A Letter from Keanu Reeves

It was rare for Chen Wan to be at a loss for words, so he could only force a sheepish smile. After all, he couldn’t say that Mr. He wasn’t as lucky as Zhao Shengge, nor could he say that he’d rather borrow Zhao Shengge’s luck instead.

The former would make him sound like a drunkard, and the latter—a madman.

It had been a long time since he’d looked at this face up close. It was truly top-tier. He might as well take a few more glances while he could.

Fortunately, Zhao Shengge didn’t press the issue.

“How’s your project going?” he suddenly asked.

Chen Wan was still smiling, but upon hearing that question, his mind cleared up considerably. At that very moment, in the quiet and spacious restroom, his slowed thoughts finally seemed to connect the dots.

During the card game, He Shengyuan had joked about their “fated connection” and, after Chen Wan won the third round, remarked that they were obviously destined to work together.

Because He Shengyuan was one of the investors behind the Wanbaohang project. His faction had long been searching for a scapegoat to take the fall for Luo Qiansheng’s crimes. And then, out of nowhere, came Chen Wan—fearless and reckless. It was like a gift falling right into their laps.

The berry wine he had just drunk now felt cold in his stomach.

Before tonight, Chen Wan had never even met He Shengyuan. He only learned of their connection during the card game.

Until now, He Shengyuan had always been nothing more than a competitor to Zhao Shengge in Chen Wan’s mind—a man whose presence carried political sensitivity.

Thinking about it like this, his behavior tonight really did seem like that of a scheming, spineless opportunist.

The cold wine sat in his stomach like a heavy stone. Chen Wan sighed inwardly.

His throat felt tight, so his voice was slightly lower as he tried to sound sincere and honest. “I didn’t know about Mr. He’s connection to Wanbaohang before.”

Zhao Shengge frowned slightly, looking puzzled, as if he didn’t quite understand why Chen Wan was suddenly bringing up He Shengyuan again.

He had only meant to remind Chen Wan to stay away from dangerous things like attending hearings. If he didn’t want to ask him for help, he could at least turn to Zhuo Zhixuan or Tan Youming.

But in any case, Luo Qiansheng wouldn’t be a problem anymore. He was done for.

However, since the hearing was confidential, Zhao Shengge wasn’t supposed to know about it. So all he could do was vaguely advise, “There are many factions within Wanbaohang. Shi Zhangmin should have mentioned this to you. You should think carefully before making a move.”

In truth, Zhao Shengge had already made up his mind to stop paying attention to anything related to Chen Wan. He had almost succeeded, too. But this… this was too much.

Anything involving politics was serious—dangerous.

Zhao Shengge didn’t think Chen Wan fully grasped the severity of the situation. Or perhaps, he did understand but still chose to take the risk.

He also knew that Chen Wan was a little afraid of him, so his tone and demeanor weren’t as cold and distant as they were during the card game. In fact, they could almost be considered gentle… maybe even soft.

Of course, neither of them realized this.

Chen Wan swallowed, his voice still low but respectful. “Understood. Thank you for the reminder, Mr. Zhao. I’ll be more careful in the future.”

Zhao Shengge felt that Chen Wan was actually quite receptive to advice. Despite being a round-headed fool, he wasn’t as stubborn and reckless as his secretary had described.

But at the same time, something about him seemed… off. It was subtle, but noticeable.

Should he say something else?

Just then, someone entered.

It was the boy who had been seated next to Zhao Shengge earlier.

“Mr. Zhao? Mr. Chen…?” The boy’s eyes widened slightly, as if surprised to see them together. “Why are you two here?”

As soon as he spoke, he realized he was overstepping. He quickly walked over, bowing his head and explaining, “Apologies, Mr. He couldn’t find you and was worried something had happened, so he asked me to check on you.”

Zhao Shengge lowered his gaze, looking at the boy. His expression remained unchanged, but the quiet weight of his stare sent a chill down the spine.

He was different from any other guest the boy had ever encountered. Some people didn’t need to flaunt their wealth or authority to command respect and instill fear.

Chen Wan felt like that icy wine had solidified into a heavy stone in his stomach, blocking something inside him, making his blood feel sluggish.

But he still smiled and said, “I just came to wash my face and happened to run into Mr. Zhao. No need for Mr. He to worry.”

Zhao Shengge was about to tell the boy to leave when Chen Wan’s phone vibrated in his hand.

It had been quite a while since he disappeared. Zhuo Zhixuan was worried he might have fainted somewhere due to the alcohol affecting his nervous system.

Then came a message from Tan Youming—three exclamation marks.

It was something along the lines of: This old fox He Shengyuan is a tough one to deal with. Shen Zongnian is also incredibly aggressive—not like Zhao Shengge, who at least shows some courtesy. The atmosphere is getting tense over here. Do you have time to come over?

Tan Youming’s chattering voice spilled through the receiver.

Meanwhile, Zhao Shengge had been watching Chen Wan the entire time, waiting for him to hang up.

Chen Wan said he was heading back.

He and Zhao Shengge walked back separately, so he didn’t hear when Zhao Shengge told the boy, “You don’t need to come in.”

Chen Wan returned to the card table for a while longer. Outside, the rain had intensified.

Guests began to leave, some taking their companions with them for the night.

There was only one road down from Xiaotan Mountain. Several cars followed each other closely, their silver-white headlights blurred by the rain.

Zhuo Zhixuan’s Land Cruiser led the convoy, followed by Tan Youming’s Bentley, with Chen Wan bringing up the rear.

That’s how he knew—there was no Maybach among them.

The rain slowed their speed. The mountain wind howled through the night, shaking trees and wild grass along the rocky slopes.

Chen Wan leaned against the car window, his gaze hazy. It felt like the wind and rain outside were seeping straight through the glass.

As they turned a corner, a bright high beam flashed through the windshield.

The icy berry wine in his stomach sloshed back and forth.

And then he finally remembered—

Oh.

He forgot to take his medicine today.

The meeting with He Shengyuan was a great success. Soon, major business and financial media began circulating rumors that Minglong was set to collaborate with the “Ship King.” The state-run TCB even directly stated that if the news were true, it would mark a groundbreaking alliance in Haishi.

Haishi, with its exceptional geographical location, had risen as the “Pearl of the Bay Area” since the 1970s through strong foreign investment and trade support policies. However, this also resulted in a heavy dependence on foreign capital in sectors such as import-export trade, shipping, and logistics, leaving hidden risks beneath its prosperity.

If Minglong stepped in, the foreign capital market would face significant displacement, economic control and technological barriers would be greatly alleviated, and domestic trade connections would be strengthened, reclaiming economic discourse power.

As speculation intensified, Minglong showed no signs of clarification or confirmation. Just as the rumors reached their peak, He Shengyuan personally sent out invitations to major media outlets—for a wine-tasting event and a press conference on the new shipping route plans.

The previous meeting had been facilitated by Tan Youming and his associates, with both parties reaching a private agreement. This event was He Shengyuan’s public statement, a response to the collaboration with Minglong, and a demonstration of sincerity.

After the initial meeting at Xiaotanshan, Chen Wan met with He Shengyuan once more—this time at a progress meeting for the Wanbao Hang project. His funding arrangements had alleviated some of the leverage constraints, allowing him a temporary breather.

As for Luo Qiansheng, Chen Wan had gambled correctly. It seemed that He Shengyuan’s faction had exerted influence to completely take him down, ensuring Chen Wan’s safety.

At the progress meeting, Chen Wan personally poured a drink for He Shengyuan. Both professionally and personally, he owed him this toast. Professionally, He Shengyuan was soon to become one of his key clients. Personally, while it appeared that they had used Chen Wan to accuse Luo Qiansheng, in reality, Chen Wan had also leveraged their power to exact his revenge.

He Shengyuan held Chen Wan in high regard. Without him, the initial meeting with those young masters might not have gone so smoothly. Moreover, after Chen Wan accused Luo Qiansheng, they hadn’t even needed to make a move before he was taken down.

That day, He Shengyuan personally handed the invitation to Chen Wan, urging him to attend.

The press conference was not just about responding to the upcoming collaboration with Minglong; it also conveyed He Shengyuan’s plan to shift his focus to the new Northern European shipping route. Thus, the wine-tasting event following the press conference included a special guest—Felipe, a member of the Norwegian royal family.

As it happened, Felipe had been a university classmate of Tan Youming and his group during their time at the Royal Institute of Technology. They had shared a good rapport back then—though, to be fair, Tan Youming seemed to have good rapport with just about everyone.

Nordic wine-tasting events followed numerous formal traditions. Tan Youming once attended a private royal gathering hosted by Felipe, where he experienced an unspoken tradition within their old family—a small game called “Secret Exchange.”

Each guest was required to bring two bottles of fine wine. One bottle was handed to the attendants to be placed in a blind selection box—whoever picked it up would be its new owner, a way of fostering connections. The other bottle could be signed and displayed on the wine rack for guests to sample.

Upon entering, every guest received a token, which they could stick onto their favorite wines. Ultimately, the owner of each wine would decide who to gift it to.

It seemed that He Shengyuan wanted to use this occasion to lay the groundwork for his Nordic expansion, so he adopted this tradition to show respect and hospitality toward Felipe.

This was the first time Chen Wan had heard of such a tradition, and he found it quite interesting. He even put some effort into selecting his wines.

Zhao Shenge didn’t smoke often, but he seemed to have an interest in wine and tea.

Chen Wan had limited sources of information, so he relied entirely on observation and deduction.

After much careful selection, he found a satisfactory bottle—Mulando M218, produced in the Helan Mountain region of Ningxia.

The other was a Chardonnay from Chablis. Both had similar profiles, but in terms of fermentation duration, craftsmanship, and aroma, he was more satisfied with the Mulando.

Chen Wan carefully handed both bottles to the wine attendant, specifically instructing that the Mulando be placed on the display rack and the Chardonnay be put into the blind selection box. He emphasized that they must not be mixed up.

The attendant accepted the bottles cautiously. Watching him walk away with one bottle in each arm, Chen Wan felt uneasy and wanted to remind him once more. However, before he could do so, another guest called for the attendant’s attention.

Seeing that the attendant was busy, Chen Wan decided not to dwell on it. This was He Shengyuan’s event—he had little role to play.

Zhuo Zhixuan and Tan Youming were still stuck on the road, so Chen Wan stood alone by the wine rack, not proactively seeking social interactions.

Suddenly, a voice—not too loud, nor too soft—came from above.

“Chen Wan.”

Chen Wan looked up.

The second floor had a low-height rotating platform. Zhao Shenge was leaning against the railing, conversing with a foreign man with slightly curled, shoulder-length hair. The man spoke in a thick British accent, passionately animated.

Zhao Shenge listened attentively, one hand resting on the railing. When he caught sight of Chen Wan looking up, he subtly gestured with his fingers, mouthing the words: “Come up.”

His movement and words were so subtle that Chen Wan wondered if he had imagined it—so he didn’t move.