A Letter from Keanu Reeves

With Tan Youming involved, the plans for the trip were quickly finalized.

Given his sociable personality and knack for networking, Tan invited a good number of people, all of whom could be useful in the future.

Tan had always thought Zhao Shengge’s way of doing business was lacking. If it were him, things wouldn’t work either. This wasn’t abroad—back here, one had to play the game of social connections, favors, and alliances.

When Zhuo Zhixuan informed Chen Wan about the event, Chen specifically asked whose idea it was.

“…”

Zhuo Zhixuan’s dark eyes stared at him in silence.

For regular gatherings, Chen Wan followed a strict rule: if it was hosted by Tan Youming or Shen Zongnian, he would attend; if Zhao Shengge was hosting, he would not.

In Chen’s eyes, Tan could be considered half a friend. Attending his parties and coincidentally seeing Zhao there was a bonus.

But Zhao wasn’t a friend. Unless Zhao directly and explicitly invited him, tagging along under Tan and Zhuo’s invitation was a different matter.

Zhuo lied without batting an eye, “It’s Tan Youming who wanted to go out to sea. He borrowed the boat from Zhao, and it’s Tan who invited everyone.” Technically, this wasn’t untrue.

Only then did Chen agree.

It had been some time since he last made an appearance. Since Tan had invited a lot of new faces this time, Zhuo made sure to discreetly pave the way for Chen.

In the restroom at the sink, Zhuo subtly mentioned to Tan, “You know about the police issue. It’s not that Chen didn’t want to come recently; he’s just been too busy. This time, there are a lot of people who don’t know him yet. If they act recklessly, I hope you can help smooth things over. At the very least, don’t let him be disrespected or bullied.”

Zhuo knew the crowd—rich, powerful, and not necessarily easygoing.

Though both Zhuo and Tan were trust-fund kids, their standings differed. Zhuo was a true wastrel, whereas Tan, despite his playful demeanor, held real power as the eldest son of the Tan family. Paired with his connections to Zhao and Shen, no one in Haishi dared cross him.

Tan, for his part, could be indulgent with those close to him, but he could also be ruthless with those he disliked. Zhuo had been close to Tan since childhood, and while their relationship was still good, growing older and more aware of the realities of life and interests inevitably added some distance.

Zhuo still felt that his bond with Chen was stronger.

A close confidant was hard to come by.

Tan reassured him, “Of course. Chen is my friend, after all.”

Relieved, Zhuo’s tension eased, and his face softened. He teased, “Chen’s been so busy lately that he hasn’t even had time to sleep. But when I told him you invited everyone out to sea, he immediately agreed and even asked if he could help with anything.”

Tan felt warm hearing that. Among the group, most agreed to come readily enough, but none ever asked if he needed help. Even Shen Zongnian had been too busy lately to bother.

The two chatted happily until a calm voice interrupted from behind, “Excuse me, could I get through?”

Zhuo turned his head and froze.

He was sure the inner room had been empty earlier; otherwise, he wouldn’t have spoken so freely. Lost in conversation, he hadn’t even noticed anyone entering.

Fortunately, it wasn’t someone else.

Zhao Shengge pressed soap into his hands, washed them, dried them with a paper towel, and glanced at Zhuo through the mirror.

Tan, oblivious, asked Zhao, “Where’s Nian-zai?” (Tan was the only one in Haishi who dared to refer to Shen Zongnian this way.)

Zhao, still looking at Zhuo, answered flatly as he brushed off Tan’s attempt to touch him, “I wouldn’t know.”

The trip lasted two days and one night, with the captain choosing a route known for its stunning scenery.

Departing from Baibei Sand Harbor, the route passed through a coral sea. The midsummer ocean shimmered in a translucent blue, and by dusk, a fiery sunset poured into the water. In the deep-sea zone, pink dolphins trailed the boat.

Zhuo had worried unnecessarily; Chen didn’t need any special treatment from Tan. It seemed to be a natural gift—after getting to know everyone, people instinctively turned to Chen for guidance: asking him about the wine selection in the cellar, when the pool would open, and more. Before long, it felt as if the event couldn’t proceed without him, as though this boat belonged to him.

In a circle full of social butterflies, Chen stood out. Too much charm came across as sycophantic; too little wasn’t engaging enough. Chen maintained just the right balance, earning everyone’s trust with ease.

Once the group entered international waters, they began gambling. While Haishi’s gambling industry was thriving, it operated within regulated limits, and for these affluent heirs, the restricted stakes were far from thrilling.

Here, however, they made their own rules—whatever it took to have fun. Otherwise, what was the point of going to sea?

For the first few rounds, Chen acted as the dealer.

Having been busy and unwell recently, he had lost some weight. Dressed simply in a cotton-linen shirt and black slacks, the sea breeze billowed his white shirt, accentuating his slim waist, especially when he leaned forward to deal cards.

While waiting for the next deal, someone brought up the recent scandal surrounding the Baihetang case, which had been all over the news. Chen acted as though he hadn’t heard a thing, focusing entirely on dealing the cards. Despite the chatter, he remained silent.

Thanks to Tan, however, everyone soon learned that Chen had been questioned about the matter. When asked, he responded with a smile but never once mentioned Zhao. His artful deflection and discretion impressed everyone.

In this particular round, Zhao called the shots as the banker, but Chen showed no favoritism, adhering strictly to the rules.

To Zhao’s left sat Qin Zhaoting, whose father was a stock market tycoon famously nicknamed the “Stock God of Haishi.” Qin, skilled at counting cards, had been discreetly cheating several times—a tactic permissible in this game.

Chen, the impartial dealer, subtly thwarted Qin’s moves—also allowed. Out here, players could cheat as they pleased, and the dealer could counter them as they saw fit. Unlike casino dealers who were mere tools, these dealers wielded considerable power.

This dynamic made the game unpredictable and exciting. Players weren’t just up against each other but also against the dealer, whose role could make or break their fortunes.

A well-liked dealer was treated like a god of wealth; a hated one, like a harbinger of doom. Dealers could shuffle and deal however they pleased, and players never knew if they were being handed a blessing or a curse.

In the gambling paradise of the Borri Strait, there was a saying: “The dealer is God. The dealer is sovereign.”

Those who earned the dealer’s favor might not win the world, but they’d certainly secure half of it. A dealer could make someone wildly rich or leave them utterly destitute.

After a few rounds, everyone unanimously requested Chen as the dealer.

Unlike others who relished toying with the players, Chen maintained a fair and balanced game, creating the illusion that he was favoring everyone.

Even in this leisurely, trivial task, Chen was meticulous.

The gambling table was set on the open deck. By now, the sunset had painted the sea in fiery hues, its light casting a radiant glow on him.

The playing cards danced between his fingers, his gaze sharp yet calm, his demeanor gentle yet commanding. It was as if he was bestowing blessings upon the players, orchestrating their fates with divine precision.

Zhao studied the cards Chen had dealt him.

Two black Kings. One Jack of Clubs.

How interesting.

Next to him, Qin Zhaojun glanced at his own cards, then up at the dealer, smiling for reasons unknown.

Around the table, subtle expressions began to ripple across the faces of the players.

Leaning back in his chair, Zhao’s face remained impassive.

Author’s Note:
The arrival of the god of beauty.

Chen: A high EQ professional.