Chapter 61#

Ji Yang quieted down because of those two words: stop it.

But that didn’t mean he was easy to fool.

Ji Yang: “What you told your aunt was that you were going to settle some old business. It’s dangerous?”

Nie Xu: “It’s not.”

Ji Yang paused for a moment, then said, “Alright then, nothing else. I’m hanging up.”

With that, he hung up the phone.

Nie Xu lowered the phone, glanced at the screen that had gone dark again, then raised his hand and returned the phone to Deng Jiao.

Deng Jiao took the phone, thought for a moment, and said, “Are you really not going to tell the young master? Chu Zhengqing, on the grounds that ‘during the transition period of shipping assets, local employment stability must be ensured,’ has dispatched a temporary oversight team to station at Jianyuan and Building Four. It sounds nice—stability and maintenance—but returning to the Ji family at a time like this? Isn’t that essentially locking him inside?”

Han Biao frowned too. “Lu Li’s plants in Building Four are all still in place. His stance on other matters is unclear, but when it comes to the Third Young Master, he’s never been reasonable. Now, to help the Third Young Master extricate himself from the mire, he’ll undoubtedly spare no effort targeting us.”

Nie Xu: “There’s no need to tell him. Yi Yuan’s bidding happens to coincide with this transition period. Ji Yansong might very well use it as leverage. You contact Jiang Lei, have him take a few people out and station them near Boman—keep it quiet, and don’t disturb him unless necessary.”

Han Biao opened his mouth, then thought better of it.

Deng Jiao, unlike him, had fewer reservations. She said directly, “Moving Brother Lei away at a time like this—aren’t we putting ourselves in too passive a position?”

“Being passive is exactly what we need right now.” Nie Xu turned back around, facing the distant sea.

He said, “Haicheng has declared bankruptcy, and Jianyuan has become an obvious target on the open. At a time like this, we have to let them have something in their hands to grip.” His voice was level and calm, faint. “A death without the struggle of despair has no meaning.”

The thing that could willingly be placed in the Ji family’s grasp could be Building Four—or it could be a person.

Deng Jiao and Han Biao exchanged a glance.

Both showed a glimmer of worry.

It was Deng Jiao who tried tentatively, “Boss, I think the young master really is angry.”

“Why does he get to be angry?” Han Biao flared up instantly. “His surname is Ji, for heaven’s sake. It was Boss who took him in after he left the Ji family. Even now, not telling him—it’s still because we don’t want him wading into the Ji family’s muck.”

Deng Jiao rolled her eyes at the sky and gave him a smack on the back, gritting her teeth: “Can you just shut your mouth?”

“Why’d you hit me?” Han Biao was completely baffled.

Deng Jiao hissed under her breath, “No wonder people say you’ve got a simple skull and overdeveloped limbs. When you went to the boss’s place last time, you still couldn’t see it?”

Han Biao: “…See what?”

Deng Jiao, exhausted, had absolutely no desire to speak to him.

Nie Xu’s gaze swept over the two of them. Both stiffened and their posture snapped to attention even more.

Nie Xu: “If you have something to say, say it loudly. What are you sneaking around for?”

Deng Jiao: “Reporting, Boss! I was telling Han Biao that you like the Fourth Young Master—the man-for-man kind of like!”

Han Biao’s eyes flew wide open. He stared at her in shock, as though he’d seen a ghost.

After two seconds of staring, he turned to look at the man before them.

Han Biao saw that his boss was only staring at Sister Jiao—no denial, no anger—which gradually led him to begin questioning the meaning of life.

“Boss.” Han Biao said softly, thinking to himself that if the boss later wanted to throw Sister Jiao into the sea, he could still probably fish her out.

Just then, he heard his boss speak.

“If you know, you know. Why do you have to be so loud about it?”

Han Biao froze solid.

Deng Jiao: “I’ve just been too embarrassed to ask all along. Boss, is this liking of yours just a mild fondness, or is this the person you can’t do without? If it’s the really, really strong kind, then when we’re carrying out operations, we should perhaps factor that in a little, shouldn’t we?”

Han Biao’s brain, coming out of its frozen state, began to thaw bit by bit.

The boss likes Ji Si’er?

Since when?

What does he like about him? Like that he’s domineering and likes to hit people? Like that his words could choke a person to death without compensating for it? Or like that he’s got a face that—well, admittedly, is very good-looking.

But aren’t good-looking men and good-looking women the same thing?

Aren’t women fine?

Han Biao was utterly baffled, trying to find some trace of evidence on his boss’s face.

But he saw nothing. All he heard was Nie Xu replying to Deng Jiao: “He has nothing to do with what we know, with what we’ve been through, with any of it. Since he chose to break free from the Ji family’s fate, he shouldn’t be dragged into the cause and effect of this.”

Deng Jiao and Han Biao fell silent at once.

Standing behind Nie Xu, gazing at the desolation before them.

All of Fanzhou was an economically developed transportation hub—it was probably hard for anyone to believe that there was a bay here that, while not abandoned, was practically no different from one.

Of the entire port, only scattered cargo and a few small inshore fishing vessels still used several berths on the eastern side. The distant horn of a large ferry sounded from far away, utterly disconnected from this place.

They were standing at the end of the abandoned western pier.

This had originally been a berthing spot for large ocean liners—and also the final docking point of the “Qiming” many, many years ago.

The concrete surface of the pier had been worn to a chalky white. The fender tires along the edges had long since weathered into hard crusts. The air was laced with the metallic tang of rust and diesel, overlaid with a very faint smell of mildewed paper—the kind that had been soaked in damp for too long. Behind the boundary marker, the slope was overgrown with reeds that made a dry, rustling sound when the wind passed through.

Looking further out, an abandoned dispatch tower stood in the distance.

This stretch of sea, ever since that incident, seemed to have been collectively forgotten by all of Fanzhou.

The surroundings emanated a sense of bleak desolation.

But some people had never forgotten.

“A-Xu.” An old man in a grey jacket wiped the sweat from his face and waved to him from the shore.

Nie Xu led the snapping-to-attention Deng Jiao and Han Biao down the steps. “Uncle Zhou, how have you been lately?”

“All good, all good,” Uncle Zhou muttered, fumbling to pull two large fish strung on grass rope from a bamboo basket by his feet. He handed them over. “Caught them myself. Take them back and eat.”

Nie Xu declined. “You should take them home and eat them yourself.”

“Child, I gave them to you, so just take them.” The old man pressed them into his hands without argument, saying, “It’s just me and your Auntie at home now. My grandson just started working this year—rarely comes back. We can’t eat much of this.”

Nie Xu: “Lisheng started working? Where?”

The old man beamed with unconscious pride. “Power supply bureau. Assigned position.” Saying this, he looked at the tall young man before him with eyes that were slightly clouded, a white haze already creeping over them. He stooped forward, patted Nie Xu’s shoulder, and sighed: “You’ve done more than enough for people like us. Really—enough. From now on, just live your own life well. Let the past be the past, alright?”

Nie Xu nodded. “Don’t worry, Uncle. Take it slow on the way back.”

“Don’t, don’t see me off.” The old man waved his hand and ambled back along the path.

Deng Jiao: “Actually, over all these years I’ve asked myself countless times whether persisting has any meaning at all. But every time I think about the fact that it’s not just old folks who’ve lost their children—like Uncle Zhou—but also those who lost their fathers young, lost their husbands in middle age—so many people, so many families—I truly feel from the bottom of my heart that it does have meaning.”

Nie Xu raised his hand and patted her shoulder.

“You’ve worked hard.”

" We’re the ones who should be thanking you, Boss." Deng Jiao glanced at Han Biao. “Out of all those people, you chose us. Without you, we’d both probably still be in an orphanage.”

Han Biao nodded vigorously.

Nie Xu turned to walk back up. “Let’s go. Time to head back.”

After getting in the car, Nie Xu closed the door with one hand.

He glanced at the fish in his hand, then turned and handed them to Han Biao in the back seat. “Find someone to deliver these to Boman.”

“Deliver them to Boman?” Han Biao held them up, locked in a staring contest with the pair of dead fish eyes in his hands.

Deng Jiao chimed in: “I remember the young master collected quite a few local specialties when he was in Zhoulìng. He should like fresh produce like this too.”

Han Biao was beyond words.

Deng Jiao probed carefully: “Boss, you still haven’t answered me. Is it just fondness you feel for him, or…?”

Han Biao also quietly perked up his ears.

Nie Xu turned the ignition key: “Stop prying.”

Deng Jiao shut her mouth.

Han Biao settled back into his seat.

The car drove along the coastal road by Qianlong Bay. Ji Yang’s face flickered through Nie Xu’s mind.

What was he doing right now?

For someone whose career training included analyzing micro-expressions, it wasn’t possible that he hadn’t detected the faint tremor of emotion in the other man’s tone.

But it wouldn’t do.

It wasn’t time yet.

He could sense with clarity that there was definitely something about Ji Yang that he didn’t know about.

Even so, he had no intention of letting someone like that—someone who had founded Yi Yuan and personally signed on every person willing to follow him, even with his own funds running thin; someone who would grind his own stump limbs bloody and raw for the sake of the fruit growers’ association; someone who could lock himself in a freezing chamber just to take revenge—mingle into the things he was involved in.

Firstly, he wanted Ji Yang to simply be free, to be uncomplicated, to just be himself.

Secondly, he wasn’t certain that if a certain someone kept being disobedient, he could still manage to draft a contract with an addendum clause.

How could Ji Yang know any of this?

He was merely staring at the two fish in his hands—combined weight of at least twenty jin—and his brain wasn’t quite catching up.

The person at the door was a stranger.

“Brother Lei asked me to bring these,” the man said.

Jiang Lei?

Ji Yang placed the fish in the kitchen.

Auntie looked at the two fish and found herself at a loss. They were simply too large—it seemed a shame to eat them as frozen fare.

Just that afternoon, news came from the company.

The qualification review had been held up once again.

The reason given: issues with historical contracts, additional documentation needed.

The team’s morale was low. Ji Yang figured Nie Xu wasn’t around anyway, so he picked up the fish, headed out, and had them slow-cooked at a Chinese-style clear-broth restaurant before calling everyone out.

Lin Yue had driven him there specifically.

Inside the Chinese clear-broth restaurant, Ji Yang and Lin Yue sat at their table, waiting.

The carved wooden partitions had a refined aesthetic. Ji Yang, dressed casually, sat in his chair perusing the restaurant’s eclectic menu.

Lin Yue glanced around and said in a low voice, “Young Boss Ji, why do I keep feeling like someone’s watching us?”

“It’s fine, don’t worry about it.” Ji Yang didn’t even look up.

They sat for a while. At the table two tables over, a refined gentleman wearing gold-rimmed glasses came over with a smile, asking Ji Yang if he could exchange contact information.

Ji Yang looked up at him briefly and replied with a smile: “Sure.”

Lin Yue beside him was a bit stunned.

In his impressions, his young boss was quite charming—someone who got asked for his contact information regularly while out and about, from both men and women. But as long as it wasn’t work-related, he’d always turned them down.

So why had he suddenly agreed now?

Around the same time, Jiang Lei’s phone received a notification.

It was a photo of Ji Yang holding his phone and exchanging contact information with the other man.

One of his subordinates asked: “Brother Lei, should we report this?”

Jiang Lei sat in the car and cursed under his breath. Looking at the phone, he couldn’t bring himself to explain to his subordinate.

It wasn’t a question of whether they should report it.

He didn’t dare either way.