Chapter 16.1

Chu Qi thought the world had gone completely mad. “When did this happen?”

“This morning,” replied Chen Jubai.

“… So, is that why you rushed back yesterday?”

“No,” Chen Jubai paused, then added, “The marriage was unplanned.”

“Your… your wife, is she the one from that blind date before?”

Hearing this, Chen Jubai glanced at him, seemingly surprised by the term “wife.” He lightly touched the ring on the fourth finger of his left hand, rotating it gently. After about half a minute, he nodded. “Yes.”

Chu Qi studied his expression, his curiosity piqued. “So, it’s really her, huh? Let’s meet her next time.”

Chen Jubai, now back to his usual composure, replied, “If you want to meet her, I’ll need to ask her first.”

Chu Qi shook his head, clicking his tongue twice. “I never would have guessed! Our great Chen Jubai, now a married man. Truly surprising.”

Chen Jubai ignored him.

The car arrived at the entrance of the clubhouse.

Compared to Guangnian, Zhirui was a larger company in scale and influence. Tonight, they were the visiting party, and drinking would be inevitable.

Before starting his business, Chen Jubai had never touched alcohol. Over the years, however, he had built up a considerable tolerance and could handle himself well.

Inside the dimly lit private room, the air was thick with smoke. A man smoking a cigar in the center glanced over at them. After studying the two for three or four seconds, he finally offered a faint smile. “It’s good you made it.”

He turned to introduce them to the others. “Mr. Zhu, these are Chen Jubai and Chu Qi from Nan’an Guangnian Tech.”

The presence of this Mr. Zhu was unexpected. Chen Jubai and Chu Qi exchanged a glance, puzzled.

Zhu Yuan scrutinized them with a critical gaze, his tone blunt. “So young?”

“Indeed,” said Bi Xuyao, who then addressed Chen Jubai. “If I’m not mistaken, Mr. Chen, you’re 28 this year?”

“Yes, Mr. Bi.”

Chu Qi chimed in with a smile, “Technical work benefits from youthful energy, don’t you agree, Mr. Bi and Mr. Zhu?”

“Absolutely,” Zhu Yuan replied, turning to Bi Xuyao. “That’s why I prefer hiring fresh graduates—they’re creative, driven, and easy to mold.”

He placed heavy emphasis on the words “easy to mold,” clearly implying something deeper.

Bi Xuyao laughed. “True, it’s a young person’s world now. We’re past our prime.”

Neither man offered them a seat, leaving Chen Jubai and Chu Qi standing awkwardly. They exchanged another glance, silently concluding that this dinner wasn’t going to be a pleasant one.

Finally, after some casual conversation, the hosts seemed to “notice” them. “Mr. Chen, Mr. Chu, you’re our guests tonight. Please, make yourselves comfortable.”

Once seated, Zhu Yuan offered them cigars. Chen Jubai, though not a smoker, didn’t refuse. He allowed the server to light it but left it untouched in his hand.

Chu Qi, more adept at navigating such situations, began smoking and struck up a conversation. “Mr. Zhu, I don’t believe we’ve met before. May I ask about your work?”

Zhu Yuan chuckled heartily. “Just running a small company in smart tech. I heard about Mr. Bi’s project and came to compete for it. Also, I thought I could learn something from you talented folks in Nan’an. Your companies are always impressive.”

This was their third exchange of glances that night.

They had already reached a preliminary agreement with Zhirui on a project before the new year, with the proposal and contract drafts nearly finalized. All that remained was to confirm the details and pricing during tomorrow’s meeting.

But now, Zhu Yuan had appeared out of nowhere, clearly brought in by Zhirui themselves.

Everyone at the table knew the subtext: Zhu Yuan wasn’t just competition. His real purpose was likely to exert pressure, drive down prices, or test their resolve.

Chu Qi cursed internally a thousand times over, realizing the trap set by these two cunning old foxes.

Still, he maintained a bright smile. “You’re too kind, Mr. Zhu. We’re the ones who should be learning from you and Mr. Bi. After all, we can’t leave here empty-handed.”

Zhu Yuan raised an eyebrow, his tone suddenly wary. “Oh? Do you have other collaborations lined up?”

Chu Qi, all smiles, reassured him, “Not at all. We’re here solely for Zhirui.”

Zhu Yuan laughed. “Then I’m feeling the pressure already.”

Bi Xuyao interjected from across the table. “Alright, enough talk. Tonight’s not for business.”

He clapped his hands, prompting the servers to bring out drinks. They poured Blue Label Martell—an inexpensive but strong cognac.

Bi Xuyao raised his glass first. “Mr. Chen, Mr. Chu, as our guests, let me offer the first toast.”

Both men raised their glasses. “To a smooth collaboration.”

Chu Qi’s face turned red after just three or four rounds, though he managed to stay composed. Chen Jubai, on the other hand, held his liquor better, appearing calm. Zhu Yuan remarked, “Mr. Chen, you have a good tolerance for alcohol. A young man like you should be capable both inside and out.”

As Zhu Yuan motioned for the servers to pour more, Chen Jubai placed his hand over his glass, his tone firm. “We have important matters to discuss tomorrow, Mr. Zhu. Let’s pace ourselves tonight.”

Zhu Yuan chuckled, glancing at Bi Xuyao. “Mr. Bi, should I take it easy? If I can’t show up tomorrow, wouldn’t that hand the project to Mr. Chen on a silver platter?”

Bi Xuyao gave Chen Jubai a meaningful look. “If you can’t handle your liquor, then maybe you aren’t qualified. I might have to reconsider.”

Zhu Yuan clinked glasses with Chen Jubai. “Come, Mr. Chen. Let’s settle this over drinks.”

Chen Jubai frowned slightly for a few seconds before raising his glass and downing it in one go.

The room grew noisier and more crowded as the night went on, with the sound of clinking glasses and raucous laughter filling the air.

The scene brought Chu Qi back to their early startup days. Back then, a few young men, green but full of passion, would get dizzy and nauseous after just three or four shots of baijiu. They often ended up hugging the toilet afterward. Over time, though, they built their tolerance, downing a whole bottle without losing their footing.

Many deals had been secured, one drink at a time, paving the way to their present success.

Chu Qi tried shielding Chen Jubai from a few rounds, but the hosts clearly targeted him, focusing all their firepower. After another three rounds, Chu Qi leaned in and whispered, “That’s enough. Are you really going to drink yourself under the table?”

Chen Jubai, who never flushed, now had reddened ears. His vision was slightly blurred, but he muttered, “Almost done.”

Ten minutes later, Chu Qi understood what “almost” meant—on the other side of the table, Zhu Yuan couldn’t hold on any longer and passed out.

Bi Xuyao, perhaps finding the situation dull, announced the end of the evening. “I underestimated you, Mr. Chen. See you tomorrow.”

Chen Jubai, still looking clear-headed, responded steadily, “See you tomorrow.”

As the dinner broke up and the guests left, Chu Qi finally exhaled. “Finally over.”

Chen Jubai shook his head, his tone calm. “Tomorrow is the real battlefield.”

“That Bi guy is relentless. We need to come up with a strategy.” Chu Qi looked up to see Chen Jubai grabbing his suit and heading out. He quickly followed.

Chen Jubai didn’t go far, turning directly into the club’s restroom. As the door closed, Chu Qi heard the suppressed sounds of vomiting, one heave after another.

Chu Qi sighed inwardly, helpless.

Although Guangnian had achieved some recognition, they were still far from being in a position to dictate terms on their own turf.

….

By the time they returned to the hotel, it was past midnight. Having emptied his stomach and been sobered by the cold night air, Chen Jubai was more than halfway recovered. He sat on the sofa, head slightly dizzy but unable to sleep.

It was almost certain that Zhu Yuan would appear again tomorrow.

The Shenzhen government was pushing for reforms in medical equipment, with VR, AR, and MR technologies as the focus. The first bidding round was about to start. With Zhirui’s immature technology, they had to seek external cooperation.

Similarly, Guangnian couldn’t independently compete in the bid. A partnership was the best way to enter this market and lay the foundation for future medical research and development. No matter what, this opportunity had to be secured.

The evening’s events had been full of deliberate probes—from introducing a competitor to pressuring with drinks.

Chen Jubai closed his eyes, recalling every detail of the night.

Something flashed through his mind. He opened his contact list and made two consecutive calls.

The calls ended at 1:12 a.m.

Leaning back into the sofa, he massaged his temples.

Soon, he picked up his phone again, opened WeChat, and scrolled past company group chats to find a specific conversation.

The last two entries in the chat were call logs—one four minutes long, the other just over a minute.

Chen Jubai hesitated to call her, feeling it was too late. In the end, he let his hand holding the phone drop and closed his eyes again.

Somehow, the phone screen must have been accidentally tapped. In the quiet of the hotel room, a gentle “Hello?” broke the silence.

Raising his phone again, Chen Jubai saw that the WeChat chat box had switched to the call interface. Surprised by the accidental dial, he replied, “It’s me.”

“I know it’s you.” The voice on the line was soft, muffled, as if she were under the covers. “Still not asleep?”

“No, just got back. What about you?”

“I’m not asleep either.”

On the other end, Song Wei shifted positions. Getting married and registering their marriage was, after all, a monumental event in anyone’s life.

Who could fall asleep easily?

Chen Jubai asked gently, “Is your stomach still hurting?”

“It’s fine now.” Song Wei recalled something from her day, then noticed the heaviness in his voice, different from usual—low and slightly hoarse. Cautiously, she asked, “Were you at a social dinner tonight?”

“Mm, with tomorrow’s partner company.”

“Did you drink a lot?”

Chen didn’t tell the truth. “Just a little.”

“Feeling unwell?”

“I’m okay.”

“Alright.” Song Wei suddenly smiled as she thought of something and teasingly asked, “Did you have fun?”

“Hmm?”

She didn’t really distrust him based on one comment and had only been joking, but he seemed not to get it. Song Wei pouted slightly and dropped the subject. “Get some rest early. Good night.”

“Good night.”

After the call ended, Chen Jubai stared at his phone for a moment before sending a text: [No fun, just drinking.]

Her response came in the form of a cute sticker—a little girl making an “Oh” face.