Wen Beizhuo tugged Wen Li by the wrist and gently pushed her toward the door. “Go wait in the car. I’ll be out in a bit.”
Wen Li, who had been watching Sheng Yu the entire time, frowned slightly, clearly reluctant. Only when she saw that Sheng Yu hadn’t spared her so much as a glance did she finally turn and leave.
The private room was left with just the two men.
Wen Beizhuo pulled out a chair beside Sheng Yu and sat down, switching to a Hong Kong dialect as he asked, “I heard rumors in the circle this morning that you’d left Hong Kong. I didn’t believe you’d go at a time like this. So—are you really not attending tonight’s bidding conference?”
Sheng Yu calmly picked up a wet wipe from the table and wiped his hands at an unhurried pace, his expression relaxed and indifferent. “I’m not.”
“Not attending?” Wen Beizhuo exclaimed in surprise. “Wasn’t that land something you were determined to get? You even spent a fortune rolling out massive planning campaigns—half of Hong Kong already assumes that plot is Ding Sheng’s for the taking. I was counting on throwing some money in and riding your coattails. If you don’t bid, the Zhao family will definitely snatch it.”
Sheng Yu finished wiping his hands and rose to his feet, composed and dignified. He glanced at Wen Beizhuo and said evenly, “That land is a hot potato. Don’t touch it.”
Then he added bluntly, “The news about me leaving Hong Kong was deliberately leaked. So was the planning campaign. I wanted to see who would dare seize something Sheng Yu had his eye on. If they’ve got the guts to take it, they’d better have the ability to bear the consequences.”
They were both veterans who had survived to the end of the ruthless power struggles among the elite. The moment Wen Beizhuo heard hot potato, he understood—there was something fishy, and Sheng Yu had clearly known long before this. He couldn’t help but feel a twinge of sympathy for whoever would win the bid that night.
“You’re really devious,” Wen Beizhuo said with a half-laugh. “Good thing the Wen family isn’t on the opposite side from you. But that citywide planning campaign must’ve cost you a fortune, right?”
“Pocket change.”
Sheng Yu remained indifferent. He had long grown used to a life of schemes and calculations at every turn.
He changed the subject. “What brings you to Nancheng?”
Wen Beizhuo paused, then smiled. “To meet my fiancée. The youngest daughter of the Su family—a renowned traditional Chinese medicine family here in Nancheng.”
For the first time, Sheng Yu’s expression shifted. He looked at Wen Beizhuo with faint surprise and asked to confirm, “A strategic marriage?”
Wen Beizhuo shrugged casually. “Getting married first and falling in love later isn’t so bad.”
Sheng Yu let out a helpless scoff. “Damn. The Wen family really does love its alliances.”
Then, as if recalling something, he asked, “Back then, the one engaged to Wen Li from the Sheng family—wasn’t that Sheng Mofang’s son?”
“Yeah.” Wen Beizhuo raised a brow, curious. “Why?”
“Nothing,” Sheng Yu replied lightly. “Just asking.”
Outside the restaurant, Wen Beizhuo got into the car and glanced at his sister, who was visibly upset. After hesitating, he still offered a reminder:
“Stop wasting your feelings on Sheng Yu. A man like him doesn’t belong to anyone—others belong to him.”
“No,” Wen Li said softly, gazing out the car window. “He belongs to the girl from earlier.”
She could see it clearly.
The way he looked at that girl—an emotion that had never appeared on him all these years.
It was patience without end.
A deep, unwavering tenderness.
Meanwhile, inside the car, Sheng Yu gripped the bank card Qin Sang had returned to him. Her resolute departure replayed in his mind, along with every word she’d spoken—each one carving into his heart.
Even the card in his hand felt sharp.
The pain shot from his palm through every limb, every cell in his body screaming with bone-deep unwillingness and a creeping madness.
The next second, he spoke in a low, shadowed voice to his assistant, Qian Jin:
“Contact Director Li. Arrange for someone to come to Nancheng—use an early audition as the excuse to reach out to Jiang Yue. Set something up.”
Qian Jin responded immediately, respectful and efficient. “Understood, President Sheng.”