Chapter 14: Montage Dialogue

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The greatest difference between places of wealth and poverty lies in their atmosphere.

The scent of high-end venues is simply delightful.

This Marriott is the finest hotel in Dongshan, the provincial capital.

Ten years later, it was here that Xia An funded Le Ning's first solo recital.

Back then, the hotel’s general manager, eager to curry favor, offered free food and drinks.

Currently, the cheapest coffee on the bill was an Americano, priced at 38 yuan per cup.

Far too expensive.

He had over ten thousand yuan in his bag, but most of it belonged to Lin Jiajia.

After splurging on the lingerie worn by the girl next door, his own savings barely exceeded a hundred yuan.

He had just spent six yuan on a taxi ride.

Xia An smiled lightly and said to the two programmers opposite him, “I know your kind of work well—long nights in front of computers. Drinking some alkaline sparkling water is good for your health.”

Sparkling water—18 yuan, and refills were allowed.

The two programmers wore thick glasses and bore honest, straightforward expressions. They nodded shyly upon hearing this.

One pushed up his glasses and said, “Guests’ wishes are masters’ commands.”

Xia An could clearly sense their nervousness.

These two were not formally trained; they learned programming from a mentor on internet forums after graduating from vocational college.

They had drifted in the provincial capital for two or three years, never receiving solo projects apart from assisting their mentor to earn some meals.

Yet two days ago, this Mr. Xia suddenly appeared, specifically asking about their “availability.”

After adding them on QQ and chatting, he expressed immense trust in them.

Talented individuals are common, but true mentors are rare; the favor of recognition is greater than the heavens.

With their first project underway, could fortune and glory be far behind?

Before arriving, they were already full of gratitude toward this young, handsome entrepreneur before them.

His manner of speech, his attire—all showed calm composure befitting such a high-class venue.

Look, the children of wealthy families need not wear accessories to exude the aura of a noble gentleman.

The two exchanged a glance, feeling a bitter sense of comparison.

“I heard you two still live in the basement?”

Xia An took the first sip and immediately knew the cheap coffee was inferior even to instant coffee. He sipped once more and stopped.

Liu Youwei, a bit chubbier and darker-skinned, pushed up his glasses and nodded.

“Yes, we’ve lived there for two years.”

Zhang Tiancheng quickly interjected:

“But the basement doesn’t affect our work, rest assured. We absolutely can finish within the agreed timeframe.”

Xia An smiled faintly.

“I mean, if this job goes well, you won’t have to live in the basement anymore.”

Choked by the metaphor, Zhang Tiancheng nodded.

“We’ve already mastered the skills; it’s just that we never had the opportunity…”

“Don’t talk—just act.” Xia An raised his hand to stop him.

What he really wanted to say was: unnecessary.

Xia An knew their abilities better than they did.

One year later, these two suddenly had an epiphany: the south was better suited for internet entrepreneurship.

After moving south to Guangzhou and then Shenzhen, Zhang Tiancheng by chance joined the team of Zhang Xiaolong.

Meanwhile, Liu Youwei unexpectedly met Wang Tao, who was tinkering with drones in a village house.

With the rise of WeChat and DJI, these two old classmates, who met in humble circumstances, cashed out and retired successively, marrying and having children in New Zealand, living close by.

Xia An met them in 2016 at an offshore yacht party.

At that time, both nearing fifty, these two middle-aged men blushed when teased by bikini-clad young women.

This deeply surprised Xia An.

After some conversation, Xia An quickly regarded them as kindred spirits.

They were good-hearted and pure, having seen filth in their glory days but never losing their original intentions.

They embodied the saying, “After wandering half a lifetime, one returns still a youth.”

Xia An was half venture capitalist, half industrialist. He had invested in many projects, eventually realizing that investors invest not just in ideas but in people.

And these two, imbued with great fortune and innocence, had to be brought under his wing without delay. What else to wait for?

He took a contract from his folder and pushed it over.

The hospice website development was simple—a straightforward portal site with online banking payment functionality.

The total development fee was three thousand yuan, with a one-thousand yuan deposit, and the framework to be completed within fifteen days before the final payment.

This was their quoted price to Xia An—very cheap—and he didn’t bargain.

Additionally, he proactively offered an extra thousand yuan as a maintenance fee for the first quarter after launch.

Once the contract was signed, the money was transferred.

Zhang Tiancheng and Liu Youwei were immensely grateful they hadn’t chosen to work in factories tightening screws after graduation.

Seeing their excitement, Xia An casually said:

“No need to thank me. This is the dividend of our times.

“In the future, even if you’re beggars on the internet, you’ll still need looks and talent—just coding won’t cut it.”

The dividend of the era.

As internet fringe dwellers, Zhang Tiancheng and Liu Youwei understood this well and agreed wholeheartedly.

Then, Xia An pulled out two more contracts from his folder.

“Now, let’s get down to business.”

Lei Jun once said there’s no project that guarantees 100% profit; investing in acquaintances naturally halves the risk.

He pushed over one contract.

“First, I want to build a wide-area blog site—very simple.”

Then another contract.

“This one is a streaming video portal, relatively more complex, but I don’t have special requirements. Like other pirated video sites, just make it function normally.”

Seeing these two new projects, Zhang and Liu exchanged wide-eyed looks.

Xia An took another sip of the now less sour coffee with melted ice.

“These two aren’t urgent. I can give you until the end of the year to complete them.”

The two tech experts stayed silent, waiting for Xia An to elaborate.

But Xia An didn’t. He simply said:

“For these two, I’ll give you a package price of fifty thousand yuan. Maintenance fees and server rental are extra.”

Zhang and Liu exchanged glances again.

Explain what?

No explanation needed.

Who doesn’t have a personal blog these days?

It’s just about adding a main site above it.

A video site?

Is Boss Xia going into adult content?

Doesn’t matter—it’s not affecting me.

It was Sunday, four days from the start of the hottest period of summer.

But the sun was already scorching.

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Zhang and Liu gazed out the amber-tinted floor-to-ceiling window.

Under the hotel’s eaves, a woman in a dress was waving an umbrella, hailing a cab.

Her silhouette was unbeatable: long legs, slim waist, ample curves.

Though not as pretty as the girl at the next table, she was still top-tier beautiful.

At this hour, dressed like that leaving the hotel, the two, sharing similar values, agreed she was likely an ambitious woman offering escort services.

Yet compared to the plump woman who had just taken off her slippers and opened the sports car herself after receiving keys from the doorman, the latter drew their gaze more.

This was called—refinement counts for nothing before true strength!

The two silently thought: finally, they could move out of the basement.

...

Xia An didn’t disturb their daydreaming.

His eyes flicked toward Tang Wan’s exquisite hands three meters away, which trembled slightly in a clenched grip.

Then to Tang Tianxing’s proud, faintly smiling old face close by.

Hmph, you bully your niece and manipulate that young girl—how proud you are?

Xia An pondered once more if his plan was right.

In April last year, Lei Jun invested 900,000 yuan in Zhang Xueling, founder of YY.

That same month, Tudou went online.

By year’s end, with the release of “The Promise,” a young man named Hu Ge adapted it into “A Steamed Bun Leads to a Bloody Case,” making short videos and Tudou explode overnight.

Last June, Youku, 56.com, and Liujianfang launched one after another.

In early winter, three youths across the ocean would sell their site to Google for 1.65 billion dollars.

In a few years, it would attract one-third of the global population, becoming a behemoth worth 300 billion dollars.

At this moment, Xia An and a handful of top internet entrepreneurs clearly knew the internet’s future was mobile.

In mobile streaming and mobile social networking.

Only Xia An knew the exact timing.

Jobs would release the iPhone in six months.

3G and smartphones would rapidly popularize.

From now... at most two years.

Indeed, this was the right move, promising great long-term development.

But the foremost goal was to swallow the Tang Group.

Unlike Tang Tianxing, who had deep roots in local politics and business for two terms,

Xia An, not yet in college, had no background.

He knew that even holding the Tang Group’s hidden scandals and planting a few hooks, it was nearly impossible to wipe out the Tang family in one go.

Strike a snake and miss its head, the harm remains.

Few killing moves came to mind.

The easiest was media influence.

Or rather, the media.

Since Baidu’s 2004 IPO, domestic portals’ rise had been tightly blocked.

Weibo was his latest opportunity.

He would leave video sites to the next generation—Douyin and Bilibili.

With such a powerful weapon, a clear stance, and proper boundaries, taking down Tang Tianxing wouldn’t be hard.

By then, Tang Group’s nearly two-decade-old industrial foundation would support him.

Clothing, trade, regional logistics, real estate development qualifications...

How many troubles would be spared?

After weighing this “snake swallowing an elephant” move in his heart, Xia An refocused on reality.

Zhang Tiancheng and Liu Youwei had exchanged their opinions.

The former swallowed nervously after seeing Xia An’s calm smile, drank half a glass of sparkling water, and stammered,

“Sorry, Mr. Xia, we’d still like to hear your plan, or at least have a template to follow?

“We mainly worry that if the framework doesn’t meet your expectations, rework would waste time...”

...

Tang Wan beside them also spoke:

“Sorry, Second Uncle, maybe I didn’t write clearly enough...”

Since Xia An began explaining the contract details to Zhang and Liu, Tang Wan hadn’t looked at him.

She feared she might not be able to pull her eyes away.

Good heavens, what kind of little monster was he, changing every day?

Handsome, yes, and he could chat comfortably even with those two nearly-forty-year-old men.

No trace of the awkwardness or fear common among youths.

How did he cultivate such calm and presence?

Tang Wan had that kind of personality, like many women with no romantic experience.

If she liked you, she just liked you—could see it clearly.

She could automatically scan for your shining points.

Yet when talking with Tang Tianxing, overwhelmed by her own cunning uncle’s domineering presence, she became uneasy.

Before revealing everything to Xia An last night, Tang Wan had made up her mind.

She would exchange everything in her hands for future stability.

Money, grudges—she’d drop them.

She offered 5% of Sheng Tang Trading’s shares to Tang Tianxing.

Only two minor conditions in return.

This should suffice, right?

But after sending out the agreement, Tang Tianxing never glanced at it, instead asking how she’d been lately, where she had gone, whether she was happy.

Not a word about her illness, as if cancer never existed.

Tang Tianxing was terrifying; she wondered how one could be so hypocritical.

Sitting in the already cool lobby, Tang Wan felt like she was in an ice cellar.

She wanted to throw herself into Xia An’s arms for warmth.

At the same time, Tang Tianxing, sitting opposite, keenly noticed his niece’s eyes frequently darting toward Xia An.

He wore a sports suit worth about a hundred and eighty yuan, with a Nautilus watch on his wrist.

“Well?” Tang Tianxing smiled slightly and sipped his tea.

“Wan, you’ve grown up and interested in that handsome young man? Shall uncle ask for his contact info for you?”

Tang Wan jolted upright.

“No! I-I don’t.”

Tang Tianxing nodded kindly.

“I’m joking. Of course, the Tang family’s daughters should look for better young men.”

Tang Wan pursed her lips and frowned.

“Sorry, Second Uncle, maybe I wasn’t clear enough. Please take another look at the conditions, okay?

“I don’t want to stay in Dongshan anymore. I don’t understand the company’s affairs; please, just be kind and accept the shares...”

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Before she could finish, Xia An suddenly slammed the table next door.

The few guests in the lobby bar were startled.

Even Tang Tianxing turned his head, narrowing his eyes upon hearing Xia An’s next words.

Xia An raised his voice slightly toward Zhang and Liu:

“You two may be a little older than me, but as co-workers and as the client, I kindly remind you of one principle.

“In the future, no matter who you talk to, no matter how much older or socially superior they are, never say ‘sorry’ or ‘excuse me.’

“This kind of self-deprecating tone only seeks preemptive forgiveness or understanding, hoping the other party will tolerate you.

“But what have you begged me for?

“You provide your skills; I pay for them. We are equals.

“Understand?”

The last three words were louder, his face still smiling.

Sadly, this encouraging smile wasn’t meant for them.

Zhang and Liu nodded vigorously, showing no fear of being lectured; instead, they thought Mr. Xia was genuine.

A good client.

At the other table, Tang Wan struggled to hold back laughter.

She cleared her throat and said to Tang Tianxing, who had just turned back:

“Second Uncle, you can take back the shares. I don’t want them. Once this transfer agreement is signed, I’ll have no ties to the Tang Group.

“Even if the company goes public in the future, I won’t envy it.

“I just want a peaceful life for the rest of my days, with only these two conditions. I hope you can agree…”

Tang Tianxing picked up two fingers, casually brushed some tea leaves from the cup’s edge, then looked deeply at Tang Wan.

“Hmm.”

He sighed slowly.

“The company was built by your uncle and aunt. Sheng Tang Trading is the group’s root, its birthplace.

“Though other sectors have surpassed its performance, it’s still a hope your parents left you.

“Wan, listen to uncle. Don’t be stubborn; think carefully.”

Tang Wan’s gaze wavered under his scrutiny and slowly lowered her head.

Three meters away, Liu Youwei said to Xia An:

“Mr. Xia, what you said is right, but our mentor always tells us to clarify client needs upfront…”

Xia An chuckled.

“The main reason human civilization advances is because the next generation doesn’t listen to the previous one.”

Tang Wan started to laugh again.

Tang Tianxing was annoyed by Xia An, his eyebrows twitching.

“Second Uncle, I’ve thought it through.”

Liu Youwei and Zhang Tiancheng agreed with Xia An’s view.

They suggested first making a small prototype based on existing market products.

Xia An clapped his hands and smiled:

“That’s right. Don’t be afraid—be bold. Overcome fear to gain true freedom.”

Zhang and Liu understood.

Tang Wan understood even better.

Three montage-like, telepathic reminders she perfectly received.

Tang Wan, eyes shining, pulled the White Tara pendant from her clothes and held it over her chest.

“Second Uncle, mom and dad in heaven wouldn’t want me to bustle about company affairs, which might do more harm than good.

“Cousin’s children are still young—they’re your grandchildren. Take good care of them, Little Treasure. The future belongs to them, right?”

Tang Tianxing understood.

She was telling him to accumulate some virtue.

Poor people don’t believe in fate; the rich respect the divine.

Tang Tianxing knew the White Tara jade pendant was prayed for at Yonghe Temple.

With it shining before him, he finally believed Tang Wan’s bold attitude in negotiation.

“Ah.”

He sighed with relief.

...

Zhang and Liu left before Tang Tianxing.

Xia An stayed, playing Snake on his phone while waiting for Tang Tianxing to sign.

When Tang Tianxing stood, Xia An rose as well.

He smiled broadly at Tang Tianxing approaching.

“Young man, promising and accomplished.”

Tang Wan was stunned.

Xia An grinned and said to Tang Tianxing, “Uncle, you flatter me.”

Watching their exchange, Tang Wan felt her heart nearly leap from her chest.

Xia An looked innocent, like a fair-haired boy.

Tang Tianxing nodded slowly, smiling and patting his shoulder.

“Xia An, don’t let me catch you bullying Wan.”

Then he turned to his niece, who looked terrified and confused.

“Playing is one thing—you’re still kids.”

Tang Wan was dazed, lost in thought.

Tang Tianxing waved to the two bodyguards behind him and prepared to leave.

Xia An spoke up, “Uncle.”

Tang Tianxing stopped and turned his head, but didn’t look him in the eye.

“I’m a poor kid who’s always dreamed of owning a Nautilus watch.”

Tang Tianxing knew Xia An’s background.

He had thought Xia An’s visit was some juvenile, heroic act to help a beauty.

Such a child wasn’t worth his attention and naturally wouldn’t catch the sarcasm in Xia An’s words.

He smiled, lifted his wrist, and shook the luxury watch his son gave him last year.

“Young man, a word of advice: if hard work could buy one, it wouldn’t be so valuable.”

“That’s true.”

Xia An nodded.

“That’s why I’ve been researching online. I glanced a few times just now, getting closer for a look, and sure enough...

“Why don’t you come and verify it yourself?”

“......”

This was Tang Tianxing’s first loss of composure today.

First, surprise; then he bit his lip, darkening his face, and silently walked away.

Fools are emotional; masters are practical.

Xia An watched his retreating figure, curling a disdainful sneer, and sat opposite Tang Wan with the folder.

Tang Wan, on the verge of tears, grasped his hand tightly.

“How—how does he know you?”