Chapter 37: Which One Is the Real You?

Dai Ming spoke first. “There’s still a high chance that the new economic center will be set up elsewhere—like the Qianhuayuan District. That area is relatively new as well.”

Jiang Ruotang shook his head and smiled. “Impossible. That’s Sheng City’s green zone—the so-called ‘Oasis Oxygen Bar,’ with Mengxia Mountain nearby, the centerpiece of the province’s tourism development. If they turned it into a forest of skyscrapers, it would undermine the entire foundation of the tourism industry. All the money spent on environmental improvements and the countless resorts built there would be wasted. Do you think that’s likely?”

Dai Ming exhaled. In truth, Qianhuayuan District had indeed been considered, but it was also the first to be ruled out—for exactly the reasons Jiang Ruotang just listed.

“What about the Shengyuan Development Zone then? It’s about the same distance from the city center as Chengtan. Infrastructure there is already in place. Wouldn’t it be easier to build the new economic hub there than in Chengtan?”

Jiang Ruotang chased a rolling cherry tomato around his plate with a fork, finally catching it against the edge and popping it into his mouth.

“The Shengyuan Development Zone is home to many large factories. If they want to set up an economic center there, all those factories would have to relocate. Never mind the cost of moving—where would they even go?” Jiang Ruotang lifted his eyes and looked straight at Dai Ming.

That look gave Dai Ming a familiar feeling—it was exactly the same expression He Daochen had whenever he was making an important decision.

Leaning back in his chair, Dai Ming decided to keep testing Jiang Ruotang’s thoughts. “Move the factories to Chengtan. It’s all wasteland anyway.”

Jiang Ruotang shook his head. “That’s Chengtan. Moving factories there would pollute the upstream water supply. On the contrary, if the new economic zone is built in Chengtan, they could establish a port, develop river shipping, and connect to the golden waterway of the Molan River. Plus, Chengtan is barren—there’s no need to spend a fortune tearing down old buildings. With the power of the Chengjiang River, they can dredge sand to create land. Expanding little Chengtan by 300,000 to 600,000 square kilometers wouldn’t be a problem.”

Dai Ming slowly leaned toward Jiang Ruotang, carefully studying the boy’s eyes as if trying to peer into his soul.

Even though Jiang Ruotang was nervous inside, his face remained perfectly calm and at ease.

Under Dai Ming’s gaze, Jiang Ruotang found the steak in his mouth nearly tasteless. At last, Dai Ming spoke. “Hearing you say all this makes me wonder if you secretly sat in on the provincial government’s meetings.”

“Uncle Dai, they don’t have a choice.” Jiang Ruotang met his eyes. “Right now, we’re the ones choosing what to buy. When the signs become clearer, all that’ll be left for us is the crumbs others leave behind.”

Dai Ming straightened his tie. This kid was young, but he sure thought like an old hand.

“Fine. Let’s set Chengtan aside for now. Let’s talk about Xiaolan. There are plenty of domestic smartphone brands on the market. In terms of technology, Xiaolan could make the top three. But you’re ignoring one big problem—they’re drowning in debt. Barely hanging on. There’s a domestic smartphone summit at the start of the month. If they fail to secure new funding again, they’ll have to declare bankruptcy. Right now, the interested players are Huicheng Group, Yanghe Investments, and Deyi Tianxia.”

Jiang Ruotang nearly choked on his soda. “Deyi… Deyi Tianxia?”

Wasn’t that Mu Xianqing’s family’s group?

“That’s right—Deyi Tianxia. They’ve got deep pockets. And they’re not just in real estate or entertainment anymore. New energy and smart technology are their new interests.”

As Dai Ming spoke, Jiang Ruotang remembered that the additional shares in Aoxiang Technology also came from Mu Xianqing.

Nice one, Mu Xianqing. Your family really does have an eye for good business. No wonder you all get richer.

Dai Ming went on. “Xiaolan’s founder, He Changqin, confided in me. If they want to showcase their latest, most competitive product at the summit, they’ll need at least five million yuan.”

Jiang Ruotang wanted to say “That’s not much,” but then remembered no bank would even lend to them anymore—that’s how tight things were.

“Mr. He was honest. Even if someone gives them five million, they still can’t guarantee they’ll get investment. Word is, Huicheng Group likes their design, Yanghe values camera performance, but neither cares about Xiaolan’s new OS. As for Deyi Tianxia… they’re likely just checking the market—not serious about entering the sector yet.”

He Changqin’s plain, honest approach reminded Jiang Ruotang of his own father—a man who only cared about doing his work well, but not about self-packaging or clever persuasion.

“I’ll cover the five million,” Jiang Ruotang said to Dai Ming. “It’s easy to add flowers to a brocade, but hard to send charcoal in the snow.”

Dai Ming had originally wanted to stop him. Compared to the inheritance He Daochen had left, five million was a manageable loss.

But if Jiang Ruotang kept throwing money around without regard for returns, even a gold mountain would be drained.

Still—for reasons he couldn’t explain—after talking with He Changqin, Dai Ming also felt like helping.

“Why are you so confident in Xiaolan?”

“If Deyi Tianxia really does decide to launch a smartphone brand, Xiaolan—focused on developing its own OS—would be a perfect fit for the Mu family. They already have shares in Aoxiang Technology. If they get a phone brand too, they’ll control both software and hardware. Left hand, right hand—profit everywhere. If they only go for appearances or gimmick camera functions, it’d be a waste of their cloud computing strength. Only by developing their own OS can they reach the top of the smartphone industry.”

Jiang Ruotang gave Dai Ming a meaningful smile.

Dai Ming was surprised. “You have ties with the Mu family?”

“Yeah. Mu Xianqing is my agent. I paint, he sells the paintings.”

At the mention of his art, Jiang Ruotang suddenly thought of something.

“Wait. The Mu family has high aesthetic standards. But Xiaolan’s straight-male design sense… isn’t likely to impress them. Uncle Dai, please tell them—the prototype they send to Deyi Tianxia for evaluation has to pass my approval first… I’m thinking of printing one of my paintings on the phone case…”

Dai Ming saw through him instantly. “Putting gold on Buddha statues and saddles on horses?”

“Exactly.” Jiang Ruotang snapped his fingers.

“Alright. I’ll contact them and prepare the necessary contracts.”

“Thanks, Uncle Dai.”

Dai Ming sighed. “This is your grandfather’s inheritance. It’s your decision how to use it. I have no right to interfere. But I suggest—you shouldn’t spread your investments too thin.”

Jiang Ruotang tilted his head. “Uncle Dai, you’re not an outsider. You’re my grandfather’s ‘half-son’—so you’re like my half-uncle. I’ll listen to you.”

That “half-uncle” made Dai Ming’s heart tremble slightly.

He was an orphan. The man he saw as a father—He Daochen—was gone. No wife, no children. Alone in the world.

As a lawyer for many years, he’d seen how greed could destroy families. Yet when this child called him ‘half-uncle,’ Dai Ming couldn’t help but feel a pang of emotion.

He should stay uninvolved. But he still said, “I… really think you shouldn’t invest under your own name. You’re too young. Once word gets out you inherited a fortune, all sorts of people will come for you. Your life will be filled with endless trouble and schemes. Your focus right now should be on the upcoming art exams—not to mention next year’s college entrance exam.”

“Mm, I think so too. I’ll set up a company and find someone reliable to represent me. And I’ll hire Uncle Dai as my legal advisor. Then I’ll have nothing to worry about, right?” Jiang Ruotang said slowly, cutting his steak.

Once again, Dai Ming sensed the boy’s intention—he was deliberately pulling him into the circle.

“Jiang Ruotang, tell me—who is the real you?”

The voice across the table suddenly dropped an octave—cold, tinged with scrutiny.

Jiang Ruotang’s fingers trembled slightly on the steak knife. He was rushing too much—forgetting that Dai Ming was not Jiang Huaiyuan.

Jiang Huaiyuan had always spoiled him—no matter how he changed, Jiang Huaiyuan would accept him unconditionally.

But Dai Ming was different. As He Daochen’s attorney and emotional heir, he’d naturally watch closely—was this child truly capable of inheriting everything his grandfather left behind?

“Uncle Dai, looks like you’ve done your homework on me.” Jiang Ruotang set down his utensils and grabbed his soda, drinking noisily. “I’m curious too—what kind of person am I in your eyes?”

Dai Ming spoke flatly. “Willful. Self-centered. Spends money like water. Lonely inside and lacking guidance, so you obey that Lin Lu child in everything. Madly obsessed with Bai Yingchuan thanks to dopamine highs. You spent enough on Bai Yingchuan in the first half of this year to buy an apartment downtown.”

Wow. Spot on.

“Jiang Huaiyuan almost spoiled you useless. Overindulgence has made you a rich wastrel with no life goals, no sense of effort or planning, no understanding of boundaries. If Jiang Huaiyuan were gone tomorrow, your fortune would be gone in no time—either scammed away by Lin Chengtong and his son, or all burned on your idol Bai Yingchuan.”

Dai Ming laced his fingers, resting his chin on them, leaning toward Jiang Ruotang. With his wealth of life experience, he’d seen too many schemers. Even a 28-year-old Jiang Ruotang would have been easy to see through for him—let alone this teenage boy.

“And yet here you are, confidently discussing economic zones and development, predicting the Mu family’s tastes, decisively planning to invest in smart technology?”

Jiang Ruotang felt the pressure—but also knew, more clearly than ever, how powerful an ally Dai Ming could be.

So now… what he needed wasn’t to make Dai Ming believe in Chengtan or Xiaolan’s future.

He needed Dai Ming to believe in him.

Jiang Ruotang stopped hiding behind soda and steak. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath.

He straightened his thoughts, and when he opened his eyes again—they shone clear and firm, with a strength far beyond his age.

“Uncle Dai, when someone is outstanding, smooth-sailing, and admired—they can’t see who the people around them really are. Only when they fall—into disgrace, pride, failure, ruin—can they truly see others’ faces. Their true colors.”

Dai Ming’s brow arched slightly—a sign of growing interest. “Oh?”

“The past two years, I’ve had a taste of Lin Lu’s methods. Clumsy, but undeniably cut from the same cloth as Lin Chengtong—using others to do the dirty work, switching things under the table, stealing what belongs to someone else, and all those carefully planned flattery traps meant to ruin me. I may not have been involved in the operations of Huanyu Pictures, but I can sense something’s wrong. Lin Chengtong’s target is obvious—my father, a man with an artistic mind but no talent for scheming.”

At these words, Dai Ming’s cold gaze finally softened just a little. He’d thought this kid was muddle-headed and, in his heart, hadn’t really wanted to hand over He Daochen’s inheritance to him—but he was bound by the will.

Now, he realized Jiang Ruotang was far more perceptive than he had imagined.

Jiang Ruotang continued, “I originally thought that as long as I stayed close to Lin Lu, lowered their guard, I might be able to figure out exactly what Lin Chengtong has done. But now I see that’s nowhere near enough. I have to get into the game before I can force him out of it.”

Jiang Ruotang looked Dai Ming straight in the eyes and said slowly, word by word, “Investing in Xiaolan is about seizing the future. Investing in Chengtan is about catching the wave of urban development and rapidly expanding my assets. In the future, every dilapidated village house and every abandoned factory we buy will become leverage. I want to become a force so massive that Lin Chengtong cannot shake it.”

Dai Ming’s eyes widened—in that moment, he seemed to see behind Jiang Ruotang a vast and unstoppable tide of power rising.

“So… you’ve been playing the fool all along?”

“Do I really look like a fool to you?”

“Not planning to act anymore?”

“No point pretending now. Lin Lu’s best skill is selling empty dreams. I’ve watched him for years—there’s nothing left for me to learn from him.”

Dai Ming’s expression was still tense.

Across from him, Jiang Ruotang extended his hand. “Uncle Dai, let me sell you a dream too. This one’s full of flavor and smells divine. I’m inviting you to taste it with me. Help me, and you’ll carve out your own place in this rapidly changing era.”

For a full five seconds, Jiang Ruotang wondered if his line had come off too oily and theatrical. Then Dai Ming suddenly reached out and slapped his palm.

“Learn some proper things, will you? Selling air pies so boldly.”

With that, Dai Ming pulled a thick stack of contracts and documents from his briefcase.

Among them were papers relating to the inheritance and agreements authorizing representation of Xiaolan and the Chengtan investments. This meant that after his investigation, Dai Ming had approved of these investment directions.

Their long conversation had merely been Dai Ming’s ‘interview’ for his heir.

Jiang Ruotang was so delighted he almost jumped on the spot, but he kept his face steady as he signed the documents.

After finishing his steak, Jiang Ruotang wiped his mouth. Dai Ming had originally offered to drive him back to school, but Jiang Ruotang declined, saying that if Lin Lu saw them together, he’d start asking too many questions.

Sitting by the window, Dai Ming watched Jiang Ruotang slowly get on a bus.

“Could I really have misjudged this kid…?”

On the bus ride back to school, Jiang Ruotang sent a message to Lu Guifan:
[Master, I’m thinking of licensing one of my paintings to a smartphone company so they can print it on their phone cases.]

Lu Guifan should have been napping, but his reply came quickly:
[If it’s your painting, why ask me?]

Jiang Ruotang:
[Because the painting’s theme is your name.]

At that moment, Lu Guifan was napping with his left arm as a pillow, phone in his right hand. He frowned, confused by Jiang Ruotang’s message.

Then an image arrived.

Lu Guifan rubbed his eyes, waiting for it to load.

When he finally saw it—a sailboat sailing the nighttime sea, its torn sail perfectly framing the moon—an overwhelming wave of emotion rose in his chest.

Like a wanderer who’d roamed the world, finally returning home, finding a resting place for his soul.

And the painting’s title: Returning Sail (Gui Fan).

Lu Guifan swallowed hard. He’d never imagined that his own name would inspire Jiang Ruotang’s creation.

[It’s your work. You can decide.]

[Thank you, Master. Sorry for disturbing your nap.]

Lu Guifan sighed and opened the painting again. It was beautiful.

He’d never thought his name could be expressed in such a special way.

That evening, Xiao Gao drove Jiang Ruotang home from the studio.

When they passed by No. 14 Middle School, Jiang Ruotang called, “Stop for a sec.” Xiao Gao immediately knew he wanted late-night snacks.

Just as Jiang Ruotang was about to hop out and grab a chive-and-egg pancake, he saw the couple running the stall surrounded by other street vendors, a loud argument brewing.

“Ruotang, looks like there’s trouble. Maybe skip it tonight,” Xiao Gao advised cautiously, wanting to avoid unnecessary trouble.

Jiang Ruotang frowned—talk about spoiling the mood—about to leave when he heard a crash. One of the sausage vendors swung a chair into the pancake stall’s windshield, shattering glass everywhere.

Another vendor shouted, eyes bulging in fury.

The pancake vendor clutched his wife tightly, shouting, “You’re going too far! One more time and I’m calling the police!”

“Call them, you bastard! Go on!”

“A few hours at the station, a signature, and I’m back out. Who’s afraid of who?”

The others toppled the griddle—the whole stall was in chaos.

Luckily, evening study sessions at No. 14 Middle had ended long ago; otherwise, passing students could’ve been injured.

The vendor’s wife sobbed helplessly in her husband’s arms, whispering, “Please… please stop… We’ll leave… We won’t set up here again…”

Xiao Gao scowled. “They’re seriously crossing the line—ganging up on the newcomers, squeezing out the competition…”

Hearing this, Jiang Ruotang figured out what was going on. The pancake stall had no business before; the other vendors ignored them.

But that day, he and Lu Guifan had basically advertised for them, drawing in loads of students.

The simple, cheap snack tasted far better than it looked—word got out, and business boomed.

The other vendors couldn’t stand it. With the school gate guards gone for the night, they took the chance to trash the stall and drive the couple away.

The crashes and shouting made Jiang Ruotang’s ears ache.

Too many injustices in the world. You couldn’t fix them all.

But wrong was wrong. If everyone turned a blind eye, what kind of world would this be?

He thought of Lu Guifan from his past life, who’d crossed half the city to visit him in the hospital, bringing chive-and-egg pancakes in a thermal box—because Jiang had once said he missed the taste of school days.

This wasn’t just a snack. It was a thread tying him to Lu Guifan.

“Xiao Gao, call the police. Now.” Jiang Ruotang said quietly.

Xiao Gao hesitated, then quickly dialed. At the same time, Jiang Ruotang stepped out of the car, making Xiao Gao panic.

“Ruotang! It’s dangerous—don’t go over there!”

But Jiang Ruotang raised his voice:
“Don’t you know there are security cameras at the school gate? Every blow you struck is on tape! Vandalism, property damage, intimidation—want to be charged?”

The mob froze and turned. Seeing a high school student, one fat sausage vendor grinned mockingly.

“Kid, go study. You think I don’t know you? You’re that regular customer of theirs. Careful I don’t beat you up too!”

“Beat me up? Go on. I dare you. Let’s see if you’ll ever be able to work in Sheng City again.” Jiang Ruotang crossed his arms, tilting his head coldly at the leader.

“You little punk—!”

The fat man started forward, but Xiao Gao jumped between them. The other vendors grabbed him, whispering urgently:

“Don’t! He’s not from No. 14—look at that uniform. North City Guangyao Private School!”

“Yeah, that private school. Kids there all have backgrounds—money, power. Don’t mess with him!”

The fat man shoved them away but pointed threateningly at Jiang Ruotang, then turned and kicked the tricycle hard—crash—the cart toppled over.

Just then, the nearby patrol officer arrived and caught the scene.