Gratitude?

As a gentleman, Harold truly should thank Zhou Cheng.

Zhou Cheng hadn’t just indirectly saved his life – he’d prevented the hotel from suffering greater losses. In today’s situation, unless Harold had stood still to be killed by Hector, innocent teachers and students would have been more severely affected.

Now only the bodyguard was wounded, Professor Lipton was unfortunately hit by a stray bullet, while others just suffered panic-induced falls, collisions, and very minor injuries.

The Wilson Hotel’s reputation would certainly be damaged by this incident.

But this wasn’t Zhou Cheng or Xiao Lan’s concern – it was Harold’s problem to solve.

Before mitigating the negative impact, both publicly and privately, he needed to thank Zhou Cheng.

Harold pushed his wheelchair:

“Let’s go see her young boyfriend.”

Hmph, though young, he certainly wasn’t lacking in courage.

With everyone shouting “Bruce Lee,” Allen could imagine how green Harold’s face must have been. The C·W Architecture Competition he’d sponsored to get close to Miss Xia had ended up making her Chinese boyfriend the hero… Poor Mr. Wilson must be feeling terrible right now. Butler Allen kept his mouth tightly shut, deciding not to further provoke his unfortunate employer.

Though unfortunate, he was also extremely lucky.

The potential threat from Hector was resolved. Without the C·W Architecture Competition awards ceremony, Hector would have chosen another way to strike – who knows if Harold would have been lucky enough to escape then!

Just as Xiao Lan was saying they should find Harold, he came to them himself.

The two men finally faced each other at close range.

Seated in the wheelchair, Harold was much shorter, and his presence diminished.

“Mr. Zhou, I’m personally very grateful that you subdued the criminal at the crucial moment. You saved me and prevented others from being harmed!”

Zhou Cheng shook his head, “No thanks needed, I just did what I should.”

He wouldn’t risk his life for the American people – helping innocent bystanders was moral but not Zhou Cheng’s responsibility.

He had mainly acted for Xiaolan’s safety.

As long as Xiaolan wasn’t out of danger, with even the slightest risk of being hit by a stray bullet, Zhou Cheng wouldn’t release Hector, needing to keep him firmly restrained. Hector was no pushover – a former Marine who’d served as Wilson Hotel’s security chief, maintaining his physical training over the years, with excellent marksmanship and physical condition. Without a weapon, Zhou Cheng had nearly been shot by Hector several times.

Harold could see that Zhou Cheng didn’t care about his gratitude.

It seemed saving a billionaire meant no more to Zhou Cheng than saving any random person.

Harold took an envelope from Allen:

“Mr. Zhou, this is a small token of my gratitude. You must accept it.”

Owing anyone else was fine, but not Zhou Cheng.

Zhou Cheng gave Harold a surprised look, “Don’t tell me there’s a check inside. You Americans are strange, measuring everything with money, including your own life.”

He didn’t know how Harold valued his own life, but Zhou Cheng hadn’t acted to save Harold, so naturally wouldn’t take this money.

Without even reaching for Harold’s envelope, Zhou Cheng directly refused:

“If Mr. Wilson wants to express thanks, perhaps help me stop those reporters from publishing… oh, and the police commendation.”

After learning he was a Chinese visa holder, the police insisted on sending a letter of thanks to the embassy, thinking Chinese people liked such things. Zhou Cheng and Xiao Lan repeatedly refused, but they thought the Chinese were just being modest.

This was truly troublesome.

And those reporters kept pestering Zhou Cheng, asking if he was a Chinese kung fu actor who’d just entered Hollywood.

Handsome and skilled at fighting – there was a reason those Cornell people called him Bruce Lee.

If it got reported, whether Zhou Cheng suffered was uncertain, but the housing team leader who’d let him secretly leave the group would be in trouble first.

Harold had to confirm again: “This is your only request?”

Did this Chinese man even know what he was refusing?

The envelope naturally contained a check, for an amount most Chinese people couldn’t earn in ten lifetimes!

“Just this one! Mr. Wilson, do you have other matters? If not, I need to take Xiaolan back – I’m worried she’s been frightened today.”

Xiao Lan’s eyes shone like little light bulbs – what fear indeed.

“Yes, we should head back. Mr. Wilson must have many things to handle. We’ll leave the reporters and police to you.”

With that, they walked away hand in hand.

Not just Harold’s wounded foot, but his heart, liver, spleen, and lungs all felt unwell.

“A million dollars – can he ever earn that? Just refused it like that! Allen, is something wrong with his head?”

The laughable pride of the poor!

Everything else was fake – only spendable dollars were real.

Afraid accepting his money would make him feel inferior psychologically?

Butler Allen stayed silent.

He felt Zhou Cheng wasn’t mentally unsound – even knowing the check’s amount wouldn’t make him regret it. The young Chinese man simply didn’t care about money. Whether Mr. Wilson was a billionaire couldn’t pressure him… unless Mr. Wilson truly caught Miss Xia’s eye, only then might Mr. Zhou be moved!

Though Allen took Harold’s salary, he had to admit Xiao Lan had an excellent taste – her boyfriend was a brave knight who would step forward to subdue an armed criminal for her at a crucial moment.

Courage without ability was foolishness.

Having both courage and capability, truly able to save the princess – that was a knight.

Mr. Zhou was indeed a knight!

Who’d ever seen a knight accept payment for saving someone?

Even in Disney animations, when the princess was captured, the king offered a reward, and finally, the knight saved the princess, and the king bestowed treasures… Was poor Mr. Wilson trying to play the old king? He’d set the stage only to showcase someone else – the king had wealth, but the knight won the princess!

Allen coughed and changed the subject, “Sir, they have a point – you have many matters to handle. Those reporters will likely make Hector’s story a feature. You’ve spent effort reorganizing the Wilson Hotel in Queens – will this shooting affect your plans?”

He’d hurriedly left Pengcheng last year, returning to America to handle hotel matters.

Having finally reorganized the hotel and planning to open a new one in Washington, Harold intended to develop Wilson Hotel into a chain brand. He’d already bought land in Washington, but with this incident, newspapers and TV stations would certainly be eager to report it, though the impact might not be positive!

A fired former security chief easily infiltrated the hotel – wouldn’t Wilson Hotel’s security make guests hesitate?

It was truly troublesome.

In this situation, Mr. Wilson shouldn’t obsess over romantic matters. After all, when a man couldn’t even manage his career, his attraction to exceptional women would diminish greatly!