Chapter 10: Going Home (Part 2)

Ma Jin sighed and rubbed his forehead. “Of course, it’s a good thing. The East African Rift Valley contains some of the world’s most abundant geothermal resources. But you know, given Country Z’s capabilities, there’s no way they can complete such a project on their own; they’ll need funding and technology from foreign investors. This is where the problem lies. To secure the project rights, both Country A and Country H have submitted project proposals and research reports to our organization. But who should we entrust with the project?

“Both countries are equally competent, and Country Z’s stance is also rather ambiguous, so Greenpeace is in a bit of a bind. Even though we’re a neutral organization, the evaluation report has to take all sorts of factors into consideration.”

Tang Mi was silent for a moment, understanding Ma Jin’s dilemma. Energy shortages have long ceased to be just one nation’s nightmare; it’s a disaster that all of humanity is on the brink of facing. Especially after that catastrophic earthquake and nuclear leak that shocked the world, every country is actively seeking safer, cleaner, and more environmentally friendly energy sources. Resource-rich Africa naturally became a focal point. Energy experts have even claimed, “The future of renewable energy is in Africa,” sparking a renewed competition among major countries for this promising land. Investments in renewable energy in Africa have reached an unprecedented level of enthusiasm.

However, the East African Rift Valley isn’t just Africa’s wealth; it’s a treasure for all humanity. So, before any of these development projects can be implemented, they must undergo rigorous evaluation and approval by international environmental organizations. This is exactly the work Ma Jin is involved in now.

“So, from your professional perspective, which country’s plan is more feasible?” Tang Mi asked, continuing the conversation.

“Personally, I don’t think Country A’s plan is viable. I actually wrote that in the evaluation report. Their proposal uses magma-based power generation technology—the same technology I used in that incident ten years ago. It’s an extremely immature technology. Although it yields high output, the risks are even higher, potentially causing a series of man-made earthquakes.

“On the other hand, Country H’s hot dry rock method is worth considering. It may produce less output, but it’s relatively safer and more reliable.”

As Tang Mi and Ma Jin were discussing, the butler, Little Ronaldo, entered the room, holding a large courier envelope. “Mr. Ma Jin, a courier just arrived for you.”

Ma Jin took the envelope and tore open the seal. Inside, there was an elegant letter on cream-colored, sturdy paper with a satin-like sheen. A faint watermark of a silver iris was visible on the back.

Tang Mi couldn’t help feeling a bit curious. In this day and age, who still uses such old-fashioned stationery to write letters?

She shifted her gaze to Ma Jin’s face, hoping to guess the sender’s identity from his expression. But his face had suddenly turned even paler than the paper he held. His brows knitted tightly, his pupils shrank rapidly, and deep lines etched into his forehead.

“What’s wrong, Ma Jin? Who sent you the letter?” Tang Mi asked, concerned.

“Oh, it’s nothing, just some trivial promotional ad,” Ma Jin quickly folded the letter and slipped it into his jacket pocket, flashing a relaxed smile as though that moment of shock had been her imagination. “Let’s not talk about that. Let’s talk about something happy.” He stood up, picked up an invitation bearing the Greenpeace logo from the coffee table, and placed it in front of Tang Mi. “Our branch is hosting a charity ball in a few days to celebrate the 100th anniversary of World Animal Day and to raise funds for endangered animals.

“Minister Marshall has always admired your work. He knew you’d be back on vacation this time, so he extended a special invitation for you to attend.”

“Of course, I’ll attend. But about that letter…” Although happy to receive such an invitation, Tang Mi couldn’t shake her unease about the strange letter. Ma Jin’s reaction to it wasn’t right—first shock, then anger. That’s not how someone would react to a promotional ad.

Before she could finish, Ma Jin gently pressed her shoulder and smiled. “Forget about that silly letter. Now you should be thinking about what to wear to the ball.

“From what I’ve heard, there will be quite a few young talents attending. Maybe it’s time you found yourself a boyfriend.”

“Oh, you’re absolutely right!” Tang Mi responded, feigning a sudden realization, and hurried toward the study as if fashion had never been more important.

This was Tang Mi’s way of avoiding uncomfortable questions, and Ma Jin’s lips curved with amusement. But as his gaze landed on the corner of the letter peeking out of his pocket, the smile froze. His lips still held the smile’s curve, but his eyes turned cold, like a candle flame snuffed out on ice.

After a moment’s thought, Ma Jin took the letter out, lit it with a lighter, and watched as the paper curled and shrank in his fingers. The flames sprang from the iris watermark in a twisted bloom, like a mocking grin that seemed to sneer at his pale face.

With a slight shake of his hand, the charred ashes scattered onto the floor and, carried by the draft from under the door, disappeared quietly and without a trace.