Kong Lingtiao’s counterattack was swift—and brutal.
She pulled the trending posts, launched new keywords, pressured shareholders, and began slashing the marketing budget for the few sub-brands still under Kong Wenyu’s control.
At midnight, Ao Yongwang called.
Kong Wenyu lowered his gaze. He let it ring for a moment before answering.
“I tied him up,” came Ao Qingqing’s eerily calm voice over the phone. “If my brother doesn’t respond to her, Kong Lingtiao will start looking for other allies. I’ll help you—I’ll keep suppressing her. But I can only hold the line for four hours, tops. In exchange, I want the new brand, a seat in Ao Corporation, and to become the only heir.”
“You’ll never be the only one,” Kong Wenyu said, pouring wine into his glass without looking. “As long as Ao Yongwang is alive, that’s impossible.”
Ao Qingqing snapped, “Was it you who told my brother you’d never considered me for the new brand’s partnership? Did you say that?”
“I did,” Kong Wenyu answered, lifting his glass as he walked onto the balcony, watching the trees sway in the wind.
“He used to say you were manipulative. I didn’t believe him,” she said. Her voice echoed slightly—it sounded like she was in some empty warehouse. “Now I do. So prove it. Prove you’re on my side.”
“In two hours, I’ll have someone release a public statement. It’ll make Ao Yongwang and Kong Lingtiao look like they’ve completely severed ties—no shared interests, no way to reconcile.” Kong Wenyu swirled his glass. The pale gold champagne shimmered like moonlight on a river. “That’s my show of good faith.”
“Fine. I’ll wait. But if you lie to me—I will make you pay.”
Kong Wenyu had heard too many threats that day to care. Even one from Ao Qingqing, with all her venom, couldn’t stir anything inside him.
He didn’t even give her the courtesy of a scoff.
Ao Qingqing paused. “Your last name’s still Kong. As of now, the Kong Corporation’s value is still falling. You’re not afraid of bankruptcy?”
“Not for things I don’t control,” Kong Wenyu replied with a faint smirk. “If it all crashes, so be it. But you—your situation isn’t much better. If you need help, just ask.”
—
In the guard’s room at the edge of the courtyard, Nie Jun lifted his head, eyes drawn toward Kong Wenyu’s bedroom. The curtains there were half open, a soft, low light spilling out—like a sheltered oil lamp glowing faintly in the dark.
He still wasn’t asleep.
The midnight shift room was dead quiet. Everyone knew it would be a sleepless night, but after a long day of tension, even the most strained nerves began to slacken, yearning for a brief rest.
Several on-duty bodyguards went to the next room to sleep. Behind him, Hai Ming’s steady, deep breathing began to sound.
Nie Jun popped open the drawer and pulled out a cigarette. He bit down on it and got up, stepping out of the room.
The courtyard was even more silent. He walked out the main gate and squatted under a tree to light his cigarette.
He’d seen plenty of fights between powerful families—most of them ugly and full of revenge. Originally, he’d only planned to check in on how Kong Wenyu was doing. If he seemed fine, Nie Jun would’ve quietly left without interfering.
But clearly, he wasn’t fine. Kong Wenyu was still too young.
His earpiece was connected to a wiretap—Ao Yongwang’s side had gone quiet, but Kong Lingtiao’s end was still in chaos.
When the cigarette burned down to the filter, Nie Jun stood up and tossed the butt into a trash bin.
He went home, got his bike, rode for two blocks, then switched to a black-market taxi. After two transfers, he stopped at a 24-hour convenience store and picked up a few things. On his way out, he deliberately chose paths without surveillance.
The roads in the villa district were deserted. Nie Jun lingered at a corner for a few minutes before spotting a sedan driving toward him.
He checked the license plate, zipped his jacket all the way up, pulled his cap low, and quickened his pace to follow.
About 20 meters ahead, the car abruptly pulled over to the side of the road.
A man in plain clothes got out to inspect a blown-out tire. He pulled out his phone to make a call.
“Hey,” Nie Jun called out.
The man turned—and was immediately smothered with a cloth.
Seconds later, Nie Jun dragged the unconscious man into the back seat. Wearing gloves, he slipped into the driver’s seat and smashed the car’s dashcam.
Driving with a blown tire wasn’t exactly smooth, but he managed. He drove out of the villa zone, then pulled into a shady corner and swapped out the spare tire and the license plate. From there, he sped off to an abandoned warehouse 40 kilometers away.
Changing into a fresh pair of gloves, Nie Jun fished the man’s phone from his coat and unlocked it with his fingerprint.
The phone’s layout was simple—everything was visible at a glance. Nie Jun found Kong Lingtiao’s number in the contact list and sent her a photo.
Seconds later, the phone started ringing nonstop.
He didn’t answer the first call. Declined the second. Let the third ring nearly all the way through before finally answering—slowly.
“Whose man are you?” Kong Lingtiao’s voice demanded through the phone.
A voice changer distorted Nie Jun’s tone into a mechanical rasp. “You broke your word. Promised a partnership but didn’t deliver. Don’t blame me for what happens next.”
“Ao Yongwang!” Kong Lingtiao shouted, voice tight with fury. “You dare betray me?”
Nie Jun said nothing.
After a pause, Kong Lingtiao’s voice grew more anxious. “I should’ve known when I couldn’t reach you just now—you’re really helping Kong Wenyu deal with me? Where are you?”
“By the sea,” Nie Jun said. “Kong Wenyu told me he never planned to replace the partner. Second Aunt, just admit you’ve registered the marriage, and I’ll send the location immediately. If not—”
“Kong Wenyu lied to you. If you still believe him, you’re a damn fool,” Kong Lingtiao snapped, taking a deep breath. “This is between us. Don’t hurt him.”
Nie Jun didn’t respond.
When she spoke again, her tone was cooler, more composed. “If that statement goes public, I’ll be forced to give up 30% of my shares. Years of work, gone. Do you really think Kong Wenyu’s a better ally than me? Tell me where you are—I’ll come to you. Let’s talk face to face.”
“Don’t let anyone walk out your front door,” Nie Jun replied. “Unless you want me to strip him naked and toss him in the ocean.”
Kong Lingtiao immediately opened her mouth to speak, but Nie Jun cut her off. “You have ten minutes to decide. I won’t answer again. Go a second over, and I’ll send you your lover’s ashes by mail.”
Kong Lingtiao inhaled sharply. Her voice trembled despite her effort to stay composed. “Let me hear his voice.”
“He’s unconscious,” Nie Jun said. “You’ve got nine minutes left.”
He hung up.
Almost instantly, the phone rang again.
Nie Jun glanced at it, then powered it off. He pulled out a piece of wire and began dismantling the phone, piece by piece, destroying the embedded GPS tracker along with it.
He did it with ease—no hesitation, no remorse. Once he confirmed there were no other tracking devices on the man, he finally pulled out his own phone to check the time.
Five minutes had barely passed. Though no official statement had surfaced online yet, the trending topic had stopped slipping down the ranks.
Nie Jun really wanted to call Kong Wenyu. He opened his contacts, then closed them again without dialing.
At seven minutes, still no statement. Nie Jun stared at the gloomy sky outside, then drew his gaze back to the man lying on the floor.
At the nine-minute mark, Nie Jun sighed and stood up.
He hoisted the man over his shoulder and carried him outside, tossing him into the back of a van that had already been swapped out once.
He drove through overgrown fields and came to a stop by a dirt road. One last time, Nie Jun took out his phone to check.
Still no statement. But the ten-minute mark had come and gone. He couldn’t help but glance at the unconscious man in the back seat.
—Slender and slightly frail build, average features that were calm and unremarkable, fine lines at the corners of his eyes—not obvious, but there.
Just when he thought he’d truly been abandoned, a marriage announcement suddenly popped up on his browser.
Nie Jun opened it and read it through. Then he put away his phone, started the engine, and drove the man toward the horizon.
At 4 a.m., the sky showed no sign of light.
The old neighborhood’s solar-powered streetlights cast a faint glow. If you listened closely, you could just make out the soft chirping of insects nearby.
Nie Jun stepped out of the bathroom, towel in hand as he dried his hair after a shower, ready to get some sleep.
His phone, left in the bedroom, buzzed with vibration. He walked over quickly to answer, but said nothing at first after picking up.
“Ever listened to piano?” Kong Wenyu’s voice came through, low and hoarse—like fine sandpaper gently brushing across the ear.
“No,” Nie Jun replied.
Kong Wenyu gave a quiet laugh.
A moment later, a rhapsody began playing through the phone speaker. After a stretch of music, Kong Wenyu’s voice returned: “You’ve definitely heard this one before.”
Sure enough, Nie Jun said, “Sounds familiar.”
Kong Wenyu chuckled again, saying nothing more.
The wild, impassioned notes rang out once again—cutting through the stillness of the early morning. The phone must’ve been resting on the piano, because the sound through the speaker was sharp, almost piercing.
Two minutes passed, and as the music came to an end and Nie Jun was just about to speak, a gentler, softer piano piece began.
This one felt even more familiar—but he still couldn’t name it.
Kong Wenyu spoke, his voice threading through the gentle melody: “You’ve heard this one too, haven’t you?”
“I have,” Nie Jun said. “But I don’t know what it’s called.”
Kong Wenyu didn’t answer right away. Only when the final note faded out did he say, “The first was Croatian Rhapsody. The second—Mariage d’Amour.”
“Got it,” Nie Jun replied.
Kong Wenyu gave another soft laugh, his breath brushing against the mic—he sounded in good spirits. “The first one’s about war—tonight’s victory song.”
He sounded like he’d been drinking—his voice slightly slurred, drawn out at the ends of each sentence: “The second one’s about love.”
Nie Jun could picture the elegant curve of his face in profile, his eyes gently crinkling with a smile.
“For you. Tonight,” Kong Wenyu said.
Nie Jun’s breath was so quiet it seemed deliberately suppressed—barely audible.
Kong Wenyu, as always, never worried whether the person on the other end was truly listening. “What are you thinking about?”
Nie Jun’s voice came low and husky, brushing the ear like velvet. “I wish you could’ve played it for me in person.”
Kong Wenyu gave a soft laugh. “And if I did—what else would you want, besides the music?”
Nie Jun hesitated for just a beat, and Kong Wenyu chuckled again. “Wanna see me? Right now?”
Nie Jun answered without missing a beat, and Kong Wenyu could almost see those bright, focused eyes.
“I’m coming to find you now.”
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