Chapter 68#

Although South Island sat along the coast, it wasn’t an island city. It was mainly composed of hills and mountains.

The sky was a piercing blue, the clouds hung low.

The wind carried a thick, salty stench along with a vaguely sweet, cloying scent—like over-fermented fruit, or like resin heated by the sun.

Ji Yang stood on the old pier at the edge of the fishing harbor, watching the rust-eaten stern of a distant tugboat. A faded blue flag was planted there, embroidered with a pelican spreading its wings. It was the old trade mark of a long-gone local merchant house of South Island, now nearly extinct.

“Don’t go near that area.” Jiang Lei came over holding up his phone, voice low. “I asked the local liaison. They said it’s a private dock owned by a local boss surnamed Zhao. He bought it a few years ago and it’s barely been used. Recently they suddenly started dredging silt and clearing the channel—quite a commotion.”

“Surnamed Zhao?” Ji Yang pulled his gaze back and turned to Jiang Lei. “Any connection to the Ji family? Zhao Yuan?”

“You guessed right.” Jiang Lei put his phone away. “I followed the thread and looked into it. This Boss Zhao is named Zhao Changgen. In his early years he was chief engineer of the Ji family’s shipping fleet. Later he went independent, specializing in seafood export. He’s from the Zhao family main branch to begin with, and later his daughter married Zhao Yuan’s nephew—so it’s a double connection.”

Ji Yang recalled Zhao Yuan’s gloomy, deeply lined face.

Ji Yang: “So now he can’t manage as butler anymore, and he’s got the leisure to prod his own clan’s people into putting obstacles in my way?”

“It might not be targeted at you,” Jiang Lei said.

Speaking of this, Jiang Lei grew a shade more serious: “Zhao Changgen ran ocean voyages in his early years before coming to South Island. The berth he holds happens to sit right at the mid-route supply stop for the cold-chain line you just won the bid for. The key point is—I checked his shipping records for the past five years. One-third of his voyages departed empty and returned empty, with no cargo manifests and no customs declarations. And he never uses Fanzhou Port. He only travels between South Island and Zhou Ling.”

Ji Yang’s brow furrowed slightly.

Yiyuan had just secured the bid, and now the leasing, warehousing, and transport connections for the South Island mid-route stop were one problem after another.

If this Zhao Changgen was working for Zhao Yuan, he shouldn’t have kept such a low profile for all these years, with virtually no dealings with Fanzhou.

But what if he wasn’t?

The pelican flag on the tugboat’s stern snapped loudly in the wind. The row of small, faded characters on the flag’s corner was faintly legible in the afternoon sun—“Qiming Shipping, South Island Berth Point.”

Ji Yang had an inexplicable premonition.

This Zhao Changgen, guarding this stretch of tidal flat, seemed to be waiting for something, long-term.

But now wasn’t the time to dig deeper.

Ji Yang asked Jiang Lei: “Are you really okay following me around? I could ask around about these things myself, you know.”

“Don’t you worry about that. My task right now is staying with you.” After saying this, Jiang Lei paused, then still voiced the question that had been pressing on his mind all night. “You moved out of Berman—why didn’t you tell Nie Xu? Are you angry with him?”

Ji Yang had no idea how he’d jumped from one topic to this one. “I did tell him. I told him the day he went back to the Ji family. Besides, I was only staying at Berman in the first place because it was inconvenient while I was in the hospital, and my hotel room expired. I’ve been well for quite some time—I can’t exactly keep living at his place forever.”

Jiang Lei: “…”

Seemed perfectly reasonable.

So why did something feel off?

The two returned to the roadside, and Lin Yue emerged from who-knows-where, a bottle of water in each hand.

“Young Master Ji.” Lin Yue tucked the blue folder under one arm, unscrewed Ji Yang’s bottle before handing it over. “Here, drink up.”

Jiang Lei watched from the side, stunned.

He thought: this assistant is way too perceptive. He’d heard his past was quite a winding road, but the kid had grown fast. No wonder the young master kept him around.

“Has the cold storage cooperative called back?” Ji Yang asked.

Lin Yue nodded. “They did. Same story—they say the Ji Group still owes them two months’ electricity bills. If it’s not paid in full within two days, they’ll cut the power.”

Jiang Lei was a man of action, and at Jianyuan he wasn’t responsible for any operations or management. Even so, he understood: “Once the power’s cut, everything inside will spoil within a day. Wouldn’t all the losses and compensation fall on Yiyuan’s head?”

Lin Yue’s face was taut with anxiety: “That’s not even the worst part right now. Word leaked from somewhere—the Ji Group is gone, Yiyuan’s going to reform, and the first thing they’ll do is drop the small-scale suppliers in South Island. A crowd is forming right now. I heard Qiao Qiao and the others can’t hold them back anymore.”

Ji Yang’s brow creased. “Where?”

Lin Yue flipped through his phone and answered immediately: “Lanjiao Village.”

“Lin Yue, call the person who was in charge of the cold-chain factory before. Tell him to bring the supplies.” Ji Yang screwed the cap back on his bottle. “Let’s go take a look.”

Jiang Lei grabbed him by the arm.

“You’re going just like that?” he asked.

Ji Yang looked down at himself. “What’s wrong with me?”

Jiang Lei’s gaze swept over his legs. “I mean, it’s not safe. How about you wait a bit, hear what Jianyuan has to say?”

Ji Yang thought again about the unequal contract he’d signed with Nie Xu.

But this time, Ji Yang said: “I already reported it.”

“Reported it?” Jiang Lei was stunned.

Ji Yang nodded. “Yes. Through official channels, proper procedure. Jianyuan’s assessment department’s final report was—judging by the cost-benefit ratio, they did recommend abandoning this first batch of goods. Under Jianyuan’s massive operation system, this is something that could very easily become an ‘abandoned project.’ But I don’t want to.”

Jiang Lei: “…If that’s the case, I think Jianyuan’s professional judgment is still worth considering.”

Ji Yang said as he climbed into the car:

“I never denied Jianyuan’s expertise. But Jianyuan and Yiyuan—that’s like an elephant and an ant. Different starting points, different ways of living.”

Jiang Lei had nothing to say.

Two hours later, inside the Jianyuan building.

Qi Songqing had just finished a department meeting, was slumped in his chair, drinking coffee, and idly flipping through a monthly summary report on his desk.

When he reached the last page, his hand stopped. A mouthful of coffee nearly sprayed out.

Without a word, he dialed the internal line.

“Get the finance department head in here.”

Five minutes later, the finance department head appeared at the door, trembling slightly.

“Director Qi, you wanted to see me?” he asked carefully, while his mind raced—had something gone wrong this month?

Qi Songqing sat up straight, tapping the name “Yiyuan” at the bottom of the report. “What’s this about?”

“Oh, this.” The department head let out a long sigh of relief. “Yiyuan is a company that’s only been established for less than half a year. Jianyuan transferred a sum of funds to their account a while back. It’s a smaller-scale company. But recently they won the bid for the Zhou Ling–South Island route operation license. Prospects are quite good—they’ve just hit a bit of trouble. The finance department did give a final profitability assessment, but since the company is so small, the detailed data analysis wasn’t written out.”

Qi Songqing glanced at the man’s face—close to fifty, going on a rough fifty—and at the bald patch crowning his Mediterranean head.

He couldn’t bring himself to say anything too frightening.

Instead, he quietly asked: “You don’t know who the owner of Yiyuan is?”

“The owner?” The finance department head blinked, puzzled. Then he thought about it. “I believe his surname is Peng.”

Qi Songqing nodded. “There’s another owner.”

The finance department head: “Huh? Never heard of it.”

“That’s fine.” Qi Songqing had entirely lost his temper. “Just remember—from now on, anything related to Yiyuan, report it directly to me. Oh, actually no need. I’ll give you Nathan’s private email. Send it to him.”

The finance department head broke into a cold sweat on the spot.

Nathan was the invisible big boss behind the Jianyuan Group. Only a handful of people knew this, and the man himself was shrouded in mystery—rumor had it he’d been abroad all this time.

So this company called Yiyuan was on personal terms with Jianyuan’s top boss?

The finance department’s head flushed deep red.

He nodded hastily. “Yes, yes, understood.” Two seconds later, he asked carefully: “Should I also send an email about this matter?”

“Don’t worry about it this time. I’ll handle it,” Qi Songqing said.

The finance department head nodded, turned, and took two steps before Qi Songqing stopped him.

“Old Jiang.” Qi Songqing spoke slowly. “You work at Jianyuan. In your free time, surf the internet more. Stay in touch with what’s going on in the group. Don’t fall behind the younger generation.”

The finance department head felt a sudden pang of mid-career layoff despair wash over his heart.

He wondered whether he’d just been subtly hinted at—even the HR process for his departure had already crossed his mind.

He walked out of the office looking utterly bereft.

People crowded around to ask what had happened. The finance department head, unwilling to let it go, asked: “Do you all know about Yiyuan?”

“Who doesn’t know?” the surrounding people chattered. “That’s the Fourth Young Master of the Ji family’s company, right?”

“Exactly. It’s nominally listed under our Jianyuan.”

“Who was it that said the Ji family’s fourth was a useless playboy? Now Hai Cheng is gone. I heard the Ji family’s eldest took over his maternal grandfather’s estate, and the third has completely vanished. Yet Ji Yang, step by step, has been full of surprises.”

“Actually, there have always been people criticizing him. Jianyuan swallowed the Ji Group’s assets, and his cooperation with Jianyuan became one more piece of evidence that he stepped on his own family to climb up.”

“Speaking of which, Old Jiang.” Someone asked the finance department head. “Within the group, only your finance department has worked with Yiyuan, right? Have you met them?”

Old Jiang looked sheepish.

From the very beginning, he hadn’t given such a small company a second glance, all right?

Who would’ve known about some “fallen young master” of the Ji family?

Inside the office, when Qi Songqing told Nie Xu about this, Nie Xu’s reply was that he already knew.

This surprised Qi Songqing.

He walked out of the office.

He noticed that across the open workspace, quite a few people had their heads buried in their phones.

He wasn’t the type of boss who couldn’t stand subordinates goofing off.

He casually stopped behind one employee.

The person was watching a livestream.

Of Ji Yang.

This was one of the rare livestreams the young master ever did.

And it wasn’t even him broadcasting—it was his little assistant.

Lin Yue’s voice came from off-camera: “Everyone’s free to screen-record. I turned on the stream because I wanted everyone to bear witness—did our Young Master Ji really owe money and refuse to pay? And who exactly is being unreasonable? To prevent anyone with an ulterior motive from blowing this out of proportion.”

Someone beside him spoke up. It was Jiang Lei, asking: “Did you get his permission to do this?”

“Young Master Ji’s account is managed by me. It’s always been for posting his daily life.” Lin Yue was perfectly self-righteous. “Work is part of daily life too.”

In the frame, a crowd bustled. From the side, it looked like they were at the entrance of a modernized village.

Under a towering old banyan tree, Ji Yang sat in a bamboo-woven chair, feet braced against the ground so that only two of the chair’s legs touched earth, rocking back and forth, now and then.

Around the banyan sat some old men and old women.

He looked more at ease than all of them.

The people facing him, however, were a different story—mostly young and middle-aged.

The one in the lead pointed at Ji Yang: “We ordinary folks don’t care who’s running your company, and we don’t understand bidding or anything like that. We just know someone has to take responsibility for this! You’re the son of the Ji family. Those news reports saying you cut ties with the Ji family—they’re all lies, right? I think you’re just trying to be a deadbeat! Refusing to pay!”

The moment these words fell, the crowd erupted in indignation.

Bullet comments scrolled at lightning speed.

【Where has the young master thrown himself into this time?】

【The loudest one—I testify! He really did cut ties with the Ji family. When the Ji family fell, he nearly stomped on them, I swear!】

Ji Yang’s feet stopped bracing.

He tilted his gaze up slightly. Afternoon sunlight filtered through the gaps in the leaves.

Like a cat dozing in the afternoon sun, he spoke slowly: “Money. I don’t have any.”

Qi Songqing texted Nie Xu.

“Where are you? Is your young master really not afraid of getting beaten up?”

Nie Xu replied two seconds later: “On the ship.”

Qi Songqing: “…”

Shouldn’t you be at the Ji family?