“Missing out on it is missing out on it.”

Wang Xiancheng murmured this without particular feeling, then turned over and went to sleep.

Wang Tai knew she had committed a grave error and still wanted to say a few more words in her own defence: “Mainly because once it went past three hundred million, I got a bit nervous…”

Wang Xiancheng heard the unspoken implication — that she was criticising him for setting the budget too low — and rolled back over to sit up, determined to set this foolish woman straight.

“When circumstances demand it, you improvise. Don’t you have your own money? I give you two million a month — where does your money go? You never save anything,” Wang Xiancheng took the opportunity to lecture her. “Spending without restraint — one crocodile skin bag, then a limited edition. What do you need so many bags for? You’re not a Christmas tree. Look at Liang Xing — she knows how to spend money where it matters.”

“All right, Wang, please don’t keep scolding me. I feel wretched enough already,” Wang Tai said, treading carefully.

After a moment’s thought, she still couldn’t help but ask: “Wang, how much can that set of brooches really appreciate in value?”

Wang Xiancheng considered it and shook his head: “That’s hard to say. Appraisal institutions generally tend to underestimate deliberately — that way, if prices don’t rise as much, you can’t hold them accountable. This Porta designed jewellery for the royal family. She’s very old now. Once she passes, this set will be the last of its kind — then it becomes priceless.”

“What a pity it’s my fault.” Wang Tai finally acknowledged the full extent of her error.

But Wang Xiancheng didn’t appear particularly despondent. His temper had run its course, and with that, half his anger had dissipated.

He said, pensively: “Still — this transaction isn’t entirely a loss.”

“Not a loss?” Wang Tai didn’t follow.

Wang Xiancheng said: “A battle is never fought on only one front. Lately I’ve been taking a short position on stainless steel. But someone seems to be deliberately going against me — systematically adding to their position at a measured pace even as the price drops.”

“You mean someone is trying to set a trap and bury you?” Wang Tai sat up, alert.

Wang Xiancheng remained impassive, his gaze unfocused: “I can’t rule it out. And whoever it is commands significant capital. It’s most likely someone I know.”

“You suspect Jiang Han?”

“Very likely,” Wang Xiancheng said. “But if it is Jiang Han, that’s actually good news.”

“Good news?” Wang Tai was puzzled.

Wang Xiancheng said: “Jiang Han just took a heavy blow because of the Ling Xue situation. And now he’s pouring money this aggressively into stainless steel. Steel prices don’t turn around easily — I’d estimate this downward trend has another two months left in it. With Jiang Han’s resources, he can’t sustain losses all the way to the bottom. When forced liquidation comes, he’ll be left with nothing.”

“That sounds terrifying enough as it is,” Wang Tai said, clutching her chest. Then she asked: “But Wang, if it really is Jiang Han — would you rescue him before the liquidation?”

Wang Xiancheng raised a hand in flat refusal: “Impossible. If it truly is Jiang Han, then as you said — he has deliberately set out to harm me. Why would I ever extend a hand to someone who wants to hurt me? And furthermore…”

Wang Xiancheng did not continue.

The old affairs from the past — Jiang Han had a part in those too.

If Liang Meng was truly the child of Ning Yanhong and Jiang Yueming, then Jiang Han shared in the guilt — and deserved whatever came to him.

“So…” Wang Tai half-understood and half-didn’t, still chewing over Wang Xiancheng’s meaning.

Wang Xiancheng, seeing her blank expression, cut to it plainly: “So I say — Liang Xing buying that set of brooches isn’t necessarily bad news.”

“You’re worried that when the time comes, Liang Xing might step in to bail out Jiang Han?” Wang Tai caught on.

Wang Xiancheng nodded, then made a short sound of acknowledgement: “And besides — you said the two of them have already split, right? And even if they hadn’t, Liang Xing’s current capital is now tied up in the brooches. In the short term, she won’t be able to move. All she has left is five hundred million. Five hundred million can’t fill Jiang Han’s hole — Liang Xing isn’t that reckless. She’d still have to plan for the rest of her own life.”

“Ah.”

Wang Tai listened, her head swimming, spending the entire night trying to digest everything.

“Sleep.”

Wang Xiancheng, carrying his thoughts, turned over and went back to sleep.

Wang Tai, weary in body and spirit, went to wash up alone in a room that felt rather empty.

That husband of hers seemed to have never cared about anything except business. Never about people.

……

The next morning, Lin Qing jolted awake at her desk!

She looked up at the time.

Already ten o’clock!

She hurriedly twisted her stiff neck, grabbed the laptop that had been pinning her down, and sprinted out to find Jiang Han!

“Jiang…”

She burst into the dining area — and saw a familiar figure seated with her back to the door.

The woman turned around, and Lin Qing cried out in surprise: “Liang — Liang — Liang Xing? President Liang Xing!”

Jiang Han was at the stove, bustling back and forth preparing a late breakfast.

Lin Qing deduced that before she arrived, the two of them had been talking.

“I’m not ‘President’ anymore. Liang Xing is fine,” Liang Xing said, calmly correcting her.

“Liang — Liang — Liang Xing, how did you come to be…?” Lin Qing was thoroughly bewildered.

“You’re wondering why I’m here so early in the morning, aren’t you?” Liang Xing said, unruffled.

She lifted the freshly ground coffee from the table and took a sip.

Lin Qing looked at her, then looked uncertainly over at Jiang Han.

Jiang Han was holding a pan, pan-searing salmon. He turned and asked: “Was there something you needed from me?”

Lin Qing clutched her laptop tightly to her chest and shot a wary glance at Liang Xing.

Liang Xing continued sipping her coffee, looking as though she were entirely oblivious to everything around her.

Jiang Han understood. He turned the salmon in the pan once, then said to Lin Qing: “Whatever you have to say to me — your Liang Xing can hear it too. Go ahead.”

Lin Qing still hesitated.

Jiang Han set down the pan, walked over directly, and took the laptop from Lin Qing’s hands, placing it on the dining table.

With no choice, Lin Qing had to open it.

Right there in front of Liang Xing, she walked Jiang Han through the presentation she had finished the night before.

Jiang Han leaned against the wooden dining table, brow furrowed, and listened to the end.

He was admittedly not a learned man — some of Lin Qing’s models and functions were far too complex for him to follow.

“Just tell me in plain terms what you’re trying to say,” he said, running out of patience. There was still food cooking on the stove.

Lin Qing had no choice but to raise her voice and address him directly: “President Jiang, have you ever heard the story of ‘Shen Kuo and the Grain Transport’?”

“No,” Jiang Han said, shaking his head.

Liang Xing set down her coffee cup with a flicker of curiosity and looked up.

Lin Qing said: “It’s a story from Dream Pool Essays. It describes how the Northern Song military strategist Shen Kuo solved the problem of transporting grain on campaign.

Assume one porter can carry six dou of grain, and each soldier carries five days’ worth of rations:

One: if one porter supplies one soldier, the army can advance for eighteen days on a one-way march; accounting for the return journey, they can only advance for nine days.

Two: if three porters supply one soldier, they can advance for thirty-one days one-way; accounting for the return journey, they can only advance for sixteen days. And three porters to one soldier is already the maximum feasible ratio.

Shen Kuo concluded that self-transporting grain was costly and limited the army’s range. Capturing the enemy’s grain supply was therefore critical — this allowed him to reduce the ratio of logistics personnel, while strengthening the fighting force at the front.”

“That’s too complex — can you simplify it further?” Jiang Han said.

Lin Qing thought for a moment, then answered: “Simply put — the porters can eat less, carry less, and don’t need to carry full rations. The goal is to achieve victory in battle at the most optimal cost.”

Jiang Han asked again: “And your point is?”

Lin Qing, now impatient herself, flipped straight to the last few slides and explained once more: “The point is — we can reduce Sansheng’s KPIs, lower work intensity, shorten working hours, give more days off; and in doing so, we can naturally and proportionally reduce the company’s operating costs and labour expenditure.”

Jiang Han understood now, and nodded.

Lin Qing continued: “For instance — Sansheng employees work overtime regularly. The entire building keeps running well past six in the evening. Water, electricity, heating, air conditioning — all of that costs money. Plus double-time overtime pay for the employees. Now, President Jiang, you can cut back on business volume, announce no more overtime, and let everyone go home — more time for their families, their personal affairs. And tell them this is only temporary. I believe the staff will understand.”

Jiang Han asked: “And with this approach of yours — how much more time can it buy us?”

Lin Qing showed her calculation: “It buys us one more week.”

Jiang Han nodded, satisfied: “That’s plenty.”

He then closed the laptop, handed it back to Lin Qing, and praised her: “Well done. Organise this presentation into a core data document and pass it to the company’s deputy directors — have them push this through immediately.”

“Understood, President Jiang! I’ll get a cab to the office right now!” Lin Qing was already on her feet, and waved a cheerful goodbye to Liang Xing as she headed out: “Liang Xing, bye-bye!”

Liang Xing, unusually, gave Lin Qing a small warm smile in return.

After Lin Qing left, Liang Xing said to Jiang Han: “Well, well — that young woman is something formidable, isn’t she?”

“Liang Meng chose her. She couldn’t be wrong,” Jiang Han said.

Liang Xing picked up the plate Jiang Han had prepared for her and reached for a fork.

Jiang Han watched Liang Xing with real concern and reminded her: “You said the remaining five hundred million — all of it, for me? You’re truly not leaving yourself a single way out?”

Liang Xing smiled: “You and Liang Meng are my way out.”

Jiang Han explained carefully: “You just heard it yourself — Lin Qing is also trying to buy us time. But if it truly comes down to the final moment and the stainless steel price still hasn’t risen — I’ll be forced into liquidation. Everything we’ve built over more than a decade could come to nothing.”

Liang Xing gave a small laugh, set down her fork, and looked at him: “You’re not afraid. So why should I be?”

Jiang Han held her gaze for a long, deep moment. Something churned in his chest — but he said nothing.

“But I have one condition,” Liang Xing said.

She stood up, turned her back to Jiang Han, and paced slowly through the dining room.

“If you make it through this — you return my five hundred million, plus double interest. Ten billion in total. Does that work for you?”

Jiang Han listened, then wiped his mouth forcefully with a napkin.

One second ago he had been moved. The very next second, Liang Xing was calculating with him to the last decimal.

She had always been like this.

Jiang Han thought: Could you call her bad? In the critical moments, she never fails to reach out and pull Jiang Han and Liang Meng back from the edge. Could you call her good? After the fact, she always wrings every last cent out of them without so much as a blush — and does it with an air of complete moral authority.

What a woman — this Liang Xing.

“No problem,” Jiang Han said, with solemn deliberateness.

His word was his bond — a verbal promise carried the same weight for him as something in black and white.

“Then I’ll be going.” Liang Xing picked up her bag. Before leaving, she turned back to remind him: “You’d better find another five hundred million as a reserve. Otherwise you may not be able to hold your ground against Wang Xiancheng. Wang Xiancheng is the type of reckless gambler who, when pushed into a corner, has a habit of borrowing from underground money lenders. You absolutely need a contingency plan. This part — I genuinely can’t help you with.”

“Noted.” Jiang Han took the advice.

After Liang Xing left, Jiang Han sat alone for a while at the dining table, facing the slanted light of the sun pouring in.

He looked at the plate Liang Xing had left behind. In it, the pale pink salmon lay there, still undisturbed.

“So she really won’t take a single bite.”

Jiang Han reached over with a fork and moved the piece of fish onto his own plate.