You got your marriage certificate and then abandoned me? I'll feed the richest woman in the wor

Kusen's face, covered with age spots, was filled with an almost pleading humility.

The expensive bespoke suit was already soaked with sweat and clung tightly to his back.

It outlines the hunched and stiff back.

The Silicon Valley giants he brought with him all lowered their usually haughty heads.

On Wall Street, if these people sneeze, the global Nasdaq index will tremble.

Now, however, he was bowing and kneeling before this Chinese bodyguard who didn't even have a name.

The eagle's face, covered in thick skin and scars, showed no emotion whatsoever because of the other party's identity.

He looked coldly at the group of old men who seemed on the verge of collapsing from heatstroke at any moment.

"Wait."

Leaving behind those two cold words, the eagle turned away.

The heavy tactical boots made a dull sound as they stepped on the asphalt road.

He walked to the guard post next to the black gold gate and picked up the internal telephone line.

Genting Manor, open kitchen on the first floor.

The indoor air conditioner blows out a gentle, cool breeze at 24 degrees Celsius.

A rich, creamy aroma of butter filled the air.

Chen Yuan was wearing a pure white cotton T-shirt, with the familiar black apron tied around his waist.

The cuffs were neatly rolled up above the elbows.

His strong, muscular forearms were on full display.

On the large kitchen counter, a layer of fine, snow-white flour was spread.

Large, well-defined hands were rhythmically kneading a lump of pale yellow flaky dough.

The dough was constantly being turned, folded, and pressed in his hands.

With each effort, you can hear the tiny bubbles bursting inside the dough.

This is the handmade French mille-feuille that Shen Wanzhou had been craving last night.

To ensure the puff pastry has perfect fluffiness during baking.

It requires hundreds of hand-kneadings to thoroughly combine the butter and flour.

There can be no perfunctory work whatsoever.

"Plop, plop."

Outside the kitchen door, the light footsteps of rabbit slippers could be heard on the wooden floor.

Shen Wanzhou was wearing a loose-fitting pajama top with a peach pattern and had long, messy hair.

I followed the scent of butter and groped my way over.

She peeked out from behind the semi-transparent glass door of the kitchen.

Those sparkling, peach-blossom eyes were fixed on the dough on the counter.

The sound of swallowing was particularly clear in the quiet kitchen.

Chen Yuan didn't turn around, but the corners of his mouth couldn't help but turn up in a smile.

His hands never stopped moving.

"It's not finished yet. I'll go watch some cartoons in the living room and then come back."

His deep, gentle voice carried the unique huskiness and indulgence of early morning.

Shen Wanzhou pursed her lips.

Two delicate white fingers twisted the hem of her pajamas, reluctantly pulling them back.

Just then, the intercom on the kitchen wall lit up.

The eagle's scarred face appeared on the screen.

"Mr. Chen."

The eagle's cry came through the loudspeaker, carrying the crispness characteristic of soldiers.

"Those foreigners outside couldn't hold on any longer. That guy named Kusen said he was willing to give up half of the profits in the Asia-Pacific region just to see you."

"Should we let them in?"

These words clearly reached Shen Wanzhou's ears.

Although she is socially awkward, she knows what an astronomical figure it is to have half of the profits in the Asia-Pacific region.

That's a terrifying amount of wealth that could double the market value of the Shen family conglomerate.

She subconsciously looked at Chen Yuan, thinking he would immediately put down the dough in his hand to deal with this globally significant business deal.

however.

Chen Yuan didn't even lift his eyelids.

He picked up the rolling pin next to him and flattened the dough evenly.

Tell them I'm kneading dough and don't have time.

Chen Yuan's tone was so calm, as if he were simply saying that the weather was nice this morning.

"If you want to talk, wait outside."

"If you can't stand it, you can go back to Silicon Valley right now."

There was absolutely no room for negotiation.

Without a moment's hesitation, the eagle on the other end of the walkie-talkie loudly replied, "Understood," and immediately cut off the communication.

Shen Wanzhou stood blankly at the kitchen door.

Peach Blossom's eyes were filled with shock and disbelief.

She knew Chen Yuan was rich, and she also knew that he was now the big boss of Xingchen Venture Capital, a company that even her grandfather had to treat with respect.

But she never expected it.

In this man's eyes.

Those multinational giants humbly sought an audience with billions of dollars in assets.

It's not even as important as kneading a mille-feuille dough for her.

An indescribable sweetness, like an overturned jar of honey, instantly melted in her chest.

The skin at the base of her ears was visibly stained with a deep, rich rouge color.

She bit her lower lip, suppressing the wildly upturned corners of her mouth.

They ran to the kitchen counter with a clattering sound, not caring about getting dirty.

She wrapped her arms around Chen Yuan's lean waist from behind.

Her cheek was pressed tightly against his broad back.

Feel the rise and fall of his muscles as he kneads the dough.

Outside the manor.

The midday sun is like a giant furnace.

The sun relentlessly scorched every inch of asphalt on the winding mountain road.

The heat waves on the ground visibly distorted the air.

Four hours.

From 9 a.m. to 1 p.m.

These Silicon Valley giants are used to being chauffeured in luxury cars and pampered with air conditioning wherever they go.

He stood there, completely exposed, outside the gates of the manor.

Kusen's expensive bespoke leather shoes had soles that had softened from the scorching ground.

He felt as if his lungs were filled with scalding sand.

With every breath, you can smell the pungent stench of tar.

The Italian president behind him was already showing mild signs of dehydration.

His legs were trembling, and he could only stay upright by being supported by his assistant.

"Mr. Kuson... how much longer do we have to wait...?"

The Italian president's voice was as weak as a leaky bellows.

My lips were cracked and bleeding.

"He's deliberately humiliating us!"

Kusen swallowed hard, his saliva tinged with blood, and stared intently at the impenetrable black and gold door.

The humiliation and anger in his eyes were almost overflowing.

But he dared not leave.

The terrifying computing power of the Starry Sky chips has caused their stock price to drop by another five points in just half a day.

Capital from all over the world is now watching the movements of Star Ventures.

As long as he dares to turn around and leave.

Tomorrow morning, his company will face a devastating run on the bank.

This is the overwhelming advantage brought about by absolute technological barriers.

In front of this Chinese man named Chen Yuan.

Their once-proud technological dominance was so fragile, less than a thin layer of paper.

"wait!"

Kusen gritted his teeth and forced out the word.

"Even if we die standing here, we must obtain authorization from the Starry Sky!"

Time passed by, second by second.

Sweat stung their eyes, and they were almost too exhausted to even reach out and wipe it away.

Inside the manor hall.

Uncle Fu looked at the few unsteady old foreign men outside the door through the surveillance screen in the entrance hall.

These are the arrogant big shots on the covers of financial magazines.

They look like a few salted fish that are about to be dried out.

He took out a handkerchief and wiped away non-existent cold sweat from his forehead.

Turning my head, I saw someone holding a plate of golden-brown, crispy layered pastries.

Chen Yuan walked out of the kitchen.

The rich, sweet aroma of butter made Uncle Fu's mouth water.

Looking at the VIPs outside, who were sweltering in the sun, Uncle Fu couldn't help but swallow hard. "Mr. Chen, they seem to be getting heatstroke. Should we... let them into the yard?"