A Letter from Keanu Reeves

The boy didn’t understand the reasoning but followed the instructions obediently. He was wearing a white shirt today, and as he pulled the sleeves down, the birthmark on his wrist was covered. Out of sight, out of mind for Zhao Shengge.

Shao Yaozong misinterpreted this gesture, assuming it was a sign of courtesy. He smiled and said, “Mr. Zhao truly knows how to show compassion.” The air conditioning in the room was indeed turned up quite high.

Zhao Shengge, with his legs crossed, said nothing in response.

Unbothered by the silence, Shao Yaozong went straight to the point. “Regarding the matter we discussed earlier, what is Mr. Zhao’s decision?”

Zhao Shengge deflected with ease, “Let’s set aside the matter of the land for now. Let’s take a look at the goods first.”

“Of course.” Shao Yaozong responded readily, signaling his subordinate to bring out a box and display its contents.

Zhao Shengge glanced down briefly and gave a faint smile. “This is White Crane Hall’s supply? Seems beneath them.”

Shao Yaozong paused momentarily.

In Haishi, aside from prominent, wealthy families like the Zhaos and the Shens, there remained numerous underworld factions dating back to the last millennium. These groups operated with ruthless methods, disregarded rules, disrupted markets, and colluded with officials to act as their protectors. They often skirted the edge of legality, creating ongoing headaches for customs and law enforcement.

White Crane Hall was one such group. One of its former deputies, Mai Jiahui—rumored to have been forced into suicide recently after a single phone call from Zhao Shengge—had been a prominent figure in the gang.

The police maintained a surface-level rapport with Zhao Shengge and had repeatedly sought his assistance to crack down on such gangs. Since Minglong Group enjoyed favorable customs policies, Zhao Shengge agreed to help, viewing it as an opportunity to eliminate these market-disrupting pests with governmental support.

Shao Yaozong, witnessing Mai Jiahui’s downfall, realized the authorities were determined to act. He saw White Crane Hall’s end was near and acted swiftly. Using the incriminating evidence he possessed about White Crane Hall, he sought Zhao Shengge’s aid to extricate himself, clean his record, and establish a new base of operations. In exchange, he promised access to a lucrative supply chain and a plot of land in Baoli Bay.

While Mai Jiahui had managed the gang’s finances, Shao Yaozong controlled their supply chains and real estate. Having recognized Zhao Shengge’s power, he knew resistance was futile. White Crane Hall’s decline was inevitable, leaving him no choice but to betray them and seek his own path.

The lucrative supply was contraband, which Zhao Shengge had no interest in. But the land was exceptionally valuable—a plot granted during the establishment of the Special Economic Zone, unobtainable even with significant wealth. Once the new port was operational, it would generate billions in annual shipping traffic. Zhao Shengge had been eyeing it for some time.

Shao Yaozong believed his offer held great weight. However, unbeknownst to him, Zhao Shengge had already negotiated with the Financial Management Bureau. Once Operation Thunderstorm, codenamed Typhoon No. 7, concluded, the contraband and its entire network would be handed over to customs, and the land would go to Zhao Shengge. Minglong Group would acquire it through a bidding process, ensuring that Zhao Shengge’s efforts were far from altruistic.

“Mr. Zhao’s sharp eye is indeed impressive,” Shao Yaozong said, attempting to tread carefully. “But you can’t blame me for being cautious. If I’m going to give up the overseas supply chain, I need to confirm the other party truly understands its value.”

“Have you tested me enough, Mr. Shao?” Zhao Shengge remained composed.

“Of course, of course.” Shao Yaozong gestured for the real goods to be brought in from a concealed door, offering them for Zhao Shengge’s inspection.

Zhao Shengge selected two items, turning them over to examine their details, and pointed out several minor flaws.

When dealing with underworld factions, showing too much compliance often bred mistrust. By being critical, Zhao Shengge reassured Shao Yaozong that he was genuinely interested in the supply chain’s business.

“No need to worry about that,” Shao Yaozong explained. “The Italians are used to revolvers; misfires aren’t a big concern for them.”

Zhao Shengge glanced at him without comment.

Shao Yaozong added, “This shipment only contains enough for three boatloads. If the buyers request more, we can reassemble the remainder in time.”

“Hmm.” Zhao Shengge asked casually, “How much is left?”

“Eight boatloads,” Shao Yaozong lied. In truth, it was thirteen, with several boxes hidden in plain sight—in the Eagle’s Pool, a location renowned for its complex underground structures. Besides being a place of indulgence, its basement served as a secure vault, with Swiss-level confidentiality.

Shao Yaozong had stored part of the goods there, knowing he was dealing with Zhao Shengge and couldn’t afford to be careless.

Meanwhile, Zhao Shengge sipped the wine handed to him by the boy, exuding an air of leisure.

“If modifications are needed, will Mr. Shao guarantee the construction timeline?”

Shao Yaozong chuckled. “No need to worry, Mr. Zhao.” He was reluctant to relinquish complete control and hoped to secure a role in transportation, aiming for a long-term partnership.

Zhao Shengge hummed in acknowledgment, agreeing to test a few boatloads first. Shao Yaozong readily agreed.

Seeing his apparent satisfaction, Zhao Shengge asked pointedly, “Did you forget something, Mr. Shao?”

Shao Yaozong hesitated before responding. “White Crane Hall’s misdeeds are numerous, but the evidence will take time to organize.”

Zhao Shengge studied him for a moment and nodded. “Fine. Payment upon delivery. The evidence is due when the goods leave port.”

This condition troubled Shao Yaozong. He had intended to withhold the evidence until they were firmly allied in mutual interests. However, Zhao Shengge’s stance was clear—no evidence, no shipment. Without Zhao Shengge’s protection, his cargo ships couldn’t pass the straits, and the Italians were notoriously punctual.

Reluctantly, Shao Yaozong offered, “I’ll have my people compile part of the evidence and send it via secure channels before the shipment departs.”

“How much is ‘part’?” Zhao Shengge inquired.

“Fifty to sixty percent,” Shao Yaozong hedged. “With so many years of records, there are bound to be omissions.”

“Fine.” Zhao Shengge didn’t push further. For customs and law enforcement, even a small opening would lead to unearthing the full extent of White Crane Hall’s operations.

Finally, they discussed the transfer of shares. Zhao Shengge wanted to assess the board’s situation and proposed acquiring Shao Yaozong’s shares.

Shao Yaozong, eager to escape, was willing to sell but aimed to bind Zhao Shengge into a closer partnership. Agreements and promises were intangible, but shared interests created real alliances.

As Zhao Shengge skimmed through the agreement Shao Yaozong brought, he casually tossed it onto the table with a sharp “thud.” His dark eyes locked onto Shao Yaozong.

“If Mr. Shao attempts to offload defective shares, I will invoke the Golden Act.”

Shao Yaozong froze, startled by how Zhao Shengge instantly identified the flaws without thoroughly reviewing the agreement.

The “Golden Act,” or “Zhao Shengge Act,” was a set of twelve rules proposed by Zhao Shengge during a landmark antitrust case against Wall Street moguls. His victory in this David-and-Goliath battle catapulted him to fame. The act, later named by financial journalists, delivered a heavy blow to the prejudiced financial world.

For Zhao Shengge, business wasn’t just about profit—it was about establishing systems for sustainable success. The Golden Act imposed severe penalties for malicious sales of defective shares. While not legally binding, it had become a widely accepted market standard and was frequently referenced in economic disputes.

Faced with the act’s originator, Shao Yaozong dared not play tricks and agreed to reevaluate and finalize the terms after asset valuation.

Zhao Shengge seemed satisfied, and the meeting concluded.

Shao Yaozong invited Zhao Shengge to a private performance he had arranged—a display of exotic entertainment, no doubt. To avoid complications, Zhao Shengge agreed to attend briefly.

Shao Yaozong was pleased.

While Shao Yaozong had spared no expense on the performance, Zhao Shengge, a seasoned player in the game of wealth and desire, remained unimpressed.

Seeing this, Shao Yaozong joked, “Mr. Zhao, is it that none of this catches your eye, or do you already have someone special? If it’s the latter, I must apologize for the offense.”

Zhao Shengge found the remark amusingly presumptuous. With a self-assured tone, he replied, “Mr. Shao, you think too much.”