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

Macau, Avenida de Almeida Ribeiro.

Stanley Ho's private estate has stood on this winding avenue for nearly twenty years. Facing Nam Van Lake and backed by Bishop's Hill, from the third-floor terrace, one can see the iconic golden birdcage-like building of the Lisboa Hotel and the steel cables of the old bridge gleaming in the sunset.

When the phone rang, Stanley Ho was sitting in a leather chair in his study on the second floor, flipping through a horse racing book.

"He Sheng, it's me."

On the other end of the phone was the voice of Stanley Ho. Stanley Ho closed his horse racing book, leaned back in his chair, and a smile appeared on his lips.

"Brother Bao, what a rare guest! What brings you to call me today?"

"Mr. He, I'm calling today because I want to talk to you about something."

Stanley Ho's smile remained unchanged as he pressed the microphone closer to his ear: "Please speak."

"A couple of days ago, a few of us went to Ah Chen's place for a small get-together, and Lao Huo mentioned during the meal," Bao Chuanwang paused for a moment, "that he plans to transfer his shares in SJM Holdings."

There was silence on the other end of the line for about two seconds.

"Transfer it out?" Stanley Ho's voice revealed a perfectly timed hint of surprise. "Is Old Huo short of money, or is there some difficulty at home? If he's having trouble with cash flow, he can just ask me directly."

"It's not about the money." The shipping magnate sighed. "Old Huo means that everyone's ideals are drifting further and further apart. In recent years, the public accounts of SJM Holdings have become increasingly complex and obscure. Just those unresolved bad debt details keep him up at night... So, he wants to find a quieter way."

"I see," Stanley Ho said, leaning back on the sofa with a smile still on his face, though his fingers slowly tightened around the horse racing book. "Old Huo is still as stubborn as ever. We've been friends for decades, what misunderstanding can't be discussed in person? Why bother Brother Bao to act as our mouthpiece?"

"If he could have talked to you calmly and face-to-face, this matter wouldn't have dragged on like this until today," the shipping magnate replied quietly, whether lamenting the past or subtly mocking the present.

"Mr. He, you know Old Huo's temperament better than anyone. He is not one to go back on his word. Once he has made up his mind, it is a well-thought-out decision that leads to his downfall."

"...So, what's Old Huo thinking?"

"That's how it is..."

Subsequently, the shipping magnate revealed the idea of ​​the charitable foundation to Stanley Ho, and subtly indicated that Lu Chen also expressed his support. If Stanley Ho did not accept it, then they might not be able to work together in the future.

"Mr. He, let me be fair. Brother Huo is truly heartbroken this time. It's not about money, it's about principles—the promises you made with him back then are no longer what they used to be. You should know that." The shipping magnate sighed. "Besides, you've experienced Ah Chen's iron-fisted style firsthand; he's always a man of his word."

Stanley Ho suddenly chuckled twice, the sound drifting lightly through the telephone line and into the ears of Billionaire.

"Brother Bao, it's not that serious, it's not that serious. Brother Huo thinks too little of me." Stanley Ho sat up straight, his voice filled with warm laughter. "There have been many misunderstandings in this. I admit that SJM Holdings has inflated its size too much over the years, and it has indeed accumulated many deep-seated problems. As the general manager, I naturally cannot shirk my responsibility. But—"

His tone softened, as if he were carefully choosing his words, "But everyone's intentions were good."

"Yes, that's what I told Lu Sheng too," Bao Chuanwang continued, following up on his words.

"I think the idea of ​​a foundation is excellent, really." Stanley Ho's voice sounded exceptionally sincere. "Brother Huo wants to do charity, and I, Ho, wholeheartedly support him. Actually, I had thought about this direction a few years ago, but Brother Huo didn't bring it up, so I didn't want to be presumptuous. Now that we've all come to the same conclusion, let's sit down and have a good chat."

The shipping magnate listened quietly without interrupting.

"How about this, Brother Bao, let's all get together next time. Let's invite Brother Huo and Lu Sheng too, and the four of us can sit at one table and have a good discussion. There's no deal that can't be reached, why make the atmosphere so tense?"

"Okay, I will definitely pass it on."

After exchanging a few more pleasantries, the call ended.

Stanley Ho slumped back in his chair, exhausted, and slowly closed his eyes. The smile on his face gradually faded, as if someone were slowly erasing paper with an eraser—first erasing the curve of his mouth, then the smile lines around his eyes, until only two dark shadows remained under his brow bone, and a taut jawline that no longer needed to care about anyone.

After a silence of about two minutes, he stood up, pushed open the study door, and walked down the corridor to the living room on the second floor.

Several 17th-century Portuguese oil paintings, richly colored and depicting coastal scenery of Southern Europe, hung on both sides of the corridor. However, Stanley Ho was not in the mood to appreciate them; his slippers trod silently on the deep red carpet.

The lights in the living room were dimmed. The second wife, Lan Qiongying, was sitting on the sofa flipping through a fashion magazine. After hearing the sound of slippers on the wooden floor, Lan Qiongying looked up, saw her husband's expression, closed the magazine, and placed it on the coffee table.

"What's wrong?"

Stanley Ho did not answer, but walked to the sofa and sat down, reaching for the teapot on the coffee table.

The teapot contained freshly brewed Tieguanyin tea by Lan Qiongying, still steaming. He poured himself a cup, held it in his hand without drinking, and simply watched the tea smoke slowly rise.

"Mr. Fok wants to sell his shares."

Afterwards, Stanley Ho recounted the contents of the phone call he had made that afternoon to Lucina Laam in detail.

Upon hearing this, Lan Qiongying's elegant demeanor vanished, and she sprang up from the sofa cushions as if pricked by needles.

"What right does he have?!" Her voice suddenly rose, revealing an undisguised sharpness. "Lu Chen is an outsider, what right does he have to interfere in SJM Holdings' affairs? Who does he think he is?"

Stanley Ho took a leisurely sip of tea, then sat down next to Lucina Laam, put his arm around her, and said, "Alright, stop saying such hurtful things."

Lan Qiongying turned to look at him.

As the tea leaves slowly sank in the teapot on the coffee table, Stanley Ho said calmly, "In the end, it's not that Lu Chen wants to get involved in SJM Holdings, it's just that Lu Chen wants to support Old Huo."

Outsiders nowadays believe that Stanley Ho is also one of the bigwigs in the "Red Alliance" with a lot of money, but only he knows in his heart that the real core is still Lu Chen, Huo Daheng, Bao Shutang and Li Shutang, and that Stanley Ho is just a hitchhiker.

"...But we can't just let them manipulate us like this, can we?" Lan Qiongying's tone had lost its previous sharpness, but she was still unwilling to give up.

Stanley Ho smiled, his expression full of helplessness.

"Why can't I just do it casually?" He placed the teacup back on the saucer, the porcelain bottom making a soft tapping sound. "Over the past year, the net profits I've made with the Red Alliance in the Japanese markets and the London stock market are more than the He family earned in three years! Where did this enormous fortune come from? It was given to me by Lu Chen!"

"If I break ties with them today over the SJM Holdings issue, I'll be completely kicked off this financial train tomorrow. They won't be hurt in the slightest, but I, Mr. He, will have at least hundreds of millions of US dollars in net profit evaporate out of thin air every year! In the end, even with Lu Chen's support, I still can't stop SJM Holdings from auditing my accounts—I'll lose both my money and my reputation, becoming a laughing stock in Hong Kong and Macau."

He leaned back wearily on the sofa, his hands crossed over his stomach, his eyes vacant.

Lan Qiongying was silent for a moment, then spoke: "Since the trend is irreversible, we can only go with the flow. Those gray incomes in SJM Holdings should be cut off—they can't be hidden for many years anyway, an audit is inevitable. The most important thing now isn't that money, but repairing your relationship with Old Huo, and—"

She paused for a moment.

"Lu Chen's side."

Stanley Ho nodded slightly; Lucina Laam had hit the nail on the head. No matter how complicated SJM Holdings' accounts were, it couldn't stop Fok from investigating. And no matter how lucrative the illicit income was, it couldn't compare to the vast sums Lu Chen earned with him each year. Since it couldn't be stopped, it was better to simply let it all go.

"Repair the relationship." Stanley Ho repeated these four words, then took off his glasses and placed them on the coffee table. "It's easier said than done, but now that things have come to this, how can I repair it?"

Lan Qiongying turned to the side, picked up the celadon teapot from the coffee table, and refilled Stanley Ho's half-empty cup. Her fingers were long and slender, and the diamond ring on her ring finger sparkled faintly behind the tea smoke.

"Speaking of which, it reminds me of someone." She put down the teapot, a glint of shrewdness flashing in her eyes.

Stanley Ho turned to look at her.

"Chaoqiong".

"Pansy Ho?" Stanley Ho raised an eyebrow slightly.

"Have you forgotten? Last time you brought Pansy to the banquet, she chatted happily with Mr. Lu," Lan Qiongying said, while observing her husband's expression.

"Since our relationship with the Huo family and Lu Sheng is a bit awkward right now, why don't we let the younger generation warm things up first? You know Huo Daheng, even if he's angry, he wouldn't give a young girl the cold shoulder."

Stanley Ho ran his thumb along the rim of the teacup, lost in thought.

Lan Qiongying continued, "Besides, you know Chaoqiong's abilities better than I do. Letting her talk to Lu Sheng might be more suitable than you doing it yourself. She's a junior, so she can speak more freely and ask things you're not comfortable asking. If they can't reach an agreement, you can say it's just young people having wild ideas."

Stanley Ho turned his head and gave a half-smile.

Lan Qiongying was stunned for half a second by his meaningful gaze, and turned her face away with a slightly unnatural expression. She knew very well that her husband had already seen through her little scheme—this was not just a crisis public relations effort, but also an attempt to build connections for his own daughter.

However, Stanley Ho was not averse to this kind of overt scheme.

Lu Chen, this pillar of strength, is not only crucial to the overall fate of the He family, but also a coveted ladder to power for every ambitious successor within the family. Moreover, he has always doted on his youngest daughter, Pansy Ho, not only because she is the most outstanding among the He family's children, but also because her business acumen reminds him of himself twenty years ago.

So now he's willing to give him a push.

"That's true, let that little girl go," he said. "Chao Qiong and Lu Sheng do get along well, and she has a steady personality. It's good to let her go and lay the groundwork for their relationship first."

Lan Qiongying nodded and asked, "Should I have her go tomorrow?"

"Okay, but I need to call Mr. Huo first." Stanley Ho stood up, walked to the French windows, and looked at the lights that were sleeping on the opposite shore of Nanwan Lake in the distance.

Macau's night view is not as dazzling as Hong Kong Island's, but it has a darker, more subdued luster, like a piece of old gold that has been repeatedly rubbed.

"Now that things have come to this point, we should make a gesture."