After watching for a while, Zhou Chang entered through the back door of the venue. Once again, he leaned somewhat lazily against the wooden wall paneling at the very back of the room, gazing at Jing Hong on the stage in the distance.

As the speech was drawing to a close, Jing Hong’s assistant, Tan Qian, walked up to Zhou Chang with a phone in hand and politely greeted, “Mr. Zhou.”

Zhou Chang shifted his gaze from Jing Hong on the stage to Tan Qian beside him, letting out a casual syllable: “Hmm?”

Tan Qian lit up his phone screen: “Mr. Jing instructed me earlier to transfer the money for the tie to you, Mr. Zhou.” Tan Qian clearly had no idea what had transpired between them, yet he showed no curiosity whatsoever, his expression calm and his tone even calmer.

So he had actually gone and asked for a price. Zhou Chang let out a scoff: “Forget it. Am I really lacking that little bit from him?”

He never looked at price tags when buying things anyway.

Tan Qian said: “Mr. Jing said—”

“That’s enough,” Zhou Chang interrupted him, his eyes floating back to the stage. “Your Mr. Jing isn’t as naggy as you.”

Tan Qian hesitated for a moment, but eventually nodded: “I’ll ask Mr. Jing again what he wants to do in a little while then. I won’t disturb you any further, Mr. Zhou.”

Zhou Chang gave a slight lift of his chin: “Go ahead.”

Tan Qian paused, looked at Zhou Chang for two or three seconds, turned, and walked away.

When Jing Hong finished speaking and came off the stage, Tan Qian immediately went up to meet him, handing him a bottle of water.

Jing Hong unscrewed the cap, took a sip, and asked, “Did you give Zhou Chang the money for the tie?”

“He wouldn’t accept it. Mr. Zhou said,” Tan Qian mimicked Zhou Chang’s tone and cadence, deliberately lowering his voice, “‘Forget it, am I really lacking that little bit from him?’ ‘Your Mr. Jing isn’t as naggy as you.'”

Jing Hong was amused by Tan Qian and said, “Mind yourself, we’re out in public.”

Tan Qian smiled as well: “Understood.”

“Let it be for now then,” Jing Hong added. “No need to give it to him.”

Tan Qian nodded: “Alright.”

Running into a few acquaintances along the way, it took the two of them some time to get back to the lounge. Tan Qian was responsible for packing up, while Jing Hong put on his coat first, stepped out of the room, and walked toward the main entrance.

Beijing had recently cooled down, making it quite cold.

Just a couple of steps out, Jing Hong’s phone vibrated a few times. Only then did Jing Hong remember that just this morning, he had agreed to do an audio chat with the founder of a certain startup, scheduled for 11:15. He had thought Fanhai Group’s press conference would be over by then, allowing him to talk comfortably from his car. He hadn’t expected to get delayed just now, and the call was coming in right on time.

Tan Qian didn’t even seem to know about this.

Jing Hong answered. Seeing that the crowd seemed to thicken closer to the main lobby, he stopped in his tracks, standing off to the side to take the call—this spot was still relatively quiet.

The person on the other end was in the second-hand transaction business, primarily dealing in pre-owned real estate, covering both sales and rentals.

Unsurprisingly, the founder was rejecting Fanhai Group’s investment offer once again.

After they spoke for a short while, the founder still stuck to his position, saying, “We… we discussed it. We don’t want to attach ourselves to a tech giant, nor do we have grand ambitions. We just want to be ‘small and beautiful’… listing some refined properties, like in scenic, quiet places…”

At that moment, a child suddenly rushed past in front of him. Jing Hong stepped aside to dodge, causing the coat slung over his back to slip onto the ground.

With one hand holding his phone, it was inconvenient for Jing Hong to pick it up. Besides, since they were right at a crucial point in the conversation, he didn’t feel like picking it up at the moment, so he stood where he was and let it be.

A dozen seconds later, however, Jing Hong felt a weight on his shoulders as someone picked up the coat and draped it back over his back.

Jing Hong naturally assumed it was his assistant, Tan Qian—Tan Qian was right behind him and would be taking this same path.

Without turning around, he kept holding the phone with one hand while reaching his other hand back over his opposite shoulder, intending to tug at the collar and pull the coat tighter to help Tan Qian settle it properly onto him.

Jing Hong paid it no mind. As his hand reached over his shoulder searching for the collar, it brushed against the back of the other person’s hand. He felt the person’s hand pause visibly, but since Jing Hong was listening to the call, he still paid no attention. He shifted his hand, pinched the coat collar, and tugged it into place.

On the phone, the founder was still emphasizing, “We just want to be ‘small and beautiful’.” Jing Hong gave a low smile and said, “Regrettably, there is zero room for ‘small and beautiful’ to survive in this market. If this is your attitude, then within a year, capital and user traffic will completely crush you.”

The sudden drop of the velvet glove exposed the bare steel; a dead silence fell over the other end of the line—up until this point, Jing Hong had been gentle and polite.

Jing Hong continued, “The one that crushes you might be Fanhai, might be Qinghui, or might be someone else. Are you sure you want to pit yourselves against the giants?”

There was still dead silence on the other end. Only after a long while did the person find his voice again, stammering, “W-Why does it have to be like this? The ‘pre-owned housing’ market is huge, it can’t be eaten up entirely… Don’t scare us, the few of us founders have a consensus…”

Jing Hong smiled faintly: “Do you know? ‘The market is huge, it can’t be eaten up entirely’—that statement is the biggest lie. No matter how large a market is, only one or two players will be left in the end. It will either be a monopoly or a split down the middle; in the end, there won’t be more than three players. Once you enter a battlefield, the only option is to fight to the bitter end.”

“…”

Jing Hong softened his tone slightly: “Your team might take a relaxed, passive approach to entrepreneurship, but other companies will gobble up as much as they possibly can. The reality for entrepreneurs is: you either win, or you die.”

“…” The person on the other end completely lost the firm stance they had at the beginning, stammering, “W-We… we’ll think about it again, and discuss it some more, okay?”

“Of course,” Jing Hong replied, his tone remaining mild. “Once you’ve made up your mind, contact Vice President Zhao.”

Hanging up the call, Jing Hong was just about to call out “Tan Qian” when he heard a familiar yet unexpected voice come from behind him: “Mr. Jing is so fierce. You scared that kid to death.”

“…” Jing Hong turned around and found Zhou Chang standing right behind him.

Jing Hong paused for a moment before saying, “Just telling the truth. It’s for their own good.”

“Fair point,” Zhou Chang agreed. “Though, to drag Qinghui in as the villain right after using my tie—Mr. Jing’s heart is truly dark enough.”

Jing Hong said, “That’s just the truth as well. Can’t Mr. Zhou handle the truth?”

“Fair enough.” Zhou Chang glanced at Jing Hong’s phone and asked, “Still, investing in this one? Can this guy handle it? Can he hold up under Fanhai’s traffic?”

Jing Hong understood what Zhou Chang meant. “Traffic” was a double-edged sword, and more was by no means always better. Once the floodgates were opened, the overwhelming deluge of traffic from giants like Fanhai or Qinghui wasn’t something just anyone could handle; it posed a massive test to a team’s management and technology. Qinghui Group had already invested in another pre-owned housing app. If Fanhai Group chose this company, they would be thrust straight into a bayonet fight from the start, with no buffer period for gradual growth. What Zhou Chang was subtly implying was: Could an entrepreneur with this kind of personality—passive and indecisive—really stand up against Qinghui in a fight?

“That’s not for Mr. Zhou to worry about,” Jing Hong said with a teasing tone. “We at Fanhai will carry it ourselves.”

“Fine.” Zhou Chang gave a smirk. “So I was just worrying for nothing. I’ll be watching, then.”

After exchanging a few words, Jing Hong looked at Zhou Chang’s hand, wanting to confirm whether it had been Zhou Chang or Tan Qian just now, so he asked, “Just now…”

Zhou Chang knew what Jing Hong wanted to ask and said directly, “It was me. Assistant Tan is still in the lounge, I saw him.”

Jing Hong nodded and said, “My apologies. I thought it was Tan Qian.”

Zhou Chang looked at the back of his hand and spread his five fingers: “No harm done. It’s not like in ancient times where if a young lady’s hand got touched, her family would demand you marry her.”

Jing Hong was left speechless.

There was a water dispenser beside them. Zhou Chang suddenly walked over, pulled out a paper cup, poured a cup of warm water, and handed it to Jing Hong: “Here, take it. Assistant Tan will be here shortly.”

Jing Hong accepted it, raising his eyes with clear questioning in his gaze.

Zhou Chang smiled: “Mr. Jing’s hands are quite cold.”

With that, he gave Jing Hong one last look, stepped past him, and walked toward the main exit.

Jing Hong watched Zhou Chang’s receding back, holding the warm cup of water in his hand until Tan Qian came rushing over.

Faintly displeased, Jing Hong asked Tan Qian, “Where did you go just now?”

Tan Qian felt completely bewildered, not knowing why Jing Hong was venting his frustration on him, and replied, “Mr. Liu was looking for you. Your line was busy, so Mr. Liu called my phone.”

“Alright.” Jing Hong turned around, dialing the phone as he walked out of the venue building.

In the car, after finishing his conversation with Mr. Liu, Jing Hong recalled Zhou Chang’s tie once again. He instructed Tan Qian and the driver, “Tan Qian, in a little while, the two of you head over to my father’s place, pick up a bottle of good wine, and deliver it to Zhou Chang at Qinghui.”

Jing Haiping loved red wine and had an abundance of fine bottles at his place, whereas Jing Hong himself didn’t care much for it.

Tan Qian nodded: “Understood. Should I just leave it at Qinghui’s front desk? Have the receptionist tell Mr. Zhou that Mr. Jing sent a bottle of fine wine because of the tie incident? Is that sufficient, or do I need to hand it to him in person?”

“No need,” Jing Hong said. “Just drop it off at the front desk.” Jing Hong didn’t want to make it seem as though he cared too much about the matter.

……

That afternoon, Zhou Chang held more than a dozen meetings in a row, some long and some short. During a brief break when he returned to his office, his assistant followed behind him to report: “The front desk received a call earlier. Assistant Director Tan from Fanhai Group left a plain-colored box to be handed over to you, Mr. Zhou.”

“Mm,” Zhou Chang didn’t ask what it was, instructing his assistant, “Put it in the car. I’ll take it with me tonight.”

“Alright.” The assistant hesitated before asking, “The front desk mentioned… it seems to be a bottle of wine. The registered users for our XX product officially crossed 50 million last week, surpassing Fanhai. This morning, you asked us to prepare a bottle of fine wine to send over to celebrate with the team. How about we use this bottle from Fanhai instead? The team will definitely be thrilled.”

Zhou Chang didn’t care much and said, “Go ahead and take it then.”

The assistant agreed: “Okay.”

However, just as the assistant turned around, Zhou Chang called out to him, a rare occurrence: “Wait.”

The assistant asked in confusion: “Mr. Zhou?”

Zhou Chang changed his mind—an even rarer occurrence—and said, “Never mind. Prepare another bottle for them. I’ll take this one from Mr. Jing home.”

The assistant blinked in surprise, then replied: “Alright.”

Zhou Chang worked until around 11:00 PM that night before taking his car back to his nearby villa.

He walked up to the wooden table in front of his wine cellar, pulled open the box lid, took out the wine, and looked at it with lowered eyes.

It was actually a 1947 Château d’Yquem.

A top-tier Sauternes noble rot sweet white wine. Noble rot required mist, and the mist couldn’t be too heavy or too light; if it was too light, the noble rot fungus wouldn’t grow enough, and if it was too heavy, the fungus would easily turn into destructive mold. Château d’Yquem had the best geographical location in the world, and the weather in 1947 was the most exceptional in history, making it the vintage of the century for Sauternes. Only about ten bottles of the 1947 d’Yquem were opened globally each year now.

However, what surprised Zhou Chang—what made him think “it’s actually a 1947 Château d’Yquem”—was by no means the fact that Jing Hong had gifted such an exquisite and expensive bottle; that was to be expected. Rather, it was that Jing Hong had gifted a bottle of sweet wine.

With “sweet white” in its very name, it was naturally sweet.

Zhou Chang preferred astringent wines, ideally without a trace of sweetness. He liked that tight, structured mouthfeel.

He also didn’t think he looked like someone who enjoyed sweet things.

In reality, because Jing Hong had instructed Tan Qian not to mention Zhou Chang’s name, when Tan Qian spoke to the elder Mr. Jing, he had merely said, “Mr. Jing wants to send a gift to a friend.” Thus, Jing Haiping naturally assumed Jing Hong would be drinking it together with his friend. Knowing his son liked sweet wines, he pulled a bottle of noble rot sweet white from his collection.

“…” Zhou Chang uncorked it anyway, grabbed a small decanter, and let it breathe on the table.

Afterward, Zhou Chang held a conference call with the UK branch, took off his formal wear, and took a shower. He stepped out with wet hair, his bathrobe half-open and his belt loosely tied, revealing a broad expanse of smooth chest muscles.

Seeing that the wine was about ready, Zhou Chang added some ice to the decanter’s ice bucket to chill it evenly. He didn’t leave, squandering his most precious time by simply watching and waiting in silence.

Fifteen minutes later, knowing it was ready, Zhou Chang poured himself half a glass.

The color of the wine was not golden yellow, but rather a deep amber-orange typical of aged noble rot wines—crystal clear and dazzling.

Zhou Chang raised his neck and took a sip.

In an instant, aromas of fruit and flowers rushed forth together. It was the flavor of oranges and honey that Zhou Chang usually disliked, along with other rugged, complex notes. The acidity remained perfectly balanced, without the slightest hint of tiredness.

It wasn’t a flavor he normally enjoyed, but it was surprisingly good.

Holding the glass, Zhou Chang recalled the scenes from that morning—the bright red lower lip, the cool fingertips, the expression when explaining Fanhai’s moon exploration plan, autonomous driving, and open platform, as well as the tone when saying, “Once you enter a battlefield, the only option is to fight to the bitter end.”

Faintly warmed by the alcohol surging through him, though it wasn’t his usual preferred taste, Zhou Chang suddenly felt immensely thirsty. Unable to wait to savor this top-tier wine sip by sip, he suddenly tilted his head back. As all the complex flavors burst forth and poured down his throat, he drank it down in a single gulp.