Chapter 127: Apologize to Me, and Maybe I’ll Still Give You a Chance

Chapter 127: Apologize to Me, and Maybe I’ll Still Give You a Chance

In the end, blood ran thicker than water.

It was a deeply rooted belief among Chinese people. How many adopted children grew up and went searching for the parents who bore them—some abandoning the adoptive parents who had raised them to go back to their birth parents. In truth it could be a terribly ungrateful thing. But traditional belief simply worked that way.

Blood ties were given tremendous importance.

Lu Guangnian’s case was not quite that. He had never raised Ma Jiawei a single day, but only because he had never known. The one he had truly wronged was Ma Huifang. Where his son was concerned, all he had ever wanted was to make up for as much as he could.

He wanted his son back—and he meant to leave him the whole of his commercial empire, all eight billion yuan of it.

Nor was it greed that finally broke Ma Jiawei. It was simply that, as a human being, whatever else was true, he could not stand there and watch his own father beaten until he spat blood and do nothing.

A self-injury ruse.

Wu Chen’s self-injury ruse. Simple. Effective.

Wu Chen chased perfection, and he had warned Lu Guangnian again and again that not one step could go wrong. In practice, though, small flaws would not have mattered. Even if Ma Huifang caught something and suspected they were acting, it would not have been fatal.

As long as she did not see through the moment he spat blood, that was enough.

The blood was fake, of course.

He had tucked a small stage blood packet into his mouth beforehand—obtained while the two of them were eating, when Lu Guangnian made a call and got one through a connection from a film crew currently shooting in Donghai.

Wu Chen simply did not believe that mother and son could hold themselves back after watching Lu Guangnian beaten until blood came out of his mouth. Anyone who could would hardly be human. And Wu Chen knew these two. He knew they were ordinary people. Decent people.

Ninth floor.

Once Ma Jiawei was out the door, he fought like a man gone mad.

The guards had genuinely hit Lu Guangnian, but they had kept it measured. Ma Jiawei did not. He might be a programmer, but he had Lu Guangnian’s genes: tall, and in decent shape.

His attack left them stunned, because they could not truly fight back—and if they faked it, he would notice.

“Enough! Enough! All of you, stop!” Ma Huifang’s scream came so suddenly that every hand froze.

Her eyes were red, tears already running down her face. She pressed a hand over her mouth, turned, and went back inside—then, seconds later, came out again, crossed to the wall, and hauled Lu Guangnian up by force.

Ma Jiawei saw and went straight over. Together, mother and son lifted the badly beaten man to his feet. He seemed unable to stand, so they took his weight between them and helped him inside.

Bang!

The door of Apartment 901 was pulled shut hard from within, leaving only a few glowering guards outside, tempers apparently still unspent.

Wu Chen, who had watched every second of it, stood, picked up the walkie-talkie from the desk, and said, “That’s a wrap. Good work.”

His voice sounded in the lead guard’s earpiece.

He set the radio down, straightened his suit, and walked out of the surveillance room.

He could go now.

Completely settled.

Ma Huifang loved Lu Guangnian. The more she had loved him then, the more she hated him now. What she could not get past was the barrier inside her own heart.

Once Lu Guangnian learned the truth about Liu Caixiu, he got divorced the very next day. So neither of them was married or attached. They were each other’s first love. The only obstacle to their coming back together was that barrier in her heart.

And the moment she helped him back inside—the moment she brought him through her own door of her own will—that barrier broke. She had softened. There would be no second possibility after this. The only ending left was a family made whole.

Wu Chen had no intention of involving himself in the rest of it.

Lu Guangnian’s second favor was already in hand.

The man could handle what remained himself.

Outside the complex, Wu Chen returned to the Lamborghini at the curb. He took out his phone, found the number that had called him and that he had called back, and removed it from his blacklist. He had blocked the man earlier, while he and Lu Guangnian were out getting haircuts.

Deliberately. Just to let him stew.

Now it was time for the real business.

He pulled out and drove straight for Tree Island Café in East City.

A little over ten minutes later—

Ring, ring…

Wu Chen picked up and answered at once.

“What the fuck are you playing at? You blocked me, didn’t you? Are you fucking with me?” The deep voice was thick with rage. The man had no idea how Wu Chen knew he was a double agent, or how he knew about the assets he was quietly moving overseas.

He was afraid. Genuinely afraid.

But they had set a time, and Wu Chen had not come. He kept saying he was busy, and then the calls stopped going through at all.

The man had lost count of how many times he had dialed that afternoon. His temper had gotten worse with every attempt. He had been on the verge of trying from another number—and then, out of nowhere, this one connected.

“Apologize to me, and maybe I’ll still give you a chance,” Wu Chen said calmly into the phone.

“You want me to apologize to you? I’m telling you, I’ll find out who you are, I—”

Wu Chen hung up before he finished.

He kept driving.

One minute later.

Ring, ring…

He picked up again.

“Brother! Brother, I don’t want a fight with you. When are you coming? Just give me an answer. I—”

Wu Chen hung up again.

Half a minute later.

The phone rang. He answered.

“I was wrong. I’m sorry. I apologize. Just tell me—when are you coming?” The deep voice was apologizing, but the fury underneath it was unmistakable.

“Fifteen minutes,” Wu Chen said, and hung up once more.

A little over ten minutes later.

East City. Old Drum Street. Outside Tree Island Café.

The café did not front the main road, though the location was hardly out of the way. Old Drum Street sat in Donghai’s old commercial district—the old city now, but the foot traffic through it was heavy every day of the week. The surrounding buildings were all low, giving the place a feeling at once busy and unhurried.

Wu Chen parked the Lamborghini at the curb.

He got out, glanced at his watch, then looked up at the Tree Island Café sign.

Judging by the exterior, it was the tasteful, arty sort of place.

He started for the door. Before he reached it, a young couple who had only just gone in came back out, their faces plainly uneasy, murmuring “that’s scary” and “let’s find another place.”

As Wu Chen passed them, the boy—college age—took a look at him and said quietly, “Hey, man, don’t go in. Looks like somebody’s making trouble in there.”

“Go somewhere else. It’s really scary,” the girl added under her breath, tense, as though afraid of being overheard.

Kindhearted, the two of them.

“Thank you.” Wu Chen smiled and thanked them politely—then walked in anyway, one hand in his suit pocket.

The couple glanced back, decided not to get involved any further, and hurried off.

The moment Wu Chen stepped inside, dozens of pairs of eyes swung toward him.

The atmosphere really was intimidating.