Reply to Keats - Chap 66
66. Life Sentence
Like a lion patrolling its territory with prey in its sights, Zhao Shengge strode forward in wide, commanding steps, heading straight for his target.
Chen Wan stood motionless, his heart pounding like a drum. As Zhao Shengge drew closer, the tension reached its limit, and time seemed to freeze.
Though it was only a matter of dozens of meters, Chen Wan felt Zhao Shengge’s gaze linger on him for an eternity. Dark and serene, it sent chills down his spine, slicing across every inch of his skin and staring straight into the deepest corners of his heart. Nothing in Chen Wan’s mind remained hidden.
He even caught a glimpse of rare suppression within the restraint, but it flickered for only an instant before dispersing like mist.
Yet Zhao Shengge did nothing. He simply walked up to him, pulled out a key, and placed it into Chen Wan’s palm, speaking gently. “You left it in my office. I called, but you probably didn’t hear.”
“….” Just moments ago, Chen Wan had been full of momentum and conviction, but now only one thought remained in his mind: Zhao Shengge knew. Guiltily, he could only murmur, “Thank you.”
Zhao Shengge hummed in acknowledgment, utterly indifferent to how his few words crashed like spring thunder through the room, stirring up waves of speculation, doubt, and probing curiosity.
Chen Bingxin was the first to recover. He brought over a glass of red wine and set it by Zhao Shengge’s side, his voice somewhat unsteady. “Mr. Zhao, what… brings you here?”
His tone was both excited and uneasy—feeling honored, yet involuntarily nervous.
Zhao Shengge was known for his reclusiveness and inscrutable mind. His sudden appearance at the birthday banquet was unsettling—whether it meant fortune or misfortune, no one could say.
Zhao Shengge did not take the wine. He cast Chen Bingxin a glance, then turned his gaze back to Chen Wan’s face, speaking flatly. “I assumed having an invitation meant you were allowed to come.”
“Yes, yes, of course,” Chen Bingxin responded with a courteous smile. “Mr. Zhao’s presence graces Rongxin Estate with honor. This old man couldn’t be more pleased. If there’s been any lapse in hospitality, I beg your forgiveness.”
He offered the glass of red wine again.
Zhao Shengge still showed no intention of taking it. Instead, he pointed at the glass of liquor in front of Chen Wan and asked, “Is that yours?”
“…” Chen Wan, used to being alone, was unaccustomed to someone suddenly standing beside him. He shook his head but didn’t say whose it was either.
Zhao Shengge didn’t press further, as if waiting for someone to claim it themselves. He stood tall and imposing, and even in silence, he carried the weight of thunder. A mere sweep of his eyes sent pressure crashing down on the room.
Xu Jiming and Chen Bingxin exchanged a glance of confusion, unable to withstand the rising tension. With a forced smile, Xu Jiming stepped forward and spoke softly. “Mr. Zhao, I poured that drink for Young Master Chen.”
Zhao Shengge did not look at him. Still standing shoulder to shoulder with Chen Wan, he said calmly, “Then you drink it.”
The words struck like a thousand waves.
Chen Bingxin furrowed his brow, though he dared not let it show too much. He was beginning to sense something, but couldn’t bring himself to believe it.
He looked toward his youngest son, whom he had never truly looked at before, and a layer of horror clouded his already murky gaze.
Xu Jiming was considered a prominent figure in Haishi. Though Zhao Shengge was several generations younger, Xu Jiming didn’t have the guts to defy him. Swallowing his humiliation, he drank it. His head spun, his face flushed and puffy.
Zhao Shengge lifted his chin slightly, signaling the attendant to refill the glass. He said, “Drink this one too.”
He didn’t call him by name, but Xu Jiming froze. The surrounding chatter and laughter fell silent. The elegant music still floated in the air, but the once-merry atmosphere had turned into a dreadful tension.
Zhao Shengge’s words weren’t particularly harsh and could even be said to be calm, but a slight furrow of his brows and the lowering of his eyes were enough to instill an oppressive fear.
In that instant, Xu Jiming’s alcohol-flooded mind unexpectedly recalled many rumors about Zhao Shengge with startling clarity.
Li Jiaming, who had been crushed in the recent crackdown on Ting Island and had yet to recover; the once-mighty Baihe Hall, now scattered like rats on the run; and before them, Mai Jiahui, once wealthy beyond measure, who plunged from the 72nd floor after racking up billions in debt. Not to mention the countless empires this prince had crushed in the ruthless arena of business.
Zhao Shengge never seemed to dirty his own hands, but anyone who opposed him met a brutal end.
Phrases like “winning without bloodshed” and “turning clouds with a flip of the hand” were neither exaggeration nor flattery. Zhao Shengge’s status and power required no embellishment. Xu Jiming knew that Zhao Shengge truly intended to crush him, and to do it openly, without the slightest attempt at concealment.
When crushed beneath the weight of absolute power, dignity ceased to matter. Submission was the path of least destruction.
Under the watchful eyes of the crowd, Xu Jiming endured the humiliation and slowly reached out his hand toward the glass.
He drank it. Zhao Shengge said softly, “One more.”
After several more, Xu Jiming was on the verge of collapse.
Zhao Shengge didn’t look at him again. Instead, he turned to Chen Wan and asked, “Ready to head back?” His tone was familiar and casual.
“Or do you want to stay a bit longer?”
“….” Chen Wan’s gaze was complicated. Zhao Shengge was here to take him away.
He could only nod and say, “Let’s go back.”
Zhao Shengge agreed. With a slight lean, he took the red wine glass from Chen Wan’s hand and placed it on a nearby long table. “Let’s go.”
“….” The gentler and more thoughtful Zhao Shengge appeared, the more uneasy and guilty Chen Wan felt. This was truly the calm before the storm.
Ignoring the varied gazes from all around, Chen Wan turned to leave. At that moment, Chen Bingxin tried to call out to him, but Zhao Shengge stood like an immovable mountain, firmly blocking Chen Wan and cutting off Chen Bingxin’s line of sight entirely.
Looking down, Zhao Shengge addressed the room. “Mr. Chen, the Minglong project is about to begin its roadshow. Chen Wan, as Minglong’s sincerely invited engineer and technical advisor, will have a very full schedule from now on. Without my personal approval or permission, he likely won’t have any time.”
Chen Bingxin’s face turned pale. Recalling the share transfer agreement from that afternoon, his vision blurred with regret.
Zhao Shengge enunciated each word clearly, addressing not just Chen Bingxin but also Chen Wan. “If you want to see Chen Wan, you’ll need to come through me first.”
This wasn’t meant to intimidate Chen Bingxin. Zhao Shengge truly meant it. Since Chen Wan simply couldn’t learn how to protect himself, then he would personally impose a “life sentence.”
The moment the words fell, the banquet hall became like a matchbox just lit then smothered. Countless murmurs surged beneath the surface, but none found the spark to ignite.
In any setting, no one ever walked ahead of Zhao Shengge and rarely even beside him. There were always people following behind.
But now, Zhao Shengge lowered his head slightly and gave way by half a step to Chen Wan. The distance between them wasn’t far, and his tall frame and broad shoulders were enough to shield every gaze cast onto Chen Wan’s back.
Chen Wan’s silhouette was elegant and upright. No matter how curious the onlookers were, they couldn’t glimpse his expression. Like a young crown prince guarded by a silent knight, he revealed only a sliver of pale nape, sparking the imagination.
Zhao Shengge followed closely behind, as if escorting a prisoner, yet also like a guard.
But once they reached the doorway, Zhao Shengge let his hand fall from Chen Wan’s back.
Without the warmth of Zhao Shengge’s palm, his back felt a chill. He glanced at the other man, but Zhao Shengge did not look back.
The night wind was strong, and it looked like rain was coming.
Zhao Shengge pressed the car lock.
The driver and secretary were both gone. Zhao Shengge hadn’t spoken a word. Chen Wan waited a while, glanced around, then awkwardly tried to make conversation. “Zhao Shengge, so this is your car, huh?”
A Rolls-Royce Phantom—the one that had cut off his BYD at the auction.
Zhao Shengge turned to look at him. “That’s right. Why?” His tone was calm, but his speech was slightly quickened, offering no clue whether he was angry and, in doing so, exerting even greater psychological pressure.
“Zhao Shengge.” Just half an hour ago, Chen Wan had seemed fearless and assertive; now, he sounded cautiously tentative. “Are you angry?”
Zhao Shengge didn’t answer the question. He only asked with cold clarity, “When did you start planning all this?”
Using Liao Quan, winning over Ge Xi, withdrawing from the partnership, shorting Rongxin, deceiving the Supervisory Commission… All of it, in such a short time, every move flawless, astonishing, even admirable.
Chen Wan froze, then stopped lying. “When Liao Quan started threatening me with my mother.”
Zhao Shengge nodded and asked him, as if making casual conversation, “Did you build Kexiang from the ground up?”
Chen Wan: “Yes.”
“Was it hard?”
“What?”
“Starting Kexiang.” Given how the Chen family treated him, forging his own path had been the only option.
“It was hard.” Chen Wan had meant to say it wasn’t, but he knew the consequence of even a single lie at that moment.
“Then why pull out of the partnership?”
Chen Wan paused, then said, “It’s just the partnership. I’ll still be involved in the project. And I was always a silent partner, so there’s not much difference.”
Zhao Shengge ignored the semantics. “It’s because of me.”
“No,” Chen Wan denied. “Not entirely.”
Zhao Shengge acted as if he hadn’t heard, speaking more to himself than to anyone else. “Pulling out of Kexiang means that no matter what happens later, Minglong won’t be affected, because the contract is with Kexiang, not with Chen Wan.”
Chen Wan could leave at any time, whether from Minglong or Zhao Shengge’s life.
So plainly laid bare, Chen Wan could only say, “I’m sorry.”
Even someone who rushed into the fire like a moth to a flame had to apologize. Zhao Shengge’s throat moved slightly, but he still asked with calm steadiness, “Sorry for what?”
The invincibility and unshakable presence Chen Wan had shown at the banquet were gone now. He seemed slightly downcast, helpless. “For bringing trouble to you and Minglong.”
“You’ve already resolved everything, haven’t you? Minglong hasn’t been affected in any way,” Zhao Shengge said, analyzing the situation with clear-headed composure. “The scandal and the photo crisis have been neutralized. The Liao family has no chance of making a comeback. Rongxin is steadily collapsing. And the Supervisory Commission most likely has no leverage over you.”
“Still not satisfied?”
Chen Wan masked the shadow in his eyes. “It’s still a hidden danger.”
Zhao Shengge paused for a moment, then asked, “So how far are you planning to take this?”
There was no reproach or accusation in his tone—only a genuine question, as if he truly wanted to talk it through with Chen Wan.
Chen Wan, long accustomed to bearing his burdens alone, replied, “As far as I possibly can.”
Zhao Shengge opened his mouth slightly, then, after a moment, asked, “Chen Wan, do you remember what I told you?”
Chen Wan kept his head down and said nothing. Zhao Shengge continued, “I told you not to treat me like a decoration.”
To like him like a decoration. To protect him like a decoration. To imagine him, to love him like a decoration.
All Chen Wan could say again was, “I’m sorry.”
“…” Zhao Shengge remained silent. Then he heard Chen Wan gently explain, “But I thought this was the best way. The project’s interests are too far-reaching. Your position is too sensitive. With so much going on, I thought it best not to involve you.”
Zhao Shengge closed his mouth, unsure how best to explain.
He didn’t realize his silence carried a kind of oppressive scrutiny.
At that moment, rain began to fall, drumming against the car windows. The two of them seemed trapped inside the black curtain of the storm.
Zhao Shengge rested both hands on the steering wheel, eyes fixed ahead, not looking at Chen Wan. His voice was calm, but it made a vein at Chen Wan’s temple throb. “Chen Wan.”
“Do you really want to be with me?”
Chen Wan froze, his eyes suddenly bewildered and lost.
Zhao Shengge said, “Probably not.”
“Not the kind of being together I understand—open, lasting, honest.”
Chen Wan paused, his brows knitting tightly. Then he immediately denied it. “No, that’s not it.”
A sharp pain twisted in his chest. “I’ve never thought of it that way.”
“Zhao Shengge.” He sounded anxious, as if he didn’t know how to express everything he was feeling, and could only say, “I really like you. I really want to be with you.” To be with you in a clear, open way.
Zhao Shengge’s expression was unreadable as he replied, “But I don’t want a relationship like that.”
Chen Wan went completely still.
His breathing and heartbeat seemed to stop at that moment. Even the blood in his veins felt like it had slowed.
Zhao Shengge said, “I don’t like it.”
And with those words, Chen Wan fell silent.
Because he didn’t know whether Zhao Shengge meant he didn’t want that kind of relationship, or that he didn’t like him at all.
Either way, it hurt.
He thought and thought, and finally, after a long pause, could only ask with the utmost caution, “Then can I still keep pursuing you?”
Zhao Shengge didn’t answer. He didn’t look at him. His hands rested on the steering wheel, fingers tapping lightly. He spoke almost to himself. “Chen Wan, you’re very smart. When you were pursuing me, you noticed what I liked to eat, what I liked to drink, and what I was thinking about at any given moment.”
“So what if I start hiding things too?”
Chen Wan felt as though he’d plunged into an ice cavern, cold sweat beading on his skin.
Zhao Shengge’s gaze remained calm—not harsh, not emotional. “I won’t let you know what I’m feeling, what my habits are, or what I’m thinking.”
With every word, Chen Wan’s heart sank deeper.
Zhao Shengge tilted his head slightly and said softly, “Isn’t that only fair?”
“What do you think?”
“Chen Wan.”
“Want to give it a try?”
Chen Wan’s heart finally hit rock bottom.
