SA 16.1

At dawn, Ye Jingsheng finally stepped out of the hospital. Xiao Jie, who had been silently accompanying him, handed over a cup of hot milk tea. Ye Jingsheng knocked on the back of his head playfully, forcing a faint smile as he accepted it and motioned for him to get into the taxi he had flagged down.

Only after finishing the milk tea and watching Xiao Jie’s car disappear into the distance did Ye Jingsheng crumple the paper cup. With a flick of his wrist, he sent it soaring into a nearby trash bin. Then, without hesitation, he turned and took firm steps forward. His destination: a nondescript black sedan parked discreetly under the shadows of the trees.

Pulling open the door, he bent down and slid into the passenger seat.

Fang Yang, seated behind the wheel, wasn’t surprised. He glanced downward and let out a bitter smile. “In front of you, no disguise ever works.”

“Because I’m a beast,” Ye Jingsheng replied calmly, his head tilted as he gazed into the misty morning haze. “And a beast’s intuition is usually spot on.”

“Then what does your intuition tell you about why I’m here, waiting for you?” Fang Yang’s tone was casual, as if their heated argument from days ago had never even happened.

Ye Jingsheng didn’t retort as he usually would. Instead, he covered his eyes with his hand and leaned back against the seat. Fang Yang didn’t disturb him, reaching instead into his pocket for a cigarette. After taking a puff, he held it out to Ye Jingsheng’s lips.

Ye Jingsheng took the cigarette between his teeth, exhaling a thin stream of smoke. Suddenly, he felt something brushing against his cheek. Assuming Fang Yang was messing with him, he cracked open an eye, only to see a document being held in front of his face.

Raising a brow, he plucked it with one hand and smirked. “What’s this? My reward? A settlement to call things even between us?”

The Equity Transfer Agreement was exactly what he had been longing for, wasn’t it?

With it in hand, he’d no longer have to live the life of licking blood off the edge of a knife. Ye Ling had woken up, too. His mission was accomplished. He could finally retire from this dangerous path.

FUCK! Then why, after gaining everything he ever wanted, did it still feel like something was stuck in his chest, impossible to swallow or spit out, leaving him in a haze of frustration?

“This is a reward, yes, but not for you. It’s for your brother.” Fang Yang’s voice was calm. “Hong Kong isn’t the right place for him. Send him abroad. Let him study, start a business, or live an honest life. But you and I, we’ll never be able to settle things.”

Ye Jingsheng’s eyes widened. “What do you mean by that?”

“I meant what I said last time. A-Sheng, stay. The world will be ours.” Fang Yang spoke slowly, deliberately.

“What a joke. Xiao Ling just regained consciousness, and you’re already trying to separate us?” Ye Jingsheng scoffed coldly. “I have no reason to agree.”

“Do you think Ye Ling would approve of the current Ye Jingsheng? He couldn’t stand your ways in the past. Do you think he’d be okay with them now? Ye Jingsheng, you’re someone who can never truly settle down. And he, right now, is as pure as a blank sheet of paper. Why drag him back into the memories of all that bloodshed? When everything here is finally resolved, you can bring him back. Wouldn’t that be better?”

Ye Jingssheng lowered his gaze to the transfer agreement. In the signature section, there were two names already signed.

“Chen ge agrees as well,” Fang Yang continued. “Ye Jingsheng, stay. From now on in Hongyun, where I have a stake, so will you. You’ll have equal power to make decisions. A man of honor should carve out a legacy to be proud of, not live a wasted life!”

Ye Jingsheng remained silent, pressing the long-burning cigarette butt firmly into his palm, extinguishing it without flinching.

A hand reached over, gently brushing through his hair. “You must know that this arrangement is the best choice. But what you don’t know is why I’m so insistent on making you stay…”

Lips pressed against Ye Jingsheng’s lips, teeth lightly nibbling at the edges of his chapped lips, moistening their rough texture little by little. A tongue slipped in, entwining with his own, forcing the reluctant and evasive to confront it, accept it, embrace it. Their breathing grew heavier, and in the heated exchange, the burning breaths invaded and colored every pore of each other’s being, drawing from them the kind of despairing yet intoxicating moans that teetered on the edge of suffocation.

Fang Yang pulled back, his breath uneven, staring at Ye Jingsheng’s slightly swollen lips. “Do you understand now?”

Ye Jingsheng turned his face away, fighting to regain his usual calm. “Give me some time to prepare.”

When did it begin? When did they stop being just rivals in a game of pursuit or comrades in a contest of loyalty and pride?

Was it the moment Fang Yang took a bullet for him under Pei Jun’s gun? Or was it back at the Panama Canal, when the two of them had plunged into the waters hand in hand, their fates intertwined?

He couldn’t quite pinpoint the moment it started; he only knew he had inexplicably fallen into it, sinking deeper and deeper until he was entirely submerged.

A strange sense of clarity washed over him. This turbulent and undefined emotion… what did it mean for Fang Yang? For himself?

He didn’t know.

——

“We understand the current situation, but you must also understand our position!” Zhong Qinglin slammed his fist on the table, his frustration evident. “With both sides closing in so tightly, if you retreat now, there will be no way to reopen the transport routes to Hong Kong! Mr. Yamashita needs to understand that I am far more invested in the Asian drug trade than Chen Chen and Fang Yang ever were!”

“Boss Zhong, calm yourself,” Watanabe adjusted his thin-framed glasses perched on his nose bridge. His narrow eyes narrowed further as he continued, “We naturally hope that you will replace the obstinate Chen Chen as the new head of Hongyun. However, judging by the current situation, even with your coalition of small factions dissatisfied with Hongyun, you are still unable to withstand their offensive. No matter how pitiable your narrative may sound, or how ruthlessly Chen Chen has excluded opposition, the unfortunate truth is that power trumps righteousness.

“Therefore, we are compelled to reconsider whether continuing our collaboration is worthwhile. After all, Yamashita Group cannot afford to waste resources on a drowning dog out of misplaced sympathy.” His tone turned colder as he added, “If you continue to disappoint us, Boss Zhong, we will have no choice but to seek alternative avenues for partnership.”

Zhong Qinglin shot to his feet, his face dark with anger. No one had ever dared to call him a “drowning dog”! “Mr. Watanabe, I believe when you first arrived in Hong Kong, your attitude was quite different, wasn’t it?” He had intended to strike first, accusing Fang Yang and Chen Chen of betraying their peers and acting without honor. But who could have predicted that these two madmen would go all out, fighting tooth and nail?

It was becoming increasingly clear that Yamashita’s group had never truly intended to support him. They just needed a scapegoat. Now, with the situation deteriorating, they were showing signs of retreating to Japan, leaving him to face the music alone.

Damn those cunning Japanese! They swarmed like locusts when there were benefits to reap, but the moment the tides turned, they vanished faster than a school of slippery eels. If only Zachis hadn’t fallen, he found himself almost longing for the ruthless but dependable “old friend” who, despite his inhumanity, at least kept his word. Without Zachis, these opportunistic vultures from Yamashita’s group wouldn’t even have had a chance to feast on his turf!

But he quickly realized his precarious position. Without Yamashita’s backing, he wouldn’t last a month. As long as the Japanese still harbored ambitions of using Hong Kong as a gateway to Southeast Asia’s underworld trade, he wasn’t entirely out of the game.

Watanabe chuckled softly. “No need to be so anxious, Boss Zhong. We haven’t withdrawn funding or weapons support, yet. But let this be a reminder: we never side with the weak. Word has it that your rivals hold substantial evidence of your past dealings with the Central American terrorist Zachis. Drug trafficking, money laundering, organ trading, arms smuggling, and more. If not for their fear of undermining Hongyun’s foundation, they might have handed it all over to the authorities already. If that were the case, Boss Zhong, you’d be on death row by now, not sitting here negotiating with me.”

He paused and picked up a photo, extending it to Zhong Qinglin. “Do you know this man?”

Zhong Qinglin froze for a moment. “Ye Jingsheng?”

“As we understand it, this man has officially become Hongyun’s third-in-command. Fang Yang has stepped back to handle broader coordination, leaving him to take charge of nearly all frontline engagements.”

“He’s nothing more than a dog Chen Chen and Fang Yang keep on a leash, paid to follow orders. What’s there to be impressed by?”

“Is that what you think?” Watanabe dusted a stray bit of ash off his suit with deliberate precision, his tone cool. “A mere dog, holding 10% of Hongyun’s shares? Boss Zhong, don’t you find that a little… pitiful?”

Zhong Qinglin’s face turned from ghostly pale to fiery red in an instant. “Impossible! Those two little bastards! How could they. How dare they?!”

Watanabe’s smile remained as calm and cutting as ever. “There’s a saying in your culture, ‘Generals are rare, but soldiers are plentiful.’ Perhaps this man will determine whether you succeed or fail. Now, I’ve said my piece, and it’s time for me to take my leave. A sum will soon be transferred to your offshore account. But remember, patience is not something the Japanese are particularly known for. We won’t wait forever.”

He turned, his two bodyguards falling in step behind him. As he reached the door, he paused and added, “One last piece of advice, Boss Zhong: in this line of work, we live by the blade. A single misstep, and you’re done for. But lately, I feel you’ve strayed far from the cunning and ruthless reputation you once had, the kind of man who could smile while stabbing his enemies in the back. Surely, you don’t need me to teach you how to deal with a stronger opponent? The methods you used to rise to power still send shivers down spines today. So, tell me, where’s that boldness now?”

Zhong Qinglin stood frozen, only moving once the sound of engines rumbling in the courtyard had faded into the distance. His expression rigid, he poured himself a glass of red wine. He had once been a heavy drinker, ever since his days as a young thug in the underworld. But ten years ago, after converting to Buddhism, he had mostly abstained. Every time he touched alcohol now, it was a sign that the situation had reached a critical, life-or-death juncture.