After Xiang Yang left, Chen Jin leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes for a moment, replaying a phone call he'd made that morning—to the very person who had stoked this crisis into a blaze.
The line had rung three times before it was picked up. On the other end, the same clear, unhurried voice came through.
"So Director Chen finally couldn't sit still?"
He smiled faintly.
"I just wanted to remind you, Miss Zhang—if you keep pushing this hard, aren't you afraid I'll spill everything I've got?"
She laughed too, the sound bright and crisp.
"Of course I'm afraid. But I've got something in my hands as well. If it comes to a real head-on clash, I'm pretty sure you'll be even more scared than I am."
He pressed his lips together in silence, waiting for her to lay her cards on the table. Sure enough, she drew out her words,
"Honestly, I really admire you, Miss Lin. She's remarkably magnanimous—able to overlook the past and be with the older brother of the man who killed her fiancé. If that ever got out, I wonder what people would say about her…"
He ground his teeth.
"Zhang Yunyi, I'm warning you—don't dare touch her. If you do, don't blame me for burning the bridge behind us."
"Relax. I'm only looking for a little protection for myself," she replied lightly. "Besides, this won't do you any good either if it comes to light. You know perfectly well how things stand right now. I'll repeat myself: your family needs the Zhangs. And you need me."
At the time, his anger had almost tipped into laughter. She was stubborn to the point of madness—staging this grand show just to force his hand. Compared to what he'd done to Lin Wan back then, her methods were no less ruthless. For the first time, he actually felt a flicker of pity for the woman on the other end of the line.
His tone softened slightly.
"It's a little early to be talking about this. We still don't know who'll win or lose in the end. And even if your side does win, don't forget—power shifts quickly in politics. Give it five years, and who knows what the landscape will look like. Aren't you afraid I'll return the favor with interest when the tide turns?"
Her answer had been crisp and straightforward.
"If I dare to do it, I'll dare to pay the price. We'll deal with the future when it comes. You place a bet, you accept the outcome."
He'd finally let out a genuine laugh.
"Fine. You've got guts. Since you're so determined, I'll see this through with you—whatever it takes."
Now, Chen Jin lowered his gaze to the figures spread out across his desk—over ten billion in glaring capital shortfall. For all his shrewdness, he'd wound up being played by a petty man and a woman. But business had always been a battlefield soaked in blood. People used any means necessary to achieve their goals. He wasn't even particularly angry.
As the saying went, flies don't bite an egg without a crack. When something goes wrong, you look to yourself first. When the mountain you lean on collapses and the river you rely on runs dry, there's only one option left—find another way.
He rapped his knuckles lightly against the desk, then picked up the internal line.
"Get me an appointment with President Tan from Zhaohui."
Three days later, at eight-thirty in the evening, in a private club on the east side of the city.
Tan Xizhe arrived late, unhurried as ever. Sitting on the sofa, Chen Jin glanced at his watch—twenty minutes. He silently cursed him for putting on a show, then rose to his feet with a smile, walking forward a few steps to greet him with a handshake and a polite,
"President Tan really is a busy man. It's no easy feat to get a moment with you."
Tan Xizhe chuckled.
"I actually have been busy these past couple of days. Just got off the negotiation table. So, Director Chen, what brings you to me today?"
The hostesses who had been on standby stepped over to pour their drinks. Chen Jin waved them away and, once the door was closed, took the bottle himself. As he poured, his expression turned solemn.
"I came to thank you."
Tan Xizhe sank into the sofa opposite, crossing one leg over the other with familiar ease.
"And what exactly am I being thanked for?"
Chen Jin filled both glasses and set the bottle down, speaking slowly.
"For not joining in this time. For not coming around to give me a kick while I was down."
Tan Xizhe couldn't help laughing.
"Now you're just mocking me. I haven't been stirring up anything recently. I've got more than enough trouble of my own to keep me busy."
Chen Jin picked up his glass.
"When you think about it, we've known each other for more than twenty years, but I don't think we've ever sat down like this, just the two of us, to have a drink. Come on—let's have one."
Tan's gaze slid from the dark red wine to the bold, straightforward face across from him. He smiled.
"I don't mind drinking. But you'll have to give me a proper reason."
"Burying the hatchet," Chen Jin replied readily. "Is that reason enough?"
With that, he raised his glass and downed it in one go.
Tan glanced at the now-empty glass and shook his head with a smile.
"If I don't match that, I'll look less of a man than you."
He lifted his own glass, drank it dry, then turned it upside down as a salute.
Chen Jin reached for the bottle again, about to refill.
"I'll do it," Tan said, taking it from him.
He poured for them both, ignoring all the usual etiquette about red wine, filling each glass all the way. The two men clinked glasses, as naturally as breathing, and emptied them again.
Tan took out a pack of cigarettes, offered one to Chen Jin and lit it for him, then lit his own. After a drag, he said,
"The Zhangs went too far this time. All this fuss over a little romance drama—was it really necessary?"
He blinked, eyes gleaming with mischief.
"Although I'll admit, I was looking forward to the show. I wanted to see you bow to pressure and agree to be their perfect little son-in-law."
"Head can roll, blood can spill," Chen Jin replied solemnly. "But a man's dignity is not negotiable."
"Spoken like a man," Tan laughed. "People say you can see what someone's made of by the time he's three. You were stubborn from the start. First time I saw you in the military compound, you were getting beaten up. Your backside was covered in welts, and you didn't make a sound…"
"And you were off to the side licking your ice cream and enjoying the show," Chen Jin cut in dryly. "In that flowery little skirt—"
"It was pants, not a skirt."
"…"
"You finished getting beaten, yanked your pants up and yelled at me," Tan continued, grinning. "'Stupid girl, what are you staring at? Keep staring, and I'll pull your pants down next."
Chen Jin burst out laughing, tapping ash into the tray.
"So that's when the grudge started between us?"
"Of course," Tan said. "You thought I was a girl and got mad I saw your bare ass. After that, every time you saw me, you picked a fight."
"Well, they raised you like anyone else back then. Even Fang Zheng called you Cousin, and I heard he stayed at your place for two days and left traumatized by his 'big cousin'…"
"No choice," Tan shrugged. "I was sickly as a kid. Some fortune-teller said I had to be raised like anyone else until I turned eighteen."