Shen Jin seemed completely oblivious to Jiang Mocheng’s piercing gaze.

He leisurely unscrewed the pen cap and began writing numbers on a check. In fact, if it were the usual Shen Jin, he would never resolve matters in such a sloppy manner.

For someone like Jiang Mocheng, who is not short of money, dealing with a check is obviously a last resort.

However, Shen Jin’s patience was running thin. He had been unable to sleep since receiving a call from his butler before returning to the country, his mood so foul that the violent tendencies within him surged uncontrollably, unable to maintain his usual rationality and composure.

He had originally thought it was just a joke she made.

Perhaps it was her protest and a test.

Maybe she just went to stay at a friend’s house for a few days.

He thought she would come back soon, and everything would continue as if nothing had happened.

But when he saw that letter, he realized how terribly wrong he was.

Jiang Mocheng narrowed his eyes.

His gaze never left the pen in Shen Jin’s hand, not even for a moment, and even his breathing slowed down. He scrutinized the pen inch by inch, a ridiculous suspicion creeping into his mind, one he found utterly absurd.

But the hand hanging by his side gradually tightened, veins bulging.

Even the look he gave Shen Jin became as dangerous as that of a male encountering an intruder in his territory.

At this explosive moment, Shen Jin finished writing the check, capped the pen, tucked it inside his suit, pressed down on the check, and pushed it towards Jiang Mocheng, “I don’t know if this amount will satisfy President Jiang.”

This statement snapped Jiang Mocheng back to reality.

If his expression could have been considered calm before, now it was more indifferent than ever.

He didn’t even glance at the check, casually brushing it aside as if it were trash, and picked up a hot towel to wipe his hands, “No need.”

Shen Jin gave him a bland look, “What does President Jiang mean by this?”

“It seems that President Shen is not a stingy man.”

Jiang Mocheng said, “You might as well divide this money among your subordinates; they seem to be in need of it.”

This was a mockery of Shen Jin being too stingy with his people, otherwise, they wouldn’t disregard their dignity for petty gains.

Jiang Mocheng’s attitude changed rapidly, which was quite unusual, and Shen Jin couldn’t be bothered to guess the reason.

The two could hardly maintain even a semblance of peace.

The pen was like a spark that had ignited a raging fire in Jiang Mocheng’s heart, burning him from the inside out. Meanwhile, Shen Jin’s rationality had also been repeatedly crushed by her departure these past few days.

His fingers interlocked, he appeared calm as he looked at Jiang Mocheng, the habitual smile on his face much fainter, “It’s just a trivial matter, does President Jiang really need to make it so ugly?”

In the business world, deceit is common, and Zhong Wenhui had learned well.

Making a scene out of this matter would tarnish the reputation of both parties, so the best solution would naturally be to settle it privately.

If Jiang Mocheng had wanted to make a fuss, he would have done so over a month ago, so why wait until today.

Shen Jin thought that since he had taken the initiative to arrange a meeting, he must be looking for a mutually satisfactory way to resolve the issue.

A trivial matter.

Coincidentally, Jiang Mocheng also thought that the matter he was meeting Shen Jin for today was a trivial one, barring any unexpected discoveries.

He coldly met Shen Jin’s gaze, not wanting to engage in further conversation with Shen Jin without knowing the full story. He simply stood up, looking down at Shen Jin, “President Shen, today is not a good time, let’s leave it at that.”

“We will meet again soon.”

Jiang Mocheng sneered, “When that time comes, it won’t be too late to settle this account.”

After saying that, he turned and walked towards the door.

…

Shen Jin raised his head and watched Jiang Mocheng’s retreating figure, wondering why he felt there was more to Jiang’s words.

From the start to the end, the meeting didn’t last more than ten minutes.

Zhao Minghai was waiting in the lobby downstairs, had just dozed off, and upon waking, saw Jiang Mocheng coming out of the elevator. He thought he was mistaken, but after a closer look, Jiang seemed to be covered with frost, his disposition chillingly cold.

Zhao Minghai’s heart pounded. He had been ready to greet Jiang Mocheng but stopped himself.

He always called out ‘Jiang San, Jiang San,’ but upon seeing him, he felt somewhat intimidated.

Even Shen Jin, who called him a rival, had a resounding reputation. So, Zhao admired Zhong Wenhui’s courage. How could he be so bold as to plot against such a person?

After watching Jiang Mocheng leave, he hurried to the elevator hall, frantically pressed the elevator button, and rushed to the private room. Seeing Shen Jin standing lazily by the window, a cigarette between his fingers, Zhao approached him with a palpable sense of relief and concern.

“Brother Shen, are you alright?”

“I’m fine.”

Zhao looked around the private room, noticing no signs of a struggle, and grew curious, “Didn’t you come to an agreement with President Jiang? What were his terms?”

Shen Jin flicked the ash off his cigarette, his face thoughtful, “He didn’t come to me about Wenhui’s matter.”

“Ah?”

Zhao was puzzled, “Then what could it be?”

…

Jiang Mocheng sat silently in the back seat, the driver as quiet as a cicada in winter.

The rain from Ning City had also drifted to Jincheng, the raindrops beating rapidly against the window. In such an environment, one’s thoughts gradually became clearer.

All those past events, once heard and forgotten, came rushing back into his mind—

“I heard Shen Jin has a very young girlfriend, seems like she hasn’t even graduated from college.”

“Whose daughter is she? No, no, Shen Jin keeps it tight-lipped. I heard her surname is Bai, just an ordinary female student, and his grandmother adores her.”

“The grandmother’s funeral was all organized by her, together with Shen Jin.”

By now, Jiang Mocheng couldn’t possibly consider the two pens a coincidence.

Shen Jin would never use a pen with the same cat paw print as his girlfriend’s assistant.

Having competed with Shen Jin for years, Jiang knew his temperament well. For such a common pen from a stationery store to be carried by him, it must hold special significance.

So why would she have such a pen?

Lin Fei was eating when he received Jiang Mocheng’s call. Seeing the caller ID, he immediately perked up, eager to know how the talk with Shen Jin went, and quickly answered the phone, “That was quick. Didn’t come to an agreement?”

But Jiang Mocheng on the other end of the phone solemnly tasked him with something completely unrelated.

“I need you to find me newspapers.”

“Newspapers, what newspapers?”

“Specifically those covering Shen Jin around half a year ago.”

Lin Fei was surprised, “Why are you looking for the newspapers Shen Jin took back half a year ago?”

Everyone knew that half a year ago, a reporter had taken photos of Shen Jin on a date with his girlfriend.

Although it was just a blurry side profile, Shen Jin still managed to buy back all the newspapers, and the press didn’t dare to continue publishing them.

At that time, they treated it as a joke. But privately, they were shocked that someone like Shen Jin could do such a thing.

But something even more shocking happened. What did Shen Jin’s girlfriend have to do with them? Why were they looking for that newspaper? What was the significance?

Jiang Mocheng coldly interrupted Lin Fei’s questions, enunciating each word, “Stop the nonsense and get it done, quickly.”

Even through the phone, Lin Fei could sense that Jiang Mocheng seemed on the verge of losing control.

He paused, no longer asking questions, suppressing his doubts, and cautiously reminded, “If you’re quick, this will definitely alarm Shen Jin.”

“What’s he to me.”

Jiang’s tone was as cold as frost, “Check, as fast as possible.”

Lin Fei hesitated, wanting to remind Jiang Mocheng that this matter seemed simple but could have endless consequences. Who didn’t know how much Shen Jin cared about his woman? If Shen Jin found out they were secretly looking for that newspaper, wouldn’t he suspect something?

Somehow, Lin Fei suddenly remembered Jiang Mocheng saying he had a private matter to discuss with Shen Jin. In a flash, as the phone call ended, he seemed to guess what that private matter was, listening incredulously to the busy tone on the phone—

Could it be?

It couldn’t really be what he was thinking, could it??

As if struck by lightning, Lin Fei even forgot about the cast on his leg, cursed loudly, and stood up straight from his chair, staring eye to eye with the waiter who came in to serve the dishes.

Despite his many doubts, Lin Fei didn’t dare to ask Jiang Mocheng at this critical moment. He quickly contacted a familiar newspaper editor, and a corner of Jincheng sprang into action.

They had their own network of connections; there are no secrets that can’t be uncovered in this world. Shen Jin indeed forcefully took back the newspapers half a year ago, but there were still some that slipped through the net.

An hour later, Lin Fei got the newspaper, glanced at it hurriedly, his eyes darting away as if stung, and quickly stuffed it into a document bag.

With his curiosity, he should have gone even with a broken leg, but thinking of the photo on the newspaper, he chickened out.

No matter how curious, he needed to stay alive. With that thought, he called his driver and instructed him to deliver the document bag.

The driver was efficient.

The rain hadn’t stopped yet, and Jiang Mocheng’s car almost blended into the ink-like darkness of the night. The driver, holding an umbrella, approached the car.

The window rolled down, and a hand reached out from inside, a man’s hand wearing a wristwatch. A thunderclap sounded in the distance, the driver shivered, and quickly handed over the document bag.

“Thank you.”

“Go back.”

A deep male voice came from inside the car.

The driver complied, still waiting under the umbrella until the window rose again, then turned and walked towards the parking area.

Raindrops clung to the watch face, but Jiang Mocheng didn’t care, clutching the document bag tightly. After a few seconds of silence, he unwound the string wrapped around it and pulled out a newspaper that seemed to still smell of ink. On the local newspaper’s page was a photo.

In the photo, a woman in a white dress wore a man’s large, stiff suit jacket, affectionately leaning on a tall man.

The man looked down slightly, speaking to the woman, who smiled shyly.

From a distance, the woman’s side profile was captured, but due to limited pixels, it was hard to see her face clearly.

Jiang Mocheng stared gloomily, as if trying to bore a hole through the newspaper.

He had been with Bai Ying for a while, and he remembered every part of her clearly—eyebrows, eyes, nose, lips, earlobes, hair strands—he had gently touched them countless times. Others might not see clearly, but he could recognize her at a glance.

The driver, now just a backdrop, quietly shrank in the driver’s seat, suddenly hearing a cold laugh from the back seat, and breathed even more softly.

Jiang Mocheng expressionlessly crumpled the newspaper into a ball.

The sound was particularly jarring in the quiet car.