A Letter from Keanu Reeves

The meeting with He Shengyuan proceeded as scheduled at a restaurant atop Xiaotan Mountain, where an entire floor had been reserved.

Chen Wan was, as usual, the first to arrive. It wasn’t his home turf, but he was the kind of person who preferred to be fully prepared for everything.

Some of the other attendees had also arrived early. These were individuals who had fought their way through the world of wealth and power, quickly warming up the atmosphere before the real protagonists of the evening made their entrance.

To everyone’s surprise, Zhao Shengge was the first of the key figures to arrive, though he was not early—he was right on time, alone.

Seeing that Tan Youming and Shen Zongnian had not yet arrived, Chen Wan took the initiative to greet him and introduce the other guests.

Zhao Shengge shook hands with them one by one.

Among the guests, some were He Shengyuan’s associates, while others were veterans of the industry—none of them were insignificant. Each of them would play a crucial role in this semi-social, semi-negotiation meeting tonight.

The guests soon discovered that the rumored high-and-mighty heir of the Minglong Group—or rather, the current head of the conglomerate—was not as aloof and unapproachable as they had imagined. He was, however, much younger than expected, and exceedingly handsome.

After finishing his pleasantries, Zhao Shengge turned to look at Chen Wan.

Chen Wan had just clinked glasses with someone from across the room and was setting his glass down when he turned around and met Zhao Shengge’s calm, observant gaze.

“Mr. Zhao.” He greeted him with a polite smile.

Chen Wan was genuinely pleased. It had been some time since their last meeting over dinner with Shi Zhangmin, and he had thought of Zhao Shengge many times since then.

In countless late nights at Central District, when the final ferry departing the harbor sounded its whistle, when both his body and mind seemed to reach their limits, sending out silent distress signals—he would think of Zhao Shengge.

Each time he saw him in person, he would suspect that his body was automatically generating light, airy bubbles of excitement.

But then he quickly reminded himself of his current circumstances and the not-so-pleasant atmosphere of their last dinner, and his excited nerves settled down.

Zhao Shengge noticed the shift in him—how the previously smooth and composed Chen Wan suddenly seemed a little restrained. His demeanor was still respectful and polite, but there was an unmistakable stiffness.

It was completely different from the person his secretary had described. As if they were not the same man at all.

So what kind of person was Chen Wan, truly?

It was as if Zhao Shengge were meeting him for the first time.

Each time he observed, scrutinized, and analyzed Chen Wan, he would reach incorrect conclusions. His supposedly subtle observations never amounted to even a fraction of the real Chen Wan, yet they fully exposed his own uncertainty and lack of method.

But regardless, Zhao Shengge disapproved of such uncertainty. He took a step forward toward Chen Wan, intending to say something, but before he could speak, Shen Zongnian, Tan Youming, and He Shengyuan entered together, having met downstairs.

Zhao Shengge had no choice but to turn and shake hands with them, though he still glanced back at Chen Wan during the exchange.

Chen Wan felt that Zhao Shengge’s gaze carried a certain gravity. Remembering the misunderstanding from their previous dinner with Shi Zhangmin, he remained extremely restrained the entire night, lowering his presence as much as possible.

Occasionally, when Zhao Shengge’s gaze swept across the room, all he could see was a black-haired head turned away, engaged in conversation with others.

Chen Wan’s head was quite round.

Round-headed. Stubborn.

The discussion proceeded relatively smoothly. Though He Shengyuan had solid roots in Haishi, he was considering shifting his primary focus to a new Nordic shipping route. Strengthening ties with the Zhao and Shen families would alleviate his concerns.

He Shengyuan was quite pleased. These young heirs were not as difficult to deal with as he had imagined. Midway through the night, he called in some young men and women to accompany the guests—not in a crude or vulgar manner, but simply to add to the entertainment.

Even Chen Wan found himself with a beautiful young woman beside him. This was not an occasion where he could refuse, and He Shengyuan was not someone he could say no to.

The dining tables had been cleared, replaced by card tables.

Chen Wan had intended to play a low-key role, refilling drinks and handling minor tasks, but Tan Youming privately pulled him aside and whispered, “Wan, you’re the only one who can play the ‘good cop’ tonight. I can’t count on those two poker-faced men, Zhao Shengge and Shen Zongnian.”

Tan Youming was practically exasperated.

Chen Wan chuckled and agreed.

Though it wasn’t a formal negotiation table, business was still being discussed. Beneath the surface of pleasantries, undercurrents were surging. Indeed, Zhao Shengge and Shen Zongnian were not suited to play the good cop—it would only weaken their stance.

Otherwise, there would have been no need to gather so many people tonight.

The dealer drew the opening hand, and Tan Youming was thrilled. The first round went exactly as he had hoped, pushing the opposition into a weaker position.

Unexpectedly, He Shengyuan laughed heartily as well. He had a favorable impression of Chen Wan, biting an unlit cigarette and waving for him to take a seat. “Looks like a family feud is about to unfold.”

He was looking forward to watching Chen Wan go up against Zhao Shengge.

Chen Wan smiled and, without hesitation, took his side.

A young man was seated beside Zhao Shengge, but after a cursory glance, Zhao Shengge made no move to prevent him from sitting there.

Chen Wan had played as Zhao Shengge’s upstream and downstream opponent before, but never as his direct rival.

Zhao Shengge sat directly across from him, surrounded by a haze of cigar smoke, yet he alone did not smoke. He gestured casually for Chen Wan to make the first move.

Chen Wan focused on his cards. He had no intention of throwing the game—there was no need. A clumsy act would only insult He Shengyuan. Besides, Zhao Shengge’s card skills were slightly better than his. He had to be on full alert to hold his ground.

As he considered his strategy, he accidentally brushed against someone’s shoe under the table. A light touch.

He instinctively pulled his leg back slightly.

A few hands later, the tablecloth shifted again, and he inadvertently touched someone’s trouser leg. He had been careful, yet it still happened.

The leg in question seemed to have lifted slightly in reflex.

Chen Wan couldn’t see, but he could tell they were long legs. The touch was fleeting, brushing against his ankle and shin lightly.

Feeling both embarrassed and apologetic, he ensured his legs remained properly positioned, vowing not to make the same mistake again.

Yet, his ankle and shin were sensitive areas, and the light touch seemed to send an inexplicable tingle through his nerves.

A spectator reminded him softly, “Chen Wan, it’s your turn.”

Snapping out of it, he looked up.

Zhao Shengge gazed at him steadily and, with gentlemanly composure, slid a King of Clubs toward him.

Chen Wan’s heart skipped a beat, and he immediately focused on playing his card.

Zhao Shengge won this round again. Though he didn’t play aggressively, compared to their game at sea, this could be considered merciful.

He Shengyuan leaned over, counting the cards Chen Wan had lost, and joked, “Chen Wan, your heart is in the enemy’s camp.”

Chen Wan simply smiled and shook his head. “I lost fair and square. I admit defeat.”

Since he lost, he was responsible for shuffling the deck.

During the break, Zhao Shengge took out his phone, glanced at it, and replied to a message.

A card slipped from Chen Wan’s fingers and floated to the floor. He muttered a quiet apology and bent down to pick it up.

Zhao Shengge, head lowered, probably didn’t hear him.

Chen Wan reached down. The fallen card was a King of Clubs. He wondered if it was the same King of Clubs that Zhao Shengge had used in the last round to overturn his score.

The faint image of Charlemagne on the card flickered under the tablecloth, while the legs of the guests rested in various postures beneath it.

Even among the many tailored trousers and polished leather shoes, the pair directly opposite him stood out.

Long legs, casually but elegantly crossed, exuding both a laid-back ease and a quiet authority. Wrapped in black suit pants, the creases at the thighs hinted at the strength and firmness of the muscles underneath—just like their owner, imposing and composed.

Below the perfectly straight trouser legs, a glimpse of black socks covered a prominent ankle, extending into gleaming black leather shoes—exuding a meticulous restraint, a refined sensuality.

This person’s shoes and pants weren’t the most expensive in the room, but they were the most eye-catching, the most tempting to reach out and touch…

What would it feel like to be touched by such legs? To be stepped on? What kind of pleasure would that bring…?

A sudden heat rushed to Chen Wan’s nose. He felt ridiculous and ashamed, forcing himself to rein in his straying thoughts as he straightened up.

Even as the second round of dealing began, he was still analyzing—based on position, distance, and the brief touch—who he had accidentally bumped into just now.

As long as it wasn’t him.

Lost in thought, he almost misdealt a card, but quickly adjusted without drawing attention.

Then, Zhao Shengge suddenly lifted his gaze and looked at him directly.

Chen Wan’s heart skipped a beat again. Zhao Shengge’s expression was calm and composed.

Suppressing his restless thoughts, Chen Wan focused on dealing the cards.

Though the bets at the table weren’t significant, businessmen cared deeply about omens.

Starting from the second round, He Shengyuan sat directly next to Chen Wan, acting as a strategist, overseeing the game, and advising on tactics.

He had a strong gambling streak. Since Chen Wan lost the first round without throwing the game, he felt a little guilty and responded to He Shengyuan’s comments from time to time, playing in accordance with his suggestions.

He Shengyuan was probably from Xiguan, as he spoke quickly, with a few verbal quirks and phrases that Chen Wan couldn’t quite catch. He had to lean in slightly, half-guessing to understand.

The two sat shoulder to shoulder, studying their cards with furrowed brows.

Zhao Shengge completely abandoned his gentle approach from the first round, pressing forward relentlessly.

Once again, it was the King of Clubs—ruthless and decisive—devouring the hard-earned points Chen Wan had painstakingly accumulated.

Chen Wan cast Zhao Shengge a puzzled look.

He understood that Zhao Shengge was playing the role of the “bad cop,” but this was a bit excessive.

The benevolent Buddha from the first round had suddenly turned into the King of Hell, leaving Chen Wan utterly unprepared.

Zhao Shengge, eyes lowered, was focused on his cards.

The young man sitting beside him handed him a glass of soft liquor.

Zhao Shengge didn’t refuse. He took a sip, and the young man’s lips curled into a pleased smile.