A Letter from Keanu Reeves

Chen Wan couldn’t quite read Zhao Shengge’s attitude, so he asked directly, “Will you be coming tomorrow night?”

“Who else will be there?” Zhao Shengge walked with his phone in hand, resembling the young office workers in the district who had just finished overtime and were calling their partners or families on their way out.

“Tan Shao, Shen Ge…” Chen Wan listed a few names.

“Why did you invite me?” Zhao Shengge was strict—not only did he want to know the guest list, but he also wanted to scrutinize the reason for the invitation.

“…”

Chen Wan almost wondered if his intentions had been exposed, but then he reassured himself that they hadn’t. Most likely, Zhao Shengge just didn’t think they were close enough for an invitation like this, so he was being cautious to ensure everything was appropriate.

Maintaining his composure, Chen Wan answered smoothly, “You helped me a lot when I was hospitalized, even arranged for an auntie to take care of me. I haven’t had the chance to thank you yet.”

It was unclear whether Zhao Shengge accepted or rejected this reasoning. He merely responded indifferently, “Is that so?”

“Yes.”

Yet, he neither agreed to attend nor outright declined. He simply said, “We’ll see. If I’m free, I’ll come.”

Chen Wan responded decisively, “Alright then, Mr. Zhao. Goodbye.”

Hearing how quickly Chen Wan ended the conversation without any further attempts to persuade him, Zhao Shengge stared at the bustling traffic outside the car window and said in a low voice, “Goodbye, Chen Wan.”

As soon as he finished speaking, his overheated phone screen went dark—the battery was completely drained.

The call had ended so quickly that Chen Wan had no way of guessing Zhao Shengge’s mood. However, his ears did heat up slightly.

Every time Zhao Shengge called his name, it sounded both formal and oddly familiar at the same time.

Of course, Chen Wan knew this was just his imagination, but he found it difficult to stop himself from dwelling on it.

That brief yet ambiguous phone call unsettled him for the rest of the night. Even by the next afternoon, he still had no idea whether Zhao Shengge would actually show up.

Chen Wan was the first to arrive at the hotel. Every time the door opened, he instinctively turned his head to look.

By the time the clock struck seven and the door remained still for a long while, his heart finally settled, like the tide receding from the shore.

Zhao Shengge wasn’t coming.

Chen Wan refocused on hosting his guests.

There weren’t many attendees—just five or six people. Even Qin Zhaoting showed up, though Chen Wan hadn’t invited him. Qin Zhaoting had been in Europe for a business trip before the Minglong banquet. He must have heard about Chen Wan’s injury from Jiang Ying after returning and decided to come as well.

“I was out of town recently and didn’t get the chance to visit you at the hospital. I hope you don’t mind me showing up uninvited tonight?”

Chen Wan smiled politely. “Of course not, we’re all friends.” Then he gestured for everyone to take their seats.

Just then, the door of the private dining room clicked open.

Chen Wan was pouring tea for a friend and didn’t look up immediately. Assuming it was just a waiter, he said, “Hello, could you—”

He lifted his head.

The words stopped in his throat.

Tonight, Zhao Shengge wasn’t in his usual suit. A simple dress shirt made him look much younger. Unfazed by the attention of the entire room, he strode in calmly, unbuttoning the top two buttons of his shirt. He glanced around and, without addressing anyone in particular, said, “Apologies, there was traffic on the way.”

Chen Wan’s heart, which had sunk to the ocean floor, suddenly soared to the mountaintop. Yet, his expression remained unchanged—a composed smile, as if he wasn’t the least bit surprised by Zhao Shengge’s arrival.

No exaggerated joy, no special reaction—just treating him as another guest on the invitation list.

Tan Youming lazily walked over. “Oh wow, an esteemed guest. I thought you had disappeared again. Seems like you still have a conscience.” He joked as he moved to sit beside Zhao Shengge.

Wherever Zhao Shengge went, he naturally occupied the central seat. Usually, Tan Youming and Shen Zongnian sat on either side of him, or both sat on the same side as him.

As Zhao Shengge settled into his seat, he casually asked, “You’re hosting tonight?”

“Oh, no,” Tan Youming assumed he genuinely didn’t know. After all, he had initially been the one loudly offering to help organize this dinner for Chen Wan. He pointed to the empty seat beside Zhao Shengge and said, “Come on, Wan, sit here. You’re the host tonight.”

“…”

Chen Wan had always been a quiet presence in social gatherings, blending into the background unnoticed. But now, being pushed into such a prominent position, he didn’t hesitate. With natural composure, he walked over and sat down, his demeanor as warm and polite as ever.

Now, he was seated less than half a foot away from Zhao Shengge. In his peripheral vision, he could see the way Zhao Shengge’s fingers held his glass, the sensual curve of his wrist bone, the strength in his forearm. Every subtle movement was within Chen Wan’s view.

Yet, for some reason, Zhao Shengge seemed disinterested tonight. When Chen Wan rotated the dishes towards him and politely suggested, “Mr. Zhao, if anything catches your interest, please try some,” Zhao Shengge responded with a simple “Alright” but didn’t reach for his chopsticks. He didn’t even look at him.

Chen Wan pressed his lips together, just about to say something when Qin Zhaoting raised his glass. “A toast to your discharge from the hospital.”

Chen Wan drank without hesitation.

Tan Youming chuckled, “Why are you only toasting the host? Also, among everyone here, you’re the only one who didn’t visit him in the hospital. You’re lucky to be getting a free meal tonight.”

Qin Zhaoting smiled and, just as easily, raised his glass for another round, offering a toast to everyone.

When he reached Zhao Shengge, Qin Zhaoting held up his glass with a grin. “Minglong has been so busy lately, I honestly didn’t think you’d come.”

Zhao Shengge picked up a small cup meant for Chen Wan, poured himself some wine, and raised it slightly in acknowledgment. “I didn’t know you’d be here either,” he said, glancing briefly at Chen Wan. Then, in a rather amicable tone, he added, “It seems Mr. Chen is even more well-connected than I thought.”

Chen Wan froze for a moment.

From “Chen Wan” to “Mr. Chen”—

He pressed his lips together and suddenly recalled something.

Even if Zhao Shengge didn’t remember or care, Chen Wan still felt the need to explain. It was a matter of basic courtesy.

After the toast between Zhao Shengge and Qin Zhaoting was complete, Chen Wan turned slightly towards Zhao Shengge—not too close, but just enough to lower his voice a little.

“Mr. Zhao, I didn’t know Mr. Qin would be coming tonight.”

That night, Zhao Shengge had explicitly asked him who he had invited, and Chen Wan had clearly listed a few names, none of which included Qin Zhaoting.

It was only when Qin Zhaoting made a toast just now that Chen Wan recalled this detail.

Someone of Zhao Shengge’s stature placed great importance on privacy regarding his whereabouts. If every host acted like Chen Wan—inviting Zhao Shengge and then allowing unexpected guests to join—it would provide ample opportunities for those looking to forge connections to take advantage of the situation.

This was highly inappropriate, unethical, and impolite.

To put it bluntly, it was a form of social deception.

For the first time that evening, Zhao Shengge formally directed his gaze at Chen Wan and said, “Is that so?”

Chen Wan’s heart pounded under his scrutiny, and he nodded. “Yes.”

He didn’t want Zhao Shengge to think he was insincere or playing tricks, so he explained earnestly, “Mr. Qin wasn’t aware of my hospitalization before, so I didn’t invite him. He must have heard from Tan Shao and decided to come along.”

“That’s why I didn’t mention his name when you asked me earlier.”

Zhao Shengge looked at him for a moment before responding, “I see, Chen Wan.”

The dinner table was lively and noisy, yet the way Zhao Shengge spoke made it feel as if this small corner of the room was cordoned off for just the two of them. Even the air between them seemed to flow slower and denser than elsewhere.

Chen Wan felt a little relieved but also somewhat warm under Zhao Shengge’s gaze.

His eyes were calm yet direct, carrying an unreadable depth that made it hard to decipher his thoughts.

Chen Wan had always wanted to ask Zhao Shengge what exactly he was looking at, but he didn’t know how to phrase the question. So, he simply smiled faintly and maintained his composure with polite restraint.

The soup was served, divided into several small bowls for guests to help themselves from the rotating tray.

Zhao Shengge was generally indifferent to food, but Chen Wan blinked and suggested, “Mr. Zhao, would you like to try this? It’s mushroom and Chinese yam soup, slow-cooked for hours.”

It was particularly good for digestion.

Zhao Shengge looked at him and said, “Alright.”

Chen Wan took a bowl, stirred it slightly to cool it down, and placed it in front of Zhao Shengge.

If possible, Zhao Shengge thought, Chen Wan might even spoon-feed him, blowing on it gently before offering a sip, just like feeding a child.

The thought amused him slightly.

“Thank you.”

Chen Wan smiled lightly and shook his head.

Perhaps due to the past incidents—helping Zhao Shengge unintentionally and being hospitalized—Chen Wan found that Zhao Shengge was not as elusive as he had imagined.

Emboldened, he tried recommending a few more dishes, and surprisingly, Zhao Shengge did not refuse any of them.

Chen Wan glanced at him in astonishment. Zhao Shengge met his gaze, slightly raising his chin as if to ask, “What?”

Chen Wan quickly looked away, but the thought resurfaced in his mind—

A lion.

Zhao Shengge truly resembled a large feline predator, a majestic lion.

Proud, reserved, and self-controlled, he appeared fierce and ruthless but wouldn’t make a fuss as long as things went his way.

Seated alone, his expression indifferent, he spoke little. Occasionally, he would glance at the noisy group before retreating into his own thoughts.

Chen Wan found himself somewhat bewildered by Zhao Shengge’s unusually cooperative attitude tonight. Suddenly, he experienced an unexpected joy—like feeding a big cat. When the seafood was served, he introduced it with enthusiasm: “This is deep-sea crab, fully grown and matured. There’s no fishy taste. Would you like to try it, Mr. Zhao?”

Already about eighty to ninety percent full, Zhao Shengge turned his head to look at him but neither agreed nor refused.

Chen Wan was still not entirely used to his unwavering gaze. It took considerable effort to maintain his composure as he met Zhao Shengge’s eyes.

Zhao Shengge pressed his lips together, seemingly searching for the right words. Mistaking his hesitation for reluctance to crack open the crab, Chen Wan, as the host, offered, “Shall I prepare one for you, Mr. Zhao?”

Zhao Shengge had initially intended to decline, but Chen Wan’s earnest expression and expectant gaze made him pause. Instead, he said, “Then I’ll trouble you.”

Wearing gloves, Chen Wan skillfully dismantled the crab as Zhao Shengge watched attentively.

After dinner, they moved to the tea lounge. Chen Wan was still seated beside Zhao Shengge. The tea table was much smaller than the dining table, and their knees occasionally brushed against each other. Their legs inadvertently touched as they shifted positions.

Chen Wan discreetly tried to withdraw his leg. His skin was burning, and he wanted to move slightly to make room for Zhao Shengge’s long legs. But Zhao Shengge pressed down lightly on his knee and whispered in a cultured tone, “I’m fine. Don’t squeeze yourself against Qin Zhaoting.”

Chen Wan remained still, merely gathering his legs properly to avoid any unnecessary contact with Zhao Shengge.

Unlike him, Zhao Shengge wasn’t rigid about personal space. His entire presence exuded a sense of ease and relaxation.

The server brought out tea snacks, and the manager approached, saying, “Mr. Chen, all the gifts have been stored in the back room. Would you like to review the gift list?”

Everyone had brought presents to celebrate Chen Wan’s discharge. These young masters were lavish in their gifting—ginseng, supplements, luxury items—anything and everything. Someone had even brought an enormous bouquet of carnations, stunningly beautiful.

At a high-end hotel like this, a gift registry service was provided. The staff would check the list with the guest and ensure safekeeping to prevent anything from being misplaced.

Chen Wan glanced at the list before handing it back, thanking the manager.

As the manager walked away, Zhao Shengge suddenly spoke beside him in a voice only the two of them could hear: “Chen Wan, I didn’t bring a gift.”

Chen Wan was momentarily stunned. He hadn’t even thought about that and smiled. “No need to be so formal. I invited you at the last minute. The fact that you made time to come is the greatest gift.”

Zhao Shengge ignored his polite words. Turning his head slightly, he fixed his gaze on Chen Wan, his expression serious and focused. “I don’t know what you like. I didn’t want to be dismissive.”

His tone and demeanor carried no hint of flirtation—only frankness, directness, and an almost overwhelming sincerity.

Chen Wan’s mind momentarily blanked.

Zhao Shengge’s words were often enigmatic, but when he was straightforward, it felt like an atomic bomb detonating in one’s heart, leaving no room for escape.

Zhao Shengge genuinely lacked experience in giving gifts. Anything pre-selected by his secretary or assistant didn’t count. So, he suggested, “When you’re free, let’s go pick one together. Tonight, I’m the one who should be thanking you the most.”

Chen Wan’s hospitalization had been because of him. If they were celebrating his discharge, then the person who should be giving a gift the most was Zhao Shengge.