Chapter Twenty-Four: I Love You

“Mr. Zhao, you’ve been holding my hand for over a minute now.”
Yang Jiekai smiled at the man who was clearly looking for trouble, casually eating a banana as he spoke.
“Heh, they say seeing is better than hearing, and today I have the honor to finally meet you in person, Mr. Yang. Holding your hand for ten minutes or so wouldn’t be surprising at all.”
Zhao Jie chuckled, but inwardly he was convinced that Yang Jiekai was already feeling the pain from his grip.
Yang Jiekai tossed the banana peel onto the ground, his expression suddenly shifting, a cold glint flickering in his eyes that others could barely notice. He nodded, “You’re absolutely right, Mr. Zhao. In that case, shall we hold on for ten minutes?”
“If that’s the case, nothing could be better,” Zhao Jie replied, though inwardly he scoffed, thinking, “Keep pretending. Soon enough, you’ll regret it.”
“Darling, you keep time. No stopping before ten minutes. I’m about to start my handshake with Mr. Zhao!”
With that, Yang Jiekai suddenly tightened his grip. There was a sharp crack—he had dislocated Zhao Jie’s hand, causing sweat to bead across Zhao Jie’s brow from the pain.
“Let go!”
Han Ning, clever as ever, instantly realized what the two men were up to. She had witnessed Yang Jiekai’s strength firsthand, and a glance at Zhao Jie’s expression told her all she needed to know.
“We agreed on ten minutes, Mr. Zhao. If I let go first, wouldn’t that be rude?”
Yang Jiekai kept up his pressure but wore a radiant, sunny smile.
Zhao Jie grimaced in pain, hurriedly releasing his grip. “Heh, ten minutes isn’t necessary. I have other guests to attend to.”
Yang Jiekai released him, satisfied, and as he watched Zhao Jie storm off in a fury, he couldn’t help but revel in his triumph.
As Zhao Jie left, Han Ning discreetly kicked Yang Jiekai under the table, murmuring, “Be careful. Don’t make too much of a scene.”
“He started it,” Yang Jiekai replied nonchalantly.
Han Ning frowned. “I’m not saying you were wrong, just that you should keep quiet later and focus on your meal.”
Zhao Jie, enduring the agony in his hand, locked himself in the restroom as soon as he entered. His face twisted with pain, he finally managed to reset the joint, his lips curling into a malicious sneer. He muttered fiercely, “Yang Jiekai, you’ve forced my hand!”
Soon, the banquet began. Though Zhao Jie had lost the first round, he saw Yang Jiekai as nothing more than a strong, uncultured country bumpkin. Why should he compete with such a person?
Once the guests had taken their seats, Zhao Jie deliberately sat at the same table as several business magnates and Yang Jiekai’s group. He was determined to embarrass Yang Jiekai.
Yang Jiekai sat beside Han Ning, with Zhao Jie on the other side. Zhao Jie raised his glass, “Distinguished guests, you are all veterans of Anhai’s business world. Ning and I toast you, and hope you’ll guide us in the future. I’ll drink this cup to you all.”
He played the role of the leading man, calling Ning by her nickname as if he were her husband.
After the toast, Zhao Jie cast a contemptuous glance at Yang Jiekai, who was hungrily devouring the food. “Help yourself, Mr. Yang. I doubt you’ve tasted fare like this before, so don’t hold back.”
“Cut the nonsense. I don’t need you to tell me!”
Yang Jiekai hadn’t eaten before coming out, and his stomach was growling. Faced with a table full of rich dishes, he saw no reason not to dig in heartily.
Zhao Jie had meant to ridicule him, but was caught off guard by his crude retort. Though anger simmered within, he kept his composure, sneering, “Then please, Mr. Yang, eat at your leisure. If it’s not enough, just order more.”
Han Ning was beside herself with regret—not for bringing Yang Jiekai, but for not briefing him on proper etiquette beforehand.
Business banquets were meant for sipping wine and discussing matters; the food was mostly untouched. But Yang Jiekai was treating it like a meal at a restaurant, eating heartily and spoiling the ambiance.
“How about this? Since we have esteemed seniors present, I, Zhao Jie, propose a game to enliven the atmosphere.”
His tone was sly as he continued, “As everyone knows, Ning is the top beauty in Anhai’s business world. The game is simple: everyone must say ‘I love you’ to Ning in at least two different languages, without repeating. Whoever says it in the most languages gets to share a ceremonial drink with her.”
The table, unaware that Zhao Jie was targeting Yang Jiekai, applauded enthusiastically.
“What do you think, Mr. Yang?” Zhao Jie asked, looking at Yang Jiekai with amusement.
Yang Jiekai, now full, wiped his mouth with a napkin. “Since it’s a game, I’ll join in.”
Han Ning, sitting nearby, grew anxious. In the past, she might have refused outright, but now she couldn’t dampen the spirits of these influential guests.
As her nerves mounted, she suddenly felt her hand gently squeezed. Glancing down, she saw Yang Jiekai’s hand reassuring her, as if to say, “Don’t worry.”
She quickly withdrew her hand, though she couldn’t explain why she hadn’t felt repulsed—instead, she felt an unexpected sense of security, as if those callused hands could shield her from anything.
Yang Jiekai’s hands bore thick calluses from years on the battlefield, handling weapons. Holding anything felt like being gripped by iron pincers.
Saying “I love you” in three or more languages was trivial for many, so Zhao Jie let the business magnates go first. Those at this banquet were exceptional; three languages were no challenge.
As the game progressed, English, Russian, Japanese, Italian, and other common languages were used up. When it was Yang Jiekai’s turn, he paused thoughtfully, then addressed Zhao Jie, “I have a question.”
“Please, Mr. Yang,” Zhao Jie said, inwardly amused, certain Yang Jiekai was about to admit defeat.
“What happens if someone can’t say it?” Yang Jiekai asked.
Zhao Jie smiled coldly, pointing at a bottle of baijiu on the table. “If you can’t, you have to finish this bottle.”
Cheers erupted again. Han Ning, for reasons she couldn’t explain, felt a faint worry for Yang Jiekai, fearing he might not succeed.
Yang Jiekai nodded, then gazed into Han Ning’s eyes. As he began, everyone at the table was stunned.
He spoke “I love you” in Arabic, then Spanish, then Thai, then Latin...
Having grown up in the mercenary world, surrounded by people from everywhere, Yang Jiekai wasn’t fluent in all languages, but he knew enough to say those three words in dozens of tongues.
Soon, not just his table but the entire banquet hall fell silent, listening as he declared “I love you” to Anhai’s most famous beauty in language after language.
Several minutes later, Yang Jiekai finally finished. The hall was momentarily stunned, then erupted in thunderous applause.
Han Ning herself understood several foreign languages; though most were unfamiliar, the pronunciation and grammar made it clear Yang Jiekai wasn’t bluffing.
Perhaps this was the first time in her life a man had said those words to her—and in dozens of languages at once.
For reasons she couldn’t name, her nose felt suddenly tinged with emotion.
“I’m done.”
Yang Jiekai let out a long breath, turning to the dumbfounded Zhao Jie. “Your turn, Mr. Zhao.”
Zhao Jie swallowed hard, realizing he’d been outmaneuvered. With nearly all languages exhausted and no repeats allowed, where could he turn?
Unable to respond, Yang Jiekai “helpfully” opened the bottle of baijiu and placed it before Zhao Jie, tilting his head in challenge. “A bet’s a bet, Mr. Zhao.”
Zhao Jie had dug this pit himself, and now had to face it. He stared at the full bottle of Wuliangye, feeling miserable.
With his modest tolerance, drinking it all would send him straight to the hospital. Yet refusing would make him look even worse.
At that moment, Han Ning interceded with perfect timing. “It’s just a game. No need to take it so seriously. Mr. Zhao, a single glass will suffice as your penalty.”
Han Ning was here to expand her network, not to create a rift.
Given an out, Zhao Jie gratefully accepted and drank a single glass.
Then the business magnates joined in the fun, “Mr. Yang is the winner, so the reward must be honored!”
Yang Jiekai chuckled, “Let’s skip it. Ning and I are an old married couple; a ceremonial drink isn’t necessary.”
“That won’t do!” one magnate insisted. “Ning never held a wedding banquet. Let today’s drink be our token of celebration.”
With everyone encouraging her, Han Ning couldn’t refuse. She glanced at Yang Jiekai and slowly raised her glass.
Their arms crossed, eyes met, and two cups of clear wine were raised—an ocean’s depth of feeling in that moment.
After the ceremonial drink, thunderous applause erupted. An elder stood up, “Our business world’s greatest beauty has wed, and though there was no banquet, today they’ve shared a ceremonial drink. On behalf of Anhai’s business community, I wish you two a lifetime of happiness. Let’s all raise our glasses to this talented couple!”
As applause filled the hall, Zhao Jie was filled with regret. He had intended to humiliate Yang Jiekai, but instead had helped him steal the show, leaving himself as the clown.
Yet, accustomed to being pampered since childhood, Zhao Jie had no intention of conceding defeat. Tonight, he was determined to see Yang Jiekai embarrassed!