Reborn in 2014: A One-Man Tycoon

Liu Qian is about to give birth, and Meng Chuan doesn't want her to worry.

After Liu Qian left the study, Meng Chuan remained seated there, silently closing the news page.

Then I dialed Yingdie's number:

"Notify the technology department to hold a key meeting to thoroughly review the supply chain links that US regulators might try to block—since they want to play, we should first pave our own way."

"What about Elonma's side..."

Yingdie hesitated for a moment and said:

"He contacted several former subordinates today, and it seems they had a private gathering."

"Let him be, he's no longer qualified to sit at the table."

Meng Chuan said calmly:

"He chose to leave without signing. Whether it's to keep it as a memento or out of resentment, as long as it doesn't affect the progress of the Mars project, I have no time to care about anything else."

Of course, there was one more thing Meng Chuan didn't say.

If he dares to get involved with the rocket company again, Meng Chuan wouldn't mind sending him to meet his maker.

Perhaps many people around the world think that Meng Chuan is a kind person.

But Meng Chuan always remembered that he was still the leader of the Green Gang.

There are some things he will not tolerate.

Meng Chuan paused and continued:

"Also, go see Trump in person and slap the agreement we made him sign in his face. Tell him that if he doesn't want to die, he'd better behave himself."

Perhaps many people are wary of Trump, and some even want him dead.

But Meng Chuan wasn't afraid of him at all.

Even if Meng Chuan wanted him dead, he only needed to say a word.

But now the rocket company is at a critical juncture.

Meng Chuan will not allow anyone to interfere.

Therefore, to some extent, Meng Chuan actually hopes that Trump can be re-elected.

Because Trump still has leverage over Meng Chuan.

For Meng Chuan, controlling him was easier than controlling others.

Even if Trump doesn't actively help Meng Chuan, at least he wouldn't dare to openly oppose anyone who is hindering him.

Therefore, unless it is absolutely necessary.

Meng Chuan wouldn't actually try to kill Trump.

……

As dusk settled completely, the King dragged his weary body back to the estate.

Today, he traveled to three states for campaign speeches, and his voice is so hoarse it feels like it's been sanded.

The forced smile on his face had long since faded, leaving only an undeniable look of exhaustion.

He waved away the servants who came to greet him and walked familiarly toward his private office.

This has been a habit of Trump's for many years; no matter how tired or chaotic he is, he still has to sit in this room for half an hour.

Organize the day's events and mentally review tomorrow's draft.

He always does things in a very planned way.

He only breathed a sigh of relief when the fingerprint lock clicked shut the office door, which was specially made.

He casually loosened his tie and stepped towards the desk to sit down.

But as soon as his gaze swept across the table, he stopped abruptly in his tracks.

Instead of the speech he had left on the table when he left that afternoon, there was a document laid out neatly.

The words on the cover were so familiar to him that they were almost blinding.

Because it was the agreement he signed with Meng Chuan when he asked Meng Chuan to help him with his first election campaign.

He knew better than anyone how many shady things were hidden in the agreement; how could this thing be here?!

The King's heart was pounding in his chest, and his hands were shaking.

He almost staggered toward the door, wanting to call the butler to ask who had been in his office.

But just as his hand touched the doorknob, everything went dark, and a dark figure suddenly appeared in front of him.

It looked like it was seeping out from inside the wall.

"It's you?!"

The King of Trump was so frightened that he took half a step back, his voice cracking.

He recognized Yingdie, the taciturn but ruthless martial attendant beside Meng Chuan.

The office was securely locked; she could stand there silently, and taking his life would be as easy as crushing an insect.

Cold sweat poured down his forehead, instantly soaking his shirt collar.

Yingdie didn't move, her eyes were as cold as ice, and her voice was completely flat when she spoke:

"Don't worry, I'm not here to kill you."

Yingdie paused for a moment, then repeated Meng Chuan's words verbatim:

"Mr. Meng Chuan asked me to pass on a message to you: If you don't want to die, you'd better behave yourself."

The King opened his mouth, wanting to curse but not daring to, wanting to beg for mercy but too ashamed to do so.

His face alternated between green and white, like a palette of colors.

Yingdie completely ignored his embarrassment and turned away after speaking.

Instead of heading towards the door, they went straight to the windowsill—were they going to go through the window?

While Trump was still in a daze, Yingdie suddenly turned around.

He was so startled by the sudden movement that he almost cried out.

Yingdie glanced at him, her voice even colder than before:

"By the way, I took the soccer ball you gave to my youngest son."

The King's heart sank.

Yingdie added another sentence:

"Mr. Meng Chuan said that his son is also a huge football fan."

With a "boom," it was as if a thunderclap had exploded in Trump's mind.

That soccer ball! It was a gift from the president of the Russian Empire.

Because his son is also a huge football fan, he gave the football to his son.

My son is my precious treasure; I keep him by my bedside every day.

But the key issue isn't football.

Rather, it was because he was worried that his opponents would use his children as a pretext for this election.

She had hidden her youngest son in a secluded estate outside New York long ago.

Even the bodyguards were carefully selected trusted confidants, how could Yingdie have found them?

How can they take the football away silently?

Doesn't that mean that the son's hiding place has already been figured out?

She can handle a soccer ball; if she really had murderous intent… Trump didn’t dare to think further.

His face turned deathly pale instantly, his lips trembled, and he couldn't utter a single word.

Yingdie didn't look at him again. She leaped over the windowsill and her figure disappeared into the night in a few moments, leaving no trace.

Trump was the only one left in the office, and he slid down to the floor with his back against the door.

All my strength felt drained away.

The agreement on the table was still lying there, and between the lines it seemed as if countless eyes were staring intently at him.

He finally understood what Meng Chuan meant by "behave yourself".

It wasn't a warning, it was a show of force.

They held his weakness in their hands, they held his son's life in their hands, they held him so tightly that he felt like he could hardly breathe.

He once again deeply experienced the terrifying nature of the Green Gang.

After what seemed like an eternity, Trump finally pulled out his phone, his voice hoarse and unnatural, and dialed his assistant's number.

"Tomorrow... in tomorrow's speech, delete everything that mentions Meng Chuan or the rocket company! Don't leave a single word!"

Trump has also tasted the benefits of using Meng Chuan as a political tool.

In his speeches these days, whenever he mentions Meng Chuan or the rocket company...

All of these can make the atmosphere at the scene extremely intense.

Therefore, wherever he gives a speech, he inevitably brings up topics related to Meng Chuan or the rocket company.

But now he really doesn't dare to.

Once this agreement is exposed, forget about running for office.

Whether he will be able to have freedom is still uncertain.

If he gets in, it won't matter if Meng Chuan doesn't deal with him.

His rivals will surely take advantage of his misfortune.

"Mr. Know-It-All..."

"Don't ask, just do it, quick..."