Wang Yibo hadn't lied to Nie Huaisang — he really had returned to the country this time to inherit the family business.
After a brief rest, Wang Yibo arrived punctually at Yunshen Credit early one morning. Secretary Xiao Chen had everything arranged properly; his office was already prepared. As soon as he entered the company, a crowd of people was waiting for him, all bowing slightly, greeting him with "Good morning, Young Mr. Wang" and "Hello, Young Mr. Wang."
Although Wang Yibo had been part of the high-income class in the U.S., he was still just an investment banker — essentially a corporate employee — and really wasn't used to this kind of posturing. He waved his hand, telling them all to get back to work, not bothering with over-the-top formalities.
The office itself was quite spacious, with a green plant placed by the window. Wang Yibo had asked Xiao Chen in advance to prepare the company's business reports and financial statements — the files were piled high in the middle of his desk. He sat down without any small talk, as he wasn't one for unnecessary words, and immediately started flipping through the company's recent business affairs.
Before his death, his father had been the boss of Yunshen Credit. But the areas Old Mr. Wang was involved in went far beyond high-interest lending.
There were underground casinos, entertainment venues, and even dealings in substance transportation — and on a considerable scale.
These operations, including Yunshen Credit where he now sat, were the things Wang Yibo had long despised and wanted to distance himself from.
He thought back to the countless arguments with his father. Outside, Old Mr. Wang was tyrannical — it was his way or no way — but with his carefully hidden-away son, though his temper could still be explosive, it was relatively more tolerant. The most vivid memory was Old Mr. Wang, too furious to vent, running to the kitchen to grab a cleaver and chop chickens, the thud, thud, thud of the blade hitting the chopping board utterly frightening.
Wang Yibo, backpack slung over one shoulder and an English vocabulary book in hand, coolly said:
"No matter what you say, blood-stained hands can't be washed clean. Dirty money is still dirty money."
Old Wang, chopping chicken, yelled from the kitchen:
"You standing there watching me chop chickens? Come peel some garlic! And I'll tell you — dirty money, clean money, money you can spend is good money! You understand, boy? Even the great leaders said so!"
Wang Yibo, silent, put down his backpack and vocabulary book, went to the kitchen, and grabbed two heads of garlic.
"You don't get it. If you spend dirty money, it won't be long before you land in jail."
"You little brat!" Old Wang roared, and with a swing, chopped off the chicken's head.
But Old Wang never made it to jail. Despite being healthy, he was struck by a sudden illness and passed away, leaving a vast, shady empire on Wang Yibo's shoulders.
Wang Yibo flipped through a few more pages of the documents and sighed, picking up the phone to call Manager Xiao Xue from Yunshen Credit into his office.
Xiao Xue was a clever man, perceptive, and — most importantly — ruthless when needed. He knew how to talk to people and, if he ran into trouble, could wrestle a ghost back to life. When Wang Yibo decided to return and take over the family business, he'd already spoken with Xiao Xue a few times. Neither of them bothered with polite formalities.
"Take me for a walk around the company," Wang Yibo said. "Tell me about the current operations as we go."
Xiao Xue nodded and led Wang Yibo out of the office and downstairs, giving him a tour of the company's main client reception areas.
After all, as a lending company, to put it nicely, it was a private financial services enterprise. To put it bluntly, it was a high-interest loan operation. And just like Old Wang's style, the reception rooms reeked of gangsterism.
Wang Yibo frowned slightly at a particularly ominous little dark room. Peering inside, it was pitch black.
"This is a reception room too?" he asked.
Xiao Xue nodded matter-of-factly. "This is one of the 'small curtain rooms.'"
Wang Yibo asked, "Then why was the first conference room we visited so luxurious?"
Again, Xiao Xue nodded as if it were the most natural thing.
"Old Mr. Wang gave instructions in the past. Guests are divided into ranks — first, second, third class — and so are the rooms. There are large curtain rooms, medium, small, and even extra small ones, each with a different style. Old Mr. Wang always said: 'We have to remember, where there's good, there's evil, and we can't cheapen our status. What should be there, should still be there.'"
Wang Yibo's mouth twitched.
"The small dark room is a small curtain room... then what about the extra small ones?"
Xiao Xue gave him a knowing look, as if to say no need to spell it out.
"Young Mr. Wang can use his imagination. Sometimes, if the room's too small when you go in upright... you might have to be carried out sideways."
Wang Yibo was momentarily speechless. In his mind, images of Old Wang swinging a cleaver at chickens, ducks, and fish surfaced, and paired with Xiao Xue's words, the bloody scenarios he imagined were intense.
He frowned.
"What's in the past is past. Times are changing. We'll build improvements on the foundation Old Wang left. Some of the more barbaric things — it's time to get rid of them."
Xiao Xue already knew Wang Yibo intended to reform the company's direction, and he somewhat agreed with it.
"Of course. We'll follow your lead on the specific improvements and procedures."
He then led Wang Yibo to a tea room on the 19th floor. It was modern, bright, and fully equipped.
"This is the tea room on the 19th floor. The company owns three floors of this building — the 18th, 19th, and 20th. The 19th floor is mainly for conference rooms and client receptions. Boss, feel free to take a look around. I have an appointment now to discuss debt repayment terms."
Wang Yibo glanced at the minimalist, Nordic-style tea room and thought to himself: A place full of 'curtain rooms' and 'dark rooms,' yet the tea room has state-of-the-art equipment — even the coffee machine's the latest Nespresso model. Yunshen Credit really is a weird hybrid of East and West.
Despite being a lending company, they had quite a few investments in finance, projects, and real estate under their name — so why persist in the gray areas, skimming profits here and there? One wrong move, and they could easily set themselves ablaze.
He made up his mind that the company had to shift direction.
"Go ahead," Wang Yibo said. "Judge according to the debt amount, but don't go overboard. If it's not an enormous sum, try a more humane approach."
Xiao Xue chuckled.
"Of course. This time the... victim —"
He caught himself under Wang Yibo's raised brow and corrected.
"Ahem, the debtor this time is an elderly couple. The person coming to negotiate is their son. Boss, I looked at his file — turns out, he's your college alum. Not sure if you were in the same year though."
Wang Yibo picked up on the age probe but didn't bother arguing. He grunted softly.
"What year?"
"Class of '12, Finance Department, B University."
Wang Yibo's gaze shifted, but he said nothing more.
Meanwhile, Xiao Xue picked up the debt file for Xiao Zhan's parents and took the elevator down to the 18th floor. That floor housed most of the offices, along with a couple of reception rooms. They'd agreed to meet in the one at the end of the corridor.
When he entered, Xiao Zhan was already there, standing by the window, looking somewhat uneasy.
Understandable — no one wanted to get mixed up with loan sharks. Especially since this whole incident wasn't really his fault.
The moment Xiao Xue saw Xiao Zhan, he felt this man had a warm, kind aura. What's more, he was tall, slim, and classically handsome. Before Xiao Xue could say a word, Xiao Zhan, seeing that he wasn't some three-headed, six-armed monster, visibly relaxed and took the initiative to extend his hand.
"Hello, I'm Xiao Zhan. Thank you for taking the time to meet with me."
Handsome, good manners, and looked capable — did B University mass-produce handsome guys or something?
Originally, Xiao Xue had planned to follow Wang Yibo's advice to 'handle it carefully.' After all, he'd been 'handling things carefully' for years without mistakes. But when he saw Xiao Zhan, he changed his mind. With someone this good-looking, it seemed a little excessive to scare him. Since he'd have to play the good guy eventually, might as well start now.
So, Xiao Xue smiled, shaking his hand.
"Hello, Mr. Xiao — you're too polite. I understand this matter didn't start with you."
Xiao Zhan shrugged.
"All the same. Even if my parents were tricked into guaranteeing a XXX,000 loan from your company, they're elderly now. I'll handle the negotiations for them. Can I see the contract you signed?"
Xiao Xue handed over the contract. Xiao Zhan quietly read for a while, his expression turning a little stiff. A typical high-interest loan contract — actually, the interest rate was even higher than average, with vaguely-worded debt recovery clauses. That 'as needed' clause wasn't even defined. It was a sham paper meant to cheat old people and kids.
Xiao Zhan's gaze lingered on the string of zeros after the loan amount. He pinched the corner of the contract.
Xiao Xue, already thinking of a particularly 'humane' plan, noticed Xiao Zhan's troubled look and spoke up.
"Mr. Xiao, no need to be too anxious."
Xiao Zhan looked up.
Xiao Xue cleared his throat.
"Since you're not an informed party and the contract's signees are two elderly people, our company has no intention of resorting to extreme measures. Mr. Xiao, you could negotiate a repayment plan based on the interest rates at a few major banks outside, and —"
He was about to suggest instalment plans when there was a knock at the door.
Both Xiao Xue and Xiao Zhan looked toward it.
Xiao Xue mentally reviewed his schedule. He had noted this meeting time on his computer. Whoever dared knock now probably had something urgent.
Xiao Xue smiled apologetically at Xiao Zhan. Xiao Zhan gestured that it was fine.
Xiao Xue walked to the door and opened it.
Xiao Zhan first saw a hand adjusting a shirt cuff.
Long, slender fingers, broad palm, skilfully smoothing out a small wrinkle. Next, he noticed a pale wrist and a watch — Omega's Constellation model with diamonds sparkling under the light. The image reminded him of a social media post he'd seen not long ago.
That same wrist, same hand, holding a beer with Nie Huaisang.
He looked up.
A sharply-defined jawline, chiselled features, and a perpetually clean, slightly pale face.
Xiao Zhan froze. He hadn't ruled out the possibility of seeing Wang Yibo again someday. After all, life's paths often crossed when you shared mutual friends.
What he hadn't expected was to meet again like this, in this kind of place.
Xiao Xue, all smiles, made the introductions.
"This is Yunshen Credit's boss — Young Mr. Wang. Young Mr. Wang, this is Mr. Xiao."
Wang Yibo had already reviewed Xiao Zhan's file before coming, so he wasn't surprised. He sized him up for a moment, then walked over and extended his hand.
"Long time no see," Wang Yibo said softly, "old classmate."