A Letter from Keanu Reeves

The day the bidding results were announced.

After initial negotiations with Minglong, Chen Wan’s assistant suggested that he contact their headquarters.

Chen Wan finally had a legitimate reason to make that call. It was a rule he had set for himself—only after achieving this milestone would he allow himself to dial that number.

The line was almost about to disconnect when the other party finally picked up.

Zhao Shengge said, “Chen Wan.”

“Mr. Zhao.”

Zhao Shengge seemed to chuckle lightly. “Congratulations.”

Chen Wan wasn’t sure if there was any sense of relief in his tone, but he accepted the congratulations with a generous smile.

Neither of them spoke for a moment, until Zhao Shengge broke the silence. “I heard your proposal was exceptional.”

The exhaustion from days of sleepless nights and relentless overtime completely dissipated in that moment.

Chen Wan never expected anything in return from Zhao Shengge—not material rewards, not emotional acknowledgment. Being able to genuinely assist him was satisfaction enough. Any additional praise or recognition was just an unexpected bonus.

Chen Wan would never bring up the painstaking effort he had put in. He simply responded humbly, “The evaluation team was generous.”

When it came to discussing the collaboration, Zhao Shengge remarked that it was better to talk in person rather than over the phone. “Come to Minglong; we’ll discuss it face-to-face.”

“Alright, Mr. Zhao. When would it be convenient for you? I can visit your office.”

Zhao Shengge said, “I just finished a meeting.”

It took Chen Wan a moment to process the implication. He was struck by the efficiency and decisiveness of this industry titan. “I see. Then I’ll be there in about forty minutes.”

His business partner happened to be in his office and asked, “Leaving now? I’m heading out—I can drop you off.”

Before Chen Wan could answer, Zhao Shengge spoke over the phone, “I’ll send someone to pick you up.”

Chen Wan said, “That’s not necessary. I can drive myself.”

“It’s your first time coming here; you won’t pass the core security checks. Besides,” Zhao Shengge added, without a trace of modesty, “you’ll probably get lost, and you won’t find a place to park.”

Chen Wan suddenly realized that he didn’t actually know Zhao Shengge’s exact location. Minglong occupied half of the business district; its multiple skyscrapers were just office buildings for employees. The precise location of Zhao Shengge’s office was confidential, with multiple layers of security. He had no choice but to say, “Then I’ll trouble you.”

The person Zhao Shengge sent arrived quickly, taking Chen Wan on a detour through Taizi Duan West, onto the Central Loop Expressway, and then entering the underground parking lot via a restricted access road.

When he got out of the car, the rumored second assistant—whom he had spoken to over the phone—was already waiting.

The poised and elegant urban woman smiled and said, “Mr. Chen, I’m He Yun. You can call me Assistant He.”

“Assistant He, nice to meet you.”

She selected one of the many identical elevators, pressed the button, and made a welcoming gesture.

Once Chen Wan stepped inside, she unlocked the elevator with a fingerprint scan, and it slowly ascended.

Chen Wan assumed she would take him to a conference room, but it seemed they were heading to Zhao Shengge’s office instead.

The office was on the seventy-second floor. It wasn’t ostentatious or extravagant—just spacious and imposing, with minimal furnishings. The large windows overlooked the shallow bay, where the sea stretched wide and calm, offering an excellent view.

“Mr. Zhao.” Chen Wan hadn’t seen him for several days. Now, facing him suddenly, he felt a bit nervous, though he didn’t show it.

Zhao Shengge stood up from his chair. Today, he wore a black shirt—crisp and well-fitted, highlighting his broad shoulders and narrow waist. The sleeves were rolled up, revealing faint blue veins on his forearms.

Chen Wan had never seen anyone wear black with such commanding presence—there was a quiet, understated authority about him.

Behind him, the city’s most valuable real estate framed a view of the deep blue sea and the impossibly high, distant sky.

“Coffee or tea?”

“Tea, please. Thank you.”

As Assistant He left the room, she closed the door behind her. For some reason, neither of them spoke first, and the office fell into silence.

They hadn’t seen each other for quite some time. Now, with a two-meter distance between them, they locked eyes briefly. The familiarity they had built seemed to have faded again.

Over the phone, only voices were exchanged, making it harder to perceive distance. But face to face, the estrangement became apparent.

It was inevitable.

Their acquaintance had always been tenuous, their relationship fragile. If even one of them became less proactive, everything would reset to the beginning.

Though both tried to act naturally, they were keenly aware of the shift between them. They remained polite, but the change wasn’t purely unfamiliarity—it was mixed with something subtle, indescribable.

It was Zhao Shengge who finally broke the silence. “Sit.”

He moved to the guest seating area and said, “This is the first draft of the contract, prepared by our legal department. Take a look.”

Chen Wan agreed, but his steps slowed slightly.

The seating arrangement consisted of a spacious single-seat main chair and a longer guest couch. Instead of sitting in the main chair, Zhao Shengge took a seat on the guest couch.

Chen Wan certainly couldn’t take the main seat, but sitting right beside Zhao Shengge on the guest couch felt slightly too intimate, almost overstepping a boundary.

Zhao Shengge looked up. “Something wrong?”

Chen Wan weighed his options and eventually feigned nonchalance as he sat down beside him, maintaining an appropriate social distance.

Zhao Shengge appeared not to notice and got straight to business.

Chen Wan considered himself a responsible and professional person, but today, Zhao Shengge was making it difficult for him to stay focused. Even though they weren’t sitting too close, Chen Wan could still feel the warmth radiating from his arm.

Zhao Shengge’s arms must be incredibly strong.

He couldn’t help but think.

Chen Wan’s peripheral vision gradually shifted to Zhao Shengge’s lips and Adam’s apple—every part of him exuded an intoxicating, masculine allure.

He must have gone too long without seeing Zhao Shengge.

Zhao Shengge leaned in slightly, pointing to the sixth line on page twelve, asking for his opinion.

Chen Wan unconsciously held his breath. It struck him belatedly—why, in such a large corporation as Minglong, did Party A and Party B have to review a single copy of the contract together?

The exchange between intelligent individuals was always highly efficient; very few could keep up with Zhao Shengge’s thought process and logic.

He was a natural negotiator, steeped in the world of power and profit for years, well-versed in how to corner and outmaneuver his opponents.

Yet, Chen Wan possessed an altruistic quality rarely seen in modern businessmen, which only made Zhao Shengge more inclined to treat him generously.

“You don’t have to yield at every turn,” Zhao Shengge pointed out. “Make the requests you should, because I will, too.”

Chen Wan smiled. “Minglong’s offer is already very sincere.”

“Then do you have any other questions?”

Chen Wan looked at the ‘Project Manager’ section and hesitated before asking, “If I may ask, who will be overseeing this project on Minglong’s end?”

Zhao Shengge raised an eyebrow and looked at him. “Me.”

Chen Wan opened his mouth slightly. He had assumed that Zhao Shengge would simply lend his name to the project and hand it over to one of his vice presidents after the contract was signed.

“I’ve been personally overseeing the Baoli Bay project all along.”

Seeing Chen Wan’s momentary daze, Zhao Shengge’s tone became a little more serious, as if issuing a subtle warning. “I’m quite busy, so if the project requires it, I might call or message you at any time for updates.”

“Of course.” Chen Wan was a dedicated business partner. “That’s only natural.”

By the time they finalized the details, the workday had ended, and it was dinnertime. Logically, Chen Wan should have offered to take his prospective client out for a meal. If it had been anyone else, he would have extended the invitation without hesitation.

But this was Zhao Shengge. Today’s meeting had already exceeded his expectations; asking for more would feel greedy, overreaching.

He had never dined alone with Zhao Shengge before. This might be his only chance.

This project wasn’t just between Kexiang and Minglong. The Shen and Tan families had invested capital but weren’t involved in operations. However, the Xu family and an engineering team were also part of it. Later, Xu Zhiying and the project’s chief engineer would join in.

Just as he was about to speak, Zhao Shengge closed the contract and said, “Chen Wan.”

Chen Wan looked up.

“Are you free tonight?”

His mind went blank for a moment before he answered, “I am.”

Zhao Shengge closed the contract, stood up, and extended his hand naturally. “Then let me take my soon-to-be business partner out for dinner.”

Chen Wan smiled faintly and reached out as well, shaking his hand in an official yet composed manner. “Then I’ll have to trouble you, President Zhao.”

Zhao Shengge drove himself. Chen Wan sat in the passenger seat, feeling a sense of surrealism.

He rested his hand beside him, then discreetly, as if treasuring the moment, lightly brushed his fingers against the leather seat.

The car’s air freshener had a subtle scent, yet it was strangely intoxicating. He flared his nostrils slightly, momentarily tempted to lean in for a deeper inhale.

That would be far too inappropriate.

Fastening his seatbelt, Chen Wan lowered his gaze, thinking—If only this were a kidnapping.

He might be the only person in the world who would willingly, wholeheartedly devote himself to his captor, offering himself up as a sacrifice.

As dusk settled, city lights flickered to life.

Zhao Shengge drove Chen Wan through the glowing red sunset, exiting the Central Loop and entering the underwater tunnel. The city’s forest of skyscrapers gave way to the vast open sea.

The car’s interior was quiet. A peculiar, restless tension filled the air.

Zhao Shengge turned on the radio and said, “Pick a station.”

Chen Wan casually tuned into an old Cantonese song, then hesitated.

The lyrics played:

“If you ask when the grapes will ripen,
You must wait, and wait again,
Even if the harvest fails, you must persist.”

Zhao Shengge flicked on the right turn signal and asked, “What’s it about?”

Chen Wan thought for a moment. “It’s… about growing grapes?”

“…”

Zhao Shengge turned his gaze back to the road, suppressing the faint curve of his lips as he steered the car. “Is that so?”

Chen Wan straightened up slightly and nodded. “It should be. I don’t really understand, either.”

That brief exchange, seemingly trivial, unexpectedly smoothed away the lingering awkwardness and distance between them.