A Letter from Keanu Reeves

On the way back down the mountain road, Chen Wan’s car, driving steadily, was suddenly splashed with a tail of muddy water by a Rolls-Royce appearing in the left overtaking lane.

The afternoon auction had been held in a mountainside exhibition hall on the outskirts, and with the rain that had fallen, the asphalt winding road was a mix of leftover rainwater and muddy mountain debris. In an instant, Chen Wan’s BYD car body and windows were a sorry sight.

At first, Chen Wan didn’t react. He was always a law-abiding and courteous driver. He simply turned on the windshield wipers.

But after being maliciously blocked twice, even the calmest temper would ignite.

He had just washed the car before coming, and the other driver not only failed to maintain a safe distance while overtaking but deliberately came closer. Amid splashing water, the two vehicles’ side mirrors even briefly brushed against each other, nearly sparking.

The Rolls-Royce driver’s skills were exceptional, leaving no substantial damage—other than creating immense psychological pressure on Chen Wan. It was blatant provocation.

Once the Rolls-Royce overtook him completely, it flaunted its higher ground clearance by swerving through a puddle, drenching the BYD’s windshield with a torrent of water. It felt as though someone had poured a bucket of water directly on Chen Wan.

Chen Wan’s lips pressed into a thin line as he gripped the steering wheel tightly and floored the accelerator to catch up.

The summer sky darkened late. The sunset had yet to fade, and in the twilight, the Rolls-Royce’s license plate tail number was faintly visible. It was utterly unremarkable—so much so that no one would think it belonged to someone staging an escape. The owner had arrived earlier in their usual Maybach.

Even so, those ordinary digits exuded an arrogant air. The Rolls-Royce’s speed alternated between fast and slow, toying with Chen Wan like a cat with a mouse.

The car was brand-new. Chen Wan mentally reviewed his memory, certain he hadn’t seen it at any significant event in Haishi and couldn’t think of anyone he might have offended with his low-profile lifestyle.

Several times, he pushed the accelerator to its limit, nearly catching up to a third of the other car’s length. But the Rolls-Royce’s heavily tinted windows didn’t reveal even a shadow of its driver.

On the empty road, with the orange sunset hanging over the mountains and twilight spreading across the sky, the two cars raced head-to-head. They closed in, pulled apart, drifted through turns, and sped by at such a pace that the roadside palm leaves were shredded to tatters by their extreme velocity.

The adrenaline surged. Chen Wan’s lips tightened, and for the first time, his BYD—normally just a commute car—was pushed to a life-or-death speed.

But against the overwhelming superiority of the Rolls-Royce’s speed and hardware, Chen Wan’s driving skills were insignificant. Catching up was impossible.

The BYD was an older model, one from several years ago, reflecting Chen Wan’s preference for staying under the radar.

He could only watch as the Rolls-Royce disappeared arrogantly into the dusk.

The sky darkened completely. The long, desolate highway was left with only his car.

Chen Wan rolled down the window. The wind rushed in, carrying the humid sea air typical of the coastal climate. The car lights illuminated the roadside palms and grass, accompanied by the symphony of cicadas and frogs.

Just then, a call from Zhuo Zhixuan came through, inviting Chen Wan to attend the opening of his hotel on Miwangdao in a few days.

Chen Wan, still catching his breath from the earlier chase, adjusted his Bluetooth headset and responded with a calm voice, “Prime location.”

“Took me months to convince the old man to back me. My tongue’s practically worn out,” Zhuo Zhixuan grumbled, unreserved as always with Chen Wan. Back in their school days, he’d even dumped his homework on Chen Wan to finish. “Your red envelope better be generous.”

Chen Wan, his pulse finally steady, switched the radio channel and quipped, “Of course. I’ll even hire you a lion dance troupe to parade from Finlay East Road to Taizi Section West.”

Zhuo Zhixuan laughed heartily at the joke, but his tone shifted after a moment. “Zhao Shengge will be there too.”

Chen Wan didn’t mention that he’d been at the same auction as Zhao Shengge earlier that day. He responded evenly, “Okay.”

“That’s it?”

“What?”

“…Never mind.” Zhuo Zhixuan changed the subject. “By the way, can you come early that day? I could use your help.”

Chen Wan chuckled. “What, putting me to work?”

“I made big promises to the old man. If I don’t pull this off perfectly, I’ll have Zhuo Yujian and Zhuo Shengyan stabbing me in the back,” Zhuo Zhixuan said, his tone serious.

Chen Wan knew all too well about the sibling rivalries and infighting within the Zhuo family. Although he had an important contract negotiation that day, he could squeeze in some time to help.

He was about to agree when Zhuo Zhixuan mysteriously added, “I consulted a master. For the opening day, I need someone with a Wu-Wu water-based destiny to preside over the event. That’s you—blessed with harmony and fortune!”

“…,” Chen Wan muttered, resigned. “What time?”

“You’re the best, Ah Wan! Just be there by 3 PM.”

The opening day brought perfect weather. When Chen Wan arrived, there was still plenty of time before the first guests.

He took a quick tour of the venue. The hotel sat at the base of Jardine’s Lookout, facing a shallow bay with private docks. Guests could take yachts directly to nearby Dingdao to watch fish and explore tropical orchards.

No wonder even the usually nonchalant Zhuo Zhixuan was so invested—serious money had gone into this.

Normally content as a hands-off boss, Zhuo Zhixuan followed behind Chen Wan, watching him methodically run through ribbon-cutting procedures, guest reception arrangements, seating confirmations, and menu changes for the banquet.

At one point, Chen Wan turned back and asked, “What are you staring at?”

“Nothing.” Zhuo Zhixuan shrugged. He just thought Zhao Shengge was blind—unable to see what mattered most.

Exhausted, Chen Wan collapsed onto a bench, downed a glass of sweet liqueur, and waved lazily. “Don’t get too sentimental. Just give me a share of the stocks.”

Zhuo Zhixuan took the empty glass and refilled it. “When I take over, for sure. For now, I can only reserve you a permanent suite with an ocean view.”

By evening, the shallow bay’s sunset was breathtaking, and the guests began arriving.

Chen Wan, having done his part, blended into the crowd, leaving the spotlight to Zhuo Zhixuan. He only occasionally whispered reminders to the manager when he noticed anything out of place.

谭又明 (Tan Youming) sent a flower basket—two vanloads worth, with a banner said to be personally inscribed by a master and even blessed. Zhuo Zhixuan was thrilled, and Tan Youming was pleased as well.

Though Chen Wan understood the local penchant for feng shui, the sight of the red banners plastered on Roman columns felt out of place, making him question what kind of circles he’d maneuvered into.

赵声阁 (Zhao Shengge) and 沈宗年 (Shen Zongnian) arrived fashionably late, as expected. Zhao Shengge rarely made appearances to support others, but he sent a decently valuable gift this time.

Among their circle, ties were both driven by interests and genuinely rooted in childhood camaraderie. How much was each? That depended on the scales in everyone’s hearts.

Dining rooms were assigned by status.

Chen Wan was placed in the same room as Tan Youming—an intimate private suite. The attendees were from their usual social circles, or more bluntly, factions.

Chen Wan only qualified for this table because of his close friendship with Zhuo Zhixuan. Otherwise, he lacked the status to sit with these guests.

Still, Chen Wan showed no unease, sitting calmly beside Tan Youming. He didn’t exchange a word with Zhao Shengge, who sat at the same table but not too close. Given the size of the round table, Chen Wan might have even been in Zhao Shengge’s blind spot.

Zhao Shengge barely touched his food or drank much. Chen Wan couldn’t figure out why.

The menu had been personally curated by Chen Wan, with dishes slightly different from other tables. Zhuo Zhixuan had asked him to take liberties, confident in their seven-star chefs from Italy and Chengdu.

Yet Zhao Shengge seemed unimpressed. Chen Wan had no clue what went wrong.

Pleasing Zhao Shengge was notoriously difficult—few could grasp his tastes, and Chen Wan was no exception.