Siheyuan: My wife is Xu Huizhen

Just as He Yuzhu was staring at the cinnamon stick floating on the coffee cup, his fingernails unconsciously rubbing the water droplets on the cup wall, a metallic clang suddenly came from outside the French windows.

He looked up and saw John Madden precisely inserting the pen into its leather cap, his blue eyes behind his glasses gleaming with a hunter's gleam.

This Wall Street upstart didn't rush to speak, but instead slowly and deliberately unbuttoned the top mother-of-pearl button of his suit, a movement imbued with the elegance of conquering one's prey.

"Mr. He, I am very interested in your company's business—"

He paused deliberately, his well-defined fingers tapping three soft sounds on the mahogany table.

"I wonder if I have the opportunity to become the next chapter in your company's story as a strategic investor?"

The central air conditioning in the conference room hummed softly. He Yuzhu's fingers tightened suddenly as he gripped the coffee cup, and the water droplets condensed on the cup slid down his fingers and into his sleeve.

The merger agreement terms that John Madden pushed forward gleamed coldly under the overhead light. The special clauses marked in both Chinese and English resembled a fine spider web, shattering his carefully prepared negotiation strategy.

His temples throbbed, and the image of the other man's aloof demeanor from half an hour ago flashed before his eyes—Maden holding a glass of whiskey, the amber liquid swirling in the crystal, his blue-gray eyes holding a hunter's sharpness.

Looking back now, those seemingly casual rejections, every pause and raised eyebrow rhythm, seemed like a meticulously calculated trap.

"Mr. He, you are a smart man."

Madden's voice, carrying the smoky smell of a cigar, interrupted his thoughts.

The pen tip paused heavily on the "technology patent sharing" clause, the metal cap striking the table with a crisp sound, startling He Yuzhu and causing a fine layer of cold sweat to break out on the back of his neck.

This was hardly a business negotiation; it was clearly a trap set by the other party, who had already figured out his eagerness to acquire the company and turned the entire meeting into a snare.

Prior to this, He Yuzhu had never considered bringing in other companies to invest in his business.

Under the incandescent light of his office late at night, he always habitually strokes the yellowed business plan in his drawer—from the initial production line that started in a warehouse in an urban village to the intelligent equipment R&D center that is now well-known in the industry, every key node is marked by his do-or-die decision.

The ever-increasing net profit curve on the financial statements convinced him of the "go it alone" business philosophy, and he even turned down many investors who offered him opportunities.

Until three months ago, Huidefeng Group suddenly acquired three leading regional companies in succession under the guise of industry consolidation.

On the huge strategic planning map in the other party's conference room, the sub-sector in which our company operates was prominently marked as a "key area for attack".

When the vice president of Huidefeng led the actuarial team to demonstrate the market monopoly advantage after the acquisition using data models, He Yuzhu's knuckles turned white as he held the coffee cup.

The CBD night view outside the floor-to-ceiling windows was still dazzling, but for the first time he realized that in the steel forest built by capital and scale, a small boat fighting alone could be swallowed by a giant wave at any time.

At this moment, the edges of the merger and acquisition agreement on his desk were already crumpled. He opened the book "Built to Last" in the drawer, and the bookmark stuck in the chapter on "Open Systems" trembled slightly.

He Yuzhu paused as he picked up the bone china teacup, leaving a half-circle of damp water marks on the rim of the cup in his palm.

The night view of Victoria Harbour outside the floor-to-ceiling windows was as dazzling as a galaxy, reflected on the lenses of his gold-rimmed glasses, making his usually sharp eyes appear somewhat blurry.

"Well... I hadn't really considered that before."

He deliberately slowed his tone, the last syllable of his voice carrying the aroma of tea as it dissipated in the conference room. The cold air from the central air conditioning system carried his hesitation, swirling beneath the gilded and carved ceiling.

His fingertips unconsciously traced the raised, intertwined floral pattern on the cup's rim. His gaze swept across the negotiating table to John Madden, dressed in a suit and tie—the investment banking director of HSBC was casually twirling a pen, the gold-embossed logo on his crocodile briefcase making him squint.

The names of Hong Kong's four major banks weighed heavily on his mind like a weight. The rumors of their shrewd financial maneuvering and the sensational mergers and acquisitions of last year all seemed to dance on his retina like spots of light refracted from the crystal chandelier in the conference room.

His Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed the unspoken refusal, his fingers tightening subtly, a faint hum emanating from the cup.

Suddenly, the equity structure diagram, which had been locked in a hidden compartment in the office, became clearly visible, and the key nodes circled in red turned into flickering flames.

If foreign capital were allowed to get involved in the core business, those old foxes on the board would probably have already prepared their hunting rifles.

But giving up this olive branch means missing a golden opportunity to open up international capital channels, just like missing a safe haven during a typhoon. Nobody knows how long it will take to get the next opportunity.

"Mr. Madden's suggestion is very constructive."

He finally put down his teacup, the bottom of which made a clear sound as it struck the mahogany table. "However, major decisions involving the company's strategic layout still require a comprehensive evaluation by the board of directors."

Before he finished speaking, he was already planning to hold an emergency meeting that night and have the risk control department prepare ten contingency plans.

Beneath the negotiating table, the tips of leather shoes repeatedly rubbed against the cloud patterns on the Persian carpet, as if measuring the depth of this game.

This ambiguous statement did not surprise John Madden. He picked up his bone china cup and took a sip of Earl Grey tea, the rim of the cup clinking together with a crisp sound, as if it were a deliberately created rhythm.

A glint appeared in his blue-gray eyes behind his gold-rimmed glasses; he seemed to have anticipated He Yuzhu's response.

He gently placed the teacup on the gilded tray, his fingertips unconsciously tracing the vine pattern on the cup's handle, a meaningful smile playing on his lips.

"Whaley's main business is not manufacturing, but rather focuses on trade, ports, shipping, and department stores."

At this point, he pulled a document with a gold-embossed border from his crocodile-skin briefcase and pushed it in front of He Yuzhu. The edges of the document were precisely aligned with the subtle pattern on the conference table.

The cool air from the air conditioner vent swept across the paper, lifting a corner of the company organizational charts annotated in both Chinese and English.

Madden reached out and pressed the paper down, the watch face reflecting a cold light:

"The Southeast Asian shipping route acquisition we just completed last month increased our cargo throughput by 17%." He paused deliberately for five seconds, watching He Yuzhu's gaze be drawn to the numbers flashing on the document, before continuing, "This is just the tip of the iceberg."

John Madden's fingers tapped rhythmically on the mahogany tabletop, the gilded pocket watch chain gleaming coldly under the crystal chandelier.

He suddenly leaned forward, his sharply dressed figure casting a huge shadow on the negotiating table: