"I was wondering why you vanished right after returning to the capital. Looks like you ran into some trouble?"
After everyone left, Jiang Hai casually patted Qi Li's head as she shot him a reproachful look.
"Sigh… yeah. I didn't tell you earlier because I didn't want to distract you. But now it seems I should have said something sooner." Qi Li shrugged helplessly; it really was a troublesome situation.
"What happened?" Jiang Hai pulled her close, sat down in her office chair, and settled her on his lap. With Qi Li's capabilities, there was no reason for her not to show up earlier.
"The thing is…" Qi Li took a moment to organize her thoughts before slowly beginning her explanation.
The problem originated from the restaurant she and Jiang Hai co-owned.
Originally, Qi Li went to the U.S. to talk to Jiang Hai about their relationship. That was also when she ran into Pra Walton. It was then she realized Jiang Hai was no longer the useless burden she once thought he was. It's understandable—people are pragmatic. Relationships frequently correlate with economic power, and China had long been a patriarchal society.
Of course, in modern times, the husband's authority has weakened in many regions, but the underlying logic remains: if a woman marries a man far less successful than herself, she will naturally feel reluctant. Even if she accepts it, she will inevitably become the dominant one in the relationship.
Given the choice between two men of similar age—one handsome, one not; one rich, one poor—Qi Li absolutely would not have chosen Jiang Hai back then. It was inevitable.
This was why, after their marriage, she barely paid attention to him for an entire year. Not to criticize her, but to highlight a reality: in an ordinary household, if the man earns two thousand a month while the woman earns thirty thousand, it's obvious whose voice carries more weight. Dependence shapes power.
Jiang Hai, for his part, refused to grovel or change himself. He was simply unambitious. Naturally, Qi Li looked down on him. It was a sad state of affairs.
But after going to America, she suddenly realized Jiang Hai wasn't useless at all.
There's a saying: "Gold will eventually shine."
Jiang Hai's performance in America, to her, was shining brilliantly. It wasn't that he lacked ability—he simply never cared to show it. His carefree personality masked his potential, but his achievements in America spoke louder than anything else.
If Jiang Hai ever learned what she was thinking, he would probably just laugh.
Regardless, Qi Li changed after that trip—especially after Jiang Hai saved her from a lion. From that day onward, she genuinely wanted to understand him more.
People are strange like that.
Before, when Jiang Hai hovered around her, she didn't even bother looking at him. Now that she was interested, she found herself constantly asking about him, wanting to know his whereabouts. After spending more time together, she realized she had unknowingly fallen for him. But by then, Jiang Hai was already surrounded by many women.
Life is unpredictable. No matter how carefully you plan, things rarely go the way you expect.
If someone had told Qi Li five years earlier that she would marry a plain-looking, greedy, slightly lecherous cowboy surrounded by a dozen women, she would have smashed her limited-edition Emma handbag in their face.
Yet five years later, here she was—caught off guard by her own reality.
Anyway, back to the real issue: the crisis began with Jiang Hai's beef.
Qi Li had opened four high-end steakhouses in the capital to maintain a strong connection with Jiang Hai. She imported his beef and began selling it. There were no secret marketing strategies—no advertisements, no promotions. These restaurants catered exclusively to the elite. Prices had nothing to do with ordinary people. If you couldn't afford it, don't come. Simple as that.
But as the restaurants became wildly popular, trouble followed.
Chinese businesspeople are among the smartest in the world—perhaps not quite as innately sharp as the Jews, but absolutely formidable. Seeing the profit margins, many wanted a share.
Some approached Qi Li hoping to buy into the company, but she rejected them outright. The Qi family, now considered a top-tier—almost super-tier—family in the capital, controlled a business valued at nearly 20 billion. With the success of those four restaurants, its valuation skyrocketed to around 60 billion, roughly 10 billion USD. While still far from the giants, it was undeniably powerful.
Such a behemoth was not easy to touch.
Not to mention, the Qi family had some vague connections in the Middle East. This alone made higher-ups hesitant to intervene. Since the people above didn't dare to act, the ones below wouldn't either.
Unable to target the restaurants, they shifted their attention to the raw materials. Many connected individuals approached Qi Li, hoping to obtain supply rights. But after noticing the beef she imported, they quietly backed off. They simply couldn't compete.
Ironically, that made the beef even more coveted.
This time, however, the issue wasn't restaurant shares or supply rights—they wanted cattle.
They couldn't force her openly, so Qi Song and a few others who were also eyeing the restaurants stepped in shamelessly as the vanguard. They urged Qi Li to import some live cattle for breeding.
On a small scale, it was about profit; on a national scale, they framed it as improving domestic cattle breeds—a patriotic narrative.
But Jiang Hai only wanted to flip them off and shout, "Nonsense!"
"Heh, people back home really are something…" Jiang Hai chuckled, rubbing his nose.
His decision to move to the U.S. had been wise. If he had stayed, his estate and farm would likely have been seized by certain officials by now. A mere section-level cadre could destroy his entire livelihood. If he had the cattle but not the technology, they'd seize his ranch. If he didn't have the ranch, they'd probably investigate him personally. In the end, not only would his fortune be gone—his life might be too.
It wasn't pessimism—it was realism.
Compared to China, the U.S. wasn't much better. If Jiang Hai had shown his strength too quickly, the Americans would have dealt with him early on.
But now, three years later, his roots in the U.S. were solid.
The biggest difference between China and the U.S. is this:
The U.S. is a gold-based society. As long as he pays taxes and doesn't challenge the government's principles, Jiang Hai can live as part of the powerful, privileged class.
In China, unless he became an official, he would never be part of that class. And he had no interest in the treacherous politics where one wrong move could end everything.
"Do you know who's behind them?" Jiang Hai asked. He understood now—Qi Song and his group were just pawns. The real players were higher up.
"The grandson of some second-tier bigwig. We don't know exactly who yet—they're very cautious. But don't worry. What you need to do now is expand your influence in the U.S. The more powerful you are, the less anyone here will dare to touch me. And even if they do, I can just go to America. We can immigrate." Qi Li shrugged, unfazed. She cherished the Qi family's reputation, but she wouldn't sacrifice herself for it.
If it really came down to being enemies with the nation, she would leave without hesitation.
Just as she was Jiang Hai's fallback, Jiang Hai was hers.
"This really is troublesome. I knew it. I hate these roundabout methods the most. Are you done here? Let's go home." Jiang Hai shook his head resignedly. He detested mind games. He wasn't someone who liked second-guessing intentions—he preferred to crush problems directly.
"Okay. Go downstairs and wait for me. I need to call the department heads to take these documents." Qi Li blushed slightly at the mention of going home. The implication was obvious.
But she didn't resist. Instead, she playfully punched Jiang Hai's chest and whispered softly…