Chapter 36 Narrow Path Crossing

Chapter 36: A Narrow Encounter

"The finance department says that despite repeated rejections, the commercial firm still insists on transferring the money."

Yang Shiyan carried the documents needing signatures into the office. Tan Youming, browsing through details for an upcoming forum led by the Cultural Tourism Department, hummed in response: "Tell finance to reject it again."

Yang Shiyan knew he was determined not to accept the money.

Tan Youming took the files and signed them one by one: "Has the speech draft been revised? Remember to send it to me."

Yang Shiyan’s hand slowed as she took the folder, saying softly: "Boss, I already sent it to you this morning."

She had, in fact, sent a copy yesterday, but Tan Youming seemed to have forgotten and asked again, so she resent it.

Tan Youming’s pen paused as he signed, then he collected himself: "Oh, right. I’ll look at it after signing."

Yang Shiyan held the signed documents and, after a moment’s thought, asked: "President Tan, would you like me to prepare a cup of instant herbal drink for you?"

With the recent typhoon weather bringing a chill, many in the company had caught colds. Tan Youming seemed listless and distracted, asking about the same thing multiple times—a rare state for him.

Tan Youming shook his head.

Yang Shiyan didn't press further: "The suit for the forum has also arrived. Should I have the driver deliver it to your home?"

Tan Youming replied: "No, hang it on the 41st floor for me."

Pinghai’s 41st floor was Tan Youming’s exclusive level, and he had been staying at the corporate campus these days.

The cleaning lady occasionally asked Secretary Yang whether half-empty bottles of liquor should be taken away or stored, and how to preserve them. She also mentioned that she hadn’t realized Mr. Tan had such strong addictions to alcohol and cigarettes—every day, two ashtrays upstairs were filled with cigarette butts, and the room was thick with the lingering scent of smoke and alcohol.

Yang Shiyan was inwardly surprised. Returning to the head office, she thought for a moment and went to ask the admin staff responsible for ordering meals: "Cherry, are we still ordering afternoon tea for Huantu’s head office recently?"

"No, Assistant Yang," Cherry reapplied her lipstick, then turned to her and said, "Mr. Shen seems very busy this month. They’re often on business trips."

Saying they were on business trips was a polite refusal.

Yang Shiyan pondered this.

But Cherry added: "However, the day before yesterday, they ordered Yuxinju for us. You and the boss were out for a meeting."

Yang Shiyan raised an eyebrow, wondering if it was Zhong Manqing’s idea or someone else’s: "Does the boss know?"

"I told him," Cherry pressed her freshly applied bright red lipstick together, walked over, and whispered to her, "but the boss said since they ordered it, you should enjoy it. No need to tell him in the future."

Yang Shiyan felt a twitch in her temple several times.

Typhoon Signal No. 3 lingered, and it was still raining on the day of the cultural tourism forum.

The towering skyscrapers, usually dazzling and magnificent, became water-filled cages in the heavy rain. The distant water and the nearby sea surged together, seemingly determined to wash away the extravagance and noise of this hollow city.

The Tsuen Wan section was deeply flooded, and the narrow passage was submerged. The Cayenne slowed down and carefully navigated through.

Sitting in the car, Tan Youming watched students sheltering from the rain with umbrellas and unexpectedly remembered typhoon holidays during his school days.

The wind had been extremely strong back then. Shen Zongnian had once used his back to shield him from falling objects, leaving a scar on his shoulder blade.

The floodwater was too deep for the driver to take the car into the school, so Shen Zongnian carried him through calf-high water. Even on such a stormy day, Tan Youming’s sneakers remained dry, with only a small part of his clothes damp.

The rain grew heavier, and Tan Youming’s expression turned even paler.

Shen Zongnian would risk his life to save someone, but he would never stay for anyone.

The length of their cold war had already exceeded several times that of the New Year’s incident, setting a new record since they had known each other.

From the other’s attitude these days and the various promotions for the Huantu energy project, Tan Youming could dimly perceive that this time was different from all previous times. It wasn’t something that could be easily resolved by him throwing a few tantrums or getting angry a few times. Everything was moving in a direction beyond his control.

The night before last, Tan Youming returned to Robinson Road to retrieve some documents. Shen Zongnian was having dinner.

It was almost nine o’clock, and the entire house was dark. They lived in the most bustling area of Seacity, with the harbor in the distance, but the light from Victoria Harbor couldn’t reach inside. The rustling rain filled the air, and only a dim overhead light in the dining room outlined Shen Zongnian’s lonely profile.

A plain bowl of cart noodles—Tan Youming’s brows furrowed tightly. Again.

If he were there, Shen Zongnian would at least prepare three dishes and a soup for the simplest meal. But when alone, he would just make do with whatever—what to eat didn’t matter, when to eat didn’t matter, and whether to eat at all didn’t matter.

Tan Youming’s heart felt as if it had been suddenly seized. The resentment and anger of the past few days dissipated greatly in that moment, leaving only an inexpressible unease.

But his gaze was too fierce, forcing Shen Zongnian to look over. The two stood in silence for a moment before Shen Zongnian nodded at him calmly and asked: "Have you eaten?"

Tan Youming hated this act of his the most, as if nothing had ever happened: "You’re about to go overseas, and you still care whether I’ve eaten or not!"

He strode into his room but didn’t close the door, thinking that if the other came after him to apologize and say he wouldn’t leave, he wouldn’t be angry anymore.

Forgiving Shen Zongnian was what Tan Youming had been best at since childhood.

Tan Youming took his time with a single document for over half an hour. Shen Zongnian didn’t take the olive branch he offered, only asking calmly: "Still angry?"

He was worried that Tan Youming wasn’t accustomed to living in the corporate campus, eating poorly, or living uncomfortably. He said seriously: "Tan Youming, you can be angry with me, but don’t take it out on yourself. If you’re not coming back because you don’t want to see me, I’ll immediately—"

"Shen Zongnian," afraid he would say he was moving out, Tan Youming grabbed his things and rushed out the door first, saying coldly, "Don’t flatter yourself. And stop lecturing me in that tone."

Over the years, the tacit understanding and rules of offering an olive branch were both solid and fragile. If one person was unwilling to cooperate anymore, it would collapse instantly.

The door slammed shut with a loud bang from Tan Youming, but he felt dizzy in the elevator. Gasping for breath, he thought: He felt sorry for Shen Zongnian having no place to belong, pitied Shen Zongnian for being alone, wanted to be his family and brother, to give him a home too, but in reality, the other didn’t need it at all.

Tan Youming smiled self-deprecatingly, opened the car door, and stepped onto the red carpet under a black umbrella.

The forum was held at a grand hotel near the Cathedral of the Immaculate Conception, aiming to bring together various sectors of the cultural tourism industry to prepare for Seacity’s peak tourism season.

Tan Youming was in a rather subdued mood. Journalists followed him but couldn’t capture his handsome signature smile.

Even when Zhuo Zhixuan came over to greet him, Tan Youming still wore that faint expression: "You actually got an invitation too." Clearly forgetting that he had sent several consecrated flower baskets when the other’s hotel opened.

Zhuo Zhixuan had nothing more to say to him.

The president of Minglong, as usual, didn’t show up. The attending director representing them was also unexpectedly criticized: "Why didn’t Zhao Shengge come? Is he addicted to acting like a star every day?"

"…"

Unexpectedly, he also ran into Wang Simin. In front of ladies, Tan Youming finally moderated his tone slightly. The two exchanged polite handshakes and pleasantries, casually discussing industry trends and news.

A familiar journalist took the opportunity to take photos and conduct an interview: "So President Tan and Miss Wang know each other. Is there a possibility of cooperation in the future?"

Tan Youming kept a straight face and gave a diplomatic response: "We’re all colleagues. This meeting is meant to create an environment for everyone to get acquainted and opportunities for cooperation."

The journalist smiled: "Then, President Tan, have you been following new trends in the industry recently? Are there any cultural tourism projects or creative works you find particularly admirable or interesting that you could recommend to everyone?"

Tan Youming wasn’t in much of a mood to chat and said succinctly: "The Gallery Hotel."

"Is that the new establishment Miss Wang opened on Palm Island?" The journalist encouraged him to elaborate, "President Tan, have you been there? Could you give us a detailed introduction?"

"I saw it at the promotional event; its creative approach and business model have brought some shock and inspiration to the traditional Haishi hotel industry."

Tan Youming was being polite yet sincere. The Gallery Hotel was a new project Wang Simin partnered with an art museum. When it came to developing IP and maximizing niche market economics, Wang Simin was indeed highly capable. In just a short time since returning to China, she had already made a name for herself in the industry.

The reporter pointed the microphone toward Wang Simin: "Ms. Wang, would you like to add something?"

Wang Simin was even more eager to leave than Tan Youming: "Mr. Tan flatters me. Everyone is welcome to experience the hotel for themselves."

"..."

Wang Simin maintained her aloof demeanor even on camera. The reporter didn't dare press further. Thanks to her, Tan Youming quickly entered the inner area and breathed a sigh of relief, unaware that the reporter would later embellish the story in their report.

"Mr. Tan Praises Gallery Hotel as Industry Leader, Wang's Beauty as the Most Anticipated Partner."

The article was accompanied by several candid shots of the two shaking hands when they first met. Haishi media had recently taken a liking to photographing them. What was actually formal, polite social etiquette, with the background and other faces blurred, took on the appearance of a powerful alliance in corporate warfare.

Jiang Ying scrolled through his phone, looking at the pictures of the two chatting happily. He was about to message Zhuo Zhixuan to ask what was happening when he suddenly noticed someone nearby.

Jiang Ying quickly put away his phone and said casually, trying to appear nonchalant, "When did you get here?"

"Just now." Shen Zongnian averted his gaze and sat down on the sofa in his office.

"Have some tea first. I've sent someone to fetch the item."

"Okay."

The two chatted briefly about matters regarding the energy project. Soon after, the secretary brought in a securely packaged brocade box from the secure storage.

"Inspect it. The certificates and everything are inside."

Jiang Ying managed several antique markets, both legitimate and black markets, dealing in jade artifacts, antiques, cultural collectibles, and calligraphy. These served as excellent social currency, and the wealthy elites of Haishi often sought him out to find unique gifts for important occasions, unable to bypass Third Master Jiang.

Shen Zongnian lifted the lid of the box, glanced inside, then closed it and said, "It’s acceptable."

Jiang Ying poured him tea: "This is the final piece by Huang Yinsong. The others were crafted by his apprentices—good enough to deceive outsiders, but not worthy of gifting to the elder."

"Thanks."

"When's the event?" Jiang Ying asked curiously. "The old man said he hasn't received an invitation yet." Everyone in Haishi was keeping an eye on Elder Tan’s birthday banquet.

"It won’t be a grand affair," Shen Zongnian explained. For the elderly, birthdays ending in nine are significant milestones and should be observed quietly. "We’re planning to just have a meal with some relatives."

Though it wasn’t a large celebration, Guan Kezhi and Tan Zhongshan took it seriously. In addition to the immediate family branches, they also invited some elders from the old man’s generation—people Tan Youming would have to address as grand-uncles or grand-aunts.

Opening the family group chat, Tan Youming felt overwhelmed.

"@Mingzai, have you eaten? What’s Nianzai up to?"

Tan Youming didn’t know how to respond and scratched his head in frustration.

The group fell silent briefly.

"What’s going on with you two? The clothing delivery person just called and said no one’s been home for several nights in a row. The new clothes can’t be delivered."

With many elders attending, Guan Kezhi was worried her two sons would dress inappropriately—one would dress like he's going to a business meeting, the other too flamboyant like he's heading to a club. She had specially ordered matching sets for them.

"What are you two doing all day, never staying home?"

"When will you be home? I’ve had two new sets made. Quickly set a time to try them on in person. If they don’t fit, they’ll need alterations."

"Where are you??"

"Tan Youming??"

Tan Youming felt his scalp prickle with anxiety. The downside of childhood friendships was that even after a falling out, they still had to respond in the same family group chat. He typed, deleted, and retyped, racking his brains for a response.

After an uncomfortably long silence, Shen Zongnian finally spoke up: "Alright, Auntie Guan, we’ll arrange a time with the delivery service."

He turned off the screen and silently rubbed his phone, reminded that Zheng Xinqiong’s birthday was also in July.

The Bentley drove past Jardim Park, where deep shades of green, round tower structures, peach-colored walls, ancient banyan trees, and blooming flowers created a picturesque scene.

This was Haishi’s first garden, dating back to the 19th century and designed by a Portuguese architect. When Shen Zongnian was young, Zheng Xinqiong would occasionally bring him here to play.

Later, as Jardim Park grew more crowded and commercialized, and the internal strife within the Shen family intensified over the years, Shen Zongnian and Zheng Xinqiong never went out together again.

The Bentley yielded to a family of three crossing the zebra crossing. The child held a balloon and their mother’s hand.

Shen Zongnian looked away.

The memories were too distant and few. Zheng Xinqiong’s striking features, red high-heeled shoes, and that indescribable, uniquely maternal gentleness were all remnants of a bygone era.

Shen Zongnian would never know whether Zheng Xinqiong was the mastermind or an accomplice in the couple’s carefully planned kidnapping of their own son.

He only remembered sitting in the back seat of the car and hearing Zheng Xinqiong hesitate: "Maybe we shouldn’t hand him over to them. What if..."

Shen Xiao’an fell silent for a moment before saying, "It’s too late now."

Shen Zongnian, mature beyond his years, looked down at the new black shoes he’d specially put on that morning and understood that he might never get to visit Jardim Park again.

After gaining power, Shen Zongnian purged the family, removing his parents’ names from the family trust and the company’s board of directors. But because Zheng Xinqiong had shown a moment of hesitation, he left her a small account with a minimal share.

It didn’t hold much accessible cash, and he wondered how Zheng Xinqiong, with her extravagant tastes, would manage.

As the traffic light turned green, the Bentley drove away from Jardim Park. Shen Zongnian’s phone lit up again with a message from Guan Kezhi, pulling him back to the present: "I’ve also ordered a few sets of tennis outfits and overcoats for you. They’re at Renkang Mansion—remember to pick them up. Mingzai has too many clothes and too many opinions; nothing ever suits him. We’ll deal with his next quarter."

Shen Zongnian rubbed his phone until it grew warm, then slowly typed: "Okay, thank you, Auntie Guan."

As the birthday banquet drew nearer, Guan Kezhi often sought opinions in the group chat. Several menu options had been proposed. Since this was a major family gathering, the banquet hall selection also required input. Tan Youming was uncharacteristically quiet, prompting Guan Kezhi to casually ask if he and Shen Zongnian were fighting again.

Tan Youming insisted: "How could that be? I’ve just been too busy to check the group messages in time."

Guan Kezhi agreed: "Nianzai would never argue with you. If he doesn’t get bullied to death by you, it’s only by Buddha’s grace."

Tan Youming swallowed his frustration, wondering if there was any justice or rule of law left in the world.

In the end, the two went separately to try on their outfits. This time, it wasn’t because Tan Youming was avoiding anyone out of anger—he was genuinely held up by a troublesome matter.

"Our collaboration with GU ended six months ago. There’s no backlog of inventory. Our new products cleared customs two months ago."

Yang Shiyan looked serious: "They’ve already passed the Gisi Strait. The project initiation, review, and random inspections for this batch of products were all without issue."

"They suspect us of tax avoidance and have applied for an unfair competition review."

She handed the inquiry letter to Tan Youming: "From a market segmentation and brand positioning perspective, the two batches of products aren’t confusingly similar. It’s just that the latter batch entered the market right after changes in tariffs and exchange rates."

Tan Youming wasn’t surprised. He glanced at the official letter and didn’t think much of it.

As a free port, changes in Haishi’s tariffs and exchange rates affect trade surplus and deficit fluctuations.

Foreign companies now face shrinking operating room and often request anti-unfair competition or antitrust investigations against local industry leaders.

GU is an American company that collaborated on R&D with Huantu and Pinghai for a year. After the contract expired, neither party renewed the agreement.

Tan Youming put down the letter and continued signing his documents: "Send a VP from the marketing department to handle it."

If it were a real crisis, it wouldn’t just be the industry association making a routine visit. Confident and bold, he had been a frequent visitor to the competition committee’s hearing room since his early days. A minor issue like this wasn’t worth the CEO, Tan Youming, stepping in.

Yang Shiyan said, "Huantu has already taken responsibility before the association, stating that if there are further procedures like hearings, they should be notified directly."

"What?" Tan Youming paused his pen and frowned.

For projects involving collaboration between Huantu and Pinghai, the participating entities had to give separate statements, but only one set of defense materials and evidence would be needed. By taking this step, Huantu was essentially drawing most of the scrutiny to themselves.

Tan Youming’s mind raced—angry, yet conflicted. He immediately rejected the choice of sending a deputy manager: "When is the meeting?"

"10 a.m. the day after tomorrow." Zhong Manqing handed the defense materials prepared by the legal department to Shen Zongnian.

"Time is tight. The legal team has highlighted the distinct serial numbers, origins, and logo designs of the two product batches," Zhong Manqing submitted the evidence index. "They’ve also included diagrams of non-proprietary R&D processes."

Shen Zongnian skimmed through hundreds of pages of evidence quickly but reviewed them in detail: "Besides origin and logo distinctions, add the differences in promotion and target markets."

He emphasized, "Especially the English translations of the product names, the origins and designs of the batch numbers, and mark any significant changes in red."

He flipped to the corresponding section: "Remove the comparison of R&D pathways; keep it as Category A evidence."

This was just an informal association meeting—hardly even an investigation. Shen Zongnian wasn’t concerned: "We’ll present it if it actually goes to court."

Zhong Manqing understood he was planning an evidence ambush and noted all the key points Shen Zongnian mentioned: "I’ll try to finalize the new evidence index by tomorrow noon. After you sign it, I’ll send it to Yang’s assistant."

"Yang’s assistant?" Shen Zongnian’s gaze, which had returned to his computer, lifted again.

VPs from the legal and marketing departments didn’t need to go through Yang Shiyan. Shen Zongnian knew Pinghai’s internal processes well.

Zhong Manqing was also surprised, thinking it had been arranged between him and Tan Youming: "Pinghai said Mr. Tan agreed to the interview."

Shen Zongnian frowned, his eyes returning to the computer: "Where is the interview scheduled?"

"The old district administration building."

Since Haishi’s new district government building moved to the harbor, the old office had been allocated to lower-level agencies.

The British architectural dome and Guangdong-style octagonal eaves made it look a blend of Western and Chinese styles, though century-old trees shaded much of its aging appearance.

Thursday, an ordinary workday, with tropical sun heating the government grounds, cicadas buzzing loudly.

Almost simultaneously, engines roared and tires gripped as two luxury sedans with sequential license plates parked on the north and south sides of the square building.

A Bentley and a Cayenne each discharged a tall, long-legged man, both walking purposefully, entering the government office through different doors.

The colonnaded hallway had wooden floors and thick, soft carpets. Investigations typically involved separate interviews; one man stopped at the front of the corridor, the other at the end, without seeing each other.

Both sides sending such high-profile figures for such a minor matter left the association puzzled and exasperated. They had no choice but to assign two higher-ranking officials to handle it.

Holding the same list of questions, the two officers exchanged a helpless glance before entering their respective interview rooms.

It wasn’t a formal investigation. After some back-and-forth formalities, they got to the main topic.

"The first batch of products shipped after the contract expired was released four days after the tariff change. GU suspects duty evasion."

At the same time, in two interview rooms:

Shen Zongnian was thorough: "The new batch went through four months of project initiation, review, and sampling. Every step and procedure is detailed on pages 284 to 302 of the evidence index."

Tan Youming switched between defensive and offensive tactics: "GU claims the new product’s timely launch is opportunistic, but it’s more accurate to say we were prepared. We started improving the new batch immediately after the contract ended. Instead of questioning our motives, they should reflect on their own lack of sensitivity to market conditions and policies."

Officer: "During the collaborative R&D with GU across twelve batches, how were the R&D team members primarily assigned?"

Shen Zongnan admitted frankly: "Aside from GU’s involvement, the project team under Huantu Technology took the lead."

Tan Youming took full responsibility: "Of course, the experimental team at Pinghai Enterprise shouldered the bulk of the work."

Officer: "The alleged confusing practices include origin of production. After the contract expired, which party was responsible for supply?"

Shen Zongnian stated calmly and firmly: "Huantu’s overseas direct sales."

Tan Youming muddled the issue: "Pinghai’s cargo ships transferred directly to the inner port."

Officer: "Was there any change in the primary manufacturer and operator for the new batches post-contract?"

Shen Zongnian summarized succinctly: "No change. Huantu handles full vertical integration and will continue aftersales service."

Tan Youming declared confidently: "Pinghai manages the entire chain from R&D to production, promotion, and sales."

...

Both were seasoned in handling accusations. Even after falling out, they fought a coordinated battle without needing to coordinate their stories.

The routine inquiry didn’t take long, ending around noon when the sunlight was calmest. Even the birds in the trees fell silent, perching on the wooden windowsills for a midday rest.

They still didn’t meet when leaving—whether by intention or chance, fate didn’t give them an opportunity. The Cayenne left first, followed by the Bentley, heading north and south, moving in opposite directions.

They thought they’d go their separate ways, but unexpectedly, they met again face-to-face at a large traffic circle on the mountain road.

Earlier, in the interview rooms, each had rushed to claim responsibility and penalties. Now, truly meeting on a narrow path, they were like needle against thorn.

The Cayenne, aggressive and occupying the main lane, charged ahead at high speed.

The Bentley, aloof as if ignoring the oncoming car, drove straight forward.

Both were powerful machines. Even the century-old redbud trees, with their towering canopy, couldn’t withstand the violent whirlwind. Pink stamens and purple petals were swept into the air, swirling grandly like confetti from a festive wedding or dust stirred before a battle—tense and ready to ignite.

Cars on the road quickly changed lanes to avoid these two mad vehicles.

The broad mountain road wasn’t enough for their contest. The Cayenne flashed its lights arrogantly, a warning of dwindling patience, its four wheels fiercely grinding over the dashed white lines, provocative in attitude.

The person in the Bentley frowned deeply, gripping the steering wheel tightly, not remembering teaching anyone to drive that way.

The more attention paid, the more provoked the other became. The black Bentley changed lanes directly, passing coldly and driving off quickly.

The Cayenne, though given way, grew even angrier. Pulling over, Tan Youming hit the steering wheel hard: "Damn it!"