Chapter 40: Soul (10)

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Jian Xinning was highly efficient. The new proposal was in Tan Zhao’s hands in less than three days.

After another round of coordination and refinement, it went before the board and passed by vote. The whole process took less than a week.

The partnership moved forward with extraordinary smoothness, and Tan Zhao had done little more than serve as a puppet. Wen Mingwei had dealt with the board. During the vote, Tan Zhao had not heard a single word of opposition. Even his uncle, Tan Yi, who stood on the opposite side, seemed to have abandoned this bridge because the Marshal had other plans and made no attempt to challenge him.

After the meeting, Tan Zhao spent the entire afternoon in Tan Yingzhuo’s former office.

He had been very quiet these past few days, because there was truly nothing left to say.

After his conversation with Jian Xinning had broken down, he had stormed away and stayed by the roadside outside the garden until nightfall, watching Jian Xinning drive away after finishing dinner with Wen Mingwei.

When she passed him, Jian Xinning slowed and lowered the window. She cast him a cold, silent glance that sliced across his eyes like a knife. She did not say a word, yet the posture of a complete victor surpassed any number of taunts.

Where had she gotten such confidence? Why was she worthy of being entrusted with so much?

There was only one reason: her surname was Jian.

Tan Zhao’s fury burned from his heart and lungs up into his skull. Several times he nearly vomited blood, and only after he had managed to force his emotions back down into himself and seal them away once more did he follow the road home to face Wen Mingwei.

Tan Zhao warned himself that he had to endure. He could do nothing but endure.

Throwing a tantrum was no different from a child crying and making a scene. It only worked on people who loved you. Wen Mingwei did not love him; anger and expectation could only torment himself.

It took Tan Zhao nearly an hour to walk that short distance.

In the days that followed, he made no further arguments. He did whatever Jian Xinning arranged, until the board meeting was over and all that remained was approval from the relevant authorities before the contract could be formally signed and the project launched. For the moment, the work had come to an end.

Whatever turmoil lay inside Tan Zhao, Wen Mingwei remained as usual, drawing a clear line between public and private matters. The closest thing he said to words of comfort was, “Why have you been eating so little lately?”

Even that was merely a casual remark, as though he truly had no idea why.

Tan Zhao was beginning to realize more and more that Wen Mingwei was a complicated, many-faceted person.

He kept public and private matters separate because he cared deeply about the bigger picture. Yet the bigger picture occupied only a small part of his daily life. Most of the time, he was preoccupied with those few medicines. Whenever his emotions stirred, he cleaned them away before anyone else had a chance to see them.

For instance, on the night Tan Zhao had negotiated with Jian Xinning, Wen Mingwei had clearly been displeased after listening in. But Tan Zhao had never understood why.

Was it because of his own insolence, or because Jian Xinning had deliberately targeted him?

The latter was almost impossible. Wen Mingwei did not care about him that much.

Apart from his obsession with testing medicines, Wen Mingwei had recently become obsessed with sex as well.

He was equally complicated in that regard. At times, he was highly masochistic, enjoying being tormented forcefully by Tan Zhao. At other times, he preferred to torment Tan Zhao himself, possessed by a powerful sadistic impulse.

Anyone who came into contact with Wen Mingwei would find it difficult not to wonder what was going on inside his mind.

But Tan Zhao did not wonder. If learning to endure was an unavoidable part of growing up, then paying less attention to Wen Mingwei was the necessary means by which he controlled his emotions. It, too, was part of endurance.

September 15 fell on a weekend. Tan Zhao used working overtime at the company as an excuse and did not return home that night.

He had made plans with a friend he had not seen in a long time: Li Yue.

They had not been in contact since Li Yue had avoided his birthday.

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Given Tan Zhao’s temperament, a friend like that no longer counted as a friend in his eyes. But he had gone too long without socializing and wanted to let himself breathe. There was also another purpose behind his visit, so he put aside their previous quarrel and made the call himself.

The instant the call connected, deafening music blasted from the other end. Tan Zhao felt almost dazed.

“Where are you? What are you doing tonight?”

“Damn!” Li Yue exclaimed. “Oh, young master—no, President Tan! I’m at a bar!”

“Which one?”

“Frozen Harbor.” Li Yue gave the name of a familiar place. “What? Are you coming?”

“I’m on my way.”

Tan Zhao’s sudden appearance caught Li Yue completely unprepared. He knew a little about the situation with the Tan family and felt both uneasy and embarrassed. But no matter what, their many years of friendship still counted for something. The moment Tan Zhao arrived, Li Yue greeted him eagerly and ordered him a nonalcoholic drink.

Tan Zhao had not had time to change out of his suit. His hair was shorter than before, and his expression was somber, his bearing serious. At first glance, he seemed almost like a different person.

Li Yue stared for a moment before finally laughing. “Good grief, brother, why are you wearing a suit to a bar? You look like such a mature man. You make the rest of us look like children!”

Tan Zhao ignored his teasing, swept his gaze across the familiar faces seated nearby, chose a place, and sat down.

“What have you been busy with lately?”

“What could I possibly be busy with?” Li Yue said. “Bars, nightclubs, karaoke, parties—the whole package. Same old, same old.”

Then he stole another glance at Tan Zhao and sighed despite himself. “You really have changed. If I ran into you on the street, I might not even recognize you.”

“Quit spouting nonsense.” Tan Zhao kicked him.

Li Yue let out an exaggerated cry. “Yes! That’s more like it! The familiar feeling is back!”

Tan Zhao fell silent.

After finishing his drink, Tan Zhao loosened his tie beneath the bar’s deep, fog-like lights and relaxed slightly. Sensing the opportunity, Li Yue asked, “Enough about me. What have you been busy with lately?”

Li Yue already knew Wen Mingwei’s identity. Fearful yet curious, he lowered his voice and asked, “Are you together with that guy?”

Tan Zhao was silent for a moment before deliberately asking, “Which guy?”

“Brother Mingwei.”

“Something like that.”

“What does ‘something like that’ mean?”

Tan Zhao’s expression grew complicated. Li Yue did not understand the reason behind it. “Things not going well? Did you two fight? Wasn’t he treating you pretty well? He pursued you so passionately before. I was insanely jealous.”

Tan Zhao said nothing.

Li Yue had touched precisely the sore spot he should have avoided.

Tan Zhao did not want to spend this rare chance to get out and clear his head talking about such things. Yet he was on the second floor of Frozen Harbor, in the same bar, sitting in almost the same place. In his memory, Wen Mingwei was smiling as he approached from across the room, sat down beside him, and drank a glass of Apocalypse Aurora.

At the time, Tan Zhao had been unbearably impatient, while Wen Mingwei had smiled the entire time. He had kept looking at Tan Zhao—while drinking, while talking with others—as though his eyes were fixed on him and he could not bear to miss a single one of his reactions.

Tan Zhao had never thought he would love anyone all that deeply.

There had been a moment when he had loved Wen Mingwei intensely. Now he no longer wanted to love him.

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But for some reason, whenever the thought of not wanting to love him surfaced, the feeling of love suddenly became startlingly clear—stronger even than it had been in that first moment.

He sat there in a daze, temporarily forgetting all the complications before and after. He remembered only that on that night, Wen Mingwei had come to him, asked whether he was free to go practice shooting together, asked when his birthday was, and given him a birthday present.

Perhaps love possessed a survival instinct of its own. The moment it sensed that he wanted to kill it, it emerged all at once, forcing him to feel its existence with desperate intensity, begging to be allowed to live.

It seemed to say that a person was given many chances to begin again in life, but the feeling of falling in love for the first time would never return.

Tan Zhao’s eyes grew sore. He slipped into a daze without realizing it, and only came back to himself after Li Yue shook him several times.

“What did you say?”

“I asked if you were all right.” Li Yue looked worried. “I can’t really help you, and my father won’t let me meddle recklessly, but I can still keep you company and have a drink with you. Are you under too much pressure?”

“…I’m all right.”

Tan Zhao had no intention of confiding in him. After a moment’s thought, he said, “Actually, there’s something I wanted to ask you about.”

“What is it?”

Tan Zhao glanced at the people around them. After a brief hesitation, he led Li Yue to an empty spot where they could speak privately.

“I remember you once knew an informant with quite a bit of experience. Are you still in touch with him?”

“I am, but he’s switched careers and become a paparazzo.” Li Yue leaned back uneasily. “What are you planning? This isn’t about stealing some kind of trade secret, is it? That could cause serious trouble. I’m not getting involved.”

“No. I want to investigate someone. It’s personal.”

“Who?”

“Wen Mingzhe.”

Li Yue looked blank. “Who’s Wen Mingzhe? Is he related to Brother Mingwei?”

Tan Zhao did not answer the second question. He only said, “A dead man. I want to learn about what happened before he died.”

Li Yue looked even more bewildered. But it did not sound like anything seriously illegal, so he nodded.

“I’ll send you his contact information later. I’m not sure whether he’ll be able to find anything. You’ll have to talk to him yourself.”

Li Yue did not give the matter much thought. He pulled Tan Zhao back to the table and continued drinking with him.

But just then, Tan Zhao’s phone suddenly chimed. The screen lit up faintly with Wen Mingwei’s name.

The message was brief and to the point. Two words:

Come back.

Li Yue caught sight of it from the side and shuddered for no apparent reason. There was no particle to indicate tone, no emoji, and he had never even seen Wen Mingwei look stern, yet those two words somehow felt like a threat. A chill ran down his back.

Tan Zhao showed little emotion, but, unexpectedly, he complied. After saying goodbye, he said, “I’m leaving. Remember to send me the contact information.”

“Oh. All right.”

Li Yue watched Tan Zhao leave, vaguely sensing that something was wrong. He stood there blankly for a long while before finally realizing—

Damn. The young master was actually that obedient. Could he secretly be henpecked?

You really could not judge a person by appearances.