He felt as if he had become that 19-year-old again, a plaything at the mercy of Lin Zhifang. Guan Zhengying’s scrutinizing gaze left him with nowhere to hide.  

He couldn’t even think of a single excuse to offer.  

But Guan Zhengying remained gentle, even teasing him: “At your age, still putting yourself on display like this? What a disgrace.”  

“Well, that’s your disgrace, not mine,” Jiang Quyan avoided his gaze.  

Guan Zhengying nodded in agreement. “Letting a VP sell his looks—this is a serious failure on my part as Chairman. I suppose I need to make it up to you.”  

Jiang Quyan forced a laugh. “You call the shots. I’ll go change.”  

Guan Zhengying grabbed his wrist. “No need to change. This outfit is just right—for dinner tonight.”  

“This suit belongs to the brand, not me. Let go! It’s expensive!” Jiang Quyan protested as he was pulled along. “Where are we going? I still have work to do! A lot of people are waiting for me!”  

“I can afford a suit.” Guan Zhengying was unfazed. “Listening to your boss is also part of your job. And your boss is telling you to come with him now.”  

They left the set and got into Guan Zhengying’s car, which drove them to the port. From there, they boarded a private yacht.  

The waves carried them deep into the night, where a ship’s horn echoed in the distance. The tide continued its endless song, and the sea breeze, heavy with moisture, slapped against their faces—salty, bitter, and cold, like the tears of an old-world woman.  

“This is…” Jiang Quyan stepped into the cabin and saw a long table set with candles and fresh flowers. There were only two chairs.  

Guan Zhengying gestured for him to sit. “Some matters are easier to handle here.”  

Just then, Secretary Mai Xuwen entered with bodyguards, dragging in two men bound tightly with rope. They were bloodied beyond recognition.  

Jiang Quyan stiffened in shock. He immediately understood—these were the criminals from the car chase incident.  

“Two others killed themselves before they could be captured,” Mai Xuwen explained. “These two were caught at an auto repair shop while trying to fix a severely damaged vehicle. Chairman Lin identified them and turned them over to us. After verification, they were confirmed not to be affiliated with the Lin family.”  

Chairman Lin referred to Lin Zhifang’s elder brother, Lin Zhichang, the current head of the Lin family. 

“Their identities have also been confirmed. This one is Chen Sihao, also known as ‘Haozai.'” Mai Xuwen pointed to the man on the left. “Age 32. Formerly a car wash worker. He has a criminal record—convicted of bribery and misconduct as a public official, sentenced to nine years in prison. Released in 1998. Before the incident, he received a 20,000 cash payment from one of the masterminds, Zhang Baotai, and stole two Santana sedans from his workplace to use as crime vehicles. He also planned the chase route.”  

“As for the other one, this is Zhang Baotai, one of the masterminds.”  

“Zhang Baotai is also a former convict. Same charges, imprisoned in 1989, sentenced to 13 years, released in 2001. Since then, he has remained unemployed. Chen Sihao admitted that they were old friends—they knew each other before prison and stayed in touch while incarcerated. A month ago, Zhang Baotai approached Chen Sihao with the plan, offering 20,000 upfront and another 20,000 after the job was done. On the day of the chase, Zhang Baotai sat in the passenger seat while Chen Sihao drove. Zhang Baotai was responsible for the shooting. The firearm used was a modified weapon he had built himself.”  

Jiang Quyan took a deep breath, trying to process the overwhelming information. “Both of them were former public officials?”  

Mai Xuwen nodded. “Before their arrest, both served in the police force. They were caught and convicted by the ICAC for accepting large bribes.”  

Jiang Quyan did the math. “A nine-year sentence means he was imprisoned in 1989….” Suddenly, his body tensed in realization. “They were the officers who tortured me during interrogations!”  

At this point, Guan Zhengying finally spoke his second sentence since boarding the yacht. “Have you confirmed their motive?”  

“Zhang Baotai endured extreme torture but refused to talk. Chen Sihao, however, claimed they planned the attack out of resentment for being reported and imprisoned. They wanted to retaliate by harming Miss Guan.” Mai Xuwen’s report was methodical. “As for Vincent, he was likely collateral damage. They didn’t know he was in the car at the time.”  

“But we suspect there’s more to it. If this was truly revenge, they had plenty of opportunities to fire fatal shots. Yet, in the end, no one was killed, and even serious injuries were avoided. Their so-called revenge doesn’t add up.”  

“Moreover, considering Zhang Baotai’s financial situation, it’s unlikely he could come up with 40,000 in cash to pay Chen Sihao. We suspect there may be a higher power backing them.”  

Guan Zhengying raised an eyebrow. “No way to get the name of their backer?”  

Mai Xuwen lowered his head in shame. “That was my failure.”  

From start to finish, Zhang Baotai’s expression remained icy. He hadn’t spoken a word. His body was a mangled mess, barely resembling a human form. His hands and feet had been broken, and even his fingernails had been pulled out. If he still refused to talk at this point, he never would.  

Guan Zhengying didn’t waste any more time. He turned to Jiang Quyan. “They tortured you all those years ago. Today, I leave their fate in your hands. Do whatever you wish with them.”  

Jiang Quyan understood—Guan Zhengying had brought him here so he could witness their fate firsthand.

Fifteen years ago, he had missed his chance. He wouldn’t miss it again.

Summoning his courage, he stepped up to Zhang Baotai. “At this point, even if you survive, you’ll be nothing more than a beggar on the streets, won’t you?”

Zhang Baotai clearly hadn’t expected to see Jiang Quyan again—let alone at Guan Zhengying’s side.  

“You see, fate is funny that way,” Jiang Quyan mused. “Back then, you were the cop, and I was nothing. A mere flick of your finger could send me to hell.”  

“Now, I’m a Vice President, and you’re nothing. You don’t even have the value of a pawn anymore.”  

For the first time, anger flickered across Zhang Baotai’s disfigured face.  

But Jiang Quyan no longer feared him. Turning to Guan Zhengying, he said, “I don’t want to see them ever again.”

Guan Zhengying nodded, signaling the bodyguards to drag the two men away for disposal.  

Cleaning staff came in to tidy up the scene, wiping away the bloodstains and spraying air freshener to remove the lingering odor. Mai Xuwen cleared the cabin, allowing the waitstaff to serve dinner. However, after the earlier ordeal, Jiang Quyan had no appetite for the exquisite dishes, candlelight, and fresh flowers before him.  

Guan Zhengying could tell what he was thinking. “This ‘mastermind’ wanted to use Chen Sihao and Zhang Baotai’s past grudges against me to disguise the incident as a simple personal vendetta, keeping himself out of the picture. He even went to the trouble of digging up these two men, but unfortunately for him, he wasn’t thorough enough and left loose ends.”  

“But we don’t have any proof of who this mastermind is.” Jiang Quyan knew exactly who Guan Zhengying was suspecting.  

Guan Zhengying placed his spoon down in his bowl, the porcelain clinking sharply against the rim. “The incident happened in Wan Chai. No matter what, my brother-in-law can’t absolve himself of responsibility. Even if these men won’t give up a name, I’m going to make sure he pays for this.”  

Jiang Quyan wasn’t worried about this former Taiping Shan gang boss’s methods or judgment. “It’s strange. If he really wanted to cut ties completely, he could have just killed all four of them—why leave the two most crucial ones alive? And how could he be sure they wouldn’t turn on him?”

“If they all died, I’d be more suspicious. He had to leave some alive to deal with me,” Guan Zhengying said. “As for those two small-time crooks full of weaknesses, controlling them wouldn’t be difficult.”  

Jiang Quyan recalled something from the past. “It’s their families! Chen Sihao has a woman—he mentioned her back in the interrogation room. They must have taken his family hostage.”  

Guan Zhengying called Mai Xuwen back in. “Look into Chen Sihao’s family—his woman and his child. Preferably find them alive. If possible, bring them here.”  

Mai Xuwen took the order and left.  

That night’s meal was French cuisine. The main course was smoked cold beef tongue with asparagus. Jiang Quyan took one bite but couldn’t shake the taste of blood in his throat. He set his knife and fork down and refused to eat any more. His mind was filled with images of Zhang Baotai’s torn flesh, making his stomach churn. But he didn’t dare show his nausea in front of the boss, not wanting to spoil his appetite. His face turned pale from holding it in.  

At that moment, he longed for something more familiar. “I want boat congee. I don’t want to eat this.”  

Guan Zhengying, amused by his reaction, instructed the staff, “Tell the kitchen to make a pot of boat congee—cook it until it’s soft. Cancel the rest of the courses and replace them with steamed giant grouper in scallion oil, salted egg bitter melon stew, and shrimp paste Chinese kale.” After a pause, he added, “And a bowl of double snow fungus soup with almonds—make it sweet and serve it immediately.”  

Jiang Quyan only felt better after having the sweet soup. “Western food is always the same. No matter how much you eat, nothing beats Chinese cuisine.”  

Guan Zhengying had originally planned for a romantic atmosphere—French cuisine and candlelight were all part of it. “You’re only good at eating sweet things.”  

“I just like eating sweet things. What’s it to you?” Jiang Quyan retorted playfully.  

Guan Zhengying enjoyed this spoiled side of him. “I can’t control you. Tell you to take a break, and you run off to the film set. If everyone were as dedicated as you, I’d be laughing in my sleep as a boss.”  

“She’s your ‘real daughter,’ after all,” Jiang Quyan shot him a glare. “Why else would I care so much? I have hundreds of models under me—do you see me accompanying every single one to their shoots?” He twirled his spoon smugly. “This shoot turned out really well. Once the editing is done, I guarantee Ah Xue will be a sensation. In three to five years, she’ll be the highest-paid model in Hong Kong. After that, she’ll have a much easier time going international.”  

Guan Zhengying had no doubts about his professional judgment. “I’ve seen the footage. The director has skill.”  

“He just won an international award—very experienced, and he knows how to film women beautifully.”  

“You know him well? Have you worked together a lot?”  

“Not really. When he was still an assistant director, before he became famous, we collaborated twice.”  

“I heard from Ah Xue that he used to film you.”  

Jiang Quyan didn’t really want to revisit that part of his past. “That was over ten years ago—I don’t even remember it myself.”  

Guan Zhengying picked up a piece of fish, speaking casually. “Seems like he remembers you well enough. He still has your photos from back then.”  

Jiang Quyan found his tone a little odd. He tried not to dwell on any hidden meanings. “Photographers are like that. One day, you’re their ‘Venus,’ the next day, someone else is. If you ask them who their favorite is, they might even give you a detailed list, categorized by body type, face, runway walk, and net worth. They’re all playboys.”  

Guan Zhengying said seriously, “Then you should avoid those people. It’s not good for your reputation.”  

Jiang Quyan obediently agreed. “Got it. I don’t like hanging out with them anyway. You know me—I have simple and boring hobbies. Watching soccer, chatting, eating late-night snacks, maybe sailing with Jiajun once in a while.”  

“I think that’s good. No need for too many hobbies. The important thing is that they’re healthy.”  

“Well, playing golf like you is definitely the healthiest.”  

“Want to learn? We can go play tomorrow.”  

“No, no, I don’t have the life of a rich man. I won’t pick up those fancy habits.”  

Guan Zhengying chuckled in a low voice, genuinely pleased. Seeing him in a good mood, Jiang Quyan finally relaxed.  

At first, he hadn’t thought too much when they boarded the yacht, but as dinner went on, something felt increasingly off. Guan Zhengying was acting strangely. Leaving aside the candlelight, flowers, and French food—which he never cared for—he wasn’t even fond of Western cuisine. Every time they went out to eat, they stuck to a few favorite Cantonese restaurants, rarely switching things up, let alone dining at sea. Even when they did, it was always for a specific reason.  

He could understand that dealing with Zhang Baotai and Chen Sihao was easier offshore. But Guan Zhengying had always kept him away from these bloody matters. Even Guan Zhengying himself admitted that he had been well protected in this regard. Besides, the hitmen weren’t even targeting him—so why was Guan Zhengying showing him all of this so vividly and in such detail?

Jiang Quyan wasn’t entirely sure why Guan Zhengying had brought him onto the yatch today.  

If it was to help him vent his past grievances, to give him the chance to personally judge those scumbags, he was grateful. But could it also be that Guan Zhengying was using this as an opportunity to warn him, to remind him of the consequences of betrayal?  

Boss Guan’s favor was as unpredictable as thunder and rain—if he was pleased, he might reward him with a VP title; if not, he could just as easily throw him into the sea to feed the fish.

Thinking of this, Jiang Quyan felt a little aggrieved.

Guan Zhengying was suspicious and domineering, traits shaped by his life experiences. He had been betrayed and schemed against too many times. Sometimes, a little extra caution was unavoidable. But being the one under suspicion now, Jiang Quyan couldn’t help but feel a sourness rising in his heart.

“Can you not bring me to see these things anymore…?” Jiang tested the waters, watching Guan Zhengying’s expression. “All this blood and gore… I’m a little scared.”  

Guan Zhengying knew he was shaken. “Alright, you won’t have to see it again.” Then, he finally explained his true intention. “I just think… There are some things you should start learning about, getting used to. In the future, you might have to take charge and make decisions, and it’s better to start preparing now rather than being caught off guard later.”  

“Huh?” Jiang Quyan was utterly confused. What was he supposed to take charge of in the future?  

Guan Zhengying continued, “At the end of the day, this all stems from internal family matters. The family has grown bigger now, and inevitably, some people will stir up trouble. After thinking it over, I’ve decided that someone needs to handle internal affairs. You’ve mentored Ah Xue well, and Ah Hong and the others are familiar with you. I want you to oversee the family’s internal affairs from now on.”