Adisorn shifted his gaze from the Huangpu River back to Wen Jie. His smile remained fixed at the corner of his mouth, yet those deep, unfathomable eyes seemed to pierce right through to the cracks in the heir's soul.
He took one final sip of tea, then set the porcelain cup down with ghost-like silence.
"Mr. Wen Jie…" Adisorn began, his voice flat and deliberate. "Everything depends on timing. Including you and me."
Wen Jie knit his brows. "Timing… What do you mean?"
"Your offer hasn't ripened yet," Adisorn said softly. "To prove that the Great Dragon is too old to rule his cave… we must first wait for him to expose his own weakness."
Adisorn leaned back into the wooden chair, appearing perfectly relaxed, the corner of his mouth lifting just enough to hint at amusement.
"If I accept you now, I become nothing more than a weapon for you to pick up and wield at will. And I have no intention of being your weapon."
Wen Jie narrowed his eyes, struggling to read the man before him.
"Are you saying… you're refusing?"
Adisorn drew a slow breath, glancing down at his empty cup with serene detachment.
"I simply wish to observe your performance as head of the Hydrogen Project next week…" He paused the smile at his lips sharpening into something razor-edged.
"If you can outmaneuver Mi Ling in the negotiations with Away Logistics… then it won't be too late to discuss my future as your advisor."
He locked eyes with Wen Jie, gaze chillingly profound.
"A wise strategist doesn't choose the side that looks like it's winning. He chooses the side that can actually deliver the victory. Show me, Mr. Wen Jie that you deserve a strategist who can place you at the very top. Someone like me."
Silence fell between them. Wen Jie's lips curled into a slow smirk before a short, sharp laugh escaped him. He had been handed a challenge a dare laid bare on the table. If he wanted the prize, there was only one path: defeat Mi Ling without mercy or excuse.
............................
Lu Rong stepped out of his luxury sedan at the entrance of an ancient alleyway in one of Shanghai's densely packed residential districts. The scent of charcoal-fired woks drifted through the air, mingling with the chime of bicycle bells and the roar of passing motorbikes.
He rolled up his shirt sleeves, staring deep into the alley a world that a man of his stature rarely graced with his presence.
Only hours earlier, his secretary had delivered a report that made his blood run cold.
"Sources report that AP Markrim was targeted in an assassination attempt… on the same day we sent our men to raid the Ros-Lom restaurant."
Lu Rong had placed both hands on his desk, lifting his gaze with quiet suspicion. True he had ordered the disruption of that shop after learning it had ties to Markrim. The group had met there before the tai chi park encounter, and some had even appeared with Yong Chang's wife at the gallery. He had kept watch without blinking. But an assassination attempt on Markrim? That was never part of his instructions.
"Someone tried to kill him?" Lu Rong murmured. "And this Ros-Lom place who are they to have wiped out every man I sent?"
"They aren't ordinary cooks, sir," the secretary continued. "Our sources say they have professional-grade combat skills and managed to escape that day." He hesitated before delivering the final blow. "There is one more urgent matter this evening, sources confirm that Wen Jie arranged a private meeting with AP Markrim at a teahouse."
Lu Rong stilled. The game was spiraling far beyond what he had anticipated. Wen Jie was clearly playing his own hand behind everyone's back.
The unease was enough to pull the old fox of CK Group out from the shadows. He had to see for himself.
Now Lu Rong stood before the weathered, dilapidated storefront bearing the faded sign: Ros-Lom. He scanned the surroundings, drew a slow breath, then pushed open the creaking wooden door and stepped inside with cautious alertness.
What greeted him stopped him dead in his tracks.
The ramshackle interior had been transformed into something almost otherworldly. Peach blossoms bloomed extravagantly from branches arranged throughout the space as if the room had been transported to a celestial garden. Their sweet, delicate fragrance hung heavy in the air, mingling with thin, swirling trails of white incense smoke. The slow, meditative notes of a guzheng drifted through the stillness, creating a Zen-like solitude that felt ancient and out of time. Amid the decay and cramped corners, the place possessed a haunting, timeless charm the kind that even a man of Lu Rong's age could feel in his bones.
At the center of the hall stood Ohm striking in a pearl-cream silk-satin robe, high Mandarin collar, slanted frog buttons running down the right shoulder. A golden dragon soared across the front hem in fine thread. Round-framed glasses lent him the air of a scholarly sage.
Beside him, Phueak wore a deep navy-blue ma gua, wide sleeves rolled at the cuffs to reveal pale inner lining. A thin silk sash with a dangling jade-green tassel swayed at his waist. In one hand he gripped a paper fan inscribed with bold black calligraphy; in the other, a large fresh peach-blossom branch that he swung rhythmically like a man performing a sword form.
"Flog it, Master! Don't stop!" Ohm barked, face a mask of grave authority. "Drive those filthy spirits out so they never dare set foot here again! Makes my blood boil low-life, dog-souled scoundrels! Shameless, parentless trash!" He glanced subtly toward the entrance. "Though by the looks of it… Their old man's probably dead and buried anyway!"
The barrage hit Lu Rong square across the face like a physical blow.
"Curse them that loud and you're not worried their father's ghost will choke on his own spit?" Phueak grumbled, still whipping the branch until peach petals showered the floor.
Lu Rong cleared his throat once to announce himself. "Excuse me… Is this the Ros-Lom restaurant?"
Ohm turned, sizing him up from head to toe before snapping his fingers toward the far corner table.
"Father! I mean, pardon me, sir… Welcome to the Land of Spiritual Cleansing, oh seeker I mean, valued customer! Please take a seat. We are currently in the middle of a Misfortune Purge to restore the feng shui after some vile ghost-rats came to disturb us yesterday."
Lu Rong's cheek twitched as though trampled by insults for the second time in a single minute. Yet he forced himself to maintain his composure.