Chapter 38 From the day I was born...
As night deepened, the last rays of light on the horizon had long since faded.
Only one light was on on the terrace, and the bamboo grove in the distance rustled in the wind, like some restless whisper in the dead of night. The swaying bamboo shadows cast dappled patterns at their feet, a play of light and shadow.
Zheng Xiaotian lazily swirled his glass, watching the wine shimmer in circles under the light, and said in a tone that was half suggestion and half casualness, "How about we go somewhere else? It's quiet here, but it's a bit too quiet and stuffy."
Across from him, Zheng Yaotian leaned back in his chair, his long legs casually crossed, his fingertips slowly twirling the stem of a glass. His gaze returned from the night outside the window, as if he had weighed his options before speaking: "This place is quite nice."
He looked up, a subtle smile playing on his lips: "A bottle of whiskey, please."
As soon as he finished speaking, his fingers flew across the phone, and less than two minutes later, his assistant pushed open the door, carrying a bottle of whiskey in a dark wooden box.
"I bought this in Japan a while ago," Zheng Yaotian said casually, his voice low but carrying a hint of nonchalant pride. "Let's have some Japanese drinks today."
The wooden box was opened, and the bottle stood steadily on the table. The dark amber liquid gleamed warmly under the light. As soon as the bottle was opened, a faint aroma of sherry and oak slowly wafted out.
Zheng Yaotian raised his glass in a gesture of greeting, his movements calm and unhurried: "Brother, come on."
Zheng Xiaotian leaned against the railing, slowly swirling the wine glass in his hand, his posture relaxed, looking up at the dark sky, as if searching for something, or perhaps just casually glancing around.
Zheng Yaotian stood beside him for a long time before speaking: "Father knows that you won the T Group case today."
"Hmm?" Zheng Xiaotian turned his head lazily, a hint of amusement flashing in his eyes. "So?"
"He said you've finally started to act like a member of the Zheng family lately." Zheng Yaotian's tone was calm, revealing neither praise nor criticism, nor much emotional fluctuation.
Zheng Xiaotian laughed upon hearing this, a self-deprecating smile tinged with alcohol on his lips: "I knew it. As long as I don't touch your position, he'll be satisfied no matter what I do."
"Xiaotian, don't talk about your father like that." Zheng Yaotian finally turned to look at him, his brows furrowed slightly, his tone as restrained as ever.
"Why can't I say that?" Zheng Xiaotian chuckled softly, but his voice carried a hint of nonchalant sharpness. "You know he'd love for me to live a carefree life, occasionally working on a decent project and achieving some success, like an obedient dog. I can be smart, but I can't break the rules, and I can't covet your position."
As he spoke, he walked to the table, looked down at the whiskey bottle, and said, "There's about a third left." He shook the bottle, then turned to Zheng Yaotian and asked, "Want to finish it before you leave?"
Zheng Yaotian did not refuse, but nodded slightly, picked up his glass. There was no toasting ceremony or small talk between them, only the sound of wine being poured into the glass, which was clear and slow in the night, as if it was slowly awakening things that had sunk to the bottom of their hearts.
They didn't speak immediately. One leaned against the railing, and the other sat in a wicker chair. The wind blew through the bamboo grove across the terrace, lifting the corners of their clothes, as if stirring up a layer of long-forgotten emotions.
Unable to remain silent any longer, Zheng Xiaotian finally spoke.
“I’ve been born with original sin.” His voice was a little hoarse, but his tone was unusually calm. “So sometimes I think, if she hadn’t died that day, but had actually taken me away from this place with the surname Zheng, I might be in another city now, doing whatever I want, and nobody would know who I am.”
Zheng Yaotian did not respond immediately. He turned to look at his younger brother, gazing at that perpetually nonchalant face.
"It was my mother who gave her life to give me the chance to enter the Zheng family." Zheng Xiaotian's voice was low but firm, and his gaze was fixed on the deepest part of the bamboo forest.
As Zheng Yaotian listened, his knuckles tightened unconsciously for a moment, but he did not interrupt.
“From then on, I worked my butt off in everything I did,” Zheng Xiaotian said. “But in other people’s eyes, I was never a proper child of the Zheng family.”
He turned his head to look at Zheng Yaotian, his eyes lowered, yet carrying a calm strength: "In your eyes, I was someone who shouldn't have appeared when I was a child, right?"
Zheng Yaotian didn't run away or turn his gaze away. He was silent for a few seconds. "When I was a child... I did hate you," he said, his voice so low it was almost blown away by the wind, yet it clearly reached Zheng Xiaotian's ears.
This statement was made without hesitation or pretense; it was the honesty of an adult, and also the hostility that was finally acknowledged in youth.
After listening, Zheng Xiaotian smiled, with a gentle understanding in his expression.
“I know,” he said. “It was raining heavily that day. I was practicing calligraphy in the living room when your mother yelled at you, ‘He’s not your brother, he’s a bastard!’ Then there was a clap of thunder, and I threw down my brush and ran into the yard.”
He paused for a moment, leaned gently against the railing, and looked up at the night sky. "I was too young back then, and I thought the dog at the gate had a more legitimate right to live than I did."
Zheng Yaotian lowered his eyes, his fingertips clenching slightly, as if he felt ashamed of his past self.
He said in a low voice, "That's not your fault." The bamboo rustled, and the night wind blew from the foot of the mountain, as if gently drawing a curtain for this belated expression of dignity and clarity.
Zheng Yaotian raised his head, his tone steady, but no longer with the condescension of an older brother. Instead, he spoke to the man in front of him at an equal level: "I know you have always wanted recognition and have struggled among all of us more than once... but you are not anyone's replacement, nor anyone's shadow."
He looked at Zheng Xiaotian, looking at him earnestly and without hesitation, and said, "You are yourself."
At that moment, Zheng Xiaotian didn't speak, his eyes were indifferent, but after a while, he slowly turned the wine glass in his hand and said in a low voice: "...Then don't change what you said in the future."
Zheng Yaotian smiled, but didn't reply. He simply raised his glass slightly.
The two remained silent, then clinked their glasses. This toast was not to their father, nor to their family, but only to themselves, to Zheng Xiaotian, who walked alone in the ashes of the past, his heart still burning with passion, and to Zheng Yaotian, who rose and fell in glory and remained clear-headed amidst power.
Zheng Xiaotian didn't reply, but just lowered his eyes and smiled. His gaze was still lazy, but the smile on his lips was no longer empty.
He raised the nearly empty glass of whiskey, his fingertips swirling gently on the glass, the amber liquid rippling slightly. He raised his glass to Zheng Yaotian, his voice slightly drunk but exceptionally clear: "Brother, there's something I've been wanting to say. If you don't want to hear it, just pretend I'm drunk."
Zheng Yaotian hummed in response, turned to look at him, his eyes calm, yet revealing a hint of hidden vigilance.
Zheng Xiaotian placed the cup on the coffee table, the sound of glass clinking against the wooden surface crisp and soft. He sat up straighter, his eyes unusually serious. "You must never be like your father in the future."
He spoke softly, but his tone was so calm and composed that it seemed as if he had suppressed his emotions for a lifetime. There was no resentment, no anger, only restraint and clarity that had been tempered by time.
"You can be just as successful as him, just as calm, managing the overall situation with ease... but there's one thing you should never be like him."
Zheng Yaotian didn't interrupt, he just looked at him, his gaze seemingly fixed on those words.
“Although I’m not a good person either, especially in this matter,” he chuckled softly, glancing out the window as if afraid his self-deprecating remark would be too hurtful, “you’re different, you’re married.”
He paused, then lowered his voice, "You know how my mother passed away... but that's a matter for the previous generation, it has nothing to do with you."
"So you have to treat your sister-in-law well." After saying that, he lowered his eyes and forced a smile.
"All those messy genes... I'll be enough to inherit them all."
Zheng Yaotian understood; of course he understood.
They are all shadows of their fathers: philandering, indifferent, extremely controlling, habitually absent, and habitually demanding, hurting others without leaving a trace, yet always believing themselves to be without fault.
It was a set of selfish logic wrapped in exquisite etiquette, a family shackle they had lived in since childhood but could never break free from.
Zheng Xiaotian turned to look at him, his gaze suddenly losing some of its sharpness and gaining a calmer warmth: "Of course, if you really can't control yourself one day, that's fine too... but you have to talk to your sister-in-law first and let her decide for herself whether she is still willing to stay and act in this play with you."
Zheng Yaotian didn't smile. He lowered his gaze slightly and spoke in a low voice, as if it were being suppressed in his chest: "I will remember."
Zheng Xiaotian nodded, turned and took two steps forward, then stopped as if remembering something. When he turned back, the light fell on his shoulder, illuminating his eyes, making his tone even softer and more sincere, "Brother, you're not a bad person. Don't let our so-called family education trap you."
Zheng Yaotian suddenly turned his head and asked casually, "What about Xia Zhiyao?" His tone was very light, as if he were just casually changing the subject.
Zheng Xiaotian was slightly taken aback, then smiled, his eyebrows still carrying his usual nonchalant air, and his voice became casual as well: "Her? Just don't treat her like a woman, treat her like a man."
But Zheng Yaotian didn't let himself be led astray. He just looked at his younger brother quietly, his eyes calm and restrained, without a hint of accusation, but with a penetrating certainty, "You're lying."
The playful smile on Zheng Xiaotian's lips slowly faded. He remained silent for a moment before speaking in a low voice, so soft it was almost carried away by the evening breeze: "I have already let down someone, someone I shouldn't have let down."
He said it calmly, without any emotional fluctuations, like a confession he had repeated a thousand times in his heart in the dead of night, only now that he had finally found an outlet.
"No more than one." After saying that, he turned around and took a few steps forward, his steps languid, as if he wanted to shake off the conversation, or as if he was avoiding some emotion that was about to rise in his heart.
But after taking only a few steps, Zheng Yaotian's deep voice came from behind: "Don't you want to give it a try?"
Zheng Xiaotian stopped in his tracks. He didn't turn around; the heavy night fell on his shoulders, his back silent and lonely. After a long while, he uttered only two words: "I don't want to."
His tone was so indifferent it was almost cold, but the more indifferent it was, the more it resembled a deep-seated, unspeakable retreat.
He waved his hand with his back turned and said, "I'm leaving, brother. Thanks for dinner and drinks."
He paused for half a second, seemingly finding the atmosphere too somber, then raised his voice and gave a nonchalant laugh: "I'll continue with the next show. The night is long..." He paused, then added casually, "It's not easy to pass the time alone."
His tone carried his usual cynicism, as if he were saying that he was keen on partying every night and having all sorts of wild and promiscuous affairs.
But Zheng Yaotian knew that behind that lay a vulnerability he refused to admit. Since childhood, when the night was too quiet, he would always be awakened by those old shadows, so he would rather have someone accompany him than sleep alone.
Zheng Yaotian didn't say anything more, just stood there, watching his younger brother's back. In the afterglow of the moonlight and lamplight, his silhouette had a resemblance to his father when he was young, with an innate unruliness, a habitual restraint, and a sense of defensiveness that even he himself was unaware of.
Zheng Yaotian gazed at that retreating figure, his voice low and slow, as if speaking to him, and also to his former self: "Xiaotian, actually you are the one who is most like your father."
The next morning, Zheng Xiaotian strolled into the company right on time, wearing sunglasses and carrying an iced Americano. His pace was unhurried, as if he was ready to find a place to sit down and take a break at any moment.
Xia Zhiyao had just come out of the conference room when she saw him. His hair was slightly messy at the temples, and there were red marks at the corners of his eyes from not having slept enough. His walking posture showed a lazy feeling from not having rested well last night.
She raised an eyebrow and said in a cool tone, "Looks like you weren't up to any good again last night."
Zheng Xiaotian took off his sunglasses, his eyes still showing a hint of sleepiness, and smiled innocently: "What, are you judging me the moment you see me?"
Xia Zhiyao crossed her arms, her gaze sweeping from his disheveled hair down to the iced Americano in his hand. After a half-second pause, she slowly uttered two words: "Experience."
Zheng Xiaotian was momentarily speechless, then raised an eyebrow and smiled lazily: "What is this? Sentencing without a chance to defend yourself?"
“Your complexion last night and your state today,” Xia Zhiyao crossed her arms and stepped aside to make way for him, “are basically evidence collected on the spot.”
“Sigh…” Zheng Xiaotian slowly walked past her, sighing softly, “That’s the downside of being too familiar with someone; you can’t hide anything from them.”
Zheng Xiaotian had just settled into his chair and hadn't even had time to loosen his collar when the aroma of tea wafted over.
Xia Zhiyao calmly placed a cup of hot tea in front of him, the steam from the tea casting a thin mist on her wrists and fingertips: "Take good care of your stomach, don't always ruin it."
Zheng Xiaotian glanced down at the tea, then at her, and smiled as if he was about to say something, but was interrupted by her next words.
“Let’s get back to business,” Xia Zhiyao sat down in the chair opposite her, propping herself up on the table with one hand. “I’ve got the latest progress from Nexora.”
Her gaze suddenly sharpened, as if she had casually put away her concern and switched to a completely rational work mode.
“Their second round of financing was brought forward by a quarter.” Xia Zhiyao opened her tablet, tapped a few times, and turned the screen to show Zheng Xiaotian. “The valuation is 12% higher than we expected, and the financing scale has also been increased.”
Sitting to her right, her assistant Lin Qianfan quickly added, "According to our sources yesterday, this valuation adjustment is mainly due to an upward revision of the internal assessment. They may be hedging risks with external capital."
Zheng Xiaotian narrowed his eyes, twirling his teacup in his hand: "This means they're betting the market will continue to be hot."
“Being able to take the gamble means they have a solid foundation.” Xia Zhiyao’s tone was calm, but it revealed the certainty after analysis. “However, I suspect that this early move was to block another wave of acquisition attempts.”
Zheng Xiaotian's assistant, Jiang Boyan, looked up and said, "We also found out something. They had a closed-door meeting last week with that emerging domestic consulting firm, Ruice Consulting, at their Shanghai headquarters."
"It seems the reports are consistent." Xia Zhiyao looked up at Zheng Xiaotian. "Ruice has already started making contact."
Zheng Xiaotian smiled, leaned back in his chair, and tapped his teacup lightly with his fingers: "Wouldn't that be even more fun?"
Lin Qianfan flipped through the folder and lowered his voice to Xia Zhiyao, saying, "If Ruice really makes a move, Nexora's control is likely to be diluted. If we wait and see for too long, we'll be at a disadvantage."
Xia Zhiyao nodded, put the tablet away, and gently closed the leather case with her fingers: "So I tend to intervene."
Jiang Boyan glanced at Zheng Xiaotian, then looked at Xia Zhiyao, as if trying to glean more information from their expressions.
Zheng Xiaotian slowly sipped his tea, the steam illuminating his eyes and brows, before finally saying, "You already have a plan, right?"
“Yes,” Xia Zhiyao met his gaze with a determined expression, “Intervene, take the initiative to make an offer, and test their bottom line first.”
Zheng Xiaotian gently placed the cup back on the coaster, his gaze sweeping between the documents on the table and his two assistants, as if weighing his options: "Taking the initiative to make an offer gives us a head start, but if Ruize follows up, we'll have to fight a war of attrition."
Jiang Boyan added, "So we shouldn't drag this out any longer. The longer we drag it out, the deeper their contact with Ruize will be, and the harder it will be for us to break in."
Lin Qianfan opened the documents he carried with him and pointed to one of the pages: "Nexora's core team will have a gap next week. If we can establish contact before then, we will have the opportunity to gain the upper hand."
Xia Zhiyao nodded, her tone decisive: "Then we should contact Nexora as soon as possible, we can't wait any longer. Have Zheng Yaotian set up the stage and arrange an opportunity for the meeting."
Zheng Xiaotian looked up at her: "Are you planning to act immediately?"
“Yes.” She tapped her fingers lightly on the table twice. “Let’s finalize the plan first, then head straight to Shenzhen.”
Jiang Boyan immediately responded, "I'll prepare the contact list and check the recent movements of their senior executives while I'm at it."
Lin Qianfan closed the folder and added, "I will prepare a backup plan for Ruice's response, in case they act simultaneously."
Zheng Xiaotian glanced at the two of them, then looked at Xia Zhiyao with a smile: "Okay, then we'll do it your way."
In early autumn in Shenzhen, at the other end of the port, container cranes were still operating, the clanging of metal sheets sounding muffled and slow in the rain. In the distance, intermittent ship horns, mingling with the low-hanging light of the sky, created a series of blurry and lingering melodies.
The sea breeze, carrying the scent of rain, swept in, passing through the new urban fabric between Nanshan and Futian, and hitting the glass curtain wall facades of high-rise buildings. Rainwater slowly slid down the windows, like elongated water streaks, blending the entire skyline into a layer of ink-wash gray-blue.
The meeting room was located in a high-rise office building near Xiangmihu Financial Center. The new district was still under construction, with most of the buildings not yet topped out, and scaffolding hanging high in the distance like an unfinished urban skeleton.
Inside the window, however, the scene was quite different. The air conditioning was blasting, and the air was so clear it seemed filtered. Two figures faced each other on either side of the negotiating table, their faces as still as mountains. Stacks of documents were laid out on the table, and pens were left untouched in the corners.
The negotiations have been deadlocked for three days. From equity ratios to intellectual property rights, from underlying algorithms to data flow, both sides have been exchanging barbs, each word laced with probing. Everyone is smiling, yet everyone is hiding something.
Zhao Yuming, the person in charge sent by Nexora, is one of the few locals in the founding team. His Mandarin has a slight Cantonese accent at the end, and he speaks in a gentle and calm manner, like a university lecturer.
But it is precisely his slow, deliberate pace and unhurried tone that makes it so easy for people to fall into his linguistic traps without even realizing it.
“You’re all right,” Zhao Yuming said with a smile, flipping through the contract in his hand without looking up. “But the market never plays by the rules, does it, Mr. Zheng?”
Zheng Xiaotian sat back in his chair with his legs crossed, twirling a pen in his hand with a lazy air. He glanced at Zhao Yuming and smiled unhurriedly: "Logic is rigid, but people are flexible. If we really followed the rules, we probably wouldn't be sitting here drinking tea right now."
Zhao Yuming chuckled, slammed the file shut, and said, "Then let's not talk about logic tonight, let's talk about something practical. I've booked a private restaurant near Xiangmi Lake, the owner is an old friend, and the wine is ready."
The Chinese restaurant was located in an old villa by Xiangmi Lake. It looked inconspicuous from the outside, but once you pushed the door open, you would find a hidden gem, with the fragrance of osmanthus blossoms mingling with the night breeze.
As soon as they sat down, Zhao Yuming's assistant ordered wine to be served. A row of Moutai bottles was placed on the table. Zheng Xiaotian glanced at it, smiled, and whistled, "Not to be rude, Mr. Zhao, but these few bottles of wine... might not be enough for our Mr. Xia to drink alone."
Xia Zhiyao was exchanging pleasantries with another negotiator when she heard this. She turned around and glanced at him, her tone indifferent: "You're quite good at creating a persona for me."
"Let's be realistic." Zheng Xiaotian shrugged, his tone light. "Mr. Zhao, you don't know, but in our company, the one who can drink the most is Mr. Xia."
Upon hearing this, Zhao Yuming immediately became interested and sat up straighter: "President Xia, you can really drink? I thought you were the kind of person who comes from a traditional consulting background in China, someone who doesn't drink and only talks about PPTs."
Xia Zhiyao smiled, not in a hurry to deny it. He simply raised his glass, gently swirled the clear Moutai in it, and said in a calm tone but with great meaning in every word: "In ancient times, there was a story of reuniting in Jinling and drinking Moutai, because a guest braved the snow to come. Today, we are meeting for the first time in Shenzhen and drinking Moutai, because a guest braved the rain to come."
She raised her glass and gently clinked it against Zhao Yuming's, a polite smile on her lips: "This rain has lasted for three days. It seems we've been waiting for you for a long time."
Zhao Yuming paused for a moment, then smiled, his eyes brightening: "Oh my, it's rare that someone still remembers this poem."
He raised his glass and drank it all in one gulp, with a hint of excitement: "I'm from Maotai Town in Guizhou. I left when I was a teenager, and I've always had a special connection to this wine. Your poem has brought me right back to my hometown."
Xia Zhiyao smiled gently, her wine still slightly in her hand, but the words were already on her mind: "It's already a great honor that President Zhao came. If this project can really be implemented, it will be more than just the aroma of wine spreading throughout the town."
Zhao Yuming smiled and nodded, his eyes softening slightly: "If you had started this earlier, today's negotiations might have been easier."
The two chatted back and forth, quickly shifting the topic from data models to the local economy, from the proportion of yeast used in baijiu to new fermentation methods. The atmosphere at the dinner gradually relaxed, as if they had finally stepped back from the edge of a knife and put on a milder mask.
The drinking party ended quite late. Xia Zhiyao and Zheng Xiaotian helped each other back to the hotel, their steps slightly unsteady.
The daytime hustle and bustle had long since faded away, and the entire city seemed to be enveloped by layers of night, with only the deep sound of the sea and the gentle swaying of the curtains remaining.
Xia Zhiyao helped Zheng Xiaotian, who was so drunk he could barely stand, and gently pressed him down onto the sofa. He leaned against it, his forehead slightly damp and his shirt a little disheveled.
She bent down and gently patted Zheng Xiaotian's shoulder: "Sit down for a bit, wait for me." After saying that, she turned and went into the restroom.
She turned on the tap, and the clear water gushed out. She put her hands into the water, and a cool sensation spread from her fingertips to her wrists, as if to wash away all the drunkenness and weariness of the night.
She rubbed her hands repeatedly, as if she were wiping away the grease and mess left from those social engagements. In the mirror, she looked up, her eyebrows and eyes still cold and sharp, but her expression held a hint of weariness and emptiness.
When she came out of the bathroom, the room was already dark, with only a faint beam of light shining through the thin curtains by the window, casting shadows and light on Zheng Xiaotian.
He was standing by the window, his back straight, a wisp of cigarette glowing and fading between his fingers, the smoke slowly swirling in the night, forming a blurry silhouette.
His profile was hidden in the shadows, his brows were sharp, and his expression was gloomy, as if he was still drunk. Hearing the door open, he slowly turned his head, his gaze returning from the window to her.
Xia Zhiyao stood at the door, her expression cool and restrained, as if all the weariness from before had been washed away by water, and she had put on her armor again.
Zheng Xiaotian's smile was almost devoid of warmth, and his voice was low and hoarse: "Don't go, stay with me for a while."
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