Chapter 59: The Lion (19)

"For instance, first discard the mindset of seeking merits."

Tan Zhao cut open a crab, skillfully separating the roe and the meat, placed them on a porcelain plate, and handed it to Wen Mingwei across the dining table.

Recently, Tan Zhao had been frequently away on business, and the times they shared dinner together were few.

Every time he returned, he would recount his recent progress.

Wen Mingwei listened patiently, smiling as he asked, "And then?"

Tan Zhao wiped his fingers clean and said, "Wu An is a native of Pubang, who has scraped together a living with local gangs since childhood. He hasn't had many years of education and his horizon is limited. Choosing the strongest boss to follow within his own capacity is the survival strategy of his kind. Risking one's life to win merits for the boss is the only path to advancement. The fact that he managed to rise from a nobody to Wen Mingzhe's side shows that he is quite capable and has put in a lot of effort."

Wen Mingwei nodded, picked up a piece of crab meat personally peeled by Tan Zhao, tasted it, and kept his eyes fixed on Tan Zhao.

"I asked him if he had ever considered that he actually doesn't need a boss? When someone sets a ceiling for himself, with someone else always pressing down from above, the road upward isn't blocked by others—it's blocked by himself."

Tan Zhao packaged the act of subversion as if he were there to save the other person. Wen Mingwei smiled again: "What did he say? Does he listen to you?"

"Whether he listens or not simply depends on the conditions I offer."

And whether the charisma Tan Zhao displayed was convincing; people with the instinct to follow the strong are hard to be moved by the weak.

"When a person's moral standards are not exceptionally high," Tan Zhao said, "if he is unwilling to do something, it means the risk is too high, exceeding the limit he can bear. Or the reward is too low, making it better to maintain the status quo."

Wen Mingwei agreed wholeheartedly: "So theoretically, there is no one who cannot be betrayed."

He suddenly added this remark, which seemed to carry a hidden meaning. Tan Zhao choked slightly for a moment, then continued: "Furthermore, take it step by step, lure him from small things to big ones. First, tentatively let him do a small task. Once he tastes the sweetness, the second task becomes easier to accept. Drug addicts always start their exposure to drugs with the 'snacks' of the lowest toxicity."

"..."

Tan Zhao was clear-headed, resolute, and his tone grew increasingly calm. As Wen Mingwei listened, he drifted off slightly, letting his gaze sweep over Tan Zhao's hands folded on the table to stare at his face.

Two people who had been sleeping in the same bed for a long time found it difficult to notice subtle changes in each other's appearance. Tan Zhao's facial features seemed deeper than before, with a high brow ridge and pronounced eye sockets, a three-dimensional face with clear shadows, and a superior jawline in the lower half of his face. The slight tremor of his jaw while speaking could capture a person's entire attention.

Where had he changed? It was hard to put into finger.

Perhaps it was because Wen Mingwei always subconsciously thought he should be softer and more endearing, yet he was not.

Wen Mingwei asked, "What was the first 'snack' you fed him?"

"Lying," Tan Zhao said. "Making him weave a few falsehoods into his routine reports to Wen Mingzhe."

Wen Mingwei sighed with a hint of irony, offering a disguised compliment: "When I was locked in a fierce battle with Wen Mingzhe back then, why didn't I have an assistant as clever as you by my side?"

"Wasn't Jian Qingzheng clever?"

The words slipped out of Tan Zhao's mouth. After he finished speaking, the atmosphere fell into a subtle stagnation, and both of them remained silent.

Wen Mingwei was merely making a casual remark, not expecting Tan Zhao to pick up the thread of conversation so readily. After deciding to reconcile, they had tacitly swept everything under the rug and hadn't mentioned Jian Qingzheng for a long time.

Logically speaking, in this situation, Wen Mingwei should have coaxed him a little, saying something like "He wasn't as clever as you" or "Let's not mention him again, now there is only you and me." Yet, Tan Zhao unexpectedly didn't need to be coaxed and took the initiative to change the subject: "Let's eat first, it will get cold soon."

Tan Zhao cut open a second crab, processing this one very slowly. He stared intently at his hands, not even raising his head as he said, "As long as Wu An is willing to cooperate, everything that follows will be easy to handle."

He was continuing the previous topic, but Tan Zhao seemed somewhat absent-minded and stopped elaborating.

Wen Mingwei did not press him for details of his plan either. They finished dinner together, took a short walk in the garden, and then one stayed in the living room while the other went to the study, each busy with their own affairs.

It was primarily Tan Zhao who was busy; Wen Mingwei merely sat in the living room reading a book—a novel he had been reading for half a month without finishing, repeatedly flipping back to review the forgotten previous chapter. After turning only a few pages, the housekeeper came over to serve tea and told him, "Miss Jian is here."

Jian Xinning had been visiting frequently lately. With the political situation in chaos and matters numerous and complex during this period, what she cared about most was still the arms deal at the end of the year.

The buyer had already been negotiated, but due to various considerations, the shipping route and delivery time kept dragging on and could not be finalized.

Jian Xinning knew Wen Mingwei's style of work very well; the more critical the moment, the more he needed to ensure nothing went wrong. His most confident route was in the Southeast region, and had it not been for Wen Mingzhe jumping out of nowhere, the delivery would likely have been completed by now.

Jian Xinning guessed that Wen Mingwei was waiting for Tan Zhao.

Only if Tan Zhao failed to produce a good result would he settle for second best and consider changing routes.

As for Jian Xinning's visit this time, aside from the routine official report, she also brought some other news, unsure whether it was worth reporting.

She sat beside Wen Mingwei, accepted the tea he poured personally, and while appearing as close as siblings, she still harbored a trace of reserve. Hesitating for a moment, she said, "Brother, recently the Tan Group seems to be acting a bit unusual..."

"Unusual?"

"Yes, starting last month, they have continuously injected capital into some obscure, unknown small companies."

Jian Xinning handed over detailed documents. "Logically speaking, small companies of this scale have no technical patents, offer a low return on investment, and might even lose money. They shouldn't catch the eye of the Tan Group. I don't know how the higher-ups managed to approve this..."

Wen Mingwei's tea-drinking motion paused. Jian Xinning continued, "I investigated these companies. Although their fields vary, they all have clean backgrounds with nothing out of the ordinary. If there is a problem, the problem can only lie with the Tan Group itself."

However, when a large conglomerate ran into trouble, it was usually due to a cash crunch; she had never seen anyone scatter money outward like the Tan Group was doing, as if they were running a charity.

Jian Xinning could not fathom the reason behind it and suspected she might be overly sensitive and paranoid, and that the Tan Group might simply be earning social prestige by supporting small and medium-sized enterprises.

Considering Tan Zhao's special identity, however, she felt it necessary to give Wen Mingwei a heads-up.

After finishing, Jian Xinning left.

Wen Mingwei resumed reading the tedious novel, the words on the page appearing even more unreadable. In less than ten minutes, he tossed the book aside, called out "Gu Jing," and said, "Xinning is too busy to spare the energy. Find someone more suitable to keep an eye on the Tan Group's affairs."

Gu Jing acknowledged the order, conveniently helped tidy up the book, and when he looked up again, Wen Mingwei had already gone upstairs to find Tan Zhao.

**

When Wen Mingwei entered the study, Tan Zhao was not actually working.

He was smoking by the window. Hearing the door open, the moment he turned his head, the wisps of smoke were dispersed by a faint airflow, partially shrouding half his face in a hazy blur.

Seeing Wen Mingwei, Tan Zhao immediately stubbed out the cigarette and opened the window to let the smoke drift out, acting as if the scent were poisonous and must not be inhaled by Wen Mingwei.

Wen Mingwei, however, paid no heed. He picked up the cigarette case from the desk, glanced at the brand name, and casually lit one himself.

"Since when did you start smoking?"

"Not... very long ago."

Tan Zhao answered vaguely. Wen Mingwei recalled and found a memory: the faint taste of tobacco he had tasted on Tan Zhao's lips during their first kiss was the night he returned from Ke'an City in early October.

Wen Mingwei walked up to Tan Zhao, wrapped his arms around him, and smiled slightly with the slender cigarette clamped between his teeth. The glowing tip of the cigarette almost singed his cascading long hair, which Tan Zhao reached out to brush aside, letting Wen Mingwei lean against him.

"You learn bad habits quickly," Wen Mingwei said. "I don't like you smoking."

"Aren't you smoking too."

Tan Zhao wanted to take the cigarette from his mouth, but Wen Mingwei bit down without letting go, pulling slightly. Wen Mingwei pressed his entire body close, blowing a cloud of smoke right into Tan Zhao's face.

Unable to resist any longer, Tan Zhao finally pulled the cigarette away, but his next move was not to throw it away, but to place it in his own mouth.

"..." Tan Zhao took a drag from the spot where Wen Mingwei had bitten, holding it tightly as if in an indirect kiss, took another drag, his eyes warming up. His hand found the small of Wen Mingwei's back, pressing him against his body.

Pressed so closely together, any physical reaction was glaringly obvious.

Wen Mingwei took the initiative to unbuckle his belt and fish him out. Tan Zhao's face, half-hidden behind the smoke, flushed slightly, but he didn't stand on ceremony either. Enjoying the service of Wen Mingwei's fingers, his breathing gradually grew heavier. He turned and pushed Wen Mingwei against the windowsill, pressing close to his slender, fair neck to finish the last puff of smoke. His hands trembled slightly, the sensation intense, but before it was over, Wen Mingwei suddenly let go.

Tan Zhao was left awkwardly stuck, subconsciously thrusting forward, but Wen Mingwei gripped his neck and pushed him away. There was not much force, but it inexplicably carried the flavor of a reprimand, tightening his breath and depriving him of oxygen.

"Mingwei," Tan Zhao murmured in a low voice, knowing to admit his fault, "I won't smoke anymore."

This was the first time he had used this form of address to Wen Mingwei in person, yet Wen Mingwei refused to buy it, hinting cryptically, "What about other things?"

"... What other things?"

Wen Mingwei refused to spell it out, demanding that Tan Zhao confess voluntarily. Yet Tan Zhao kept his confession unmade, his expression somewhat innocent yet agonizingly difficult to endure. The unsatisfied physiological anxiety surged upward from his lower body, and even the back of his neck began to burn. He felt that Wen Mingwei's grip on his neck was growing slightly heavier, continuing to tighten further.

Meeting the restraint, Tan Zhao thrust himself forward, his remaining sliver of sobriety reminding him that doing so was right—Wen Mingwei liked it.

Yet Wen Mingwei remained somewhat dissatisfied, watching him silently for a few seconds before withdrawing his hand.

The deliberate act of compliance just now had already been his limit; Tan Zhao could not even remain well-behaved for three seconds. Left hanging and feeling thoroughly miserable all over, he pinned Wen Mingwei back, shoved him against the windowsill again, yanked down his own trousers, and thrust deep between his thighs.

Wen Mingwei was dressed lightly at home, wearing only a single layer beneath his loungewear. His thighs were forced tightly together, leaving his whole body immobilized, and his long hair whipped through the air with the impacts. Tan Zhao caught a handful of it, gripped it tightly, and lowered his head to kiss him.

"There are no other things," Tan Zhao panted softly, "I love you."

"..."

Wen Mingwei froze for a moment, all remaining words and the reactions of resistance he should have made blocked back by this single sentence. They finished all the way through right by the window. Afterward, feeling somewhat guilty, Tan Zhao went back to the bedroom to wash Wen Mingwei's hair himself—he hadn't been able to restrain himself earlier and had intentionally gotten it into his hair.

An inexplicable conversation had ended just as it began. Clearly nothing had been discussed, yet it seemed both understood what the other wanted to say without needing to spell it out.

Wen Mingwei was not very happy, but he rarely showed it on his face; he simply fell somewhat silent while his hair was being washed.

Afterward, Tan Zhao helped him blow-dry his hair, gently and meticulously drying it strand by strand—virtually an attitude of atonement. Wen Mingwei wanted to smile, finally understanding why he had felt displeased just now—

Tan Zhao's utterance of "I love you" also sounded like a line spoken for atonement.

The reason Wen Mingwei's emotions remained stable was precisely because he was accustomed to excavating and deconstructing all the emotions within his own heart.

Once any emotion had its underlying logic exposed and the "why" sorted out, it became controllable and ceased to pose a threat.