The incandescent light cast its glow from overhead, illuminating the card table around which the three of them sat.
Lin Yi and Jin Hui each held a hand of cards, while Zhou Ruo An sat on a high-backed chair to the side, holding a peeled apple.
“Doctor Li and those two drivers are all insisting it was an accident.” Zhou Ruo An took a bite of the apple, the crisp sound especially distinct in the quiet living room. “There’s no direct evidence pointing to Zhou Ran Ming.”
Jin Hui slowly played a king of hearts. “Zhou Ran Ming is sharper than I thought.” The old man’s finger tapped lightly on the face of the card. “I’ve pretended to be senile for so long, waiting for him to lower his guard. I didn’t expect him to be wary of recordings even when talking to Xiao Zhou.”
Lin Yi tossed out a small joker. “A case involving this many people can’t possibly have no flaws.”
“You have a way?” Zhou Ruo An and Jin Hui looked at him at the same time.
“I heard those people are being held at the Liao District Detention Center?”
Zhou Ruo An’s eyes lit up. “Weren’t you locked up there before too?” The moment the words left his mouth, he noticed that at some point, a big joker had appeared on top of the small joker Lin Yi had just played.
Lin Yi frowned. “Old Master, didn’t you already play the big joker earlier?”
Jin Hui leaned back and crossed one leg over the other. “You remembered wrong. That was the previous round. If you don’t believe me, ask Xiao Zhou.”
Lin Yi smiled and looked at Zhou Ruo An. “Young Master Zhou, be our witness.”
Zhou Ruo An clicked his tongue and took another bite of the apple. He looked at Old Master Jin, then at Lin Yi; neither was someone he could afford to offend. Their gazes burned into him until Zhou Ruo An’s scalp went numb. With a sigh, he lightly rubbed Lin Yi’s trouser leg with his calf beneath the table, his tone carrying a trace of appeasement. “Brother Lin, you remembered wrong.”
Lin Yi lowered his eyes for a moment, then pushed his cards away. “I concede this round.” Picking up his phone, he rose, opened the door, and walked toward the balcony.
Seeing that he had left, Zhou Ruo An gathered the scattered cards and complained in a low voice, “Old man, I told you not to steal the big joker, but you just wouldn’t listen. You get caught every single time.”
“If I didn’t steal the big joker, he would have won.” The old man lowered his crossed leg and shook his head in bitter disappointment. “Look at that cowardly expression you had just now. You even had to watch that kid’s face before saying a word.” He leaned forward slightly and lowered his voice. “What, are you really together with him now?”
Zhou Ruo An had been getting headaches lately. Not only did he have to deal with Zhou Ran Ming, he had somehow ended up bound together with Lin Yi for no apparent reason. Before he closed his eyes at night, it was Lin Yi; when he opened them again, it was still Lin Yi, as though they had gotten a marriage certificate, had it stamped, and were now supposed to stay tied together morning and night.
From outside the door came the faint sound of Lin Yi speaking, as though he were on the phone with someone. Zhou Ruo An wiped a hand over his face before replying softly, “How could I really be with him?” He looked toward the tightly closed door and hesitated before adding, “Look, isn’t he still useful right now?”
＊
At Shengkai Group headquarters, the morning sunlight shone through the floor-to-ceiling windows into the corridor. Zhou Ruo An took the meeting materials from Ren Yu’s hands and casually flipped through them a few times.
“Chairman Zhou.” He called out to Zhou Ran Ming, who was about to enter the meeting room. “Without Old Master Jin’s vote in favor, I’m afraid it will be very difficult for your new project to pass.”
Zhou Ran Ming’s footsteps paused. When he turned around, his expression was calm. “Young man, once you truly mature, you’ll understand that some things shouldn’t be said too early.”
Zhou Ruo An lowered his brows slightly, yet he could discern nothing from Zhou Ran Ming’s placid face. After considering it for a moment, he followed behind him toward the meeting room.
Just as he stepped inside, Zhou Ruo An’s phone suddenly vibrated. The caller ID showing the two words “Lin Yi” made his heart jolt.
“Hello?” He answered, his voice pressed very low.
The phone was pressed tightly to his ear, so no one around him could hear what was being said, but everyone saw Zhou Ruo An’s expression change abruptly. He practically rushed through the door, ignoring the astonished gazes around him as he turned and ran quickly toward the elevators.
Inside the meeting room, Zhou Ran Ming withdrew his gaze from Zhou Ruo An’s hurriedly departing back. He pressed down hard on the corner of his mouth that had begun to lift and looked around the room. “Everyone, it seems Old Master Jin’s proxy has encountered an urgent matter. According to the company charter, a vote on the new project requires all directors to be present.” He closed the folder in front of him. “Today’s meeting can only be postponed.”
＊
When Zhou Ruo An pushed open the hospital-room door, his hand was trembling.
On the hospital bed, Jin Hui lay with his eyes closed, thick gauze wrapped around his head. His face was ashen-white, like an old newspaper faded by the years. The lines on the monitor rose and fell in a steady rhythm, giving off monotonous beeps.
Zhou Ruo An stood beside the bed for a very long time. May weather was changeable, with frequent clouds and rain. The morning sunlight had now been buried beneath dark clouds. The hospital room shifted from bright to dim, yet the red light on the monitor remained painfully glaring. Zhou Ruo An reached out, wanting to touch the old man’s cheek, but stopped halfway. In the end, he only gently tucked in the corner of the blanket.
When he closed the hospital-room door, Zhou Ruo An took a deep breath. Lin Yi was sitting on the bench in the corridor. When he shifted, he gave up the spot he had warmed.
Zhou Ruo An walked over and sat down, then held out his hand. “Give me a cigarette.”
“This is a hospital.” Lin Yi reached into Zhou Ruo An’s pocket, took out the coin, and placed it in his palm.
Zhou Ruo An immediately clenched the coin tightly and rubbed it hard. “What exactly happened? How could Grandpa Jin…”
“Old Master Jin had a first love. When they were young, the two of them missed their chance because of certain circumstances, and because of that, Old Master Jin never married for the rest of his life. Today, someone claimed to be that first love’s grandson and said the old lady was about to pass away and wanted to see Old Master Jin one last time. Old Master Jin panicked and went out with only one bodyguard. He didn’t notify either you or me.”
“Zhou Ran Ming’s people?”
“Probably.” Lin Yi’s voice was very cold. “They lured Old Master Jin to an old residential compound and staged an ‘accident’ involving a falling object from above. It happened too suddenly at the time, and even the bodyguard didn’t react.”
The coin’s pattern pressed painfully into his fingertips. Zhou Ruo An buried his face in his palms, and the voice leaking through his fingers trembled, carrying a rare fragility. “When Old Man Ding was sick, I was powerless. I thought it was because I didn’t stand high enough and didn’t have the ability to help him, but now, it’s still…”
Lin Yi’s arm lightly settled over Zhou Ruo An’s shoulder, the warmth of his palm seemingly able to calm a person’s heart. “Old Master Jin will be fine. He’ll make it through.”
Suddenly, a shadow flickered at the end of the corridor. Lin Yi’s sharp gaze followed it, but all he saw was an overhead light flickering between bright and dim.
＊
Inside the dim room, the projector’s beam cut through the darkness and cast an image of the hospital corridor onto the wall. In the footage, Lin Yi’s arm was draped over Zhou Ruo An’s shoulder as he said something in a low voice.
With a light press of the remote, the image froze.
“How is Jin Hui now?” the man seated in the shadows asked.
Beside him, someone slouched crookedly on the sofa, one leg crossed carelessly over the other, the cigarette between his fingers glowing and dimming. “When I hit that old man, didn’t your secretary record the whole thing? The flowerpot smashed right into his head, blood pouring everywhere. If he didn’t die on the spot, then he’s damn lucky.” He exhaled a mouthful of smoke and grinned. “The doctor said there’s a good chance he’ll end up in a vegetative state.”
“As long as he isn’t completely dead, Zhou Ruo An will remain his proxy forever.” The man in the shadows had graying temples. He tapped his knuckles against the armrest, anger suppressed in his voice. “Do you know how much more effort it will take me to bring Zhou Ruo An down like this?”
The man with the cigarette in his mouth shrugged and lazily rose. “Saying that just proves you already have a way to bring him down, doesn’t it?” He walked to the door and waved behind him without turning around. “Don’t forget what you promised me. Help me make my comeback, and also…”
He turned his head, his gaze cold and sinister. “Kill Lin Yi.”
＊
Inside the top-floor meeting room of Shengkai Group, the giant neon billboard outside the floor-to-ceiling windows showed a ship breaking through ice as it advanced.
Zhou Ran Ming sat upright in the main seat, his fingertips tapping lightly against the table as his gaze swept over every director present.
“Regarding the development proposal for the South City land parcel, does anyone have any further opinions?” His voice was unhurried. “If not, we will now begin voting.”
The project manager had just finished his report. The projector was still on, and the planning map of the South City land parcel glowed with cold blue light on the screen. Several directors exchanged looks, and three of them quickly cast votes in favor.
“What about the rest?” Zhou Ran Ming looked around the room.
The meeting room fell briefly silent. Everyone’s gaze, as though by prior agreement, turned toward Zhou Ruo An.
The elegant, handsome man sat by the window. Sunlight passed through the blinds and cast fine shadows across his face. He was young and handsome, yet there was something seasoned and unreadable about him.
Zhou Ruo An unhurriedly closed the folder. The metal clasp gave a crisp click as it shut.
“I disagree.” His voice was clear and decisive. “More than seventy percent of the South City land parcel is industrial land, while commercial land accounts for only twenty-three percent.” He rose and walked to the projection screen, the red dot of the laser pointer accurately circling several areas. “With this amount of land, even the basic supporting facilities for a ski resort can’t be fully built.”
Rustling discussion sounded among the directors. Several who had been preparing to vote quietly withdrew their voting cards.
Meeting everyone’s gaze, Zhou Ruo An’s tone was calm yet firm. “Therefore, I oppose bidding for this piece of land.”
The moment the young man finished speaking, it was as though he had drawn a fork in a road shrouded in fog and placed the choice before them. The directors who supported Jin Hui exchanged glances, and one of them had already dropped a vote against into the ballot box.
Zhou Ran Ming’s expression grew increasingly ugly. He knew very clearly that once those votes accumulated, he would lose control of the project.
Slowly leaning back into his chair, Zhou Ran Ming took a sip of hot tea before saying, “It’s not as though there are no precedents for changing a land-use designation.” His gaze swept over the directors present. “All of you know very well how scarce land suitable for building a resort near the ski area is right now. This parcel is currently the most suitable choice.”
He paused, blew gently over the steam rising from his tea, took another sip, set down the cup, and continued, “As for the issue of land use… once we secure the land rights, there will naturally be ways to handle it. None of this is particularly difficult, is it?”
Hearing this, Zhou Ruo An gave a cold laugh and pushed the document in his hand forward. “Land-use classification is a red line fixed by the state. It can’t be changed as casually as Chairman Zhou makes it sound.” He looked directly into Zhou Ran Ming’s eyes. “Uncle, our appetite isn’t good enough to swallow this pie in the sky you’ve drawn for us.”
The words were undeniably harsh. Zhou Ran Ming seemed not to have heard such direct ridicule to his face in half his life. The blue light from the projector cast shifting shadows across his face. A moment later, the man seated in the main chair had already regained his calm expression.
“Young people simply haven’t experienced enough.” Zhou Ran Ming suddenly smiled. “What business doesn’t involve risk?”
“Risk and courting death are two different things.” Zhou Ruo An refused to yield an inch. “Using more than a billion yuan to gamble on an almost impossible approval for changing the land-use designation isn’t doing business. It’s gambling.”
The chief financial officer sitting in the corner could not help murmuring quietly, “The risk is indeed too high…”
Zhou Ran Ming no longer suppressed his emotions. He slowly stood, both hands braced on the table. “It seems Old Master Jin’s proxy is determined to oppose this project?”
“I’m not opposing the project.” Zhou Ruo An looked up at the man looming over him. “I’m opposing this investment proposal that is doomed to fail.”
It was as though time had been briefly frozen, then shattered by a heavy blow.
“You have no right to oppose it.”
Zhou Ran Ming slowed his speech and said, word by word, “Because all along, you have been a complete and utter fraudster.”
The moment those words came out, the dozen or so directors looked at one another in bewilderment. The fountain pen in someone’s hand fell onto the table with a clatter. The corner of Zhou Ruo An’s eye twitched slightly, and the fingers tucked inside his pocket slowly tightened around the coin.
Zhou Ran Ming leaned forward. “Wasn’t Xiao An always so eloquent? Why have you suddenly stopped talking?” He narrowed his eyes. “Could it be… that you feel guilty?”
Zhou Ruo An slowly lifted his eyelids. “Uncle, if you have something to say, why not say it directly?”
“Fine!” Zhou Ran Ming took a document from his secretary. “This is the DNA kinship test report for you and my younger brother, Zhou Jing Tao.” He tossed it to the director beside him. “Director Wang, please read it.”
Director Wang opened the document in confusion and read mechanically, “According to the results of the genetic-typing test, comparative analysis of the tested individuals Zhou Ruo An and Zhou Jing Tao across fifteen genetic loci shows…” His voice suddenly began to tremble, and he looked up at Zhou Ruo An.
“Keep reading,” Zhou Ran Ming ordered coldly.
The man swallowed. “…After calculation, the cumulative paternity index is 0.0001%, and the probability of paternity is less than 0.0001%. Based on current DNA-analysis technology, the existence of a biological father-son relationship between the two can be excluded.”
The entire room erupted.
Zhou Ran Ming looked straight at Zhou Ruo An and enunciated each word. “You, Zhou Ruo An, are not my brother’s biological son at all. You aren’t of the Zhou family bloodline! All these years, you impersonated someone else and wormed your way into the Zhou family for the sake of defrauding us of property and status.” He abruptly raised his voice. “You are a fraudster!”
Everyone: “!!!”
The meeting room instantly exploded into chaos. One elderly director slammed the table and shot to his feet, and even the old hands in Jin Hui’s faction could not help frowning deeply.
It seemed as though a century had passed before the clamor gradually subsided. Everyone’s gaze fell on Zhou Ruo An, and in the occasional gaps, they also looked toward the other protagonist in the DNA-test report, Zhou Jing Tao, who was seated in the corner.
Under everyone’s gaze, Zhou Ruo An’s expression did not change. He adjusted his sitting posture, looking even more relaxed and at ease. Only after doing so did he meet Zhou Ran Ming’s aggressive gaze. “That’s right. I’m indeed not of the Zhou family bloodline. I did assume someone else’s identity.”
Lighting a cigarette unhurriedly, Zhou Ruo An exhaled a thin stream of smoke that somehow miraculously suppressed the uproar in the room. “But for Uncle to call me a fraudster, isn’t that a little excessive?”
“Not a fraudster?” Zhou Ran Ming sneered. “If you hadn’t assumed someone else’s identity, you’d still be begging for scraps in the urban village right now! Look at what you wear and use now. If it wasn’t for money, what was it for?”
He flung the report toward Zhou Jing Tao. “Look at the fine mess you made, letting yourself be fooled completely!”
Zhou Jing Tao picked up the test report, the pages rustling loudly in his hands. The conference table was long and oval-shaped, and Zhou Ruo An, seated diagonally across from him, gave a light cough at that moment, making his hands tremble violently.
“Zhou Ruo An is indeed… not my biological son.” Zhou Jing Tao’s voice trembled slightly. “This… I knew long ago.”
In less than fifteen minutes, the directors’ expressions had already changed several times. Those whose minds worked more slowly could barely keep up with the pace of events.
Zhou Jing Tao took a deep breath. “When I learned that I had a son outside, that child had already… died of illness.” His fingers unconsciously rubbed the edge of the report. “I was overwhelmed with grief, self-reproach, and shame. When I learned that my son had a friend who had grown up with him since childhood, for some reason, I transferred all the feelings I had for that son I had never even met onto this orphan who had grown up without a father or mother.”
The man’s Adam’s apple rolled. “That orphan is Zhou Ruo An.”
“So I adopted Zhou Ruo An and had him return to the Zhou family under the identity of my biological son. I thought that by doing this, I could make up for my mistake a little, and perhaps lessen some of the guilt in my heart.”
Zhou Jing Tao cleared his throat and delivered his conclusion. “So Zhou Ruo An assuming someone else’s identity had nothing to do with him. It was all my idea.”
“Zhou Jing Tao! Do you know what you’re saying?” Zhou Ran Ming slammed a palm against the conference table, shaking the water in the teacups until it splashed out.
Zhou Jing Tao clenched the DNA-test report, his gaze involuntarily drifting toward Zhou Ruo An. The young man’s slender fingers held a cigarette, lightly tapping it twice against the ashtray. For some reason, it made Zhou Jing Tao remember the cigarette held beside the young man’s lips the previous night, and those eyes behind the smoke, so skilled at calculation.
“I hold the proxy rights to Jin Hui’s shares.” Zhou Ruo An’s words from the previous night still rang in his ears. “As long as I gain a firm foothold on the board of directors, the Third Branch can overpower the First and Second Branches. Even without a blood relationship, we are still bound by mutual interests. Wouldn’t it be better for us to rely on each other, become each other’s backing, and trample the people who have been suppressing the Third Branch underfoot together?”
Zhou Jing Tao still remembered the force of the young man’s hand when he patted his shoulder. “Dad.” He still had not changed how he addressed him. “You’ve been suppressed by uncles, brothers, and relatives your whole life. Are you truly content to sit forever at the very edge of the board of directors?”
“Every word I said is true!” Zhou Jing Tao suddenly raised his head and, for the first time that day, looked directly at Zhou Ran Ming. “Back then, I was the one who begged Xiao An to come to the Zhou family under my son’s identity!”
Zhou Ran Ming slammed a fist onto the table. “You really have gone muddle-headed in your old age. Call Zhou Zhe in!”
＊
When Zhou Ran Ming’s secretary pushed open the door to Zhou Zhe’s office, a familiar figure was just disappearing around the corner of the corridor.
After receiving permission, the secretary pushed the door open and said respectfully, “Second Young Master, the chairman requests your presence.”
Zhou Zhe locked the contract he had just signed into a drawer and rose with a smile. “Let’s go.”
The faint sound of the meeting-room door hinges had not yet faded when Zhou Ran Ming immediately demanded, “Zhou Zhe, haven’t you always suspected Zhou Ruo An’s identity? Now I can tell you clearly that he is an impostor and a fraudster! Your father has been bewitched by him, but you are the most promising child of the Third Branch. It is time for you to take charge on behalf of the Third Branch.”
Thinking of the contract whose ink had not yet dried, Zhou Zhe replied with almost no hesitation. “Father told me the truth a year ago. Zhou Ruo An is indeed not my biological younger brother, but he took care of my sickly younger brother for more than twenty years until he passed away. Father gave him identity and status as repayment. I think that’s very fair.”
Zhou Ran Ming’s expression changed abruptly. The secretary standing behind him frowned at the same time.
Only then did he remember who the figure disappearing around the corridor corner had been. Tall and slender—it was Zhou Ruo An’s secretary, Ren Yu.
“You do have good methods.” Zhou Ran Ming sat back down with a dark expression and looked at Zhou Ruo An. “You knew perfectly well that father and son are both driven entirely by profit.”
Zhou Ruo An took a shallow drag from his cigarette and said softly, “I don’t understand what Uncle is saying. But I hope Uncle understands what I’m saying. Even if I am an impostor and a fraudster, if I don’t agree today, you can forget about getting this project approved.”
“That’s right.” Zhou Ran Ming sneered. “Now that Old Master Jin is unconscious, this is the situation most advantageous to you. You can keep holding his proxy rights and use them to form factions, interfere with the company’s normal operations, and satisfy your own selfish desires. So for that very reason, you hired someone to injure Old Master Jin!”
“You’re fucking talking nonsense!” Zhou Ruo An abruptly stood. “It was clearly you—”
Zhou Ran Ming quickly cut him off. “The culprit has already been found. He is preparing to turn himself in and testify against you.” Looking at Zhou Ruo An’s hard, cold expression, his tone finally carried a trace of lightness. “Don’t believe me? Then let’s confront him face to face.”
The meeting-room door opened, and a thuggish young man swaggered inside. He dropped carelessly into a chair, raised one hand, and pointed straight at Zhou Ruo An. “It was him. He told me to hurt that old man.”
Zhou Ruo An had an excellent memory. He carefully looked the young man over and confirmed that he did not know him.
“Who are you? Why are you framing me?”
The young man gave a cold sneer, shoved both hands into his pockets, lifted himself from the chair, and leaned close to Zhou Ruo An’s ear, whispering like a venomous snake. “I’m Bai Jiu’s brother-in-law. You and Lin Yi teamed up to ruin me, and now I’m living like a dog driven from its home. Listen carefully. You and Lin Yi both have to die, and all those assets Lin Yi seized from Bai Jiu will be mine.”
Zhou Ruo An’s expression instantly darkened. The cigarette in his hand fell to the floor, scattering several sparks.
The situation took a sudden turn for the worse. Seeing the change in circumstances, Zhou Jing Tao and his son immediately switched sides. “We were coerced by Zhou Ruo An! That’s why we said those things just now!”
With a single sentence, they nailed Zhou Ruo An completely onto the gallows.
Amid everyone’s shocked silence, Zhou Ran Ming slowly spoke. “In view of the fact that the means by which Zhou Ruo An obtained proxy authority were unlawful…” He announced with satisfaction, “And since Old Master Jin is currently unable to exercise his rights, his shares will therefore be managed by a trust institution and will not participate in this voting decision.”
After saying all this, he frowned at his secretary, seemingly dissatisfied with his work. “Why haven’t you called the police yet? How much longer are you going to let this fraudster and murderer sit here?”