Chapter 42#
They had barely waited fifteen minutes in the business aviation lounge when a staff member came to invite Tan Xiao and Lawyer Hua to board.
A private jet is not a rich man’s toy. Comfort is only one of its purposes — more importantly, it functions as a time machine for family enterprises. The vast sums spent each year maintaining a fleet of business aircraft are in pursuit of an efficiency that commercial aviation cannot deliver. At its core, it is simply a tool for productivity.
Zhang Xingchuan walked them to the foot of the airstairs. Tan Xiao said with a laugh, “Don’t you want to come up and have a look around? You’ll never get another chance.”
With departure now imminent, a thread of unease had worked its way into Tan Xiao. He didn’t want to let it show — that would only deepen the worry Zhang Xingchuan was already carrying.
Zhang Xingchuan had no curiosity about private jets. He was looking at Tan Xiao’s thin jacket. “I forgot to have you change into a proper coat before we left the house. Geneva is probably colder than Beijing.”
Tan Xiao had nothing to say to that. He looked at Zhang Xingchuan without blinking.
He didn’t really want to leave. On the night of the first snow, going off somewhere far away felt all wrong — they should all be together at home eating hot pot, and when the elders had gone to bed, he should be turning the heating up to maximum, cracking open an ice-cold can of cola, and having the most blazing, wonderful romance with Zhang Xingchuan.
Lawyer Hua, reading the mood, said to Tan Xiao, “We’ll go up ahead and wait for you.”
She and her assistant climbed the stairs. A blonde, blue-eyed cabin attendant at the aircraft door bowed in gracious greeting — not only was her Mandarin fluent, but once she detected the assistant’s Cantonese accent, she smoothly switched to Cantonese to welcome her.
At the foot of the stairs, Tan Xiao said, “I’ll be back the moment the documents are signed… At that point I’ll have to book my own return ticket on the Wencheng app.”
“If your family refuses to let you come back,” Zhang Xingchuan said suddenly, “I’ll come and get you.”
Tan Xiao was startled. “It won’t come to that — what use would it be to keep me there?”
Zhang Xingchuan said, “I don’t know. But I think it’s possible.”
Tan Xiao said, “Why didn’t you say this at home?”
“Would you have not gone?” Zhang Xingchuan said. “If not today, you’ll have to go eventually. You’ll sign this document sooner or later — unless you change your mind and decide you’re happy being the young master after all.”
That was fair. Tan Xiao had no answer for it.
It had never occurred to Tan Xiao that his family might detain him. When he had asked to come to China at school age, he had never once been truly obstructed — and in fact, if his mother hadn’t fought tooth and nail for him back then, the Doria family hadn’t even needed him to begin with.
His imagined version of proceedings in Geneva went like this: the greatest difficulty would be Tan Yun potentially putting up some obstacles, making the signing less than smooth, perhaps extracting some penalty for his disobedience. Tan Yun was no fragile queen — she was the kind who repaid every slight in full. He had challenged her authority; punishment was inevitable. He’d always known that.
As for what form that punishment might take, he wasn’t entirely sure. It might be physical — a few beatings, perhaps. Or she might strip him of all his assets and financial autonomy and leave him adrift on the streets of Geneva like a beggar. That would be grim enough.
But in the modern world, if things really came to that, there were still many ways to find his way back.
Actual detention, though? Could that really happen?
Zhang Xingchuan’s fears ran far darker than Tan Xiao’s.
Zhou Ruofei had once told Zhang Xingchuan that when Tan Yun fully took the reins, she would very likely designate Tan Xiao as her first heir.
But Tan Xiao himself could never actually become the Doria family’s ruler — by any measure, there was simply no possibility of it. A young man with a Chinese face and Chinese citizenship could never be accepted by the Doria family in that role.
Either Zhou Ruofei had been talking nonsense, or Tan Yun had other plans entirely. What she needed from Tan Xiao was unlikely to be an inheritance of the commercial empire — more probably it was Tan Xiao’s marriage, or Tan Xiao’s children, or most likely both.
If the premise held — if Zhou Ruofei had not been lying — then Tan Yun detaining Tan Xiao was a high-probability event.
Zhang Xingchuan had not mentioned any of this to Tan Xiao, nor had he shared his darker speculations. This was the stuff of horror stories for Tan Xiao.
He had sensed that Tan Xiao’s feelings for Tan Yun were genuine. She was a sister Tan Xiao had loved — and in Tan Xiao’s childhood, she had at one point even played something close to a mother’s role.
“It may not come to that,” Zhang Xingchuan said. “As much as possible, don’t separate from Lawyer Hua. Consult her if anything comes up.”
Tan Xiao said, “Alright.”
They held each other briefly in farewell. Zhang Xingchuan caught a glimpse of the cabin attendant still smiling patiently at the top of the airstairs. He wasn’t used to displays of affection in front of strangers, and moved to step back — but Tan Xiao was still holding on tightly.
“What is it,” Zhang Xingchuan said, patting his back gently. “You’re not scared, are you?”
Tan Xiao said quietly into his ear, “Gēgē — if I really can’t come back…”
Zhang Xingchuan’s heart lurched. For a moment he nearly gave up on everything — the will drained out of him, and he wanted to tell Tan Xiao to forget the document, to leave things muddled and just carry on. There were so many muddled people in the world, and they all got along fine. Why did his Tan Xiao have to live with everything laid out in perfect clarity?
“You have to come and find me,” Tan Xiao was saying — not making a grim farewell at all. “You know the story of Rapunzel, right? If my sister really does go mad and lock me up, I’ll be like someone trapped in a tower. I’ll find every possible way to climb down myself — but I’m fragile, and even if I can manage it alone, I’ll probably break a leg in the process. You and Lawyer Hua need to come and build me a ladder.”
He stepped onto the airstairs, and at the cabin door turned to look back at Zhang Xingchuan. Zhang Xingchuan raised his hand. Tan Xiao took a deep breath and walked into the aircraft.
The flight — from takeoff to landing, roughly eleven hours. Tan Xiao gave up the aircraft’s sleeping cabin to Lawyer Hua and her assistant; the assistant was a young woman too, and he sent both of them to rest on the bed inside. He himself reclined his seat, pulled a blanket over himself, and chatted with Zhang Xingchuan on WeChat. The onboard wifi was steady.
Neither of them brought up again what might happen when Tan Xiao reached Geneva. They talked about the ordinary things lovers talk about — light and sweet conversation, as if Tan Xiao were simply heading home for a visit.
At the same time, Zhang Xingchuan was on the phone with Secretary Feng.
A few months earlier, the M Hotel Group had unilaterally terminated their contract with Wencheng. Although the matter had been resolved — M Group found itself caught in negative public opinion for appearing to disrespect the Chinese market and was compelled to apologise and settle things peaceably — international conglomerates rarely shed their ingrained arrogance. They had continued to freeze the deposit and operating funds Wencheng had paid in advance. Wencheng’s legal team had been pursuing the matter through multiple channels, and the original plan had been to initiate settlement negotiations this quarter.
In WeChat, Tan Xiao asked: About to sleep, I’m getting a bit drowsy.
Zhang Xingchuan replied: Then sleep. Message me whenever you miss me.
“Start the negotiations now,” Zhang Xingchuan told Secretary Feng on the phone. “I’ll go to Europe myself. I’ll negotiate in person — I’ll go and get our money back from these deadbeats.”
Secretary Feng was dumbstruck, having no idea what had prompted this. In the months he’d worked as Zhang Xingchuan’s secretary, he’d almost never received a call from the CEO outside working hours. When the CEO did call, it was never for small matters — but a decision this significant, in the middle of the night?
Secretary Feng said, “Why does it have to be now? Can’t we wait until tomorrow and meet with the legal team first? And surely you don’t need to go personally?”
Zhang Xingchuan said, “It has to be now. Get me the settlement negotiation invitation letter as fast as possible. I need to apply for an expedited Schengen visa.”
Going in person to chase down a debt from the delinquent group was just the means. His actual goal was to get a visa quickly. The standard channel took fifteen days minimum — far too long. With a compelling commercial reason and proper documentation, the expedited channel could get a visa issued in three to five working days.
The aircraft pressed through a deep sea of clouds. Tan Xiao slept for a while.
He dreamed of Zhang Xingchuan. In the dream they had come to Europe together on business — Rome, this time. After work was done, he took Zhang Xingchuan to his favourite restaurant there, sharing the truffle pasta he loved. In the dream, both their ring fingers bore matching bands.
At Fassi 1880, he sent Zhang Xingchuan to queue for gelato while he idled shamelessly outside the crowd to wait. A girl in a T-shirt and jeans walked past; Tan Xiao accidentally bumped into her. They apologised to each other politely. Zhang Xingchuan came back with two gelatos — and as a gesture of apology, Tan Xiao offered one to the girl. She noticed their rings and smiled, wishing them well.
Turbulence. Tan Xiao woke.
The cabin attendant came over at once to ask if he needed anything. He asked for a glass of water.
The cabin lights were turned up slightly. Tan Xiao drank his water and gazed out into the dark night, his thoughts drifting.
He thought of that Roman holiday with Zhang Xingchuan in his dream.
And he thought of the girl who had wished them well — they had been strangers in the dream. But she had clearly been Tan Yun as a student, the sister he kept in his memories.
He suddenly craved gelato. He sent Zhang Xingchuan a message: I want pistachio gelato.
Beijing was still asleep. Zhang Xingchuan, who had stayed up past midnight, had only just fallen asleep and didn’t reply straight away.
Tan Xiao watched the line where night met day. A hair-thin silver edge appeared at the eastern horizon, then spread like watercolour bleeding through paper, taking on a faint wash of orange as the darkness outside his window slowly retreated. It was a sign that soon they would be crossing into the skies over continental Europe.
Beijing time, approximately six in the morning. Deep in the night in Geneva. The business jet landed at Geneva International Airport nearly an hour ahead of schedule.
At seven, Zhang Xingchuan woke and found Tan Xiao’s endearing wish for gelato.
He replied: Just woke up. Have you landed?
Tan Xiao didn’t respond. Zhang Xingchuan checked the time and assumed he was still disembarking or making his way out of the airport — too busy in the moment to answer.
Ten minutes passed. Zhang Xingchuan began to feel that something was wrong. He called Tan Xiao and Lawyer Hua separately. Neither picked up.
He tried Lawyer Hua again. This time, mercifully, she answered.
“Don’t speak yet — listen,” Lawyer Hua said. “The moment we got off the plane, we were taken directly to the offices of the trust’s custodian law firm. Tan Xiao has already signed. The agreement relinquishing his trust beneficiary rights is legally valid and takes effect immediately.”
Zhang Xingchuan said, “Is he with you?”
Lawyer Hua said, “That’s what I’m about to tell you. The agreement he signed — under trust law, the custodian firm is required to send it to his family. But his family came in person to collect it.”
After Tan Xiao signed, the head of the custodian firm had gone through the formalities: they were required to report the agreement to their client, the Doria family. Lawyer Hua had said that was entirely proper. And at that moment, someone had walked into the office.
“People sent by his sister,” Lawyer Hua said. “They took the agreement — and Tan Xiao — with them.”
Zhang Xingchuan let out a long, slow breath. The last boot had dropped.
Lawyer Hua said, “Several hundred years of progress, and they’re still this barbaric.”
“Senior,” Zhang Xingchuan said — he couldn’t help but admire her composure — “what are you going to do now?”
Lawyer Hua said, “I have no right to practise here. I’ve already contacted a Geneva firm I’ve worked with before — I’ll need a local lawyer to assist me.”
Zhang Xingchuan said, “Of course. With your own personal safety as the first priority, I authorise you to do whatever you deem necessary to the fullest extent possible. We’ll sort out the contract when you’re back. Name your price.”
“Naturally,” Lawyer Hua said. “I intend to name a very large one.”
Zhang Xingchuan said only, “The earliest I can get there is Friday.”
“That’s still very efficient,” Lawyer Hua said. “It’s nearly midnight here now. Tomorrow morning I’ll bring the local lawyer to negotiate with the Doria family. Whether they’re truly going to put my client under house arrest — we’ll know by tomorrow morning.”
Tan Xiao had been to Geneva only twice. As a child he had been brought back to Europe, living first in Italy and then in Germany; later, on holiday breaks, he had spent most of his time in Germany as well. After university, his trips to Europe had dropped sharply, and he had made a point of avoiding Geneva specifically — the shipping company’s headquarters were here. The origin of his desire to do nothing and live as a layabout had just been located.
In the depths of the night, he was taken to an estate on the shores of Lake Cologne. Not a word was spoken to him throughout. The car turned up a private drive; iron gates swung open silently; inside, two rows of trimmed plane trees lined the approach. The estate had been built in 1919. It covered more than three thousand square metres — private docks, a century-old garden, more than a dozen bedroom suites, and windows that looked out toward Mont Blanc.
The last time Tan Xiao had been here, he had been in middle school. Tan Minhong had still been master of the house then. Tan Xiao had befriended a young gardener there, and they had been caught playing together by Tan Minhong, who summoned Tan Xiao to his study and delivered a lecture. It had been Tan Yun who came to get him out of it.
At the time, Tan Yun had only just joined the shipping company, and had not yet been through her arranged marriage. Now, whether the company or the estate, she was its master.
A middle-aged man dressed as a butler led Tan Xiao to a bedroom suite — the very room he had stayed in on his last visit here, long ago.
He asked the butler in English: “Where is my sister? Is she not seeing me today?”
The man only bowed and withdrew, closing the door behind him.
His phone had been taken at the law firm’s office. Tan Xiao looked around the room: no landline telephone, no fax machine. The door and windows were unlocked, but he knew perfectly well he wasn’t going anywhere.
He almost felt like laughing at the absurdity of it. The sheer classicness of the situation. Had he actually gone and become Rapunzel?