It might have been that Mr. Jin’s subtle act of voluntarily giving up the top seat set the tone, resulting in a remarkably calm meeting. Before the conference, Jin Yaotiao had prepared for potential opposition and even devised counterarguments, but to her surprise, not a single voice of dissent emerged.

This left her feeling slightly unaccustomed.

Since when were the old hardliners so agreeable?

After the meeting adjourned, she left deep in thought. Once Mr. Jin exited, the shareholders began whispering among themselves.

“Why didn’t you say anything?”

“Say what? New leadership always comes in with a bang. Why would I hand myself over to be the first victim?”

---

At Mingde Restaurant, Jin Yaotiao was enjoying today’s specials: salt-and-pepper eel and mackerel fishballs.

The eel was stir-fried until its skin became crisp and caramelized, while the inside remained tender and juicy.

A light bite would release its savory juices mixed with salt and pepper granules. Even the bones had been fried until crunchy, making every chew increasingly flavorful.

The mackerel fishballs, as the name implies, were made from mackerel fish meat, ground into a paste and mixed with fresh pork.

After seasoning, water was gradually added while stirring constantly until the paste was molded into individual balls and cooked in a broth.

These tender fishballs were so flavorful that even plain water would turn into a delicious soup.

However, in the flavorful broth they were served with, the starring ingredient was actually the vegetables—tender napa cabbage, about the size of a palm, sliced in half and cooked with the fishballs until the stems turned slightly translucent, the leaves softened, and the broth infused them with a mix of land and sea freshness that was indescribably sweet.

The father and daughter sat across from each other without further discussing Mr. Jin’s behavior before the shareholders’ meeting.

Mr. Jin scooped a spoonful of soft taro mash soaked in fermented red bean paste sauce and tasted it while observing his daughter, who had reverted to her usual demeanor after wrapping up her work with decisive efficiency.

His eyes reflected a deep sense of amusement.

His daughter was truly capable—more so than he had initially imagined—and she gave him peace of mind.

When he shifted to the right earlier in the meeting, a significant burden seemed to lift off his shoulders. Watching his daughter take charge filled him with a sense of relief rather than regret.

Mr. Jin commented on the taro mash he had just tasted: “Hmm, well-seasoned. The fermented red bean paste is nicely balanced. Is this your creation?”

“Yes. The main cafeteria chefs have been trained well,” Jin Yaotiao said, thoughtfully savoring her salt-and-pepper eel. “Once the new project is integrated, these chefs can be reassigned. But we might be short-staffed at Mingde.”

Mr. Jin took a bite of richly stewed soft-shelled turtle without lifting his gaze. “You’re managing two project teams, plus this new project. Sitting in the deputy director’s position might not be suitable anymore.”

Jin Yaotiao looked up at him.

Mr. Jin continued, “Mingde has a vacant vice chairman seat. You can fill it temporarily. Once the company stabilizes and everyone is on board, I’ll hand over all my responsibilities to you.”

He smiled after eating a piece of the turtle’s tender edge. “At my age, it’s time to embrace retirement.”

Jin Yaotiao chuckled. “Nonsense. You’re still young.”

The father and daughter exchanged smiles and continued their meal, as though the future of Mingde they had just discussed was no more than a casual topic.

---

By the time the financing process was officially completed, months had passed. During this period, Mingde Headquarters underwent bold reforms, incorporating the development plans for Deep City into its schedule.

When Rachel and Jia Bingyang contacted Jin Yaotiao to inform her that the documentary was finalized and awaiting broadcast scheduling, she suddenly realized autumn had already arrived.

She opened her window, letting in the crisp, cool breeze. On the phone, Rachel laughed and said, “It’s finally settled. Constant arguments have given me two more wrinkles.”

In the background, a child’s babbling could be heard. Jin Yaotiao smiled and asked, “Did you bring your son over?”

Rachel, usually too busy to care for her child directly, left him with her parents. It seemed unusual for her son to be with her in Beijing.

After a pause, Rachel explained, “Jia Bingyang picked him up from Linjiang.”

Not long ago, her child had fallen seriously ill with a high fever. Rachel was tied up with her filming crew at the time. When her son called, crying that he missed her, she felt helpless and deeply affected. That same day, she had an emotional argument with Jia Bingyang over creative differences.

Caught up in the moment, she ended up crying during the dispute.

Jia Bingyang, initially argumentative, fell silent when he saw her tears.

They had clashed frequently since they started working together, yet managed to maintain a professional relationship the next day. Rachel had assumed this incident would pass like all the others.

To her surprise, not long after, Jia Bingyang disappeared for a day. When he returned late that evening, he had brought her son back from her parents’ home.

Rachel drifted off in thought until Jin Yaotiao asked, “You’ve worked hard. How is the final product? Any plans for the release date?”

Rachel snapped back to reality and chuckled. “One of Jia Bingyang’s supporters at the network was very pleased with the documentary and promised an early broadcast slot. As for quality, I’ll send you the finished product later for review, but rest assured—Jia Bingyang’s stubbornness is matched by his skill. I’ve learned a lot from him during this project. It’s also worth noting that the production went unusually smoothly. From proposal to completion, it only took a few months. This type of documentary is a first for Beijing Television, and their leadership is taking it seriously.”

Later, Jin Yaotiao indeed received the finished product from Rachel. She watched about ten minutes of it, her expression subtly shifting.

Although she trusted Jia Bingyang’s capabilities, his past successes were in different genres. As an investor, she couldn’t be entirely confident about the outcome.

However, after viewing the final product, her lingering worries dissipated entirely.

---

With little time to finish the documentary, Jin Yaotiao put her phone away and changed into an elegant dress she had prepared earlier before heading downstairs.

She carried a gold-embossed invitation from this year’s Linjiang Business Association.

Apart from the usual invitation sent to her father, the association had also sent her one specifically this year. Technically, her attendance wasn’t mandatory since Mingde only required one representative. However, given her father’s recent health checkup, where doctors advised against excessive social engagements despite stable post-surgery recovery, she chose to attend in his stead.

The air outside had grown chilly. Braving the cold wind, she entered the venue, overhearing whispers from a nearby group.

“Is Jingmao attending this year?”

“Not sure. I heard President Shen has shifted his focus to Deep City recently. The Linjiang government even visited several times to inquire about it.”

“Relax. President Shen is probably delayed by something. I saw his car near Pearl Mountain just a few days ago while visiting the maple leaves there.”

“Does he really live on Pearl Mountain? I’ve heard rumors but never believed it. That area is swarming with tourists—it doesn’t seem like his style at all. Why would he buy property there?”

Walking past them, Jin Yaotiao smiled politely at those who recognized her.

The name “Pearl Mountain” echoed in her ears, painting her mind’s eye with a vivid expanse of red foliage.

The maple leaves there were the most beautiful ones Jin Yaotiao had ever seen. Every year during this season, they blanketed the mountains in a fiery red. As the oldest and most renowned scenic spot in Linjiang, Jin would go to admire the maple leaves every autumn, either with her parents or friends. As a child, she even pleaded with her parents to move their home to the foot of Mingzhu Mountain. That way, she could open her window in the fall and be greeted by her favorite view.

But her father, being the kind of person who disliked noisy places, wasn’t fond of the idea. Most areas of Mingzhu Mountain were open to tourists, and during peak season, the influx of visitors created chaos—crowds, traffic jams, and noise. Despite the beauty, living there would surely be a frustrating experience.

Her mother, though fond of lively settings, always followed her father’s lead. With her father against it, she wouldn’t cater to Jin’s whims either.

For a long time, living on Mingzhu Mountain remained a cherished dream in Jin’s heart. She often brought it up with her friends. She vividly remembered an autumn field trip when her school organized a visit to Mingzhu Mountain. Standing atop a large rock, she spread her arms wide and shouted toward the valley below, “One day, I’ll live here!”

When she turned around, she noticed Shen Qiming sitting not far away under a tree, reading a book. At that time, Shen was a cold and aloof young man, even sharper than his current demeanor refined by the business world. His gaze was piercing, almost thorny. Though her shout interrupted him, he didn’t seem angry. He simply closed his book, glanced at her, and left.

Back then, Jin had carefully crafted an image of herself as a sweet and gentle girl in front of Shen Qiming. Realizing she had broken character and disturbed his reading, she was mortified.

She never imagined that her words that day would become prophetic. Many years later, she and Shen Qiming’s marital home was indeed nestled amidst those fiery maple leaves.

On their engagement day, Shen’s parents arrived late, hand in hand, and left after less than half an hour. Jin was nervous and asked Shen if this meant they disapproved of their relationship.

“They like you very much,” Shen replied calmly.

Still uneasy, Jin was about to press further when Shen stood up and returned shortly with a set of keys.

The keys were for a villa on Mingzhu Mountain.

Relieved, Jin asked if the house was a gift from Shen’s parents. After all, Shen’s personality was even quieter than her father’s; it didn’t seem like he would choose to live on Mingzhu Mountain.

Shen watched her joy for a moment and then nodded slightly.

And so, Jin lived on Mingzhu Mountain, in the house with the best view. She watched the maple leaves turn red and then green again year after year, never imagining she would one day willingly leave the scenery she had once longed for.

After moving abroad, there were no maple trees in her new environment. She severed all contact with Shen and had no plans to return to China. But perhaps due to homesickness, she initially found herself missing the red maples that had been a constant presence in her life.

Before autumn arrived, she made a special trip to find a forest of maples, collecting many leaves to hang by her window.

Later, to her surprise, the area where she lived began planting maple trees. Excited, she even volunteered to help the workers for a while. The supervisor, a representative of the funding environmental organization, kindly gave her two maple saplings for her yard, refusing her payment.

Over time, the streets outside her window turned to her favorite shades of red every autumn. For a long while, those trees became her source of comfort.

---

Now, she had lost those new maples again. But in Linjiang, Mingzhu Mountain was only a half-hour drive away.

Jin tilted her head to look at the sky. Her gaze flickered, and a sudden desire to see the maple leaves on Mingzhu Mountain emerged. However, from what people said, Shen Qiming still lived there.

It made sense. Jin recalled her previous return to China when Shen hadn’t moved. Back then, it had been even longer since their last meeting.

As she reminisced, an annoying voice interrupted her. “President Jin.”

She turned and saw Cheng Chen, wearing glasses and smiling smugly.

She returned the smile. “President Cheng, you should call me Chairwoman Jin now.”

Cheng paused, adjusted his glasses, and forced a smile. “I forgot. Congratulations on your promotion.”

Before Jin could respond, a commotion arose from a distance. Voices called out:

“President Shen!”

“President Shen, you’re finally here.”

Amid the noise, Jin frowned and glanced toward the source. Sure enough, Shen Qiming towered over the crowd, standing out with his tall frame.