Chapter 57 Exclusive Release: Chapter 57 has been quietly surging for five years...
Yuan Ning ultimately did not go to see Meng Qianyue.
That person seemed to remain forever in her heart in the most beautiful form—the last time she was with him, he was excitedly helping her pack her luggage for the new semester.
Looking back now, it feels like a lifetime ago.
She and Elias sat in first class on their flight to New York, her heart calm and resolute.
The plane cruised smoothly in the stratosphere, with an eternal expanse of azure and sea of clouds outside the window, like a pure land without past or future.
In Hushi, Meng Qingxing held the letter of intent for cooperation with the words "Feitian Capital" printed in gold lettering, his knuckles turning white.
Not long ago, Yuan Ning officially established her own company to carry out various businesses. Percival Capital remains an investor and is still her strongest backer.
Meng Qingxing took the contract to Meng Qianyue's office. The terms of the agreement were clear, ruthless, and extremely professional.
Feitian Capital will acquire a 51% stake in the Yunjin International project and introduce an international design team and engineering management firm. Meng's Enterprises will retain a 30% stake but will lose decision-making power, becoming a financial investor. The remaining 19% will be held by a state-owned asset platform designated by the local government to ensure the project complies with the overall planning of the new district.
Meng Qianyue sat in his large executive chair, his back to his son and the spread-out agreement, his gaze vacant, as if he were looking at something, yet also as if he wasn't looking at anything at all.
"Dad, the daughter you gave birth to for us is truly remarkable!"
“Flying to the Sky…” Meng Qianyue finally spoke. He slowly turned back into his chair, his gaze falling on that name, as if piercing through it.
“She’s flying!” Meng Qingxing interjected. “She’s already flying over all of our heads!”
“…Sign it.” Meng Qianyue closed his eyes and leaned back in his chair. “I’m prepared to no longer interfere in the company’s affairs. You two siblings can discuss the rest with your mother.”
Three months later, at Milan Fashion Week, Casanova held its first independent show, opting not for a traditional venue, but instead booking an old hall inside the Sforza Castle.
The rough stone walls, the towering vaulted ceilings, and the lingering scent of iron and leather in the air create a strange tension with the theme the brand is about to present.
The invitation was minimalist: a pure black card with only one word embossed in "sighing blue": ORIGIN.
The guest list includes directors of the world's top museums, representatives of important private art foundations, discerning collectors, and a select few fashion critics who truly appreciate craftsmanship and narrative.
Before the show began, Yuan Ning stood alone in the shadows backstage, peering through the gaps in the curtain at the gradually filling audience seats.
The private dinner the day after the press conference was held in another, more secluded hall of the castle. Yuan Ning moved among the guests, accepting congratulations, discussing potential collaborations, and behaving with impeccable manners and ease.
Elias was equally busy with social engagements. Partners at Percival Capital, Italian bankers, representatives of Swiss collectible funds… he remained at the center of a vast network of capital.
As midnight approached, the guests gradually dispersed. Yuan Ning finally managed to slip away and walked to a secluded corridor in the castle. The cool early autumn night breeze caressed her slightly flushed cheeks.
She heard steady footsteps behind her. She didn't turn around.
Elias walked to her side and leaned against the cool stone railing beside her. Neither of them spoke, but simply gazed at the tranquil shadows cast by the ancient sculptures in the courtyard under the moonlight.
“Very successful.” Elias finally spoke first, his voice unusually deep in the silence. “Congratulations.”
"Thank you," Yuan Ning replied softly.
"I noticed that Women's Wear Daily's headline for your review was 'Meng Yuanning and Her Oriental Renaissance,' with an even more intriguing subtitle: 'The Girl Who Said Goodbye to Van der Berg—How a Parsons Designer Redefines Luxury with the Colors of a Grotto.'"
The report was accompanied by two photos: one was a profile of her standing alone on the stage at last night's press conference, the lights outlining her calm silhouette; the other was a blurry image from six months ago, when she was first photographed by the media as Elias's stylist consultant, walking half a step behind him with her head slightly bowed.
The contrast of time is sharp and stark.
At that time, her eyes still held lingering bewilderment and a forced pride.
She folded the newspaper: "Very good review, I'm very satisfied."
“It’s important to you.” Elias turned to meet her gaze. “It’s important to me too.”
He reached out, not to touch her, but to take a small, dark blue velvet box from the inside pocket of his suit and hand it to her.
Yuan Ning's heart skipped a beat.
But I still took it and opened it.
It wasn't a ring inside, but a brooch.
On the platinum base is a sapphire cut into a unique, irregular shape, as deep as the night sky, surrounded by extremely fine diamonds that outline flowing lines like a flying ribbon.
“This is…” she looked up, her eyes asking.
"That old brooch is a thing of the past. Celebrate your official status as a creator."
Yuan Ning picked up the brooch. The gemstone reflected a deep and dazzling light under the moonlight, and felt cool to the touch.
"Thank you," Yuan Ning said again, this time in a softer, gentler voice.
At seven o'clock in the morning, Dorota opened one-third of the curtains in the master bedroom of No. 1 Willow Street, letting the early autumn morning light shine just on the foot of the bed.
Elias threw back the covers and got up; Yuan Ning beside him was still fast asleep.
He needed to have lunch at 7:15 sharp and depart at 7:45 sharp for the headquarters of Percival Capital to attend the three-way video conference with the Singapore and London branches at 8:30.
At 7:40 a.m., at the restaurant at No. 1 Willow Street.
Sunlight slanted through the tall windows, cutting out geometric patterns of light and shadow on the mahogany dining table.
Elias van der Berg sat to the side of the long table, his back straight.
He had the Financial Times and the Wall Street Journal spread out in front of him, along with a copy of Women's Wear Daily, and a half-finished cup of black coffee beside him.
Seated at the head of the table was Arthur van der Berg, who rarely appeared in restaurants.
Elias put down his coffee cup, wiped his lips with a napkin, and asked his father, "Father, have you read today's Women's Wear Daily?"
Arthur smiled at him. "I never read Women's Wear Daily. What's wrong?"
"You can take a look."
Then, without thinking, he placed the article with Yuan Ning's photo on the homepage and pushed it in front of his father.
On the plate, a perfect Eggs Benedict remains intact as when it was served, the poached egg perfectly round, the hollandaise sauce golden in color, the asparagus lush and straight, and the bacon crispy with curled edges.
Dorotha knew he liked this level of heat.
At 7:45, Arthur left the restaurant first.
A series of hurried, yet deliberately soft, footsteps echoed down the stairs.
The footsteps paused at the restaurant entrance, as if they hesitated.
Elias turned a page of the newspaper, the paper making a crisp sound. He didn't look up.
Yuan Ning appeared at the restaurant entrance. She was wearing a dark blue silk nightgown that she had casually grabbed from the closet in her room the night before.
She was clearly taken aback when she saw Elias still sitting there.
"Sorry, I overslept. I thought you had already left."
Elias didn't look up, his gaze seemingly fixed intently on a financial news item in the newspaper. His fingers unconsciously traced the smooth handle of his ceramic cup, his tone as flat as if he were stating the weather:
"Sit down and eat. I'll take you home later."
She walked to the seat next to him, and Dolotta silently pulled out a chair for her to sit down.
Almost as soon as she sat down, Elias put down the newspaper. He didn't fold it; he just casually pushed it aside.
He placed the perfect Eggs Benedict in front of her.
Dorotha appeared silently and poured her another cup of steaming black coffee.
Once again, only the occasional clinking of cutlery and the rustling of newspapers turning could be heard in the restaurant.
The sunlight moved a little bit more.
Yuan Ning picked up her knife and fork and cut the poached egg. The golden egg yolk slowly flowed out, soaking into the English muffins and ham underneath.
It's crispy and fragrant, with just the right amount of saltiness.
She ate slowly, without looking at him, but she could clearly feel his presence sitting beside her.
Yuan Ning finished the last bite of food and then picked up a napkin to dab her mouth.
Elias put down the newspaper almost simultaneously, folded it neatly, and placed it on the table. He glanced at his watch; it was 7:55.
The two walked out of the restaurant one after the other.
About fifteen minutes later, footsteps were heard again on the stairs.
Yuan Ning was wearing a simple ivory cashmere knit suit, carrying a black clutch and a light gray coat draped over her arm.
Elias's gaze swept quickly over her.
“Let’s go.” He walked towards her, and as he passed by her, he very naturally reached out and took the coat from her arms.
The two walked down the stairs side by side and through the foyer. Charles was already waiting at the door. Upon seeing them, he bowed slightly and then stepped forward to open the back door of the black Bentley for Yuan Ning.
The carriage was kept at a constant temperature. Elias had already taken out his phone and started dealing with work emails.
Yuan Ning also turned on her computer to check her work schedule for the day.
This quiet yet efficient coexistence has become a common scene in countless mornings.
All the little fragments, like a silent stream, flow through each hurried morning.
Five years have quietly flowed by in the study late at night, on intercontinental flights, and in a tacit understanding that speaks volumes without words.
Percival Capital headquarters, top partner meeting room.
A meeting with a completely different atmosphere is taking place here. On one side of the long table are Elias and his core partners and legal team, while on the other side, only Yuan Ning is present.
She had no team behind her, and only a thin laptop and a dark blue leather folder beside her.
On the table lay the "Long-term Strategic Investment and Cooperation Framework Agreement" signed five years ago.
The thick appendices and supplementary clauses record every capital increase, every strategic adjustment, and every milestone performance bet and overachievement over the past five years.
And now, it has come to its final chapter.
“According to Article 7.3 of the agreement, ‘Autonomous Exercise Clause’,” Percival’s Chief Legal Officer stated calmly, with a professional coldness, “at the expiration of the five-year agreement period, and if Flying Capital and its affiliated brands achieve all the preset financial and brand value indicators, the investor, Percival Capital, will gradually withdraw its shares in accordance with the established exit mechanism.”
He paused, then looked at Yuan Ning: "The independent assessment report has been issued by PricewaterhouseCoopers and the brand consulting firm Interbrand, both parties' preferred firms. The report confirms that all indicators have been met, and most have significantly exceeded expectations. The current valuation of the Casanova brand has reached... 870 percent of the estimated value at the time the agreement was signed."
Even the Percival partners, who were used to seeing miracles in the financial world, couldn't help but feel a slight shock when faced with this number.
Eight hundred and seventy percent. This is not a simple return on investment.
And the person who created this reward is sitting quietly opposite them at this moment.
Yuan Ning's gaze swept over the cold numbers and charts on the report, her face showing no surprise or joy; everything was exactly as expected.
She looked up at Elias at the end of the long table.
He sat in the main seat, with his back to the floor-to-ceiling window. The backlighting made his face somewhat blurry, but she vaguely saw a fleeting smile on his face.
The legal officer continued, “Ms. Meng, do you confirm that you are exercising this right? Please note that if you confirm that you are exercising it, Percival Capital will completely withdraw its investment, and your Feitian Capital will operate completely independently and will no longer receive any resource support from Percival Capital in accordance with the agreement.”
All eyes were on Yuan Ning.
Yuan Ning smiled: "It also means that from now on, every penny I earn will belong entirely to me."
No capitalists get a share of the profits.
This is not just a legal process, but also a symbolic moment.
Yuan Ning spoke slowly, her voice clear and without any hesitation: "I confirm that I will proceed."
Five years. From needing his guarantee to borrow a dress and needing his investment to start a project, she has gradually grown into a capital controller who can mobilize top investment bank resources and complete huge buybacks in one go.
Elias looked up from the document and his gaze fell on Yuan Ning's face again.
The "investment targets" he nurtured have now grown so powerful that they no longer need his capital backing. For an investor, this is the greatest success, but it also signifies the inevitable loosening of a close relationship.
“It seems,” Elias finally spoke, his voice as steady and deep as ever, breaking the silence of the conference room, “that our bet from five years ago has yielded returns far exceeding our expectations.”
Yuan Ning met his gaze and nodded slightly: "It's a pleasure to cooperate with you, Mr. van der Berg."
Elias nodded almost imperceptibly. He extended his hand, gesturing to the legal officer.
The subsequent processes were efficient and professional. Both teams held final discussions on details such as the specific closing timeline, final confirmation of intellectual property rights, and transitional arrangements. Yuan Ning handled the situation with ease, providing clear terms and remaining firm on every point, demonstrating a level of experience and strength no less than any of the Percival partners.
Two hours later, all the documents were signed.
Yuan Ning stood up and looked at Elias across the table. This time, she was the one who took the initiative to extend her hand.
Elias stood up and took her hand. His palm was large and warm, his grip steady, seemingly no different from that first handshake five years ago, which had carried an evaluative undertone. Yet, it also seemed that everything was different.
Elias tightened his grip on her hand for a moment, then released it.
"What are the plans next?" he asked, his tone like a typical business greeting.
Yuan Ning blinked: "Sorry, this is a trade secret. After all, we might become competitors in some future projects."
Elias's lips seemed to curve slightly, a barely perceptible arc. "I'm looking forward to it."
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