After my divorce at thirty, I developed an intelligence network.

Zheng Shu pushed the cannon across the river, directly blocking Fu Mingde's path.

He didn't look at the chessboard, but gazed at the sky, and said, "People come and go in the High-tech Zone, but among all the women who have managed to stand firm over the years, only Jiang Yan is truly remarkable."

He paused for a moment: "This woman looks soft, but she's ruthless and has a sharp eye."

Those who tried to harm her in the past never fared well. She's gotten to where she is today because she knows when to be firm and when to be lenient, and she's efficient in her work.

He looked at Fu Mingde, "There are plenty of people who want to curry favor with her. That fat Zhao guy used to loiter around her door for three months, but he couldn't even get a gift inside. And that Boss Huang, he tried to throw money at her to get a name on her name, but she completely ignored him. Why?"

Zheng Shu continued, "She's selective. She doesn't care how much money you have, she only cares if you're cut out for it."

Fu Mingde held the horse in his hand without saying a word.

He knew all of this.

Zheng Shu seemed to know what he was thinking, so he captured one of his pawns with his rook, his words laced with disdain:

"That Gong Yuelong from Nanshan County? The one who broke Wu San's legs?" He shook his head.

"A debt-ridden out-of-towner who only knows how to fight, with Jiang Yan?"

Jiang Yan was talking about business, about the ins and outs.

In her eyes, fighting on construction sites was just thugs fighting for territory.

Even if you need to find a knife, you have to see if it's good to use.

A clueless greenhorn with no background... what makes him think he can do this?

It may sound harsh, but that's the truth.

The two people are from completely different worlds.

Fu Mingde put down his horse and, instead of moving forward, took a step back.

He raised his head and spoke calmly, "What you said makes sense. However, a couple of days ago, Jiang Yan met with Gong Yuelong alone in Tingsong Room and they talked for quite a while. He was able to come see me because Jiang Yan made the call herself."

The air seemed to freeze for a moment.

Zheng Shu's hand, holding the chess piece, hovered in mid-air. He slowly turned his head, his eyes fixed on Fu Mingde: "She made the call herself? And met with him alone in the Listening Pine Room?"

"Yes." Fu Mingde nodded.

"Yang Ruyan from Juxian Pavilion has been taking good care of Gong Yuelong lately."

Zheng Shu fell silent.

He withdrew his hand and gripped the chess piece tightly.

His eyes were fixed on the distance.

This is no longer just a casual acquaintance.

Taking the initiative to meet, talking privately, introducing relationships... the meaning is very clear: Jiang Yan, that Jiang Yan who has high standards and never easily pays attention to people, has actually taken a liking to Gong Yuelong, the least likely person to come, and has already started helping him.

It wasn't Gong Yuelong who begged her; it was more like Jiang Yan herself who approached her.

This kind of financial assistance is completely different from what they previously thought was impossible; the contrast is too great.

After a long while, Zheng Shu finally let out a long sigh of relief.

His tone carried disbelief, and something else entirely—a feeling that was hard to describe.

"This Jiang Yan... she really doesn't follow the rules."

He thought of his son, Zheng Tao.

Zheng Tao had mentioned Jiang Yan to him several times, and his words implied something about her.

Zheng Tao, thanks to his connections, is considered a figure in the High-tech Zone. However, when he invites Jiang Yan to dinner, they might have a drink and exchange a few polite words at the dinner party, but there's absolutely no chance of anything happening between them in private.

In an attempt to establish some connection with the beautiful woman, Zheng Tao spent a considerable amount of money asking for favors, but with little success.

Now, Jiang Yan is so eager to help Gong Yuelong, who has nothing.

This comparison felt like a thorn stuck in my heart.

He was starting to lose control of his confident, all-knowing expression.

Besides being shocked, I was also a little annoyed, a little confused, and a little... I felt sorry for my son.

The wins and losses on the chessboard suddenly lost their meaning.

Zheng Shu ultimately didn't make that move and put the piece back in the box.

He suddenly muttered a curse under his breath.

"Damn it, Jiang Yan's favors that so many people would kill for, this kid got away with it for nothing."

When Zheng Tao pushed open the courtyard gate, he walked a little hurriedly, and his face was flushed with alcohol.

Seeing his father, Zheng Shu, still sitting at the stone table with Fu Mingde beside him, he paused for a moment, then composed himself.

"Dad, Uncle Fu," Zheng Tao greeted them and sat down on the empty stone bench.

Zheng Shu didn't look up, holding a chess piece in his hand: "Drunk again?"

Zheng Tao chuckled awkwardly, "I just heard from some friends that Wu Jinshui has been having a series of setbacks lately. Wu San broke his leg, and Wang Biao's kneecap is shattered."

He glanced at Fu Mingde and continued, "Dad, Uncle Fu, what do you think... if Wu Jinshui really falls from grace, what about those sand, gravel, and cement lines he has..."

Zheng Shu slammed the chess piece onto the chessboard.

Zheng Tao fell silent.

"Whether Wu Jinshui falls from grace or not is none of your business."

"He has about a hundred people under him, and he's involved in every aspect of the business—the sand pit, the material storage site, the transport fleet—where hasn't he cultivated his roots over the past ten years? Can you really bring down a giant tree just by breaking a leg?"

Fu Mingde picked up the now-cold tea and sipped it slowly without saying a word.

Zheng Tao was unconvinced and muttered under his breath, "But that Gong Yuelong isn't an ordinary person, even Jiang Yan..."

"What's wrong with Jiang Yan?" Zheng Shu interrupted him, his gaze sweeping over his son, then seemingly casually passing over Fu Mingde.

"Jiang Yan is a businesswoman; matchmaking is her forte. But when it comes to actually resorting to violence and taking away someone's livelihood..." He paused, "that's another matter."

The courtyard was very quiet.

Zheng Shu continued, "The High-tech Zone has its own rules. Those that need to be regulated must be regulated."

He glanced at Fu Mingde. "Don't meddle in things that aren't your business. Some people and some things are best handled by themselves. Outsiders shouldn't interfere..." He shook his head, not finishing his sentence.

Fu Mingde put down his teacup, the bottom of which lightly touched the stone table with a soft sound.

Zheng Tao looked at his father, then at Fu Mingde, and suddenly understood something.

These words weren't just meant for him.

"Dad, I understand." Zheng Tao lowered his head. "I was just overthinking it."

Zheng Shu hummed in agreement, then looked back at the chessboard, as if talking to himself, yet also as if addressing the two people present:

"If someone wants to eat, someone has to cook. If someone wants to overturn the table, they have to see if they have the teeth to do it."

"We just need to take good care of our own stoves. Let the other fires burn on their own."

He took a step and trapped himself in a corner.

"If you don't intervene when you should, something bad will happen; if you touch the wrong things when you shouldn't..." Zheng Shu looked up at the deepening night outside the courtyard, "It'll be even more troublesome."

Fu Mingde stood up: "Old leader, it's getting late, I'll head back now."

"Okay." Zheng Shu nodded. "Mingde, stability in the district is the most important thing. Just keep an eye on things as they come.

Fu Mingde nodded, said nothing more, and turned to leave.

Zheng Tao watched as Director Fu's figure disappeared through the door, then turned back to look at his father.

On the stone table, the father's king had nowhere to move, yet it remained there.

He suddenly shivered.

……

At 2 a.m., a mutton soup restaurant on the outskirts of the High-tech Zone that operates all night.

The small private room inside was filled with thick smoke.

Wu Jinshui leaned back in the greasy plastic chair, slowly twirling the pair of shiny walnuts in his hands, his eyes half-closed, as if he were resting.

A gust of night wind blew in when the door was pushed open.

The man who came in was a lean guy named Huozui. He didn't actually have a cleft lip; he had a scar on the corner of his mouth from a fight years ago, which made him speak with a slight lisp.

He was specifically tasked with keeping an eye on Wu Jinshui and passing on bits of information; he wasn't a key figure, but he was quick and efficient.

The person with the cleft lip had a pale face; it was unclear whether it was from the cold or something else.

He gently closed the door behind him, but didn't go inside. He just stood by the door, his Adam's apple bobbing.

Wu Jinshui didn't even lift his eyelids: "Going out to catch a cold in the middle of the night?"

"B-Boss..." The man with the cleft lip said in a slightly strained voice, and subconsciously licked the scar.

"I just... I just got word that the bundles of materials Brother Biao left at the Xinke construction site last night... are gone."

The hand that was playing with the walnuts paused for a moment.

"That's it?"

"Yes, that's all."

The walnut started to spin slowly again, but at a slightly faster speed than before.

"When did it disappear?" Wu Jinshui asked.

"I don't know."

Wu Jinshui didn't say anything, picked up the cigarette box on the table, shook out a cigarette, put it in his mouth, and lit it.

The firelight illuminated half of his face, which remained expressionless.

"Where is Wang Biao?" he asked.

The man with the cleft lip lowered his head even further: "Brother Biao...can't get in touch. His phone is off."

Wu Jinshui's fingers, holding the cigarette, tightened almost imperceptibly.

He exhaled smoke slowly, shrouding his expressionless face.

Unable to contact them. Several bundles of good material, worth a lot of money.

He remembered Wang Biao's recent complaints about the cost of his mother's medical treatment, his broken leg, and the way he held his breath when he was scolded.

"Okay, got it." Wu Jinshui stubbed out his cigarette in the now-cold mutton soup bowl. "Go on."

The man with the cleft lip quickly retreated, and the door closed gently.

The private room fell silent again. He leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes.

My fingers tapped lightly on the plastic tabletop, one tap at a time.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

After a while, he opened his eyes, took out his phone, and dialed a number he had saved for a long time but rarely used.

It rang seven or eight times before the other end answered, a hoarse voice like sandpaper: "Who is it?"

"Old Cat, come back when you've rested enough. Something's lost and we need to find it. And there's someone... who might not know the rules, so we need to teach them."