Chapter 41 Tit for Tat

Chapter 41: A Clash of Wills

Shen Zongnian was swamped. On the first workday of the week, he drove alone to Puli.

Red "wealth cars" and gondolas bustled, carrying an endless stream of tourists. The perpetually bright sky and the lavish scent of perfume made visitors lose all track of time—the shifting constellations held no sway in this golden realm.

The manager greeted him under the golden arch: "Mr. Shen, the guest has arrived."

Shen Zongnian raised a hand, signaling his entourage to wait outside, allowing only one of He Wufei’s subordinates to accompany him in.

"Mr. Shen." You Jinrong released the girl beside him and stood to shake hands.

You Jinrong didn’t seem to mind, chuckling, "Just got here."

He gestured for his companion to sit beside Shen Zongnian and pour wine. After some pleasantries, Shen Zongnian, with little patience, cut to the chase: "What did you want me to see, Boss You? Let’s take a look."

You Jinrong, a Malaysian, was one of the hotel’s top-tier "Gold Lion" members, involved in transactions of enormous sums.

You Jinrong’s assistant respectfully presented a sealed document to Shen Zongnian with both hands.

Shen Zongnian briefly scanned it, then set the contract down: "Such a high transaction volume for a first deal—Boss You seems to trust me excessively."

You Jinrong intended to use him as a front for money laundering, diverting illicit funds overseas, and promised Puli the most generous rebate as a token of sincerity.

Having been in this business for years, Shen Zongnian had received countless similar invitations. He consistently ignored them. On the contrary, his exceptionally strict management meant Puli had been flawless since he took over, making it a tempting target for various powerful factions.

You Jinrong was He Wufei’s target. He Wufei hoped Shen Zongnian would act as an informant to expose You Jinrong’s overseas strongholds.

Shen Zongnian disliked meddling, but You Jinrong had recently helped him with the black-market antique paintings in Binzhou. Refusing now would be seen as burning bridges. Furthermore, to completely sever Shen Xiaochang’s connections in Haishi, he would still need He Wufei’s assistance. Thus, he agreed to meet You Jinrong.

You Jinrong smiled, "Of course I trust you, Mr. Shen. This is also a gesture of my sincerity."

But Shen Zongnian countered, "I’m not so sure. It’s better to be cautious for our first collaboration."

Such schemes prioritized efficiency; the faster illicit funds were dispersed, the harder they were to trace. You Jinrong was eager to process a large sum to address urgent needs and, in one swift move, fully implicate Shen Zongnian, turning Puli into his personal money-laundering hub. A shared interest, after all, was the most solid foundation.

However, Shen Zongnian was notoriously difficult to sway. You Jinrong tried to negotiate amiably: "No problem. If you think it’s too aggressive, we can test the waters first. If any issues arise, we can adjust. After all, I’m genuinely seeking a long-term partnership, not a one-off deal. Building mutual trust is paramount."

You Jinrong took a puff of his cigar and asked, "What amount do you think is suitable for the first transaction, Mr. Shen?"

Shen Zongnian halved the transaction amount in the contract, roughly within the scope of He Wufei’s current police resources.

You Jinrong smiled, "No problem. We’ll proceed as you say. I’ll have someone handle it immediately."

"Not so fast," Shen Zongnian crossed his legs, clasping his hands over his abdomen. "I have one more condition. If Boss You isn’t willing, then we can forget it."

"Please, Mr. Shen."

"I want the transaction processed through an overseas account." He Wufei had tracked most illicit funds only as far as the domestic border before losing the trail. Uncovering overseas strongholds was incredibly difficult, with no knowledge of their diversion channels, financial records, or operational hierarchy.

You Jinrong’s expression remained unchanged, though the warmth in his eyes faded, replaced by a hint of wariness. Still, he smiled, "What’s the reasoning behind that?"

Shen Zongnian calmly spread his hands: "Boss You, your money’s final destination is with me. If things go south, you might walk away clean, but Puli can’t just pack up and leave."

You Jinrong pondered, lost in thought.

Shen Zongnian’s face was cold and imposing as he exposed him: "You’re shifting all the risk onto me."

You Jinrong paused, claiming that wasn't his intention.

Shen Zongnian ignored him, simply stating, "I only accept overseas account transactions. You know more about anti-fraud measures and financial regulations abroad than I do."

Overseas regulations were not only less strict than domestic ones but often had protective umbrellas, with illicit funds even contributing to their financial revenue.

Shen Zongnian added, "Overseas transactions are more discreet, with a lower chance of exposure. Even if investigated, they’re impossible to trace and verify. If you’re unwilling, please find someone else."

You Jinrong pursed his lips, deflecting: "It’s possible, but overseas procedures are more complex and time-consuming. It might not be very convenient."

To his surprise, Shen Zongnian replied, "That’s your problem to solve."

"..." You Jinrong was irritated by his attitude. Having done business far and wide for years, he’d never encountered such inflexibility. But he was the one seeking help and didn’t want to be completely led by Shen Zongnian. "Mr. Shen, you’re really putting me in a difficult position. How about this: play a game with me. If you win three consecutive rounds, we’ll do it your way."

Shen Zongnian stared at him, silent.

You Jinrong couldn’t gauge his meaning, growing uneasy, wondering if he’d provoked him.

Only after You Jinrong’s confidence had visibly deflated did Shen Zongnian casually ask, "What do you want to play?"

"How about Bullfighting?"

Shen Zongnian motioned for He Wufei’s subordinate to join the card table. Bullfighting, a hybrid of Baohuang and Pinocchio, required four players.

You Jinrong smiled, lightly deflecting: "Ah, Mr. Shen’s subordinates are all experts. Since I rarely visit, why not let my people learn from you as well?"

Shen Zongnian remained indifferent: "As you wish."

You Jinrong ostensibly assigned a girl to partner with Shen Zongnian, but in reality, it was Shen Zongnian against three.

He had grown up at card tables, brought to Puli by Shen Zhongwang before he could even count properly.

After winning two rounds, You Jinrong surprisingly showed no anger. But in the final round, Shen Zongnian glanced at his cards.

So this was where he was waiting for me.

The girl had led with two flushes. If Shen Zongnian didn’t play the King of Hearts, he would surely lose. But if he did… the King of Hearts was the knight card.

In such establishments, receiving someone’s knight card meant they could make a demand—a convention that always favored the recipient. Either way, You Jinrong stood to gain.

At the critical moment, caught in a dilemma, You Jinrong expected Shen Zongnian to hesitate. Instead, Shen Zongnian threw down the King of Hearts without a second thought, ending the game.

You Jinrong burst into laughter, telling the girl, "You should thank Mr. Shen."

Before the girl could speak, Shen Zongnian preempted her: "If you have a request, Boss You, just say it outright."

This wasn’t about the girl making a request; it was clearly You Jinrong’s way of asking Shen Zongnian to work for him.

You Jinrong replied, "What do you mean, Mr. Shen? I’m not the one who won." He glanced at the girl, who took the hint and said she hadn’t decided yet.

You Jinrong spoke for her: "If you haven’t decided, then keep it for later. Mr. Shen isn’t one to go back on his word, is he?"

Shen Zongnian agreed, but his eyes held a hint of condescending pity. With He Wufei’s dragnet spread out, You Jinrong likely wouldn’t live long enough to make that request.

Having turned the tables, You Jinrong left in high spirits with his people, saying he’d return with the revised contract.

The undercover officer went to report to He Wufei and plan the next steps. Shen Zongnian didn’t plan to stay longer. As he left, the manager asked if he wanted a box of chocolate cookies to go.

Shen Zongnian paused briefly, then declined.

"Won't be needing that anymore."

Driving away from Superintendent Avenue and passing through Pinghai Park, the traffic lights turned red, illuminating a row of taillights along the high-value stretch, backed up from the skyway all the way to the overpass.

The giant screen on Bridleton Avenue had already been updated with Pinghai’s new season posters and promotional videos, directed by the first Asian Palme d'Or Best Director Fang Shiying and starring Golden Spike Award-winning actress Faye, with Fang Sui also making an appearance.

According to TCB leaks, several heritage luxury brands tried to outbid each other for naming rights, but Fang Shiying refused. The matter escalated to Pinghai’s headquarters, where Tan Youming withstood internal pressure to offer support.

Thus, this advertisement garnered millions of likes on its first day online, quickly sparking a new fashion trend across the island.

Shen Zongnian watched it attentively twice, gazing up at the Pinghai logo on the final screen.

It felt unreachable, but that was exactly where it belonged.

During the evening rush hour, the streets grew more crowded, and rosy-hued clouds spread across the overpass.

Haishi’s low latitude meant sunsets were often intensely golden, but this evening was unusually tinged with purple—vivid, expansive, like rouge spilled from a black-gold lacquer box, bleeding with water, blending with ink, vast and endless.

The last time Shen Zongnian remembered such a scene was during his time studying at Yinghua.

Back then, the Shen family’s situation was still uncertain. Most in their circles doubted that the young Shen Zongnian would ultimately rise to power. Most second-generation heirs were aligned with Shen’s uncles, leaving Shen Zongnian consistently marginalized.

During a rugby match in P.E. class, Zhuo Zhixuan suddenly produced a wrist guard from somewhere and handed it to Zhao Shengge. As the two chatted on the sidelines, a schoolmate intentionally fouled Shen Zongnian when he wasn’t paying attention.

Shen Zongnian turned around, his dark eyes fixed on them. Outnumbered and with tensions escalating, a fight seemed imminent. Then, out of nowhere, Tan Youming appeared, dressed in a sailor-collar T-shirt and white socks, apparently having just finished a soccer class nearby.

He stood smiling in front of Shen Zongnian, and though surrounded by a crowd, the fight never happened.

The following week, Shen Zongnian heard that those second-generation heirs had gone rock climbing—one broke an arm, another suffered a concussion.

After school, Tan Youming leisurely strolled to his desk, backpack slung over one shoulder, grinning carelessly. "Come on, let’s hurry home and play games."

Shen Zongnian looked up, quietly watching him. That evening was also tinged with purple—vibrant, magnificent, overwhelming, dyeing both sky and sea with a radiant glow.

In the uniquely humid warmth of the island’s twilight, the rose-colored clouds and emerald trees melded into a honeyed amber, flowing over the young faces, making them shine.

Perhaps from dozing off in the previous class, a few strands of hair at the back of Tan Youming’s head stuck up, turned golden by the sunset, like the playful whiskers of a tiger-striped cat, perky and spirited.

Shen Zongnian could never escape that summer twilight. With a turn of the steering wheel, he broke through the purple-black tide that sought to trap him.

The black Bentley made a U-turn, piercing through the mulberry-tinted clouds above the overpass and accelerating back onto the expressway. Ahead, a massive blue bilingual road sign announced "All Destinations" to all vehicles.

Shen Zongnian paid it no mind.

All destinations meant no destination at all.

As the sun sank, the twilight deepened into a rich purple, filtering through the high-altitude glass and turning into the blue of dusk.

The office was no longer as bright as daytime. Yang Shiyan entered to bring Tan Youming water, waiting for him to swallow the medicine in one gulp before asking, "Sir, should I cancel tomorrow’s meeting for you?"

Tan Youming swallowed the pills. "No need, it’s just a cold."

Yang Shiyan thought to herself, *You don’t look like it’s just a cold—you dropped your pen twice while signing documents.* But as an assistant, she knew better than to pry.

"Tell the driver to come half an hour earlier tomorrow."

Tan Youming placed great importance on the next day’s Intelligent Technology Application Summit.

The summit was again held at the Finlayson Bay Hall, with the second floor designated as an exhibition space. The latest technological applications and exhibits, labeled with major corporate logos, served as platforms for exchange, display, and competition.

Among them, a company called "Yishan" stole the spotlight—its founder was a dark horse among the younger generation.

Tan Youming arrived early, exploring the model sandbox before testing the digital command hub. Since the Tan family’s fortune began with shipping port operations, Tan Youming couldn’t help but pause and study it for a while.

"Using a different algorithm can yield a more precise threshold."

Tan Youming looked up. The founder, a renegade who'd faced lawsuits four times for unfair competition, asked, "Would you like to give it a try, Mr. Tan?"

Young people in Haishi often unconsciously flattered Tan Youming, but this man seemed respectful yet not overly deferential.

Tan Youming considered himself bold, but the "Defendant of the Year" appeared even bolder.

"Did you come here specifically to wait for me?"

"Not exactly. Had I known Mr. Tan was interested, I would’ve tailored our approach sooner."

Tan Youming said, "You’re quite honest."

Liang Dingyan and the scion of the Wen family were vying for the Jianxin contract. Huantu supported the Wen family, while Pinghai backed Yishan. After several rounds of fierce rivalry, neither side conceded, and tensions had escalated in recent days.

Liang Dingyan didn’t mention the Jianxin project, focusing instead on explaining Yishan’s other exhibits.

As time neared, they took the elevator to the first-floor hall. The doors opened, revealing two figures facing them.

Shen Zongnian and Wen Jiacheng.

The four stood face-to-face, each pausing inwardly.

In the grand hall, under ornate chandeliers, media reporters aimed their cameras at the four handsome faces, secretly thrilled at the rare chance for ideal cover material.

Liang Dingyan, ambitious and intense, shared a similar aura with the sternly authoritative Shen Zongnian. Wen Jiacheng, born into a prestigious family, clearly aligned more with the aura-enhanced Tan Youming.

Yet, here they were—gentlemen standing alongside formidable figures, ambitious schemers paired with courteous gentlemen.

A twist of fate, a standoff between two pairs.

After their major falling-out that day, they now stood beside different people.

The latent animosity between Liang Dingyan and Wen Jiacheng added fuel to the fire, heightening the already tense and delicate atmosphere.

Four pairs of eyes, undercurrents swirling deeply.

Tan Youming seemed never to have imagined this scene. His heart tightened as his gaze swept over Shen Zongnian and Wen Jiacheng. For sixteen years, it had been him standing in that position—at negotiation tables, under spotlights, in news frames.

The two standard-bearers of the Tan family had finally reached this point.

Shen Zongnian’s brows furrowed almost imperceptibly as he looked at the pair across from him. The most familiar strangers—nothing more.

The flashbulbs and shutter clicks stretched time indefinitely. One second, two seconds... It was Tan Youming, fighting against worsening abdominal pain, who offered a slight nod first.

They were all adults. No matter the inner turmoil, they had to maintain external decorum, compartmentalizing personal and professional, avoiding childishness.

Most importantly, no matter how damaged their private rapport, he never wanted to reveal any rift or fracture between him and Shen Zongnian in front of outsiders.

Shen Zongnian glanced downward. He knew Tan Youming too well—if he argued or got angry, it was never a real problem. But if one day he became courteous, composed, and unengaged, it truly signaled the end.

This was fine indeed.

They brushed past each other and entered separately. The secretary asked Wen Jiacheng with some concern, "Tan Youming seems very interested in Moving Mountains' technology. Could it be that..."

Wen Jiacheng thought for a moment and asked seriously, "Do you think Tan Youming is the one who calls the shots between them?"

Halfway across the venue, the assistant went over the speaking protocol with Liang Dingyan: "Mr. Wen has actually learned to seek people out now. About the Jianxin matter—"

Liang Dingyan smiled indifferently. "You don’t actually think Shen Zongnian is the one in charge between them, do you?"

The summit focused on the practical application of smart technology, with seating arranged according to industry planning. It was a rare day when Tan Youming and Shen Zongnian did not sit together.

The leaders’ speeches were long-winded, and the audience pretended to take notes.

Shen Zongnian opened his suede-brown notebook and paused. More than half of it was filled with Tan Youming’s scattered doodles, interspersed among his own sharp-edged notes.

At last March’s information exchange conference: "Shen Zongnian, want to get Portuguese cuisine after this? The conference meals here are absolutely disgusting." Accompanied by an adorable giant panda.

At April’s financial forum: nothing written, just a fox attacking a trade building, fully expressing inner turmoil.

At June’s Bay Area integration mobilization meeting: "Where did this old man come from? Kind of interesting." But that didn’t stop him from drawing turtles.

At the early July youth exchange meeting, probably starving from the session running late, he sketched several plates of seafood and fruit, not forgetting to add a glass of lemon tea for himself.

At the late October cultural tourism promotion conference, he practiced signatures—first his own, then Shen Zongnian’s. Both trained under the same master; their handwriting could easily be mistaken for each other’s, though one was lazy and free-spirited, the other reserved and sharp.

After attending hundreds of meetings together, Tan Youming’s own notebook remained empty and pristine, while Shen Zongnian’s was filled with enough illustrations to publish a comic book, much like their textbooks from childhood.

The November blockchain integration promotion meeting, the December leading enterprise annual meeting... Shen Zongnian didn’t look further, calmly turned the page, and started anew.

Several work messages popped up. He left after listening to the first half. Tan Youming didn’t draw tigers or space out in his own notebook this time; he sat attentively through the full two hours.

After the meeting, as they exited the venue, the ornate spire of the church, the long red-carpeted steps, and the stained-glass windows remained the same. Even the reporters in the waiting area were familiar faces from the same few news agencies. Yet the image of Tan Youming and Shen Zongnian standing side by side that day felt like it was from another lifetime.

Tan Youming had no time for sentimentality. He went with colleagues to try a new restaurant. He had plenty of friends; when one left, another naturally filled the gap.

He didn’t lack Shen Zongnian.

These days, free from restraint, his nights were even more unrestrained. Hangers-on, sensing Tan Youming’s recent availability, flocked to him like bees to honey. From all walks of life, Tan Youming welcomed them all.

Amid the glitzy nightlife scene, the dizzying pursuit of pleasure, Tan Youming felt both exhilaration and emptiness, until he could no longer distinguish between pain and joy, numbness and release.

At the peak of excitement, Tan Youming threw money around.

Someone led the crowd in cheering: "Tan Shao is so generous! Thank you, Tan Shao!"

Tan Youming leaned back on the sofa, watching the antics, amused. "Don't mention it. Your drinks are quite good too."

That person jumped off the sofa. "We’re all friends here, that's what friends are for."

Tan Youming paused. Friends—yes, this was what friends were: available at a call, sharing fun, never causing heartache.

He nodded expressionlessly. "You’re right."

The card game lasted well past midnight. A dozen people had drunk heavily. Tan Youming’s head swam, his breathing grew labored, and he went on a losing streak. Clenching a cigarette, he muttered lowly, "Again? You must be a cheating prodigy!"

The opponent protested innocently, laughing. "Young Master, you’re distracted. Last round you jumped again. Should I just hand you the King of Hearts directly?"

"Fine," Tan Youming took the cigarette from his lips, held it between his fingers, blew a smoke ring, and said boldly, "If you play it, I’ll take it."

"I won’t. If you want it, ask your Shen Zongnian to play it. He just played one anyway."

Tan Youming didn’t catch it clearly, tilting his face up. "What?"

"The King of Hearts," the lights were too dim to see expressions clearly, the person continued casually, "They say last week at Puli, he spent a fortune to make a beauty smile. You’re so close; ask him to play one for you too."

Tan Youming scoffed inwardly, thinking it impossible. Shen Zongnian wasn’t that kind of person; he never engaged in such games. Even amid their current strife, he still had that much confidence.

But the other immediately mentioned a friend who recently attended their shared gathering revealed that when You Jinrong toasted, he half-jokingly asked Shen Zongnian when he would make good on the King of Hearts he owed their family, and Shen Zongnian said anytime.

Tan Youming frowned.

Even Zhang Junqian, sitting beside him, asked quietly, "Were you there that night?" That night at Puli, he witnessed Shen Zongnian and You Jinrong each accompanied by a lady.

He tactfully warned Tan Youming: "You Jinrong is shady and plays fast and loose. Are you collaborating with him recently?"

Zhang Junqian, nicknamed "Know-It-All," was someone whose intel was always bulletproof. Among Tan Youming’s friends, he was one of the few who held no grudges against Shen Zongnian, even admiring him slightly.

Tan Youming’s smile vanished completely. The time and place were specific, and no one would dare fabricate rumors about Shen Zongnian.

Someone, a curious gossipmonger, asked: "Who could possibly make him play the King of Hearts?"

The King of Hearts, the cavalier card, suggestive and sexually charged.

"How would we know?" Everyone knew Tan Youming and Shen Zongnian were thick as thieves. "Only Tan Shao can enlighten us."

A wave of nausea and dull pain rose in Tan Youming’s stomach. His mind went blank, as if deprived of oxygen. He forced a smile. "How should I know?"

Now, he had to hear about Shen Zongnian’s affairs from others.

Tan Youming lit a new cigarette, asked the lady beside him to top off his glass, and smiled faintly, his eyes icy. "How could that be?"

He threw all his remaining resisting cards into the pool, losing everything in an instant.

The next player came to his senses and complained bitterly: "Hey, hey! I was about to call, why did you play them all?!"

The condensation on the glass reflected a distorted, gloomy face. The harsh alcohol burned his throat and sloshed in his empty stomach. Tan Youming, hazy yet acutely clear-headed, said indifferently, "I don’t want them anymore."

The next player protested loudly.

He muttered to himself again, lowly: "I don’t want them anymore." He pushed all his remaining chips to the lady beside him. "Want to play?"

The lady was delighted, thanking him with a smile. "Mr. Tan is so generous."

Tan Youming smiled.

The group hadn’t planned to stay all night. Li Baihao checked in: "Tan Shao, how about it? Should we call him to pick you up or get a driver?"

Tan Youming opened his eyes, a vein throbbing at his temple. He couldn’t hold out until returning. "Get me a room upstairs."

Li Baihao feigned exaggeration: "If you’re not afraid of him coming to drag you away in the middle of the night, I’m scared he’ll come after me later."

Even at this moment, the thoroughly drunk Tan Youming remembered to maintain appearances, unwilling to let others detect any rift between him and Shen Zongnian. He kicked him lightly, laughing carelessly. "Stop with the nonsense."

The large suite upstairs was a world apart from the bizarre, party scene below.

Once the door closed and his suit came off, his composed facade cracked. Under the hot shower, Tan Youming closed his eyes then opened them, lost and bewildered, like a caged animal who had lost its way.

He didn’t know who the person they spoke of, the one who made Shen Zongnian play the cavalier card, was. How had he'd become so unfamiliar?

He tossed and turned all night, his stomach churning and his body soaked in cold sweat, only managing to fall asleep as dawn approached.

The next day, he woke up and scrolled through his phone. Guan Kezhi, ever the first to catch wind of gossip, had posted a photo in the family group chat—a snapshot of the four of them in a standoff the previous day, published by some unknown media outlet.

Tan Youming recalled the scene from yesterday, a dull ache tightening in his throat.

Guan Kezhi urged them in the group to come home to pick up the seasonal wax apples and sugar apples. The Tan family owned a private island in the South Pacific, which supplied fresh tropical fruits year-round. She had also prepared two baskets of finger limes and Eureka lemons for Tan Youming to make lemon tea, and the housekeeper had brewed passion fruit honey, inviting both of them to come back for dinner.

Tan Youming no longer hesitated as he once would have, agreeing calmly without a ripple of emotion.

Only when one cares does one feel awkward and hesitant, fidgeting anxiously. True indifference allows one to handle matters with detached professionalism.

Guan Kezhi added a reminder for them to take care of their health, especially Shen Zongnian, advising him not to overwork. Tan Youming sneered inwardly, wishing he could show Guan Kezhi just what kind of person her supposedly diligent, disciplined son was like outside.

Tan Youming messaged his driver to pick up the fruits and split them in half, sending one portion to Pinghai and the other to Huantu.

Shen Zongnian, who had no taste for sweets, said to Jiang Ying across the conference table, "The driver brought some fruits. Take them with you when you leave."

Shen Zongnian wasn’t one to engage in such casual gestures, and Jiang Ying understood immediately. "Still not reconciled?" he asked.

Shen Zongnian lowered his head to study the blueprints without responding. Jiang Ying sighed and changed the subject. "What are you going to do about Qin Zhaoting’s anniversary celebration?"

Such was the nature of growing up together—their bonds ran deep, intertwined like sinews. Even if they avoided each other at work and at home, there was always a layer of shared friendships to navigate.

Qin Zhaoting, the only son of Haishi’s stock market king, was on good terms with both of them. For the first anniversary of his shooting club’s opening, he had sent them invitations well in advance.

And it was a single invitation sent to both.

Not only was Qin Zhaoting a childhood friend, but he was also one of Haishi’s notable investors. When Jianxin was first established, he had helped broker several foundational projects. Neither Shen Zongnian nor Tan Youming could refuse this invitation.

The club was located on Holland Avenue, occupying thousands of square meters in the prime central district, complete with shooting ranges, archery, rock climbing, and billiards. The previous year, they had attended the grand opening together, bringing gifts and wine. This year, however, they arrived in separate cars from different directions.

Anger had driven a wedge between them, and even their cars no longer parked side by side. The Bentley and Cayenne were parked at opposite ends, separated by a long-wheelbase Phantom and a Cullinan.

Shen Zongnian arrived last, coming straight from a meeting at the industrial park. Zhao Shengge, Chen Wan, Zhuo Zhixuan, and Jiang Ying were already there.

Chen Wan had said something that made Tan Youming burst into laughter. When Tan Youming noticed Shen Zongnian entering, his smile remained, but the warmth in his eyes vanished.

Shen Zongnian paused. Compared to the calm indifference during their confrontation at the hall the other day, Tan Youming’s gaze now held resentment, anger, and something he had never seen before—disgust.

Shen Zongnian was both startled and confused.

Even during arguments, Tan Youming had never looked at him like this.

Shen Zongnian carefully reflected on whether rejecting the Yishan proposal had upset him, but Liang Dingyan was too arrogant and ambitious. No matter how well the platform was built, it would be hard to control if he turned against them later.

Moreover, as far as he knew, that creepy monitoring bracelet of Chen Wan’s had been custom-made by Liang Dingyan. What kind of decent person would develop something like that?

Shen Zongnian frowned, his gaze turning cold.