Chapter 38#

After hanging up the phone, Ji Yang washed up quickly.

When he came out, the evening financial news was playing on the TV.

The host’s clear, enunciated voice echoed through the empty suite: “The Ji Hai Cheng Group issued a statement today, confirming that Zhu Guangsheng, Deputy General Manager of the Hangyuan Division, has been dismissed from all his positions for seriously violating the Group’s regulations and local laws and regulations. Meanwhile, the Ji Group will announce the establishment of a special task force, stationed in the Zhouleng region, to comprehensively investigate and address the previous issues of arbitrary shipping fees and the compensation for fishermen…”

Ji Yang’s hand paused mid-towel-dry, and he picked up the remote to turn up the volume.

The scrolling ticker at the bottom of the screen read: Ji Group’s stock price stopped falling and rebounded today, up 3.2%.

That was quick. So this whole “kill the chicken to scare the monkeys” approach does work after all.

The host continued: “After triggering the delisting procedure, Ji Group’s stock has entered the Third Board market. The company’s negative assets will likely face a final wave of stock sell-offs. Ji Group’s decisive action in this matter is like a warrior severing his own wrist. If they can repurchase shares or restructure, and later recover funds, there may still be a chance of relisting…”

Ji Yang listened in a daze.

It wasn’t until he was lying in bed and received Ji Mingyue’s phone call that he learned the decision had been made by Ji Zhonglin.

Ji Mingyue said, “Eldest brother truly placed righteousness above family ties this time. You should have seen Second Aunt go absolutely crazy, grabbing at eldest brother and screaming, ‘That’s your own uncle!’ It had me laughing so hard—my mom had to slap me before I could stop.”

Ji Yang’s lips twitched upward. “The power taken back from Zhu Guangsheng—did it go to the First Branch?”

Ji Mingyue: “No.”

She made no attempt to hide her disdain. “Eldest brother said someone else needs to be put in charge of the shipping sector, but you know how Ji Chengyi is—so ‘modest,’ he doesn’t want to compete with the Second Branch.”

Ji Yang found it a bit odd. “You and Ji Chengyi don’t have a grudge, do you?”

“Just can’t stand him,” Ji Mingyue said as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. “He’s been like that since childhood—looking all gentle and magnanimous, but somehow it’s always everyone else who’s wrong. Only someone as blunt as eldest brother wouldn’t be able to see through him.”

Ji Yang: “…He’s not that blunt.”

Ji Mingyue: “!!! What nonsense are you talking about?! I’m telling eldest brother—you’re spreading rumors about him!”

Ji Yang thought: If I told you he’s in love with Ji Chengyi, your whole worldview would shatter and need to be rebuilt from scratch.

Ji Mingyue, assuming Ji Yang was just jealous that Ji Chengyi was more favored by eldest brother, asked: “Are you really not coming back?”

“I don’t plan to for now,” Ji Yang said.

Ji Mingyue: “What are you hiding for? Do you know that at tonight’s big family gathering, your name kept coming up at the dinner table? People from the branch families even suggested to Grandpa that your positive influence now fully qualifies you for a higher position in the Group. You’re not the old Ji Yang anymore—you’re Ji Yang 2.0 now. Go fight Ji Chengyi tooth and nail for me, okay?! I really can’t stand his mom—crying through the entire meal, saying he suffered so much dealing with all those rioting fishermen in Zhouleng. I almost threw up right there.”

Ji Yang: “Go back just to get locked up a second time?”

Ji Mingyue: “Once you’re at the table, who would dare lock you up?”

Ji Yang: “I won’t make it to the table.”

He paused, then said: “If you can take my advice seriously, tell your parents not to get involved. Gather whatever cash flow you have and invest in anything else—just don’t hold on to Hai Cheng for dear life.”

There was a long silence on the other end.

Then: “Ever since you beat someone up that day, I’ve had this feeling something’s seriously off with you. Be honest—do you know something?”

Ji Yang sat up against the headboard: “Maybe I unlocked my acupoints and achieved enlightenment?”

“Piss off,” Ji Mingyue said irritably. “It was you doing the hitting, not getting hit.”

Speaking of which, Ji Mingyue remembered who he had beaten up.

Confused: “That Zhu Guangsheng—every time he sees Nie Xu, he wails like he’s seen a ghost, saying Nie Xu beat him up because of you. Is that really true? Didn’t he go to Zhouleng with Ji Chengyi? How did you two even cross paths?”

“It’s a long story,” Ji Yang summarized with that single phrase.

Ji Mingyue: “Regardless—be careful. The moment Nie Xu came back, Grandpa assigned him right to his side. Something about an overseas transaction. Even Lu Li has to take orders from him now. You have bad blood with him, and you refuse to rely on the family. Watch out for retaliation.”

The old man pulling Nie Xu into service at a time like this was actually a sign of how badly things were going for the Ji Group.

So-called “wariness” became a lot less important when survival was on the line.

Ji Yang was thinking about something else and said offhandedly: “We don’t have a grudge.”

Ji Mingyue: “…Was the person who whipped someone and then ended up drenched like a drowned rat not you?”

Ji Yang caught on, and said slowly: “I told you, didn’t I? That’s because I loved him too much. Unrequited love turned into hate.”

Ji Mingyue’s voice went up, full of disbelief at his utter lack of guilt: “And you don’t hate him now because you’ve already gotten what you wanted?”

“That’s not it,” Ji Yang said. “It’s because I’ve come to understand that true love isn’t about obtaining someone, let alone possessing them. It’s about wishing them well, about letting go, about watching over them peacefully.”

Ji Mingyue was speechless. “Are you writing poetry?”

“It’s not poetry. It’s marketing copy. Mr. Huang insisted we produce a version themed around ‘great love’ for the cultural tourism campaign.” Even as he said this, Ji Yang couldn’t help but complain: “Even if you’re a million-follower influencer, when the client asks for ‘a colorful kind of black,’ all you can do is smile and say, ‘Sure, I’ll do my best.’”

Ji Mingyue burst out laughing.

She sighed, as if genuinely inspired: “You really are… something now. Quite the motivational story.”

“I rode the tailwind,” Ji Yang said. And it wasn’t untrue. In his previous life, it had taken him quite some time to grow a single account to a million followers—not to mention he now had a concept company behind him.

Ji Mingyue: “The tailwind only lasts so long. But honestly, forget a million—as long as you set your mind to it, ten million won’t be far off either.”

Ji Yang: “Sell my face?”

Ji Mingyue answered honestly: “I don’t think there’s anything wrong with that.” She suddenly seemed in the mood to confide: “The identity of ‘Eldest Miss of the Ji Family’ has followed me for twenty-something years. Only recently have I felt like I’ve suddenly grown up. My mom has been a Buddhist believer since she was young. She’s nothing like the Second Madam—a woman skilled at socializing. Whether it’s the Ji family’s banquets and receptions, which big project got signed today, or which powerful family in Fanzhou we’re forming an alliance with tomorrow—she doesn’t care about any of it. And because of that, my dad’s in a good place mentally too. Being less valued by the family—I used to mind when people said the Third Branch of the Ji family was the most invisible. Now I actually feel grateful.”

Ji Yang didn’t have a deep impression of Ji Mingyue’s parents.

His impression of her mother was of a round, well-kept lady of a certain kind—quite gentle. On the several occasions Ji Yang had been put on trial at the Ji estate, only she had never participated in a single word. Even during the time Ji Chengyi was nearly kidnapped by Wei Qiming, and the Ji Changshou couple returned to find Ji Yang causing a massive uproar, it was Ji Mingyue’s mother who, through Ji Mingyue, asked him if he needed a doctor called.

Ji Yang: “Your mom is a good person.”

“Your mom was a good person too,” Ji Mingyue said. She was probably in bed as well, sounding like she was speaking from under a blanket, her voice a muffled murmur: “Eldest uncle just doesn’t let anyone bring it up. But my mom once said your mom was the kind of woman with real chivalry about her.”

Yu Fei?

A chivalrous woman from a scholarly family? Ji Yang couldn’t picture it.

Ji Mingyue: “You should still remember, right? You were about five, almost six at the time.”

Ji Yang: “I’ve forgotten.”

The Ji family couldn’t even find a single photograph. Maybe the original host still remembered, but Ji Yang had absolutely no recollection. Aunt Mo had mentioned once that Yu Fei and Ji Changshou had fought about divorce, and later, for the sake of the children, she returned after falling ill.

After hanging up with Ji Mingyue, it was already very late.

Yet Ji Yang, for once, couldn’t fall asleep.

He thought he probably just had shallow ties to family—that had been true in his past life, and it was still true for the current “Ji Yang.”

He couldn’t remember where he’d read it, but it said that people with shallow family ties were actually on their final incarnation before ascending to immortal cultivation—a kind of good fortune, actually. Ji Yang chuckled at the absurdity of the thought. The bed was soft, and there was premium incense burning on the nightstand—specially provided by the high-end hotel. Eventually, he drifted off into a hazy sleep.

He ended up staying at the hotel.

It was very close to “Yi Yuan”’s office building. For the first couple of days while his leg needed fresh dressings, he occasionally took the wheelchair to the company for a spin.

His colleagues had gradually all returned from Zhouleng.

The collaboration with Mr. Huang had been formally signed and sealed—it counted as the company’s first project.

Ji Yang didn’t participate in the project’s actual content, but Qian Yitian, Qiao Qiao, and the rest had a group chat and pulled Ji Yang into it. During brainstorming sessions, they’d always rope him in, with the grand excuse: “The young master has seen the world—his ideas are extraordinary.” Ji Yang roasted them for just wanting free labor.

Ji Yang generally didn’t decline—unless he had other things to do.

This so-called “other thing” wasn’t exactly serious business either. He was mulling over which direction to steer his account.

After all, his account was personal in nature—it had started with him as a person, and only later became “Yi Yuan.” When he first created the account, he hadn’t expected it would attract such a massive following.

When he couldn’t come up with anything, he just asked directly on his account.

He wasn’t active in daily posting, yet his follower count was approaching two million.

The key point was—the followers felt very real.

He said he wanted to do something serious.

Hater No. 1: [Food, travel, culture, sports—what exactly are you good at? I looked up your university; it’s some diploma-mill abroad. Just sell your products properly and stop trying to be fancy. I’ll still buy two orders next time.]

Ji Yang: “I can see you’ve got money to spare. Also, I graduated high school. Thanks.”

Hater No. 2: [I have a great suggestion—do a daily livestream covering gossip from all the major wealthy families in Fanzhou! I live for that stuff!!!]

Ji Yang: “Family scandals can be aired out, sure. But airing out other people’s family scandals? That’s called a crime, not gossip.”

Hater No. 3: [Pretty boy, don’t work so hard. Just do some spicy content—it’s not that bad. Stop pleasing yourself. Please me.]

Ji Yang: “You wish. I’ll do spicy content if you book me for the night—billed per second.”

Ji Yang gave up in the end.

Instead, he posted an ad for a newly acquired contract—a one-on-one chat software platform.

He took their software’s tagline and posted it directly as his caption: Don’t ask if I’m here. All I’ll tell you is, “Can you speak human language?”

The comments flooded in below.

[I feel like I just got roasted.]

[I got roasted too. +1]

……

The comments piled up so fast that the person in charge of the software transferred the remaining payment directly to his account within five minutes, along with a carefully worded message: Can we extend the partnership to one year? Four Young Master?

Ji Yang: “No.”

He immediately transferred the money to You Li.

You Li—who had already returned to school and was planning to join some sort of training camp with classmates before the summer break ended—replied instantly: “???”

Ji Yang: “This money was too easy to earn. Give it to Uncle You and have him deliver it to that family from the dock. This case has entered judicial proceedings—they won’t be able to keep the money from before.”

You Li: “…Thank you.”

“What are you thanking me for?” Ji Yang asked, puzzled.

You Li: “I only heard from my dad afterward—that family didn’t want to take the money. It was that guy surnamed Zhu who forced them, deliberately provoking the man into having an episode. He even said he had the entire Ji family behind him, and by the time it was done, they’d lose the person and never see the money either.”

Ji Yang wasn’t surprised.

He just happened to know it before You Li did.

The reason he sent the money was because he’d been thinking—a human life, bought off so easily, just like that. Ji Chengyi had been at the scene. So when had his plan to cooperate with Zhu Guangsheng started? If he’d had this idea from the beginning, had he deliberately delayed during the rescue at the scene?

If Ji Chengyi had been trying to frame him, then did that life count as something connected to him too?

Ji Yang really didn’t want to think this way.

But once your impression of someone had already sunk to that level, it was very hard to imagine them in a better light.

Ji Yang only needed to be able to face a clear conscience.

Fortunately, apart from scattered bits of information, he had almost no further interaction with anyone from the Ji family.

When he next saw them, half a month had already passed.

By then, he was wearing a prosthetic leg and moved about freely.

He heard that in the past half month, the Ji Group had undergone another round of internal restructuring and disbandment. In the end, Ji Zhonglin had been unable to stop the old man’s headstrong determination. Old shareholders resigned and defected one after another, and the shipping business was being carved up piece by piece.

There was a hushed rumor going around outside that the old man was severing his own tail to survive.

What tail was severed. What survival was sought.

Ji Yang was half-convinced, half-doubtful about this claim.

Until one evening, he was heading downstairs to grab something to eat, and at the hotel entrance he saw two rows of bodyguards standing outside.

Ji Yansong walked in wearing a Zhongshan suit, leaning on a cane.

The people surrounding him this time—Ji Yang had never seen a single one of them.

Except one.

Nie Xu stood beside the old man, wearing earbuds and dark sunglasses, in a state of absolute alert.

His identity as a bodyguard was plain to see.

The old man seemed quite relaxed, chatting and laughing with the entourage he traveled with. Mid-way, he tilted his head to say something to Nie Xu. Nie Xu leaned in to listen, then nodded.

Ji Yang was standing just past the elevator bank.

He didn’t know whether Ji Yansong was aware he was staying at this hotel, or whether he’d instinctively avoided him.

He went back out to buy food and only returned afterward. By the time he came back, the hotel lobby was empty.

Ji Yang habitually greeted the front desk.

The young woman behind the desk gave him an awkward smile.

A flicker of hesitation crossed Ji Yang’s mind, but he swiped his card and went upstairs.

The twenty-eighth floor was very quiet.

Ji Yang stood at his door, just starting to wonder if he was being paranoid, when suddenly there was a soft click, and the power on the entire floor went out. Darkness swallowed everything instantly.

Then a hand clamped over his mouth from behind.

The instinctive human reaction in such a moment was generally to struggle, and Ji Yang was no exception.

But that hand was like an iron shackle. Ji Yang felt himself being dragged easily away from the doorway—based on the distance, it should have been the room next door. Door opened, step inside, door shut.

Ji Yang was pressed against the door.

The man carried a scent that wasn’t unfamiliar. The hand covering his mouth didn’t loosen.

His tone wasn’t stern either.

He addressed him: “Young Master.”

Ji Yang made a muffled sound, glaring at the figure in the darkness with the faint light from the window.

Nie Xu seemed to have read his expression, letting out a soft chuckle: “Taking you away is just my mission. Your grandfather needs to borrow your room for a transaction. The power cut is only a countermeasure. Can you understand?”

Ji Yang shook his head, indicating for him to let go.

Nie Xu released him.

Ji Yang kept his voice low and cursed: “Are you out of your mind? Did you even ask for my consent?”

“Your clean identity—plus the fact that you’ve been staying here for half a month and have a valid check-in record—makes it the best cover,” Nie Xu said.

Ji Yang glared at him again. “Then why aren’t you guarding the room? What are you doing squatting here to ambush me? Enabling a tyrant?”

Nie Xu: “Just a bodyguard. I’m not qualified to go in.”

Ji Yang mocked: “Just say straight up that old man doesn’t fully trust you. It’s not that hard.”

After his mockery, Ji Yang frowned and asked: “What kind of underhanded transaction is this, anyway?”

“Best not to ask questions you shouldn’t be asking right now,” Nie Xu replied.

“Then—”

The word was swallowed back into his throat.

Nie Xu covered his mouth again. Footsteps could be heard approaching from outside soon after.

Nie Xu turned his attention back and explained: “Right now, besides my people, Lu Li’s people are downstairs too. And a third party. A fourth.”

Ji Yang had never planned on making a scene anyway.

It was just that, pinned between the door and the man, his breathing trapped—it was summer, and that kind of stifling humidity was unusually oppressive.

His shirt clung to his back, sweat sliding slowly down his spine.

Ji Yang wanted to ask him to let go again.

Instead, the grip tightened.

“Shh. Be quiet,” Nie Xu gave his final warning.

That heat surged up again. Struggling was useless. Ji Yang paused, then buried his face in and licked with the tip of his tongue.

The air went dead still.

Then, after the briefest gap,

He heard Nie Xu scoff softly: “Are you asking to be spanked?”