Siheyuan: My wife is Xu Huizhen

"Mr. Madden's schedule has been temporarily adjusted, and you will need to wait in the VIP area."

As you walk through the long corridor covered with Persian carpets, crystal chandeliers cast dappled light overhead.

The lounge area outside the office was already filled with business people in suits. Amid the clinking of coffee cups and saucers, some people were talking in hushed tones, while others were staring intently at their phone screens.

As soon as He Yuzhu sat down on the leather sofa, he heard a suppressed sigh coming from the corner—an elderly man with a family crest pinned to the cuff of his suit was repeatedly wiping his glasses, the lenses covered with a layer of misty haze.

The numbers on the electronic screen flickered, and with each refresh, the waiting crowd stirred for a moment. He Yuzhu unbuttoned his shirt collar, gazing at the rows of office buildings outside the window, when he suddenly caught a glimpse of his reflection in the glass: his tie was askew, his temples slightly damp, creating a stark contrast with the sophisticated business elites around him.

As he reached into his pocket for the contract for the fifth time, the long-awaited message finally appeared on the electronic screen.

The copper pendulum of the wall clock strikes the gears of time, and the CBD skyline outside the glass curtain wall is gilded in the twilight.

He Yuzhu looked down at his watch for the 17th time; the blued steel hands on the dial were slowly rolling over the 3:30 mark.

The leather sofa in the waiting area was already wrinkled from his sitting, and on the glass coffee table in front of him, a layer of grease floated on the surface of the cooled Americano, much like the stagnant atmosphere of the negotiation at this moment.

The crisp sound of leather shoes clicking on marble echoed down the corridor as the secretary, with a precise professional smile, pushed open the heavy walnut door.

"Mr. He, Mr. Madden is available to see you now."

The setting sun cast its last rays on the shoulders of his dark gray suit. As He Yuzhu stood up, he heard a faint cracking sound from his joints and realized that he had been sitting in the same position for too long.

As the engraved brass handle turned in his palm, he caught a glimpse of the gilded "John Madden" on the doorplate.

The words glowed faintly in the twilight, as if announcing that this game, which was half an hour late, had finally begun.

As the revolving glass door slowly closed, a cool breeze carrying the aroma of roasted coffee beans wafted over.

He Yuzhu stood in the front hall, which was covered with a Persian carpet, his metal cufflinks gleaming coldly under the crystal chandelier.

The secretary appeared from around the corner in her high heels. Her black business suit was as sharp as a scalpel. She simply nodded slightly, and her fingertips precisely gripped the gold rim of the bone china cup.

The coffee rippled with deep brown waves in the cup, and the rising steam blurred the fog on He Yuzhu's glasses.

He habitually rubbed the embossed vines on the cup with his thumb, only to be surprised to find that the cup was incredibly hot.

Take a small sip, and bitterness washes over your tongue like a tide, leaving a smoky, acrid taste in your throat—there's no creamy texture like milk foam, and not even a trace of sugar cubes.

His back teeth clenched unconsciously, and the corner of the business plan in his suit pocket was digging painfully into his ribs through the fabric.

The central air conditioning hummed softly. He Yuzhu stared at the gradually dissipating steam from the cup and suddenly remembered the sweet, cloying tone of the other party's secretary on the phone three days ago.

This untimely cup of bitter coffee feels like a silent warning.

He straightened his back and placed the cup back on the sandalwood tray. The soft sound of the cup hitting the table was particularly clear in the quiet office.

Morning light streamed obliquely through the office building's floor-to-ceiling windows, illuminating the conference table. John Madden stroked the creases of his suit cuffs, the desk lamp casting two dark shadows beneath his eyes. This 38-year-old heir to the family business, already showing signs of fatigue, unconsciously twirled the platinum cufflink his father had left him; the silver piece engraved with the family crest gleamed coldly under the light.

After graduating from university, he was assigned to a grassroots position in the company. Over the past twenty years, the leather chairs in the conference room, the endless conference calls, and the coffee stains from working overtime late into the night have long since transformed the once spirited young man into a composed but slightly weathered figure.

When he turned to the last page of the document, he slammed his pen tip into the paper, leaving a short, sharp mark.

Mr. He,

Without looking up, the Patek Philippe on his wrist made a subtle gear-whirring sound as he turned the pages.

"You only have 10 minutes to explain your problem to me."

The moment the words were spoken, the roar of helicopter rotors suddenly came from outside the window, as if setting the stage for this tense negotiation.

He Yuzhu took a deep breath, composed himself, and then said, "It's actually very simple. I hope to purchase the shares of Yu Ren Watercraft owned by your company."

John Madden's fingertips unconsciously caressed the rim of the crystal whiskey glass, where ice balls floated and sank in the amber-colored liquor, refracting tiny, cold glints of light.

He leaned back in his leather chair and nodded slightly, a hint of amusement flashing in his blue eyes behind his gold-rimmed glasses. This gesture calmed He Yuzhu's newly risen confidence.

However, the next second, the other person suddenly slammed the wine glass heavily onto the walnut wood table, the metal ice tongs clanging against the glass.

"You are indeed very frank."

Madden loosened his custom-made tie, revealing the exquisite family crest on his shirt collar. "But why should I sell my shares to you?"

A helicopter suddenly swept past the window, casting its shadow on the negotiating table between the two men, shattering the brief peace.

He Yuzhu pushed the thermos cup towards the center of the conference table, and the water droplets condensed on the cup left dark watermarks on the walnut wood table surface.

"In your company's Series B funding round that just finished last month, there was a $1200 million private placement—"

He paused deliberately, observing John Madden's jawline tighten suddenly.

"When this funding was injected, Yu Ren Shui Yacht's underwater sensor patent was in the public notice period. Now, competitors have launched similar products three months ahead of schedule, and the valuation of your company's equity stake will shrink by at least 40%."

He intended to elaborate on the impact of the Southeast Asian maritime exploration rights dispute on the company's cash flow, as well as the rumors of a mass exodus of key technical personnel from the core team.

The moment the pen nib hovered over the notebook, the roar of heavy machinery suddenly came from outside the glass curtain wall, causing the crystal chandelier in the conference room to sway slightly.

John Madden slammed his hand on the table and stood up abruptly, his gold-rimmed glasses sliding down to the tip of his nose:

"Is Mr. He here to reveal trade secrets, or to spread alarmist rumors?"

The cuff of the dark gray suit swept across the projector remote control, instantly cutting off the financial data charts on the screen.

John Madden gently placed the coffee cup on the glass tabletop, the metal spoon making a crisp sound as it struck the cup.

He took off his gold-rimmed glasses, carefully wiped the lenses with his cuff, and began to speak slowly and deliberately:

"I actually anticipated that the profits would fall short of expectations."

As he spoke, he pulled a stack of reports from the leather folder; the edges of the yellowed papers were frayed from repeated handling.

"Our market research report for the third quarter of last year showed that the R&D costs of Yu Ren Watercraft Company's new submarine exceeded the budget by 37%, and our assigned financial supervisor sent us warning emails every week."