to pick something else?"

Faye, generous, teased, "Sure, then I’ll pick something expensive."

"Of course. Thank you for your understanding."

A small reception followed the auction. Tan Youming, anxious to get home with his gift, didn’t plan to stay long. But since Jiang Ying and Zhuo Zhixuan were both there, he stayed to have a few drinks.

The room buzzed with conversation.

"The Xie family actually dared to let him out to embarrass himself again. I heard Xie Ruiguo faced impeachment at last week’s shareholders’ meeting—the board expressed strong dissatisfaction."

"Young people think love is all they need; they don’t care about anything else. Who knows how long Xie's stock price can hold up, though."

"It’s just a fling. Do they really think it’ll last a lifetime? When the time comes, they’ll have to settle down and get married. If you don’t play around when you’re young, when will you?"

"Still, look at the occasion—flaunting a man, what kind of image is that? But gotta hand it to him, his boy toy has quite the figure—"

Tan Youming frowned and decided to leave. Once they were out of the banquet hall, Faye took a sip of wine, glanced around to make sure no one was nearby, and asked quietly, "Mr. Tan, is it true about CEO Xie and Fang Sui?" Fang Sui was a model, so they moved in overlapping social circles, and rumors had been swirling for years.

Tan Youming looked at her with some annoyance. "Why are you so nosy?"

Faye wore an expression that said, "So what?" and retorted confidently, "Are the public allowed to gossip about us all day, but we can’t indulge in a little fun and gossip ourselves?"

Whether it’s the Golden Harvest or Golden Horse awards, even an award-winning actress would be on the front lines for gossip.

Hearing this, Tan Youming wasn’t annoyed. After all, what he valued about her was her unique liveliness in this industry—bold, doesn't mince words. In an economic downturn, they needed a spokesperson like her, full of energy and self-awareness, to stimulate consumer desire.

A 25% increase in cash flow over the past month proved that his decision to sign her at twice the market rate after multiple offers was a wise one.

But when it came to Xie Zhenlin’s privacy, Tan Youming just smiled and said, "I don’t know either." Although just last week, Xie Zhenlin had borrowed a significant amount of cash from him, saying he needed to go abroad soon but his family had tampered with his visa, identity, and financial credentials, requiring a large sum of cash as collateral.

"Alright then," Faye shrugged. She’d only asked casually and didn’t really care.

Tan Youming opened his phone to check his messages. Over a dozen texts had gone unanswered, sinking into oblivion. Even his message asking if the other person could pick him up had received no reply. Instead, his driver had texted to say there was an issue outside.

"There are fans blocking the exit. Would you like to take my car first and have your assistant follow behind?" Since he’d brought her, he felt responsible for getting her out safely.

"Thank you, Mr. Tan."

They managed to avoid the fans but not the paparazzi. The sound of camera shutters echoed from the shadows of the trees. Tan Youming shielded Faye as they hurried into the car, then turned and threw a sharp glare at the paparazzo before slamming the door shut.

The Bentley sped off, leaving the crowd behind, completely unaware that headlines like "Charity Auction Fundraising Hits New High, Mr. Tan Spends Big for Leading Lady" and "Mr. Tan and Leading Lady Share Laughs, Perfect Couple Steals the Show" would appear all over Facebook within half an hour.

On the way back, the two chatted about Pinghai’s advertising themes and styles for the next quarter, as well as a competitor’s PR blunder. Faye was outgoing (and gossipy), while Tan Youming was talkative (and loved to chat). As the Bentley drove from the waterfront to Tsuen Wan, laughter filled the car, and the mood stayed light.

While waiting at a traffic light, Tan Youming took out his phone again to check. The pinned conversation remained silent.

He smirked without humor and began furiously typing.

"bomb.jpg"

"bomb.jpg"

"bomb.jpg"

"bomb.jpg"

"bomb.jpg"

"Quit playing dead, answer me."

"You didn’t even send your location, what, are you rebelling?"

"You’re so petty, getting upset just because I said something."

"Was I wrong about you?"

"Seriously, you’re so petty!!"

"Shen Zongnian, get back to me right now!!!"

Faye watched his fingers flying over the keyboard and remarked politely, "Mr. Tan must be very busy at year-end."

Tan Youming smiled, a completely different person from the one online, and pinched the bridge of his nose, replying politely and patiently, "Can’t be helped. The person I'm living with is causing trouble, so I have to pick up the slack."

Faye gave him a subtle, knowing look.