Chapter 38 1824 Dawn

Chapter 38: Dawn of 1824

After three rounds of drinks, guests at Jiamen Fuxi Hall had broken into smaller groups—some sipping tea, others playing cards.

Guan Kezhi, accompanying several elders at the mahjong table, glanced around but couldn't find Tan Youming. Only Shen Zongnian stood alone by the window, lost in thought.

Guan Kezhi waved him over, scrutinizing her eldest son’s complexion. “You look terrible. I told you not to overdo it with the toasts—you can’t outdrink the Tans.”

Shen Zongnian shook his head. “I’m fine.”

“Have you seen your Elder Brother Shan? Call him over for me,” Guan Kezhi said, unable to check her phone frequently while playing tiles with the elders. “I need to talk to him.”

“Alright.”

After searching the main hall and the adjacent side rooms without finding him, Shen Zongnian passed by the balcony and was about to push the door open when he heard Tan Zhongshan’s voice, heavy with anger: “Is this the Wang family’s intention or your own?”

Shen Zongnian paused, deciding to return later, but as he turned to leave, he heard his own name.

Tan Qizheng complained, “I’m not targeting him; I’m just stating the facts. You know why the Wangs are hesitating—they’ve been observing the North Point project for so long precisely because the ties are too tight.”

Marriage alliances meant deep cooperation, each party getting what they needed. If the Tan family always gave preferential treatment to the Shens in every project, then any newcomer would only ever come second, left to pick up the scraps the Shens didn’t want. Who would agree to such a losing deal?

It wasn’t fair.

Generations of cooperation between the Shens and Tans was one thing, but compared to the days of their grandparents and parents, the current level of entanglement had clearly gone too far.

Excessive binding was, in some ways, also a risk.

“Fine, even if it doesn’t end up being the Wangs, Youming will have to marry eventually. No outside family would tolerate such an unfair arrangement. Who would willingly suffer that slight to marry into the Tan family?”

Tan Qizheng said with a worried frown, “Do you think I want to be the bad guy? It’s just that several uncles earlier asked me when Youming’s wedding would be, since Zuyi’s already engaged.”

“I had no answer. Dad had no answer either. We had to stammer and evade. Those uncles all have children and grandchildren around them—proud and triumphant. Dad’s so old, and today’s his birthday—he shouldn’t have to worry about this.”

It wasn’t that he was traditional; it was just how outsiders saw things. In the circles of the older generation, those with married children and full families were considered superior. Deny it all you want, but it didn’t change reality.

Tan Zhongshan narrowed his eyes, scrutinizing him. Tan Qizheng sighed helplessly. “Elder Brother, don’t think so poorly of me. I watched Youming grow up, and I watched Zongnian grow up too. I can’t not care about him. Otherwise, back when Shen Xiaochang caused trouble, no matter how much Youming begged, I would never have intervened.”

Tan Qizheng knew how to protect himself, but when the then-inexperienced Shen Zongnian was trying to take down Shen Xiaochang and needed to clear a few hurdles, he had quietly helped smooth the way.

“Marriage alliances are about forming the closest possible community of shared interests. If he always prioritizes the Tans, what other family would willingly settle for second place? When that happens, not only will Youming struggle to find a match, but he’ll end up unmarried too.”

“Besides, do you think I’m the only one watching the North Point project? Other relatives and shareholders are watching too—they just aren’t saying anything. The Wangs are observing, holding back. If this drags on, the relatives will naturally develop opinions. Do you think Zongnian’s position won’t become awkward then?”

Tan Zhongshan, who had been unmoved until now, suddenly began coughing violently, startling Tan Qizheng into patting his back. “Elder Brother, Elder Brother, are you alright? I—I won’t say anymore. Have you been seeing the doctor regularly lately? Monitoring your blood pressure?”

Tan Zhongshan pushed him away, calming down before warning Tan Qizheng: “You are not to say any of this to either of them, or to Dad. Keep it to yourself.”

Tan Qizheng grumbled, “I’m not that gossipy! I only mentioned it to you—I haven’t breathed a word of it even to my wife.”

After sending Tan Qizheng away, Tan Zhongshan didn’t return immediately. He felt his pockets—his medicine wasn’t there—so he lit a cigarette instead, lost in thought. He waited until it burned down to the filter, lingered a while longer to air out, then finally returned to the private room.

Shen Zongnian approached him with a cup of tea. “Uncle Tan, Aunt Guan is looking for you.”

Tan Zhongshan accepted the hot tea. “Alright. Don’t drink too much yourself—just toast the especially elderly elders symbolically.”

Shen Zongnian’s gaze shifted from Tan Zhongshan’s faint white hairs. “Mm.”

Tan Zhongshan walked over behind Guan Kezhi and pointed at a few of her tiles. “Pung.”

Guan Kezhi turned around in pleasant surprise. Tan Zhongshan smiled slightly, looking down at her. “Not playing it? The next player is about to win.”

Guan Kezhi tutted. “No backseat driving.”

“Fine,” Tan Zhongshan said gently. “Zongnian said you were looking for me?”

Guan Kezhi pulled him closer and whispered, “Go check the tea room. Uncle must be drunk—he’s been pestering Dad about Youming’s marriage. I think Dad is pretty exasperated.”

This uncle was Elder Tan’s older brother, nearly ninety years old. With his age and seniority, the younger generation couldn’t easily intervene. Aunt Guan said, “Go keep an eye on things.”

Tan Zhongshan sighed inwardly. What made their little troublemaker such a prized catch that everyone was watching?

Guan Kezhi: “Hm?”

Tan Zhongshan showed nothing on his face. “It’s nothing. I’ll go keep an eye. You enjoy your game.” Before leaving, he pointed at her tiles again. “Aim for a Pung Pung Win.”

“……”

The other wives at the table teased them about how their affection remained so strong even after so many years of marriage. Guan Kezhi laughed it off vaguely.

With many elders attending the birthday banquet, things began winding down around past ten. Tan Youming and Shen Zongnian once again saw the guests off.

The two, who had just argued, showed no signs of discord. Like two elegant name cards of the Tan family, they flanked the birthday star—one dynamic, one reserved, complementing each other perfectly. Anyone could see that these two handsome young men symbolized the future and hope of this already prosperous multi-generational family.

But as soon as the guests were gone, the two name cards got into their respective cars, and the lively Jiamen Fuxi Hall fell into complete darkness for the night.

Tan Youming, feeling dizzy and disoriented, didn’t know what was wrong with himself and had called for a driver.

The driver, unaware that the young masters were at odds, seemed to think the Bentley and Cayenne were reluctant to part, each yielding to the other.

Tan Youming, terrified that the driver might honk, urged impatiently, “Just go if he’s letting you!”

Only then did the two cars finally separate, one turning left, the other right, going their separate ways.

Once the Bentley entered the elevated highway, the bright lights of the inner ring road cast shifting patterns on Shen Zongnian’s face, like flames trying to ignite cold ashes.

Under the dark dome, the towering buildings resembled twisted beasts baring their claws. Even Jiamen Fuxi Hall transformed into a ship sailing through the night, with Tan Youming leaning against the railing, his hair tousled by the sea breeze.

Shen Zongnian hesitated, then walked toward him. The moment he drew near, happiness washed over him like waves, but danger also loomed like an unexpected iceberg in the ocean.

The Jiamen Fuxi began sinking from the stern, familiar faces swallowed one by one by the seawater.

First Elder Tan, then Gao Shuhong, Tan Qizheng, Tan Zhongshan, Guan Kezhi—one after another.

“Do you think I’m the only one watching the North Point project? Other relatives and shareholders are watching too—”

“If Youming acts recklessly, don’t indulge him. He can’t rely on you forever.”

“Shen Zongnian, I won’t invite you to my wedding.”

Shen Zongnian could no longer find his footing in the vast ocean.

Finally, Tan Youming too was completely drowned in the whirlpool—

“Sir, we’ve arrived.”

Shen Zongnian’s eyes snapped open, sobering instantly from the drunkenness. He had actually fallen asleep, his back damp with cold sweat. Turning to look, he saw that Zuoshideng Road was pitch dark.

For several consecutive nights, the wreck of Jiamen Fuxi Hao visited Shen Zongnian's dreams, leaving him unable to fall back asleep in the early hours.

The 1824s in the cigarette box dwindled, nicotine failing to fill the void in his heart yet nearly sapping all the air from his lungs. Leaning against the balcony railing, Shen Zongnian tapped off ash, lost in thought, waiting for dawn before returning to his room to shower and head to work.

Sleepless nights, dawns met with 1824, a cycle repeating itself, consuming Shen Zongnian's time, sleep, and health, also stripping away his last traces of hesitation, doubt, and self-deception.

He knew it was time he had to speak to Tan Youming.

Surface-level cutting ties was like drinking poison to quench thirst; a separation that only scratched the surface proved futile—apparently, this degree was far from enough.

The ashtray at 15 Zuoshideng Avenue was never empty; the one in the office was a disaster. Tan Youming stubbed out his cigarette, pondering, still feeling that his words that day, "I won't invite you," had been too harsh.

It sounded as if they were cutting ties.

In all conscience, Tan Youming had never intended that; it was Shen Zongnian's cold attitude that left him flustered, angry, speaking without thinking, even increasingly losing control of his emotions.

But it couldn't all be blamed on him, could it? Shen Zongnian was so infuriating. If it weren't for a tolerant childhood friend like Tan Youming, anyone else might have already come to blows with him.

Tan Youming took a deep breath, stood up, and opened the window for ventilation. The summer sea breeze instantly swept away the stifling smoke.

He called for his driver to bring the car, planning to head to Financial Street.

Tan Youming's anger came and went quickly. He never cared about who made the first move to reconcile, nor did he fret over whether taking the first step would mean losing face. Since Shen Zongnian couldn't bring himself to do it, he would. They couldn't keep this cold war going; he simply couldn't stand it.

So you're into new energy, huh? So obsessed with making money, huh? So determined to expand overseas markets, huh?

Fine!

I'll let you make all the money you want!

On the 52nd floor of the Financial Tower, the Tan family office occupied five floors. A structuring expert was waiting at the entrance with his team.

That day on Berlin Dao, his vow to guarantee Shen Zongnian wasn't just a spur-of-the-moment decision.

With finance, risk control, and legal teams, Tan Youming spent the afternoon in meetings, roughly drafting a contract framework to guarantee the energy project. He set up a separate fund pool to finance Shen Zongnian, not just a matter of money but involving countless personal connections, which Tan Youming didn't mind.

Make money, make money, make money—let's see just how much you want to make!!

After handling official business, a lawyer brought him the personal asset report for the first half of the year for review and confirmation.

Tan Youming signed column by column, feeling somewhat dazed. He rarely paid attention to this; previously, it had all been handled by Shen Zongnian.

Fixed rental income, stock dividends, regular monetary fund trusts, not to mention cryptocurrencies, private bonds, real estate… Only by signing item by item did he gain a concrete sense of how much money Shen Zongnian had invested in him over the years.

The anger that had built up over these days dissipated by half. Tan Youming increasingly felt he shouldn't have said those hurtful words that night.

"Mr. Tan, your pen."

A staff member picked it up for him.

His fingers were a bit shaky. Tan Youming pressed his right wrist with his left hand, rested for a moment, then continued.

By the time everything was done, it was evening. A consultant accompanied Tan Youming to the drive-way entrance of the Financial Tower, waiting for the driver to bring the car up.

The family office's CIO came from a securities background, and his team discussed futures trends and policy directions with Tan Youming along the way. Suddenly, Tan Youming turned and stared at the street corner, where a Horch slowly emerged.

Shen Zongnian rarely drove this car.

This area was mostly filled with Chinese and foreign banks and securities buildings. The financial street was narrow, and the black Horch moved at a steady pace.

The driver was taking too long. Tan Youming, growing impatient, quickly walked toward the opposite side, following the car's tail, looking around hoping for a taxi before the light turned green.

"Mr. Tan?"

Tan Youming saw Wang Simin in the Pagani, dressed in workwear, sunglasses, and a high ponytail. Not caring how well he knew her, he knocked on the doorframe and said urgently, "Are you free? Help me follow that car."

Wang Simin tilted her head, gesturing, "Get in."

Tan Youming had never imagined that one day he would need to rely on tailing to track Shen Zongnian's whereabouts.

The traffic ahead began to loosen. The silver Pagani accelerated, weaving through gaps to catch up with the black Horch.

Having ridden in Shen Zongnian's passenger seat for over a decade, Tan Youming knew his driving skills and habits inside out: "If it goes onto the overpass, it will definitely overtake. You can change lanes in advance."

Wang Simin did as instructed without question.

The Horch didn't head toward the city center; this direction led either to Binzhou Ground or toward Xiaolan Mountain.

Binzhou Ground was considered a gray area in Haishi, with black markets, hidden networks, underground transactions, and some historically entrenched gangs still active there.

Tan Youming unconsciously frowned.

Whether it was because the Pagani was too conspicuous or the Horch too alert, Tan Youming misjudged the direction several times later and actually lost track.

Wang Simin looked at the three intersections ahead and said, "Pick one."

Tan Youming hesitated.

Wang Simin ordered, "Quick." The Horch was driving too aggressively; they could only gamble on one.

"Forget it," Tan Youming said. "Shen Zongnian probably suspects something. Let's go back."

"Not following anymore?"

Tan Youming distractedly replied, "Yeah, we won't catch up." He knew Shen Zongnian's driving skills and speed.

"Intense?" The Pagani made another turn and accelerated.

"This acceleration G-force." Tan Youming could barely see the scenery outside the window.

"Are you uncomfortable?" Wang Simin glanced at his complexion in the rearview mirror. "Should I slow down?"

Hidden unease, concealed anxiety—whether about the future or the present, the body was far more sensitive than the mind. Tan Youming didn't feel it himself: "It's fine, drive as you are."

"This area isn't safe," Wang Simin explained. As a hotelier, she had done detailed planning and research on Haishi's regional structure before returning to the country. She told Tan Youming, "A large part of this area still belongs to branches of White Crane Hall. It's not advisable to stay long."

White Crane Hall was a gray organization, disbanded last year in a police crackdown, but like a centipede that dies but doesn't stiffen, remnants still lingered, engaging in illegal activities for overseas wealthy businessmen in an attempt to make a comeback.

But northwest through Binzhou Ground was Huantu's new factory. Did Shen Zongnian have an inspection scheduled there today?

Tan Youming pondered but could no longer ask Zhong Manqing.

He asked Wang Simin, "Did I delay you today?"

"No," Wang Simin had been at a private bank handling personal assets, hence her casual attire. In such places, as long as you had money, even wearing a sack made you the client. "I just finished and was about to head back."

Tan Youming asked her to drop him off on Bolidun Street.

"Thanks for today." He got out of the car and leaned down slightly to say goodbye through the window.

Wang Simin pulled her large black sunglasses down from the top of her head: "Don't mention it. Just returning the favor."

Tan Da-shao had always been the trendsetter for dining and entertainment in Haishi. During an interview at the recent cultural tourism forum, he brought up her newly opened gallery hotel, which had excellent promotional results.

Wang Simin disliked owing favors to others; otherwise, she wouldn’t bother getting involved in other people’s private affairs.

"Let’s go." Wang Simin closed the window, stepped on the accelerator, and sped away.