Tan Xiao’s sudden departure the previous night had worried Zhang’s parents. Perhaps they’d been so shocked by the revelation of the two young men’s relationship that they’d reacted poorly and inadvertently upset him.
But the housekeeper told them it was impossible. She knew Tan Xiao well. “He’s not a petty person like that.”
Ms. Jiang and Old Zhang were only half convinced. They didn’t return to China often and didn’t know the housekeeper particularly well.
At noon, however, Tan Xiao arrived on his bicycle as usual for lunch and greeted both of them naturally when he came in.
The couple relaxed and liked him even more.
Broad-minded people had a natural ease about them. Being around them felt effortless, and it was easy to grow fond of them.
Several days later, Lawyer Hua came from Hong Kong and met Tan Xiao. Her first impression was similar: he was a likable young man.
She’d expected a rebellious young master with love on the brain.
Zhang attended with Tan Xiao. They met in the suite at the hotel where Lawyer Hua was staying.
From their bearing and the looks they exchanged, how could Lawyer Hua fail to realize that the young master’s lover was the WenCheng CEO who had contacted her?
In that case… she believed she had also found the reason for the recent overseas-capital “persecution” of WenCheng.
The instant Tan Xiao saw Lawyer Hua, he decided he wanted her to represent him. He shot Zhang a look.
Zhang understood what it meant, though he didn’t know why Tan Xiao had decided so quickly.
To Tan Xiao, Lawyer Hua had an aura very like Tan Yun’s. What a formidable woman this lawyer must be!
Lawyer Hua’s presence was commanding, her eyes sharp as a hawk’s.
If they’d been opponents, she’d be the kind of person Zhang disliked dealing with. He had a competitive side, but wasn’t combative at heart. In business, when faced with a vicious rival, he didn’t insist on fighting head-on. If he could win, he fought; if not, he went around. His philosophy was that harmony bred wealth.
But he agreed with Tan Xiao’s judgment. On their side, Lawyer Hua would be a very reliable ally.
They shook hands, exchanged greetings, and began discussing the matter.
Lawyer Hua had learned the basics of Tan Xiao’s wishes. “Do you understand what giving up your beneficiary rights would mean?”
“I do.” Tan Xiao sounded relaxed. “Once I give up the rights, I won’t have to bear the obligations. I don’t want to work for the family business or be assigned to an arranged marriage.”
Lawyer Hua looked at Zhang. In her eyes Tan Xiao was still a child, but the “parent,” Zhang, showed no intention of offering an opinion.
“Actually,” Lawyer Hua said, “there may be a better way to deal with this.”
She paused. “Go ahead,” Tan Xiao said.
“If your current aim is to free yourself from the family for certain reasons, instead of surrendering the beneficiary rights entirely, there’s another option: putting those rights into dormancy.”
Tan Xiao and Zhang both looked puzzled.
“Dormancy means you won’t receive distributions from the fund. Your share remains in the pool, but your place is held for you. In ten or twenty years, if you want to return, you can reactivate it at any time.”
Tan Xiao clicked his tongue. “You mean I can… save the game? Is that really allowed?”
Zhang remained silent beside him, occasionally studying Tan Xiao’s expression.
Lawyer Hua laughed. “That’s a very accurate comparison. It’s a saved game. You don’t want to play right now. Giving up the rights is deleting your save. Choosing dormancy means saving, pausing, and coming back to the table whenever you want.”
“That’s really possible?” Tan Xiao asked curiously.
“Of course. It’s a limited waiver, legally workable, and leaves you room to reconsider.”
Tan Xiao frowned.
Lawyer Hua had done thorough preparation. She’d even found the old society-page scandal about the family that had caused a sensation in Milan twenty years earlier.
“Twenty years ago,” she said, “your mother fought desperately to secure you a seat at this table. You could keep it now for the sake of your children and their descendants.”
“…”
Zhang shifted uncomfortably, but said nothing and made no move.
Tan Xiao suddenly laughed.
Zhang turned his head slightly to watch him.
“I was actually thinking saving the game might be nice,” Tan Xiao said with a smile. “After all, it’s a seven-hundred-billion-yuan game pool. But what you just said woke me up. I’m not going to have children.”
“That isn’t necessarily…” Lawyer Hua began.
“No. I’m certain. Now and in the future, I am simply myself. I don’t need to plan for descendants who won’t exist. I don’t want to leave any way back. I want to cut my ties with that family.”
“Are you sure?”
Tan Xiao nodded. “I’m sure.”
Only then did he turn to Zhang. They exchanged a smile.
Watching them, Lawyer Hua realized their relationship wasn’t quite what she’d assumed. She’d thought the younger heir would be obedient to the CEO, and that this outrageous decision might well have been Zhang’s bad idea.
But through today’s conversation, she’d noticed Tan Xiao listened carefully, thought through everything, and answered from his own reasoning. He hadn’t sought Zhang’s opinion before answering.
And Zhang had simply accompanied him the entire time, giving him enormous room and respect to make his own decisions.
“All right,” Lawyer Hua said. “Since you’ve made your choice, I’ll proceed according to your wishes.”
This time Tan Xiao did look at Zhang, waiting for him to speak.
“Then we’re counting on you, Lawyer Hua,” Zhang said.
They signed the legal services agreement there and then. It took effect upon signature.
Tan Xiao supplied the trust deed, proof of beneficiary status, and other documents he’d prepared in advance.
Lawyer Hua would need time to read them carefully, understand the structure of the trust, and determine precisely what was required to relinquish beneficiary rights. Different trustee institutions had very different procedures. After analyzing the law and designing a solution, she would coordinate with the trustee.
If everything went smoothly, Tan Xiao could leave the trust in about four to eight weeks.
But Lawyer Hua expected the real difficulty to begin when they contacted the trustee institution.
As a close, longstanding partner of the Doria family, the trustee would almost certainly notify the family after receiving correspondence from Tan Xiao’s lawyer. The family’s reaction would be the greatest unknown in the entire process of deleting the save.
Lawyer Hua put it plainly. “If anyone in your family doesn’t want to let you go, they have plenty of tools: delaying tactics, procedural obstacles, freezing your existing assets. They can create all kinds of legal barriers. Prepare for the worst. They might draw this out for six months or a year, or longer.”
“I don’t mind waiting,” Tan Xiao said. “It’s not as if I have to stand around online waiting for a response. I have my own things to do.”
“…” Lawyer Hua thought, How can this young master seem so mature one moment and so innocent the next?
Zhang wasn’t as optimistic. If the family only delayed things, it might indeed be harmless, as Tan Xiao said. What worried him was what other moves they might make. But he couldn’t predict their response yet, much less design targeted preventative measures. He’d have to adapt when the time came.
Before they knew it, they’d talked until late at night. Lawyer Hua had explained everything thoroughly. She had to return to Hong Kong the following morning, and they would keep in touch online afterward.
Zhang and Tan Xiao said goodbye and left.
On the way back, Tan Xiao saw that Zhang was still worried.
“Lawyer Hua’s just doing her job, listing every possible risk,” he said. “I don’t think my family will really create obstacles. If I leave, they get to divide up more money. Why stop me? I wouldn’t stop me.”
Zhang laughed. “If everyone in your family were like you, the whole seven hundred billion could be handed over to the state.”
“If it could be divided among everyone in the world, that would be even better.” Tan Xiao sighed. “My doctoral supervisor is one of China’s top financial scholars. To earn the amount in that trust, he’d have to start working when Homo sapiens first left Africa and work nonstop, without eating or drinking, all the way until 2026.”
While driving, Zhang asked, “Won’t you reconsider Lawyer Hua’s saved-game option? Even I was tempted listening to it.”
“Save it for whom? I’m really quitting this game. Do you want it? Then I’ll keep the save for you.”
“…” Zhang replied in the tone of a card player, “Can’t beat that.”
“Stop testing me,” Tan Xiao said. “You clearly don’t want me to do that. If she’d persuaded me to save instead of delete, wouldn’t you have been hurt?”
Zhang fell silent.
If Tan Xiao still longed for the family fortune, why give up the trust rights at all? He could simply break up with Zhang and go home.
In a sense, he was choosing Zhang over money.
Lawyer Hua’s suggestion was a professional reminder made in her client’s interests, exactly what a good lawyer ought to offer.
But to Zhang, the dormant-rights proposal had sounded like an announcement: there was now a chance Zhang might turn out to be one of Tan Xiao’s mistakes. Ten or twenty years from now, Tan Xiao could regret his choice and reload the game.
So that’s how this works, huh?
Zhang harbored no prejudice against Tan Xiao himself. He trusted Tan Xiao’s love for him, as bright as the moon.
But that save-game rule was a bug in the system. Human nature wasn’t meant to be tested like that.
Zhang’s parents were still in Beijing. Tan Xiao had been staying at his own apartment these days, and Zhang didn’t come over every night. His parents rarely returned home, after all, and they needed his company too.
Today, after talking with Lawyer Hua until so late, normally Zhang would drive Tan Xiao home and stay for the night.
But after those last few sentences, the mood had grown stiff.
Tan Xiao regretted talking to him like that, but he wasn’t fundamentally wrong. Zhang really was saying one thing while feeling another. He didn’t want Tan Xiao to choose dormancy, yet he had to pretend to be magnanimous.
As they approached home, Tan Xiao decided to get angry. “Drop me at the entrance. You go back to your place.”
Zhang glanced over. Tan Xiao had turned toward the window.
Zhang pulled up outside. Tan Xiao unbuckled his seat belt, got out, and went in without looking back.
“…”
In the lobby, Tan Xiao stood in front of the elevator without pressing the button. Its polished doors were bright enough to serve as mirrors, and he used the reflected image of Zhang Xingchuan’s wife to vent his complaints.
What’s wrong with your husband? he thought. I said he was testing me and he just accepted that? If tomorrow I accused him of planning to blow up the planet, would he admit that too? Can’t he at least defend himself?
Then he remembered how little time Zhang had spent with him lately while his parents were visiting. That made him even more resentful. He tried to compose a cruel jab at Zhang, but couldn’t come up with one. How nice for him, having his mom and dad here. Zhang’s so lucky.
Tan Xiao was extraordinarily good-tempered and rarely angry. He’d certainly never stormed off like this. Zhang sat stunned in the car, unable at first to determine what he should do next.
Half a minute later, he got out and followed Tan Xiao inside.
Tan Xiao had grown impatient and was about to go out to see why Zhang hadn’t come. Just as he rounded the corner, he nearly collided with Zhang.
“You…” Zhang began.
Tan Xiao turned away again and pressed the elevator button.
Now Zhang understood. He’d been waiting all along.
“I thought you really wouldn’t let me come up,” Zhang said.
Tan Xiao had merely given him a taste of his own insincerity. He said nothing. When the elevator arrived, he stepped inside.
Zhang followed.
As they went up, Zhang asked, “What, not planning to talk to me?”
“Don’t try hitting on strangers,” Tan Xiao said. “I don’t know you.”
Zhang tried to take his hand, but Tan Xiao thrust both hands into his pockets. Mindful of the security camera, Zhang didn’t try again.
At Tan Xiao’s door, Tan Xiao kept his hands in his pockets and made no move to unlock it. Zhang used his own fingerprint, opened the door, and looked at him. Tan Xiao went inside, with Zhang close behind.
“I didn’t invite you in.”
“Then I’ll leave right away.”
He said this without actually leaving, and even shut the door behind him.
“Go back to your own house,” Tan Xiao said. “Hurry up.”
Zhang couldn’t tell whether he was serious. “Kiddo, let’s talk properly. We don’t need to fight, all right?”
“Who’s fighting with you?”
“Then come here. Give me a hug.”
The moment Zhang opened his arms, Tan Xiao walked straight over until his chest pressed against Zhang’s, his nose almost bumping Zhang’s face.
Zhang laughed and held him, then tried to kiss him. Tan Xiao turned his head aside.
“I did say the wrong thing,” Zhang admitted. “I wasn’t testing you. I care about it, but I wanted to look like I didn’t, and that’s why I said what I did.”
The dormant-rights option bothered him deeply. But he felt he shouldn’t show how much, or he’d look ridiculously easy to shake.
So he’d asked against his real wishes whether Tan Xiao wanted to consider it, acting as if he thought it was a fine idea.
“I’m just too much of a poser,” Zhang concluded.
“Is that everything?” Tan Xiao asked. “Any other problems? Confess them all now.”
“Your Clear-Broth Honor,” Zhang said, kissing the supposed magistrate on the lips first, “what other problems could I possibly have?”
“Your problem is serious. Do you even understand? Whatever I do, I would never hurt you.”
Zhang smiled. “I understand. I’ll remember that forever. Anything else?”
Tan Xiao’s anger had faded long ago. He hadn’t been that angry to begin with.
“And now,” he ordered, “we’re going to have ourselves a little woo-hoo!”