Chapter 41#
In two more days, Mrs. Jiang and Old Zhang would be setting off back to Melbourne — Beijing winters weren’t kind to older people. Before they left, Tan Xiao wanted to spend as much time with them as he could.
That morning he slept until past nine, by which point Zhang Xingchuan had already gone. The CEO truly loved his work: at least three hundred and sixty days a year, he arrived on time, full of energy — a man born to hold down a job.
Tan Xiao showered, and when he came out he found a message from Lawyer Hua asking to discuss progress and enquiring when he was free. He rang her back.
Lawyer Hua briefed him on her end. She had already begun coordinating with the trust’s custodian institution, sending a consultation letter about relinquishing the beneficiary rights along with Tan Xiao’s authorisation of representation.
“The bad news is that the other side is very slow to reply — I waited a full three days,” Lawyer Hua said. “The good news is that their response was comprehensive enough to save us another round of back-and-forth emails.”
The institution had answered every question in Lawyer Hua’s consultation letter regarding the trust deed in detail, and provided the relevant procedures. Per the terms of the deed, to ensure that the act of relinquishment constituted a genuine and voluntary expression of the beneficiary’s intent, the beneficiary was required to appear in person at the custodian institution’s office to sign the relinquishment documents.
The custodian institution was also an offshore law firm. Its office was located in Geneva, Switzerland.
Tan Xiao said, “Then that’s where I’ll go. I have less than ten days before I start my postdoc. It would be best to get this settled before I begin — after that I’ll likely have no time at all.”
Lawyer Hua said, “I called not only to update you but also to ask what timeframe works for you, so I can make the appointment.”
“As soon as possible,” Tan Xiao said. “What about my family’s side? What did the custodian institution say?”
“The process they described in their email is: after you sign, the trustee will send a confirmation letter to the settlor — that is, your family,” Lawyer Hua said, and paused. “But I still maintain that the trustee will very likely notify the Doria family in advance.”
Trust law required the custodian institution to report trust matters to the settlor, while also requiring the institution to honour its confidentiality obligations toward a beneficiary who voluntarily relinquishes their rights — but when these two obligations came into conflict, the institution could choose which way to lean. The Doria family were longstanding clients paying enormous management fees. It was entirely reasonable to expect the institution to take sides.
Tan Xiao said, “It doesn’t matter. No matter who they notify, it won’t change anything — whatever they say, my answer is that I don’t want it.”
“Then I’ll arrange the appointment,” Lawyer Hua said. “I’ll be in touch once it’s confirmed.”
Tan Xiao thanked her and hung up.
All going smoothly — Lawyer Hua was every bit as dependable as he’d expected.
He went to the wardrobe and picked out his clothes for the day. It occurred to him that he would soon be a research worker pulling in three hundred thousand yuan a year, which meant that the brands currently dressing him would no longer be targeting him as a customer. He supposed he would need to learn how to find nice clothes on Pinduoduo for thirty-nine ninety-nine… Well, becoming poorer was real enough, but perhaps not quite that dramatic.
VP Sun had asked how much money he had, and he hadn’t answered — partly out of modesty, partly because he genuinely wasn’t sure of the exact figure. He had a discretionary managed account at a private bank that he hadn’t checked or touched in a very long time. His e-payment apps were linked to two cards, and his accounts received regular transfers to cover his day-to-day expenses.
Still, he was a Finance graduate — he could work out a rough figure. His and Zhang Xingchuan’s assets combined came to ten times the market cap of the entire A-share market.
Lawyer Hua had warned him earlier that his family might put up some obstacles. At the time he’d shrugged it off — and besides the reasons he’d already given, he’d also thought it through: if the Dorias refused to let him go, he could simply return everything he’d received over the years — the distributions and the properties — and make a clean break. That would settle things completely.
Of course, that would leave him a genuinely propertyless young man, his sole asset being the bicycle his husband had bought him. He’d have no choice but to work diligently, swallow any mistreatment from his boss without complaint, and endure — jobs being so hard to come by.
Still, not working wasn’t an option either. Being kept by Zhang Xingchuan and being kept by the Doria family were, in essence, no different — and the Dorias could keep him in rather more comfort.
His husband, Xiao Zhang, was a man still paying off a mortgage.
Zhang Xingchuan had explained this to Tan Xiao once: it was a matter of maintaining liquidity — when he’d run the numbers, financing the purchase was more cost-efficient than paying in full.
Tan Xiao had said he understood. In truth he didn’t really. Growing up, the word “cost-efficient” had simply never registered in his mind.
Perhaps, while he was still connected to the family assets, he could transfer money from his account to pay off his husband’s mortgage — add a note in the transfer memo with some lovey-dovey “1314 forever” message, establishing it as a voluntary gift from him to Zhang Xingchuan during their relationship, leaving the Dorias no claim to it. Then once the dust settled, he’d have Zhang Xingchuan pay him back. Doria money — why not make the most of it while he still could? You all agree, don’t you?
He was cheerfully working through these calculations as he headed over to Zhang Xingchuan’s family home, where he had lunch with Mrs. Jiang and Old Zhang. The two of them were in the habit of taking an afternoon nap, and while Tan Xiao didn’t nap in winter, he didn’t go home either — it had turned colder today and cycling back and forth was a rather chilly business. So he stretched out on the living room sofa and played on his phone.
The auntie brought him a plate of cut fruit. He thanked her and said, “No need to fuss over me — go and rest. I’ll entertain myself.”
So the auntie went to her room for her nap as well.
After a while, when Tan Xiao rolled over on the sofa, he noticed through the floor-to-ceiling windows that it had begun to snow — a light, quiet snowfall.
He put his phone down and lay on his side, watching the first snow of the season.
His phone vibrated. He had a feeling, and guessed it could only be Zhang Xingchuan.
Zhang Xingchuan: It’s snowing.
Tan Xiao replied: I miss you too.
Zhang Xingchuan was still composing his message. Tan Xiao added: I’m at your place. Can I stay tonight?
He’d been going back to his own apartment every evening lately and hadn’t slept here in a while, but he and Mrs. Jiang and Old Zhang were getting along well now — staying over no longer felt awkward. Besides, it was snowing outside. Ample justification for staying the night.
Zhang Xingchuan decided to wrap up what he was working on and head home early.
Tan Xiao sat up and ate some of the fruit. This unremarkable afternoon felt like the height of happiness.
Beijing time: 1:30 in the afternoon. Geneva: 7:30 in the morning.
Tan Xiao received a phone call from Tan Yun.
Nearly half an hour later, Tan Xiao called Lawyer Hua.
As she listened to him speak, Lawyer Hua noticed that a new email had arrived from Geneva — this one much faster than before.
“The custodian institution just replied to me,” Lawyer Hua said. “They want you there to sign within three days.”
Tan Xiao said, “You guessed right — the institution has taken my sister’s side.”
Tan Yun’s call today hadn’t been like the last one, where she’d given him a dressing-down. She’d started by asking after him, and when she learned he was about to begin his postdoc, she even offered her congratulations — then she brought up the matter of relinquishing the trust beneficiary rights.
This made it clear: after receiving Lawyer Hua’s email, the institution had almost certainly reported to the Doria family at once, and had only sent Lawyer Hua the detailed procedures after obtaining the consent of their important client.
Tan Yun had calmly asked Tan Xiao whether he had truly made his decision. His answer was unequivocal: he had been waiting many years for the day he would have enough courage to make this choice.
Lawyer Hua said, “The three-day deadline for signing is very likely also at your sister’s direction. From what I understand, institutions handling trust matters at this level don’t normally move this quickly.”
Tan Xiao said, “She’s probably had enough of me too. She’d like me out of her world sooner rather than later, I imagine.”
“That’s one possibility,” Lawyer Hua said. “Whatever the case, you cannot go to Europe alone.”
Tan Xiao said readily, “Lawyer Hua, I very much need you to come with me. Can you get to Beijing in time if you leave now?”
In the final moments of the call, Tan Yun had told Tan Xiao that a family plane was currently flying from Singapore to Beijing and would be returning to Switzerland that evening — she would have someone notify the crew to make arrangements, so that Tan Xiao could travel along. Tan Xiao had already mentioned that his lawyer would be accompanying him.
On Lawyer Hua’s end, there were clearly already sounds of packing. Her words came quickly: “I’m going to the airport right now.”
After ending the call with Lawyer Hua, Tan Xiao messaged Zhang Xingchuan.
Tan Xiao: I won’t be sleeping at yours tonight after all — I need to fly to Europe to sign some documents at the trust institution. Lawyer Hua is coming with me.
Zhang Xingchuan was in the middle of briefing Secretary Feng. In the midst of the busyness he glanced at the message, and stopped mid-sentence.
Secretary Feng looked puzzled. “Chairman?”
The message had caught Zhang Xingchuan completely off guard. Thinking it over — Lawyer Hua was going with him, so he must have consulted her already — but did it really need to be this urgent?
He finished what he’d been saying to Secretary Feng, then asked, “Do I have any other appointments this afternoon?”
Secretary Feng said, “Chairman Fu has an online meeting scheduled for five o’clock.”
Zhang Xingchuan said, “Push it to tomorrow morning… Actually, I’ll tell him myself.”
He called Chairman Fu. Fu’s team had already prepared for the five o’clock call, and Fu said, “Are you ever coming back to Guangdong? Coming here again will get you made into crispy pigeon — how can you ghost us so smoothly?”
Zhang Xingchuan said, “Every time we’re in the Greater Bay Area, you never let me actually do anything — you just make me get on the call as a good-luck mascot. Tell you what: you catch an actual pigeon, I’ll authorise it to stand in for me as Zhang Xingchuan.”
Chairman Fu said, “What are you going off to do?”
“My wife is going away,” Zhang Xingchuan said. “I’m worried. Going home to see them off.”
Chairman Fu understood. “Fine. I told you ages ago not to go after a university student, but would you listen? Kids can’t sit still — they love going out and having fun, I’m telling you…”
Zhang Xingchuan said, “Not listening. Goodbye.”
The snow had fallen for a while, still drifting down in light flakes, not yet sticking on the roads — but with the weather like this, traffic had already ground to a standstill by three in the afternoon.
The drive home normally took Zhang Xingchuan twenty minutes. Today it took nearly an hour.
Tan Xiao was playing Dou Di Zhu with his parents.
Zhang Xingchuan: “…”
“Home so early today?” Mrs. Jiang said, then covered her cards and warned Old Zhang, “No peeking.”
Tan Xiao looked up at Zhang Xingchuan with a smile.
With his parents there, Zhang Xingchuan couldn’t ask what he wanted to ask. He came and sat down beside Tan Xiao, and glanced at his cards.
But Old Zhang had already sneaked a look at Mrs. Jiang’s sequence, and immediately — with devious cunning — broke apart his own pair to play out a sequence that beat hers.
Mrs. Jiang: “You — you — you—”
Old Zhang was tremendously pleased with himself.
“Don’t celebrate too soon,” Tan Xiao said, and threw down a bomb — a small one, four threes.
Zhang Xingchuan looked at his own hand: a small sequence, two single cards — a 4 and a 7. Winning outright was unlikely, but he could still protect Mrs. Jiang so she went out first, defeating the landlord Old Zhang. That would count as a victory for the peasants.
To his surprise, Old Zhang said, “Tan Xiao, are you confused? I’m one of the peasants — you and I are on the same team.”
Impartial and principled Tan Xiao declared: “You didn’t show any solidarity with me either. You went and peeked at the landlord’s cards — you cheated.”
He played his sequence; Mrs. Jiang rushed to play hers, then smoothly played out the rest of her hand. The landlord wins.
Old Zhang lost both his dignity and the round, and then got whacked with a throw pillow by Mrs. Jiang on top of it all — yet he didn’t seem put out in the least, seeming rather delighted to be hit by his wife.
“I’m done playing,” Mrs. Jiang said, having noticed that Zhang Xingchuan needed to speak to Tan Xiao. She turned to Old Zhang. “Didn’t you want to know how to use effects on Douyin? Let me show you.”
Old Zhang dutifully went off to learn.
Tan Xiao asked Zhang Xingchuan, “How was the traffic? Bit of a jam?”
Zhang Xingchuan had been ready to lose his mind stuck in that traffic, and he had genuinely felt a flicker of irritation when Tan Xiao sent him that message — without any prior discussion, simply notifying him that he’d be flying to Europe to sign some documents. But walking in to find three members of his family at the card table had quietly diluted his annoyance before he could do anything with it.
He looked at Tan Xiao with a slight frown, wanting to scold him a little — but in his heart he knew perfectly well that Tan Xiao had always been this way, always with his own ideas. Far too many of them, really.
“This is a legal process,” Tan Xiao said, having already guessed why he was in a mild temper. “I consulted Lawyer Hua the moment this came up — it wasn’t an impulsive decision.”
That took the last of Zhang Xingchuan’s grievance away. Every step had been proper. He’d simply been informed at the end of it.
Tan Xiao said, “Gēgē.”
Zhang Xingchuan said, “Here we go again.”
Tan Xiao said, “What can I say — I’ve got no other tricks. Just the one talent: acting spoiled.”
Zhang Xingchuan didn’t know what to do with himself and ended up laughing.
Tan Xiao glanced toward the interior of the house. The auntie was nowhere to be seen; Mrs. Jiang and Old Zhang were upstairs having a one-on-one tutorial in short-video production.
He nimbly settled himself into Zhang Xingchuan’s lap, wrapped his arms around Zhang Xingchuan’s neck, and embarked on a vigorous campaign of spoiled affection.
Zhang Xingchuan had absolutely no defences against this. In under thirty seconds he surrendered. “Alright, alright, I’m not angry — stop fake-crying.”
Tan Xiao said, “I’m sorry. It was my fault.”
“That’s not required either,” Zhang Xingchuan said. “Having your own mind is a good thing. I was a bit annoyed — I’m over it now.”
His mild dissatisfaction, if he was being precise about it, was that something this significant to Tan Xiao’s life had unfolded without him feeling any part in it.
Tan Xiao said, “It’s all my fault. I just… it’s habit. Before, there was never anyone who waited for me to talk things through.”
Zhang Xingchuan had nothing to say to that.
This was far more devastating than being spoiled at. At some point in the middle of the night Zhang Xingchuan would probably wake up and give himself a smack for bringing it up.
Oh, I really am something, Tan Xiao thought inwardly. Playing the spoiled card works. Playing the sad card works. He’s so easy to manage, my adorable husband.
The two of them made up tenderly. They were already holding each other; their eyes met twice, and Zhang Xingchuan leaned in and kissed him.
Tan Xiao was enjoying the kiss immensely and was simultaneously terrified out of his mind. This was pushing his nerves to the limit. He was acutely afraid of the actual parents walking in, and equally afraid the auntie might materialise without warning.
Zhang Xingchuan laughed. “How are you suddenly nervous? A moment ago you were bold enough.”
Tan Xiao was quite embarrassed. “In their eyes I have an image to maintain — if they see this, my whole persona collapses.”
“What persona?” Zhang Xingchuan said. “In a moment I’m going to go tell tales on you — going to Europe on your own without consulting your family. Private planes can add passengers last minute, can’t they? I’m coming too.”
Tan Xiao said, “Dear husband and family elder, your Tan Zi涵has a long-stay Schengen.”
To ensure he could travel to Europe at any time the family summoned him, his passport always contained a current, in-date Schengen visa. The Lawyer Hua who would shortly be accompanying him held a Hong Kong passport.
Zhang Xingchuan was just an ordinary Chinese citizen — he couldn’t simply up and go to Europe on a whim.
Well, who was there to blame but himself for not working hard enough? His little Wencheng hadn’t even expanded its operations to continental Europe yet, which meant the CEO naturally hadn’t needed to keep a long-stay Schengen on hand. And now, here he was — stuck being a husband left behind at home.
After dark, the snow stopped. Zhang Xingchuan drove Tan Xiao to Capital Airport.
Lawyer Hua and her assistant had flown in from Hong Kong and were already waiting at the airport.
“Thank you for all your trouble,” Zhang Xingchuan said, shaking her hand. “I can’t go myself — I’m entrusting him to you, Senior.”
Lawyer Hua smiled. “I’ll do everything I can.”
Tan Xiao said, “We’re only going to sign a document. Senior, Junior — you two don’t have to look so grave about it.”
Lawyer Hua said with a smile, “Let’s hope it all goes smoothly.”
A silence fell over the three of them.
Zhang Xingchuan was uneasy, unable to predict what might happen on the other side. He had no plan, no backup plan — his heart simply hung there, unable to settle.
Tan Xiao appeared unbothered, but inwardly he wasn’t light-hearted either. He was more anxious than anyone about something going wrong — especially now, when he was just one step away from freedom.
“Actually,” Lawyer Hua said suddenly, “I’m a little nervous right now.”
Zhang Xingchuan and Tan Xiao both paled simultaneously. Please — not now, of all times, for her to falter!
Lawyer Hua said, “I’ve never been on a private jet before.”