Chapter 15 Snow Mountain Dungeon

Chapter 15: The Snow Mountain Dungeon

Shen Zongnian hung up the phone, only then realizing that a heavy night snow had fallen unnoticed, and he had forgotten to close the window.

The wind and snow instantly chilled the once-warm small room, a stark contrast to the lavish, neon-lit world of Tan Youming's video call.

Yet, Shen Zongnian felt nothing until he recognized the need to shorten his rumination periods, aiming for complete cessation. He immediately sprang back into action.

The wool scarf was neatly hung. He grabbed fresh clothes and entered the bathroom, hoping to wash away some of the lingering thoughts.

Perhaps the day's stored warmth wasn't enough, for the water at the foot of the snow mountain was frigid. Fortunately, Shen Zongnian possessed a robust physique and had endured harsher environments before, so he felt no discomfort. Instead, it sharpened his mind.

After showering, he immediately opened his laptop to work. It was daytime in China, so Shen Zongnian held a brief video conference with Zhong Manqing and a supervising vice president, instructing them to prioritize several year-end projects.

Tan Youming called again when Shen Zongnian had reviewed a third of his reports. Shen Zongnian tried to refocus his attention on the data and analytical charts.

The ringing quickly ceased. He seemed to sigh in relief, or perhaps not.

But soon, the call notification chimed again. Shen Zongnian paused for a moment, silently listening to the insistent rings, lost in thought.

The clumsy snowman avatar stared expectantly, as if trying to pierce through him.

Just as the ringing stopped and Shen Zongnian believed he had succeeded in resisting, the notification reappeared. The ringing was as relentless as the caller on the other end.

One ring, two rings... A 356-kilometer standoff and tug-of-war, jarringly loud in the silent, snowy night.

The snow intensified.

Shen Zongnian frowned, his grip on the mouse tightening then loosening. From the moment he unconsciously pressed the answer button, he realized, once again, with piercing clarity—

The experiment had failed.

Like an insurmountable level, he had been stuck in this dungeon for far too long.

The signal wasn't ideal, but the video's glow appeared exceptionally warm in the snowy night.

Tan Youming leaned languidly against the back of his mobile armchair, his face expressionless: "Shen Zongnian, is your phone just for decoration?"

Shen Zongnian then noticed the Lincoln Apartments in the background.

Tan Youming had already returned home.

For a moment, Shen Zongnian couldn't quite articulate the feeling in his heart. He simply lowered his gaze, observing Tan Youming, and coolly retorted, "I don't quite understand how someone who uses other people's phones every day can make such a statement with such righteous indignation."

Despite the sarcastic jab, Tan Youming laughed. Shen Zongnian rarely spoke such long sentences; as children, he had even thought the other was mute.

He clasped his hands behind his head and lightly kicked a table leg: "Why did it take you so long to answer the phone?"

Shen Zongnian: "Work."

Tan Youming overlooked the workaholic's oversight, recounting in meticulous detail his day at the Lawrence family's and his conversation with Wes Ho.

Shen Zongnian kept the video call running while working, offering no comments.

Tan Youming didn't need his responses anyway.

"Later, I had a bit of white wine. I think I'm feeling a bit unwell. Can you come back early tomorrow?"

Even when asking for a favor, he sounded remarkably entitled.

"I want some lemon tea," he threw his head back, pressed his temples, and sighed, "The alcohol isn't helping this dizziness—I'm wrecked."

Shen Zongnian's calm gaze shifted from his reports to the screen. Tan Youming had likely already showered; his black hair looked fresh, falling over his forehead. His fluffy cotton pajamas made him appear harmless and languid, devoid of his usual outward flamboyance and recklessness.

However, having witnessed too many instances in their childhood where Tan Youming used various excuses of physical discomfort and pitiful acts to outwit Guan Kezhi, Shen Zongnian merely replied noncommittally, "Is that so."

Tan Youming frowned: "Are you suggesting I'm lying? Are you coming back or not?" As if Shen Zongnian were some divine physician, and if he delayed even a day, Tan Youming would immediately perish.

Shen Zongnian returned his attention to the reports, but under the other's persistent gaze, he heard a voice, not his own, provide the answer: "Mm."

Tan Youming finally got the answer he desired and eventually fell asleep with the video call still active.

When he woke the next day, the call log showed six hours and forty-three minutes. Shen Zongnian must have worried he might feel unwell after drinking in the middle of the night, so he had stayed on the line until dawn.

Tan Youming blinked and sent him a message. He pulled open the curtains—the weather in Manchester had improved significantly. Many animals had emerged to enjoy the fresh air by the garden and lake, and fearless birds landed on the balcony to forage.

Tan Youming scattered some breadcrumbs for them, declined Wes Ho's invitation, and drove himself to Corderbury, about ten kilometers from Manchester.

Shen Ziqi finished class at noon and quickly spotted the license plate number Tan Youming had sent him, as he exited the main gate of the boys' public school.

He opened his mouth to call him "Youming-ge" but ultimately settled on "Mr. Tan."

Tan Youming extinguished his cigarette, nodded, motioned for him to get in the car, and drove to a French restaurant near the school.

"See what you'd like to eat."

"Mr. Tan, please order. I'm not picky."

Tan Youming glanced at him.

Shen Ziqi had grown taller over the past two years. Dressed in a baseball-style school uniform, his features had matured, bearing a faint resemblance to Shen Zongnian—but only a trace. Their temperaments, auras, and overall presence were vastly different.

Normally, Tan Youming would say, "It's fine, order whatever," but this time, he simply called the waiter and briskly ordered a fruit platter and a simple meal.

After all, he wasn't here to dine today.

Tan Youming got straight to the point: "I asked you out today because I wanted to know if you know anything about 'The Baoqu Inkstone Painting.'"

"Aside from the missing eleventh and final volumes, the rest were allocated to your branch of the family, right?"

"Yes." Shen Ziqi felt nervous and constrained; he was somewhat afraid of Tan Youming.

"Before your parents left, did they have someone make copies, preserve duplicates, or inquire about selling them?"

Tan Youming described "Shen Zongnian expelling his parents from Haishi" as merely "leaving," and scrutinized Shen Ziqi directly.

Shen Ziqi felt the pressure and answered truthfully: "Probably not."

Tan Youming's dark gaze fixed on him, silent.

Shen Ziqi straightened his back slightly and repeated: "No." When his parents were forced to leave Haishi, he was already at an age where he understood things. At that time, to transfer assets, many movable properties were put under his name. Any changes would have required his assistance with the procedures.

Tan Youming didn't indicate whether he believed him or not. He tapped the table casually and asked: "Have they contacted you these past two years?"

When Shen Zongnian purged the family back then, he didn't include the underage Shen Ziqi, merely sending him here to study. Even so, it gave some of the group's "old guards" and remaining clan members hope of finding a puppet to support.

Shen Ziqi shook his head: "They haven't contacted me." Though they were family, when disaster struck, each fled for themselves. They were too busy hiding from debts to bother with him.

"Then I hope that if they do contact you, you'll tell me directly."

When Tan Youming isn't smiling, he appears sharp and imposing. Shen Ziqi couldn't meet his gaze and looked away, asking softly, "Where's my brother?"

Tan Youming found it amusing. The words "He's not your brother" lingered on the tip of his tongue but remained unspoken.

Watching Shen Ziqi's evasive demeanor, he couldn't help but inwardly judge him as a soft, timid greenhouse flower lacking courage. Tan Youming never looked down on the weak, but admiration for strength was human nature. At Shen Ziqi's age, Shen Zongnian had already established himself in the financial district, shorting Huantu.

Tan Youming remained silent, making Shen Ziqi feel even more formidable than his aloof, reticent elder brother. He asked again softly, "Why didn't my brother come today?"

Tan Youming didn't answer, his tone firm: "He doesn't need to come. You can tell me directly."

He disliked Shen Zongnian having too much contact with the Shen family. Shen Zongnian's scar-ridden body and sudden disappearance had been Tan Youming's nightmare from age eleven to twenty-seven. His aversion to the Shens ran deep.

Even if Shen Ziqi seemed harmless, Tan Youming couldn't bring himself to like him.

If Shen Ziqi was blameless, then Shen Zongnian was even more so.

Shen Ziqi now attended the top-ranked public school, living a life of privilege, while Shen Zongnian, at his age, had faced near-fatal exile overseas.

Tan Youming distinguished clearly between love and hate. He scorned threatening a student but wanted the boy to understand that this was his last bit of patience with the Shen family: "If you want to finish your studies peacefully, do as I say."

Shen Ziqi had no choice but to nod.

Tan Youming took him back to school and said before leaving, "If you need anything or are short on money, come to me directly. Don't bother your brother."

Shen Ziqi wanted to ask, "What are you to my brother?" but didn't dare.

Rumors painted his brother as a cold-blooded monster who harmed his own kin, but was Tan Youming any better? People just hadn't witnessed the arrogance of "Young Master Tan" when he caused havoc at their home years ago.

Shen Zongnian's ruthlessness was hidden; Tan Youming's madness was open. It was only after a trip abroad over a decade ago that he became somewhat normal mentally. Some speculated the Tan family had sent him to Germany for psychological treatment.

Although Shen Ziqi was young back then, the scene was so shocking it left an indelible mark—a huge shadow over the Shen family.

The Tan family doted excessively on their eldest grandson, and Tan Youming, emboldened and arrogant, kicked over the birthday celebrant's chair as soon as he entered: "Old Man Shen, hand him over now, or I'll have someone perform rituals tonight, ensuring this is your last birthday."

Shen Xiaochang was highly superstitious. In Haishi, where feng shui reigned, this was the most malicious curse imaginable.

That year, Tan Youming was going through an edgy phase. Shen Ziqi remembered his silver-white hair styled in a wolf-cut, a black gem earring adorning his earlobe, dazzling to the eye. After his declaration, he leaped down, planted a foot on the chair, crossed his arms, and calmly watched his bodyguards wreck the place—utterly audacious.

He ordered men in black to search every corner for Shen Zongnian, pointing at Shen's uncle, two decades his senior, and warning, "You'd better ensure Shen Zongnian returns to me unharmed. If I find so much as a single hair missing, I'll hold you responsible."

"If he gains another scar, you'll repay tenfold. If he sheds another drop of blood, you'll repay a hundredfold."

The guests were aghast. Some considered mediating but hesitated upon recognizing people from the Zhao family among the men in black.

Shen Xiaochang retreated step by step, frantically calling for backup as chaos erupted.

Tan Youming took down several security guards, strode up to him, his dark peach-blossom eyes calm yet deathly still beneath the surface: "If anything happens to Shen Zongnian from now on, regardless of who's responsible, I'll blame you. You'd better pray he stays safe forever, or I can't promise what I'll do. Believe me, you don't want to find out."

Shen Xiaochang stared wide-eyed, his meticulously planned social event in ruins. Clutching his chest, he nearly fainted on the spot.

Author's Note:

Teenage Tan Youming: Destroy everything!!

P.S. Zhao Shengge was punished again by Zhao Maozheng to kneel for secretly supporting Tan Youming. Hmm.