Hong Kong variety show: The mastermind behind the scenes is emerging.

After learning that Lam Chin-on had his legs crippled and was left like a dead dog in front of the Mong Kok Police Station, Chan Chiu-sang's last line of defense completely collapsed.

Once inside the interrogation room, he never again considered putting up a fight. He poured out his heart, revealing everything about how he and Lin Zhen'an had been bound together by interests since middle school, the process of smuggling goods through ODE logistics channels, and how he used his status as a lawyer to launder money for the triad. He explained each and every one of these things clearly.

Even when his mouth got dry, he asked Chan Ka-kui for a glass of water, drank it, wiped his mouth, and continued talking.

So, naturally, in the following week, the Wan Chai Regional Crime Unit, together with the Customs and Excise Department and the Commercial Crime Bureau (CIB), followed the clues revealed by Chan Chiu-sang and raided three underground warehouses, two money laundering dens, and a black market transit point for chemical raw materials in Tsuen Wan.

Lin Zhen'an's drug trafficking network, which he had been operating for many years, was completely dismantled. The amount of money and the quantity of drugs involved were so large that even Lin Leimeng, who was used to seeing such things, had to smoke two cigarettes to recover.

Of course, Lu Chen did not follow up on any of these matters.

When the news reached the Lu family manor, Lu Chen was playing with Lu Qian and Coke & Sprite on the lawn.

Fourth Brother gave a brief report on the outcome of last night over the phone—Ao led the team cleanly, Lin Zhen'an has been handed over to the police, Chen Chaosheng confessed, and the entire chain of interests was paralyzed.

"Very good, you don't need to worry about the rest. With Lin Leimeng and Chen Jiaju's abilities, this case will definitely be resolved perfectly."

"Yes."

After hanging up the phone, Lu Chen played with his son for a while before brushing the grass clippings off his hands and walking into the dining room. Ruan Mei was already sitting at the table, spreading butter on whole wheat bread. Uncle Piao and Aunt Piao were still asleep, and Lai Di was in the kitchen heating up milk for Mary.

"Is it all resolved?" Ruan Mei pushed the spread-on bread in front of him.

"That's about it." Lu Chen took a bite. "We can leave the rest to the police."

Ruan Mei nodded and didn't ask any more questions.

Of course, the reason why Lu Chen no longer worries is not only because he trusts Chen Jiaju's ability to solve cases, but more importantly, because he is now preparing for another major event - the acquisition of all of ODE Group's Asian assets.

……

September 1st, 100th floor of Jiahe Building.

This is the high-end conference room in the Golden Harvest Building. In the business world of Hong Kong Island, this conference room also has another name - the Cloud Conference Room.

The 30-meter-long floor-to-ceiling curved glass curtain wall faces directly east towards Victoria Harbour without any obstruction. Looking down from the 100th floor, the entire skyline of Hong Kong Island seems to lie prostrate at your feet. In the center of the conference room is a long table made of Brazilian rosewood, with a dense and deep grain that reflects the light coming in from the window, making it look like a whole block of amber-colored ice.

By this time, both sides of the long table were already packed with people.

The Jiahe Shipping delegation was led by Lu Chen, flanked by Shipping President Lin Jiande, CFO, Legal Director, and several top-notch lawyers in suits. Opposite them sat Steem, the global president of ODE, who had traveled extensively from overseas, and his entourage, including the headquarters' chief legal officer, the interim head of the Asia-Pacific region, and three senior actuaries.

Steem sat in the main seat opposite Lu Chen. Unlike what one might expect, he wasn't like the stereotypical arrogant, well-dressed foreign executives who frequented Central. On the contrary, he was rather thin, with slightly hunched shoulders, making him appear smaller even in that rosewood seat.

He wore a dark gray wool-blend jacket that day, over a dark blue Oxford shirt, and no tie. The sleeves were slightly long, almost covering his wrists. Beside his hand, which was resting on the table, lay a pair of half-framed reading glasses, the lenses bearing a few fingerprints.

If you hadn't seen his resume beforehand, it would be hard to imagine that this gaunt-faced man with slightly downcast eyes is a ruthless figure who runs one of the world's largest logistics empires.

Speaking of which, this Stiem is quite a legendary figure in the business world. Forty-one years ago, this man used a second-hand container truck he found somewhere to run between the ports of Marseille and Lyon for three whole years. Later, the container truck became a fleet of trucks, the fleet of trucks became a shipping agent, and the shipping agent became a logistics empire covering seventeen countries.

Under his leadership, the ODE Group surged ahead, eventually becoming a business empire with a market value of six billion US dollars. Even during the global shipping industry downturn a couple of years ago, ODE's financial statements still looked impressive. Of course, the whole world now knows where their profits came from.

Today marks the fourth round of negotiations between the two giants, and it's destined to be the final, bloody one. The first three rounds have already worn down the asset valuation, employee layoffs, and transitional handover. Now, only one item remains on the table—the price.

"Mr. Lu, we meet again." Steem spoke first, his voice a little hoarse, as if his throat had been damaged by the sea breeze for many years.

"Mr. Steem, welcome back to Hong Kong Island," Lu Chen said.

Steem put on his reading glasses, took out a document from his bag, flipped through it, then slightly raised his head and looked at the young man opposite him through his glasses: "Mr. Lu, our last meeting didn't go too well, but this time, I've come with sincerity."

"That would be perfect," Lu Chen said, picking up the pen on the table and tapping the cap absently. "Jiahe Shipping has also completed its due diligence and conducted a comprehensive assessment of all of ODE's assets in Asia. We can officially begin the closing negotiations today."

"very good."

Steem closed the file, his gaze flickering behind his glasses.

For the next two hours, the strategists from both sides went into full-on "firepower" mode.

ODE first provided a detailed overview of the latest operational data for its various assets in the Asia region, including seventeen owned terminal berths in eight major ports, a fleet of over 1,300 land vehicles, and three regional logistics hubs in Singapore, Kuala Lumpur, and Bangkok.

The CFO attempted to demonstrate that ODE's brand value and market network in Asia remain irreplaceable strategically important, therefore the overall valuation floor should not be lower than $3 million.

Jiahe, on the other hand, refused to back down, with its think tank directly listing the financial data of all ODE Shipping's related companies in Asia for the most recent quarter: its three largest customers in Asia—Toyota, Charoen Pokphand Group, and Siam Cement Group (SCG)—all suspended their transportation contracts with ODE within two weeks of the scandal being exposed.

Meanwhile, the Hong Kong Island District Court and the Customs and Excise Department jointly launched a comprehensive review of ODE's Asian operations, resulting in the suspension of operating licenses for four major cross-border freight routes in August alone. No matter how much ODE emphasizes its brand value, it cannot conceal the fact that its Asian operations have plummeted to rock bottom.

Influenced by this idea, the atmosphere at the negotiating table was once very "friendly"—so friendly that the general counsels of both sides called each other "shit," and then argued heatedly over the contract terms, one clause at a time.

"Two hundred and sixty million US dollars," under immense pressure, Steem lowered the price with a grim face. "This is already the net asset book value after deducting depreciation. ODE will never back down another step."

His CFO wiped the sweat from his brow and pushed a colorful global asset distribution map to the center of the rosewood table.

Lu Chen didn't even look at the picture. He simply crossed his hands slowly, resting the backs of his hands on his chin, his dark eyes radiating a hunter-like pressure.

"Mr. Steem," he began, his tone unhurried, "your book value is quite accurate. But you've overlooked something else."

Steen's eyelids twitched, and a sense of foreboding rose in his heart: "...I'd like to hear more."

"How many years remain on your port leases in Asia?"

Stevens fell silent. The British legal counsel beside him was about to speak in his defense when the old man raised his hand and sternly silenced him.

"The lease on Kwai Chung No. 3 has thirteen months left, and the berths in Singapore have six months left," Lu Chen answered for him. "When you acquired these terminals, you used the title of 'Top Ten Global Logistics Companies' and got preferential prices. Now ODE's brand in Asia is ruined—the Hong Kong government has launched a full review of you, and Singapore is also watching. If Golden Harvest doesn't take over, there's a high probability you won't be able to get these two terminals back when the leases are renewed next year."

Lu Chen paused for a moment.

"Without the docks, your shipping routes are just a few lines on paper. Your transshipment stations lose their hubs, and your trucks lose their unloading points. At that point, Mr. Steem, your assets won't just be $2.6 million, but liabilities—the massive severance pay and penalties alone could completely bankrupt your headquarters' cash flow."

Steem's fingers, resting on the table, tightened slightly.

"Since you've investigated so thoroughly," his voice deepened, "you should also know that ODE Asia has three cold chain logistics lines from Singapore to Tokyo. The annual contracts for these three lines alone are worth thirty million US dollars, and they were major clients that took us three years to negotiate with back then."

Hearing this, Lin Jiande, who had remained silent, smiled contemptuously and delivered the final blow: "Mr. Steem, you mean Nishimura Seafood, right? Unfortunately, they already announced last Friday that, given the carrier's poor reputation, they won't renew the contract when it expires at the end of the year. Your cold chain logistics line will be running empty starting next month."

"..." Stim closed his eyes, slowly turning the ring with his right thumb.

The huge conference room fell into a deathly silence in an instant, with only the rustling of the green plants in the corner under the air conditioning blowing, and the projection on the whiteboard looking like the tattered flags of a defeated army.

"Two hundred and thirty million." Stim opened his eyes again, his voice sounding as if he had aged ten years.

Lu Chen completely ignored the gazes of the other team and expressionlessly uttered a number: "One hundred and eighty million."

"Two hundred and ten million."

"One hundred and ninety million, that's my final offer."

Steem stared at him for a long time. Lu Chen didn't avoid his gaze, nor did he offer any further explanation; he simply sat there quietly, waiting for his answer.

"make a deal."

When Steen uttered the word, his lips barely moved.

There was a moment of silence in the conference room. Ba Wanghua was the first to react and began to organize the transaction documents on the table. Two lawyers from the legal team stood up and placed three copies of the final agreement in front of Lu Chen and Steem respectively.

The signing process was quick. The pen scribbled across the paper a dozen times, each stroke signifying the formal transfer of ownership of an asset belonging to ODE in some corner of Asia.

The last page was the president's confirmation letter. Steem held the pen, paused above the signature line, and finally signed it with trembling hands. He capped the pen, closed the folder, stood up, and extended his hand to Lu Chen.

Lu Chen also stood up and shook hands with him. Steem's palm was slightly cool, and his grip was firm, but he released his hand after only two seconds.

"Mr. Lu," Steem withdrew his hand and straightened his cuffs, "besides the terms of the agreement, I have a personal matter that I would like to discuss with you privately."

Lu Chen glanced at Ba Wanghua, who immediately stood up and told both teams to pack up their documents and leave the conference room one after another.

As the heavy double wooden doors closed, only the two of them remained in the "cloud-top conference room." The afternoon sunlight from Victoria Harbour reflected off the huge floor-to-ceiling windows, casting a hazy golden halo between them.

"Speak," Lu Chen said, sitting down again.

Steem didn't sit down. He walked to the floor-to-ceiling window, turned his back to Lu Chen, looked at the harbor outline outside the window, and remained silent for about ten seconds.

"Gao Peide".

After saying the name, Steem turned around, his gray eyes devoid of any extra emotion.

He knew very well where the root cause of ODE's capsizing in Asia lay. He was in charge of the illegal operations of the Ocean Star, he was the one who built the black market supply chain at the port, and he was the one who facilitated the connection between Lin Zhen'an and ODE.

Of course, none of that is the key point. The key point is that he made an unforgivable mistake: he said things he shouldn't have to the police in the car. The recording involved not only dock smuggling but also two fund transfers involving senior management at headquarters. When the news reached the United States, the headquarters' stock price plummeted, wiping out nearly 20% of its market value within a week.

"He possesses a considerable amount of information about headquarters that is not suitable for public disclosure. Some of this, if disseminated through police interrogation channels, would cause unnecessary disruption to our subsequent business handover. But now, our connections in Hong Kong Island have been completely severed due to the scandal, and the authorities are unlikely to provide us with any assistance. So—"

Steen released his grip, took a step back, and resumed his normal voice: "If possible, I need an opportunity."

Lu Chen looked at him for a few seconds, a smile appearing on his lips: "No problem. I can do it if needed."

Steem shook his head coldly: "No need. I'll handle this person myself."

……

At 9 p.m., the Wan Chai Police Headquarters Jail.

Gao Peide lay on the hard wooden bed, his hands behind his head, staring blankly at the ever-burning fluorescent light on the ceiling. Footsteps occasionally echoed in the corridor outside the iron fence, then gradually faded away.

He had lost a lot of weight since he came in, and his original custom-made suit had long been replaced by a loose prison uniform that swayed loosely over his shoulders. However, his treatment was not bad—he was kept in solitary confinement, no gangsters caused trouble, and his meals were even served warm.

He was waiting, waiting for the ODE headquarters' legal team to bail him out. After all, he had served the company for ten years, and the amount of trouble he had taken for Steem could fill an entire shipping container. Scandal was scandal, but the company wouldn't abandon him—at least, Gao Peide himself was convinced of that.

The footsteps in the corridor stopped sometime ago.

Gao Peide didn't pay attention. He turned over, facing the wall, and closed his eyes.

He didn't know how much time had passed when he suddenly woke up.

He wasn't woken up by noise; quite the opposite, he was awakened by the silence outside.

The corridor was too quiet.

At this time of day, you would normally hear the sounds of several shifts changing shoes, the creaking of iron gates opening and closing, and the occasional chatter of officers on duty calling their colleagues to make coffee from vending machines.

But tonight, there was no sound at all.

Gao Peide suddenly stood up and found a man standing outside the iron fence.

The newcomer wore a finely crafted dark gray cashmere coat with the collar turned up sharply. He wore black tactical leather gloves, his right hand hanging at his side, holding a Beretta pistol fitted with an extended silencer. The dim light from the green-shaded lamp at the end of the corridor shrouded most of his face in shadow, with only the dark muzzle of the gun gleaming with a cold, suffocating metallic sheen.

"Mason." Gao Peide's voice was so hoarse it didn't sound like his own.

Mason Russell. Deputy head of security at ODE headquarters, former sergeant major of the French Foreign Legion, and served as a mercenary in Africa for eight years.

Gao Peide had seen him several times when he attended meetings at the New York headquarters. Each time, he followed behind Steem, never speaking or smiling, and always stood by the door.

Mason didn't answer, but slowly pulled a key from his jacket pocket—the standard key to the iron door of the detention cell.

Then, the iron gate was pulled open, creaking and bouncing several times in the empty corridor.

Gao Peide involuntarily moved backward until the back of his head hit the cold cement wall, and he could no longer move back.

"Mr. Steem asked me to pass on a message to you," Mason began, his voice flat. "He said—"

"What did he say?" Gao Peide suddenly seized on the words, like a drowning man grabbing a piece of driftwood. "Is he trying to get me out? Does he want me to come with you? Please, take me out of here, I promise I won't say anything! I—"

"Mr. Gao, you know too much," Mason said. "Besides, the police have a lot of substantial evidence, so there's no way to bail you out."

Gao Peide's eyeballs trembled violently in their sockets.

"Like you always say," Mason raised the gun, pointing it at Gao Peide's forehead, "the company will do everything in its power to get you through this. But if they really can't—you'll have to get the company through this."

Gao Peide's lips parted.

He had said this to Captain Hopkins of the Ocean Star, to countless black market dealers, and to countless of his downlines who had run into trouble. Each time, he sat in his office building, across most of Hong Kong Island, holding a receiver, his tone nonchalant.

Now, it's finally his turn.

He wanted to speak. He wanted to beg for mercy, to say that he could still work for the company, to say that he still had accounts, connections, and value overseas. But Mason didn't give him the time.

"puff."

The sound of the gun, fitted with a silencer, was very faint, like a thick book falling from mid-air onto a carpet.

Gao Peide's head slammed against the cement wall with a dull thud, and he fell to one side, a small, neat hole appearing in the center of his forehead. Blood trickled down his brow, past his nose, into the corner of his mouth, and then dripped onto the ground.

Mason then put away his gun, took a white handkerchief from his pocket, and carefully cleaned up the marks.

The corridor remained quiet, and the green-shaded desk lamp on the duty desk was still lit as usual.

Mason disappeared around the corner along the path he had come from, the sound of his leather shoes fading into the distance until it was finally drowned out by the eternal hum of the prison deep within.

About fifteen minutes later, the officer on duty returned to his post. He noticed that Gao Peide's cell door was ajar, went to check, and then pressed the intercom button.

"Report—Emergency situation in detention cell number four. Suspect suspected of suicide. Requesting backup—Repeat, emergency situation in detention cell number four. Requesting backup—"

The static from the walkie-talkie pierced the silence of the corridor. Disorganized footsteps echoed in the distant stairwell. The fluorescent lights continued their humming.

In the corridor, the unfinished cup of instant coffee was still on the duty desk, emitting a cheap aroma.

The night was deep.