Chapter 58: The Lion (18)

Before the casino's opening, Tan Zhao hadn’t been to Ke’an for several days.

On the afternoon of October 28th, he spoke with Wen Mingzhe again.

Previously, Wen Mingzhe suspected that Tan Zhao had betrayed him, causing the death of his customs contact from their hometown. But on second thought, such an act wouldn’t benefit Tan Zhao—if Tan Zhao was following Wen Mingwei’s plan to deceive him, the target could only be Wen Mingzhe himself; it made no sense to alert him before capturing him.

“Wen Mingwei suspects you?” Tan Zhao asked.

The phone lay flat on the desk. Tan Zhao, wearing a Bluetooth earpiece, stood by the window listening. The voice in the earpiece said, “I’ve said it before, he’s suspicious by nature. I know him better than you do.”

Tan Zhao didn’t refute. Wen Mingzhe, mistaking his silence for helplessness, asked anxiously, “Do you have a plan? Can you handle it?”

“Hmm,” Tan Zhao replied, his tone flat, “Suspicions are one thing; proof is another.”

Wen Mingzhe said, “We’ve already invested heavily. Now that we’re committed, it’s too late to back out—”

When he said “we,” it was really Wen Mingzhe’s money; Tan Zhao contributed effort but no capital. Billions had been poured into purchasing the resort, converting it into a casino, and front-loading manpower, materials, and promotion.

Wen Mingzhe clenched his teeth in pain, worried Tan Zhao might abandon the project and let his fortune go down the drain. His tone softened, “There’s an old saying: distrust not those you employ, and don’t employ those you distrust. We’re allies now, bound on the same ship, so don’t let discord creep in. If you have any problems you can’t solve, I’m here. Just tell me.”

It was rare for Wen Mingzhe to say something so sincere. Before Tan Zhao could praise him, he added, “Since Wen Mingwei already suspects you, it’s not convenient to make any moves soon. Pause everything else; focus on stabilizing him and preparing for the casino’s opening.”

The implication was clear: Wen Mingzhe intended to lay low, making it even harder for Tan Zhao to meet him.

After the call ended, Tan Zhao removed the earpiece and fell silent for a moment.

Everyone instinctively seeks gain and avoids harm. Wen Mingzhe knew the most important thing was life itself, then money. If Tan Zhao followed that logic, the best move was to do nothing and obey Wen Mingwei.

But Tan Zhao was no longer willing to yield; desire and ambition stirred within him. He wanted everything he longed for—life was not the most important thing, nor was money.

He could not hide, nor did he want to turn back.

**

In early November, the casino opened.

Thanks to extensive prior promotion and the fact that local capital almost monopolized Ke’an’s gambling industry—with no new large casinos emerging for a long time—the opening day drew a huge crowd.

The ribbon-cutting ceremony was grand. Neither Tan Zhao nor Wen Mingzhe, the behind-the-scenes owners, appeared in public—one for convenience, the other out of fear.

Overseeing everything front-stage was Wen Mingzhe’s trusted aide, Wu An, a man in his thirties with an unremarkable appearance but some sharpness. Having grown up abroad in a triad family, he was straightforward and blunt by nature.

Wu An’s official role was to “assist” Tan Zhao, but in reality, he monitored him. He rarely interfered with management, focusing instead on what Tan Zhao was doing—occasionally reviewing financial reports and new hire lists for anomalies.

At first, he was highly vigilant, but as time passed and tasks became mundane, his guard inevitably lowered.

Tan Zhao, having observed Wu An’s behavior, knew the pattern well. Once the ribbon-cutting was over and his presence no longer needed, Wu An retreated backstage to an employee lounge and made a routine call to Wen Mingzhe.

Tan Zhao stood at the lounge door, listening in.

Wu An said, “Don’t worry, everything’s going smoothly… A group came to cause trouble—probably competitors—but Tan Shao was prepared and had them dealt with… He seems genuinely invested in the casino, not just pretending.”

The door wasn’t fully closed, and through the crack came Wen Mingzhe’s muffled curse: “Nonsense! He takes half my cut. Of course he cares where the money goes!”

Wu An responded repeatedly, then hesitated before saying, “Big Brother, how long do I have to stay here? Maybe you could find someone to take my shift?”

It seemed he found the daily grind at the casino dull—no risk involved, but no reward either.

After gathering courage to ask, Wen Mingzhe gave no friendly reply, merely said, “Stay put,” and hung up.

At that moment, Tan Zhao pushed the door open.

Wu An turned, startled for a moment, then politely said, “Tan Shao, what are you doing here?”

Today, Tan Zhao wore a smoky gray suit, his hair freshly trimmed shorter and neater, giving him a somewhat cold and distant air when not smiling.

But it was only a superficial chill. After a month’s acquaintance, Wu An had realized this young master wasn’t so difficult to get along with—not the aloof “high-ranking ally” he had expected.

Tan Zhao responded with a nod and sat opposite him, seemingly just taking a break.

To ease the atmosphere, Wu An opened a pack of cigarettes, took one out, and lit it for Tan Zhao.

Used to serving Wen Mingzhe, Wu An’s gesture was practiced and smooth. Tan Zhao accepted it naturally, inhaling deeply, then, through the curling smoke, chatted casually, “You want to return abroad?”

Wu An smiled sheepishly, “Haha, just venting a little.”

Tan Zhao feigned puzzlement, “Isn’t it better to stay here? Once the casino grows, you’ll be an executive—less work, more money. Much easier than dodging bullets overseas.”

Wu An’s expression faltered; he wanted to object but wasn’t close enough to Tan Zhao to speak frankly, so he politely agreed, “It’s pretty good, yes.”

Tan Zhao nodded, “I’ll inform President Wen and see about promoting you. Your compensation can improve.”

“No, no,” Wu An couldn’t help but laugh, “Your generosity overwhelms me. Please don’t trouble yourself.”

“What’s wrong?”

“I’m from Pubang,” Wu An said, “Used to a wild life outside. Clocking in here every day is just so dull.”

“…”

Tan Zhao glanced at him. Wu An’s eyes darted away; he lit another cigarette for himself, then smiled up. Beneath his superficial naivety lay a sharp mind—it was clearly an excuse.

“I don’t have the leisure you imagine. I can’t live an easy life.”

Tan Zhao didn’t press further. He smoked silently, then stubbed out his cigarette.

Wu An thought he was leaving, but Tan Zhao remained seated, picking up the pack to light a second cigarette himself.

“I think I know why,” Tan Zhao said after a pause. “Wen Mingzhe is busy consolidating overseas operations, keeping his key assistants close. You were sent here as an outsider, sidelined, with no chance to prove yourself or reap benefits.”

“…”

Wu An’s expression shifted slightly.

Tan Zhao dropped the pretense and teased, “Actually, if you have ideas, there’s opportunity anywhere. The rules inside and outside the country are the same—just different ways of playing. If you’re bold, you can join me and play a different game.”

“... Like what?”