Zhaoyi holdings.
It seemed Zhao Yifan's words had cut through the room like a blade—sharp, precise, and wounding. Silence fell immediately, though glares lingered, eyes heavy with tension and resentment.
"Good," Yifan said, lips curving faintly. "Then let's begin."
The meeting stretched for another hour, filled with charts, figures, and strategy. When it finally ended, the tension remained—but so did Yifan's control.
He rose to his feet, expression unreadable, and walked out without another word.
"Where's the meeting with Elder Yang being held?" he asked coolly.
"Four Seasons Hotel, Young Master," Shen Rui replied promptly.
"Ready the car. I'll be out in a few minutes."
He returned to his office, the door clicking softly shut behind him. Dropping into his chair, he pressed his fingers against his temples, massaging away the dull ache building there.
Moments later, he stood again, straightened his jacket, and made his way to the elevator. The descent was silent.
At the garage, he stepped into the waiting car, and the driver smoothly pulled out, heading toward the hotel.
Four seasons hotel.
Yifan walked toward the private VIP room, calm and composed, his footsteps steady.
Upon entering, his eyes met the older man's warm, familiar smile.
"Yifan, my child," Elder Yang greeted.
"…Uncle Yang." Yifan dipped his head respectfully before settling into the plush cushion across from him.
"You still haven't changed," the elder chuckled. "Still cold and distant. Well, it doesn't matter—you won't escape a drink with me today."
Yifan allowed a faint smile to grace his lips. Though the Yang and Zhao families weren't bound by blood, their alliance through business and years of loyalty ran deep. In truth, Yifan held more respect for the man in front of him than for his own father.
"Yufan hasn't been informed of your return yet, that's why he hasn't come to see you," Elder Yang added with a chuckle.
At that name—Yufan—Yifan froze. The wine glass paused mid-air, just short of his lips.
His best friend. His chaos. If Yifan was the calm, Yufan was the storm—wild, loud, and relentless in breaking through his walls.
"…Please, Uncle. Not yet," he said quietly.
That only made Elder Yang laugh louder. "My son is less troublesome now," he grinned. "He won't burn your house down. Probably… Well, he'll find out sooner or later."
He leaned back, eyes narrowing slightly in amusement. "Yifan."
"Yes, Uncle?"
"When will your welcoming banquet be held?" the older man asked, a smirk tugging at his lips.
"…Ah… l-later," Yifan stumbled slightly, caught off guard.
Elder Yang raised a brow. "You caused your mother trouble, didn't you? I'm guessing you didn't even give them a chance to bring it up."
Yifan averted his gaze, the faintest flicker of guilt crossing his features.
"I knew it." Elder Yang chuckled again, sipping his drink. "Still as evasive as ever."
"Come drop me off at home, I sent my driver away," Elder Yang said as he stood up.
Yifan's eyes widened in disbelief, like he'd just seen a ghost.
"B-but uncle—" The words trailed off into a helpless sigh, shoulders sinking slightly.
Seeing his reaction, Elder Yang let out a hearty laugh. "Relax. Yufan's at the Yang villa, not with us. You're safe—for now."
These damn Yangs... all of them with their antics, always making me lose my cool.
Those were the words swirling in Yifan's head as he followed Elder Yang out, his expression calm, but internally screaming.
They both got into the car, the ride calm as Elder Yang chatted away.
"I'll tell your mom to hold your banquet next month. You should be well-rested by then," he said with a smile. Yifan only gave a nod in response.
Upon arriving at the Yang main residence, Elder Yang stepped out of the car. "Come visit again soon. Lu Shuyan misses you, son. Good night."
"Hm." Yifan gave a brief nod before the driver pulled away from the estate.
As if on cue, his phone vibrated.
Yufan: When will you be back to Beijing?
Yifan stared at the screen, lips tightening in a faint scowl. Without replying, he turned the phone off and leaned back in his seat, eyes shut.
Zhaoyue pavilion.
The moment he got home, Yifan headed straight for the shower. After a long, refreshing bath, he changed into something more comfortable and made his way downstairs for dinner.
Just as he picked up his glass of water, a soft knock came at the door. Shen Rui stepped in quietly.
"Young Master, I've received word. The family at the tea shop opened the letter."
Yifan's gaze sharpened. "And?"
"They've refused the deal," Shen Rui said, shoulders dropping slightly, uncertain of what to expect next.
Yifan placed the glass down with a soft clink, his jaw tightening.
"Prepare everything. The demolition goes ahead tomorrow. I'll handle it personally."
He paused, voice cold and final.
"Get all necessary files in order—I'll be taking them with me. Clear my schedule for tomorrow. I'm heading to Gulangyu Island."
"Yes, sir."
"You may retire for the night."
Shen Rui gave a slight bow and exited. The room fell into silence once again.
Li household.
Dinner went smoothly, the quiet clinking of chopsticks and soft conversation filling the small space. But Li Lian couldn't ignore the way her parents kept exchanging worried glances.
She set her bowl down, eyes narrowing. "Is something wrong?"
"No, no, everything's fine," Wen Yuxia replied a little too quickly.
Lian tilted her head. "...You're lying to me," she whispered, her voice soft but firm.
"It's nothing important, dear," her father chimed in, offering a gentle smile. "We're just running a bit low on money, but don't worry—Daddy will figure it out."
Li Lian stared at him for a moment, then smiled faintly and nodded. But deep down, unease bloomed quietly in her chest.
" When I get to the city, I'll make sure to work hard and be sending lots of money". She smiled.
Next morning.
Li Lian woke up to an empty, unnervingly quiet house. The stillness pressed against her chest, her heartbeat picking up. She tried to shrug it off—maybe they just left early—and got out of bed.
After freshening up, she made her way to the tea shop. But the moment she turned the corner, the sight stopped her cold.
Heavy machinery and towering tractors stood in front of the store like beasts ready to pounce. Bright yellow and black tape stretched across the entrance, marked boldly: DEMOLITION IN PROGRESS.
Her parents stood outside, helpless, being held back by a few suited men and workers in helmets.
She rushed forward, heart thudding. "Mom? Dad? What's going on?!"
Wen Yuxia turned to her daughter, her eyes wet. "They… they didn't give us time. They didn't listen."
Li Lian's gaze snapped to the tape, then to the machines. A sharp panic rose in her throat.
"They can't just do this," she breathed, staring at their shop—their life—trapped behind caution tape.
"But we didn't agree to this, hubby…" Wen Yuxia's voice trembled, her eyes glassy with unshed tears as she looked at her husband.
Li Chenghai placed a hand on her shoulder, firm but gentle. "Calm down, I'll handle this." He stepped forward, the years of experience and quiet authority returning to his stance.
He stopped one of the men in charge. "You can't do this," he said, voice low but firm. "It's not legal. We haven't agreed to anything."
The man gave a short, almost rehearsed sigh. "Sorry, sir. This isn't on us. We're just following orders."
"Then tell whoever gave those orders that they're overstepping—"
The man cut him off with a half-smirk. "Look… just take the compensation. Trust me, sir, you don't want to take this to court. Not with the people backing this. You know who they are." With that, the man walked away, returning to the machines and barking orders.
Li Chenghai stood frozen for a moment, fists clenched at his sides.
Li Lian sprinted across the street, pushing past the crowd as panic clawed at her chest. "I won't move until you all leave!" she shouted, planting herself firmly in front of the shop's entrance.
The workers paused, sizing her up with amused expressions. One of them scoffed. "With that small body of yours, I doubt you're stopping anything. Get out of the way."
Her jaw clenched. "No," she said, voice low but resolute. Then she dropped to the floor of the teahouse, crossing her legs and sitting right at the threshold.
Her parents ran to her side, both frantic. "Lian! Get up, please—this isn't safe!" Wen Yuxia pleaded, her voice cracking.
"Sweetheart, don't do this…" Li Chenghai urged, his voice shaking. But she remained unmoved, her stare fierce, unwavering.
Minutes turned to an hour, and still she didn't budge. The men grew restless. Finally, the foreman, clearly frustrated, barked the order. "Bring the machine forward. Break the building!"
Wen Yuxia's scream echoed through the air, and Li Chenghai rushed toward his daughter, trying to pull her up, but she resisted. Lian trembled, heart racing, but her body stayed rooted to the ground.
Her eyes squeezed shut, hoping—praying—for a miracle.
"Lian! Get up, please!" her father shouted, panic threading his voice as the machine rumbled forward, ready to destroy everything.
"WAIT!"
Zhao Yifan's voice sliced through the chaos like a blade.