Chapter 62 Chiwan’s Lost Path

Chapter 62: The Perilous Path of Chiwan

That afternoon, after the three parties had settled on a preliminary agreement, Wang Simin extended an invitation for dinner: "These red-spotted crabs were caught by trawl fishing, the last catch before the Chiwan ban. Would Mr. Tan and Mr. Shen do me the honor? The next fishing season will likely be after a major typhoon."

Tan Youming responded with interest: "It seems even your hotel and catering business is at the mercy of the weather—competition must be fierce."

Wang Simin asked, "You mean 'you' as in...?"

Tan Youming took a sip of tea to moisten his throat: "Ah Xuan mentioned he saved some red grouper for me, but I haven’t had the chance to try it yet. Now I’m having red-spotted crabs at your place—if he finds out, he’ll surely give me a hard time."

With business concluded, Wang Simin relaxed considerably, a rare moment of leisure to show concern for others: "How are Mr. Zhuo Zhixuan’s supplier negotiations progressing?"

During the salon at the new hotel’s opening, Zhuo Zhixuan had raised many questions, leaving a deep impression on Wang Simin. Tan Youming answered on behalf of his friend: "Things are back on track. He also said your advice was very practical and wants to thank you with a meal when he has time."

"Glad it was helpful."

"Zhongdao Hotel is also a co-organizer this time. We’ll have plenty of opportunities to meet in the future." It wouldn’t hurt for Zhuo Zhixuan to interact more with Wang Simin.

Wang Simin nodded and turned to Shen Zongnian: "Mr. Shen, do you not care for crab?"

Wang Simin was observant. Aside from business discussions, Shen Zongnian spoke little, yet his presence was unmistakable. She was almost certain that Shen Zongnian was the person Tan Youming had asked her to track that day.

Although Tan Youming was chatting amiably with her, his attention and gaze were subtly influenced by Shen Zongnian—an unconscious connection and reaction that even Tan Youming might not have noticed, but Wang Simin saw it clearly.

Mr. Shen took a sip of tea, his reply still distant: "I’m fine with anything, thank you."

Wang Simin extended her hospitality: "The weather isn’t great. Would you two like to stay overnight at the hotel? Consider it a trial experience. Last time, with family around, I couldn’t properly host you. Let me make it up to you now."

"Appreciate the offer," Tan Youming said, swirling his wine glass with a sigh. "But we have a meeting tomorrow. There’s too much preparation work for the Maritime Trade Association. Once things settle down, we’ll take you up on your hospitality, Ms. Wang."

Wang Simin didn’t press further and had their car parked at the hotel entrance.

The Bentley smoothly turned onto Chiwan Avenue. Tan Youming was in good spirits: "Smoother than I expected. How did you know Wang Simin’s peninsula land was intended for commercial use?"

With poor road conditions at night, Shen Zongnian focused intently on driving, answering briefly: "If it’s not listed or filed, what else would it be for? Residential or hotel development?"

Tan Youming sprawled arrogantly, crossing his legs, clicking his tongue teasingly: "And how did you know it wasn’t listed or filed? When did you secretly do your homework behind my back?"

Shen Zongnian’s apology was perfunctory: "Sorry, I forgot to report for your approval."

Tan Youming pouted, his tone sarcastic: "Well, aren’t you something."

With Wang Simin secured, Tan Youming felt emboldened. He messaged the family office lawyer, instructing her to add fuel to the fire: "If the Zeng family dares to play dumb with me again—"

Suddenly, Shen Zongnian called out: "Tan Youming."

Tan Youming’s ears perked up. He glanced at the rearview mirror, meeting Shen Zongnian’s eyes, his smile fading as he instinctively tightened his seatbelt.

Shen Zongnian swiftly turned the steering wheel halfway, slammed the accelerator, and the engine roared as the car accelerated sharply, drifting around the curve.

The intense G-force pressed Tan Youming firmly against his seat, his heart leaping to his throat. He stared at the two flickering Grand Cherokees in the rearview mirror—modified, their license plates blurred by the rainy night.

"How long have they been following us?"

"Not sure." Shen Zongnian hadn’t been certain at first, but their pursuers revealed themselves once they entered an unmanned stretch. Night sea fog and slippery roads made the chase treacherous. Shen Zongnian clenched his jaw, frequently changing lanes in an attempt to shake them off.

"Any idea who they are?"

"Roughly." Shen Zongnian hadn’t expected Shen Xiaochang, on his last legs, to still attempt a desperate move. "Unclear how many factions are involved." You Jinrong, White Crane Hall, even Binzhou factions—if he counted, he had offended too many forces.

Tan Youming quickly turned on his location and sent it to Tan Zhongshan, Zhao Shengge, and the nearest contact, Wang Simin.

The night sea offered weak signal, and the messages were still loading when the Bentley abruptly braked hard. Out of nowhere, an identical Jeep model appeared ahead, heading straight for them.

Suddenly, surrounded from front and back, they were trapped. The atmosphere in the car grew tense.

Shen Zongnian decisively engaged three locks, reversed sharply, and commanded in a low voice: "Hold on tight."

He slammed the accelerator again. The Bentley roared forward, crashing into the Jeep.

"Bang—"

The massive vehicle was forced back, sparks flying as the Bentley broke through forcefully, speeding along the mountain road with the Jeeps in hot pursuit.

Tan Youming quickly opened the satellite navigation to monitor the road conditions, analyzing calmly: "Slow down—we’re approaching rocky terrain."

"There might be rockfalls from the mountain in the tunnel ahead."

"Turn now."

Just as the Bentley successfully drifted around a curve, two larger Jeeps suddenly appeared ahead, waiting calmly as if for them to enter a new trap.

Well-trained and prepared, they were like relentless, resurrecting monsters, encircling them in an endless cycle.

The moment four long-range sniper rifles emerged, Shen Zongnian’s heart sank completely.

"Bang—" Multiple bullets shattered the windshield. Shen Zongnian swerved left to shield Tan Youming. The Bentley crashed violently against the mountain cliff, as three or four Jeeps closed in like a tightening net.

Tan Youming, pinned beneath Shen Zongnian, held him tightly: "Shen Zongnian! Are you okay?"

After a few seconds, Shen Zongnian regained consciousness, his voice hoarse: "I’m fine."

Tan Youming touched something warm and sticky—blood. His heart clenched, his voice trembling: "You’re bleeding."

The car door was forcibly pried open. Several armed men dragged them out.

Tan Youming stepped forward: "Who are you?"

No one answered. Three men in black aimed their guns while others roughly stripped them of their phones and watches, then bound and forced them into a Jeep.

With his hands tied, Tan Youming pressed his forehead and cheek against Shen Zongnian, sniffing lightly to assess his temperature, breath, and wounds. Like trapped animals seeking comfort, they nestled close, their heads and necks entwined in a primal attempt to soothe each other.

"Does it hurt?"

"Not much," Shen Zongnian gasped, tilting his head back to keep blood from dripping onto Tan Youming. Feeling his tremors, he whispered hoarsely, "Come, lean on me."

Tan Youming burrowed into his embrace, pressing close, worried he was cold or in pain, regretting not bringing an extra jacket as Shen Zongnian had suggested. Shen Zongnian’s shoulder was soaked—Tan Youming dreaded whether it was rain or blood.

"Do you think our families and Zhao Shengge can find us?"

Shen Zongnian rubbed his cheek against Tan Youming’s hair, enduring the searing pain in his back, and replied with rare tenderness: "They will. But this area has no surveillance, and the typhoon is disrupting signals. It might take some time."

Tan Youming felt reassured: "Who are these people, really?"

"Their shooting style resembles White Crane Hall’s." Shen Zongnian guessed that a warrant had been issued, with desperate remnants on the run. Shen Xiaochang, struggling overseas, might have incited these fugitives to take Shen Zongnian hostage for a chance at survival. Tan Youming was caught in the crossfire. "I’m sorry—"

"Shen Zongnian." Tan Youming warned him, a hint of anger in his voice.

Shen Zongnian pressed his lips together and fell silent, closing his eyes as he nuzzled his hair once more.

The rain grew heavier, the dark sea churning with deep undercurrents, washing over the rocks.

The two were soon forced onto an unmarked black vessel. Shen Zongnian noticed no license number or firefighting equipment on board. The deck was piled high with cargo containers as a decoy—such ships often masqueraded as freight vessels, used for smuggling and human trafficking.

The weather at sea was entirely different from on land. Lightning streaked across the horizon between sky and sea, followed by claps of thunder.

"My dear nephew, long time no see."

"So it's you," Shen Zongnian struggled to lift his head, his gaze contemptuous as if looking at vermin. "What's Shen Xiaochang paying you?"

Shen Xiaoguang smiled, stepped closer, and raised his leg to kick Shen Zongnian in the knee. "What do you think? Did you ever imagine this day when you threw my father’s coffin out of the ancestral hall?"

"Stop!" Tan Youming erupted, struggling violently even as two men tried to restrain him. His eyes burned with fury, his voice filled with hatred. "If you dare touch him, I’ll kill you—I swear I’ll kill you!"

Shen Xiaoguang turned around. "Young Master Tan, it’s been a while. The last time we met was at the Shen family’s birthday banquet." He twirled the gun in his hand, then pressed it to Tan Youming’s forehead. "Do you remember me, Young Master Tan?"

"Let him go!" Shen Zongnian’s blood dripped from his temple to the floor, his face bruised and twisted with rage. He snarled, defiant, "An eye for an eye—I’m the one you want. This has nothing to do with him!"

Shen Xiaoguang drinking in his tension and fury. "That depends on your performance, my dear nephew."

The gun pointed at Tan Youming clicked as the slide was racked.

Shen Zongnian, like a cornered beast at the end of its rope, still glared fiercely. "If you harm him, the Tan family will never let you go. Release him, and I’m at your mercy—any condition."

"Name your price. Whatever Shen Xiaochang promised you—shares, trusts, land? Let him go, and I’ll give you ten times, a hundred times what Shen Xiaochang offered."