"We can meet today?"
Zhang Yuanqing's spirits lifted. "Is he in Songhai? Send me his contact info and address."
"I'll text you in a bit," his mother hummed in confirmation. "He's a very successful businessman abroad and an important business partner of mine. Mind your manners when you meet him. You should be good at that sort of thing."
She still had plenty of confidence in her son's social skills.
"Got it. My foreign language skills aren't bad either," Zhang Yuanqing replied.
His mother was unusually free today and didn't hang up right away. "Your grandma told me that lately you've been staying up late playing video games with Yu'er every single night. That's going to affect your studies."
*What good are studies? Teachers aren't going to teach me how to clear Spirit Realm dungeons.* Zhang Yuanqing retorted, "Don't listen to Grandma's exaggerations. Little Aunt and I only play games on weekends."
*The rest of the time, I play alone.*
His mother sighed helplessly. "What your grandma means is that you shouldn't constantly hang around Yu'er on weekends. It's time she found a boyfriend, and she can't keep spending all her time on you. You two aren't that far apart in age, and both of you are at the age to start dating. Hanging out together all the time isn't good."
Zhang Yuanqing suddenly grew irritated. "If you want to lecture me, do it when you get back. If there's nothing else, I'm hanging up. I need to head out for class."
He decisively hung up on his mother.
"Grandma! Why did you go and tattle to my mom again? Is there any family affection left between us? I'm cutting ties with you!" Zhang Yuanqing yelled at the top of his lungs, sprawled across the bed.
The bedroom door swung open. Grandma stood in the doorway clutching a broom, glaring at him coldly. "What did you just say?"
"I said I love Grandma the most! Grandma is way better than my mom—I want to be your son instead!" Zhang Yuanqing was nothing if not adaptable.
Grandma let out a cold snort and slammed the door shut with a snap.
Zhang Yuanqing curled his lip. He glanced at his phone, and seeing that his mother's text had not yet arrived, he got up, sat down at his desk, turned on his computer, logged into the official database, and searched: Chi Yue'an.
A few seconds later, the man's complete dossier was displayed clearly before his eyes.
With his current clearance, he could look up files on the vast majority of deacons in the Songhai Branch.
Privileged darlings of heaven like Fu Qingyang were, of course, exceptions.
Chi Yue'an had originally been a matrilocal son-in-law of the Zhu family. The Zhu family was a clan of Musicians; because Musicians excelled at nurturing life and producing Life Essence, the Three Musician Clans were often referred to as the "Three Life Clans."
When Chi Yue'an joined the Five Elements Alliance, he was merely a Level 2 Fire Master. With the backing of the Zhu family, his level had climbed steadily, and his rank had risen all the way from ordinary member to squad captain, and finally to deacon.
His signature items were the Timely Rain Inner Armor and the Red Flame Divine Weapon. The former was a high-level Musician item, while the latter was an item for the Fire Master class.
*He's been a Saint for over a year, which means he must have cleared four or five solo dungeons and over a dozen team dungeons. Even with wins and losses in between, he should have accumulated plenty of experience points—probably close to Level 5. Not getting tangled up with him last night and using Charm Art to escape was definitely the right call.*
Items aside, the gap between one Level 4 and another could be massive. The gulf between a Saint and a Transcendent was absurdly wider still.
That kid Kou Beiyue must have had a trump card or two up his sleeve to dare stage an ambush against a Saint.
Yet he had still failed.
Zhang Yuanqing quietly resolved to investigate in secret and then hand over whatever evidence he collected to Fu Qingyang. It was best not to expose himself; otherwise, making an enemy of a deacon would invite endless trouble.
Not to mention, the Zhu family stood behind him.
*Ding!*
His phone emitted a crisp, brief chime. Pulling his gaze away from the monitor, Zhang Yuanqing picked up his phone to check the message.
Heavenly King Demonic Eye: *You purified my mark?*
*Fuck!* Zhang Yuanqing's scalp tingled. Feigning calm, he replied: *Is there a problem?*
*I should immediately have Wang Tai trace his location.*
*With all five Elders ganging up on him, why worry about any schemes he might have? Could the other Heavenly Kings from the Soldier Master Sect have come too?*
Heavenly King Demonic Eye: *The divine power of the sun isn't something a Transcendent-stage Night Wanderer can wield. I had someone look into Yuan Ting. Turns out he was summoned to the capital a while back, and videos of him being tortured are posted daily on the Taiyi Sect official forum. You're not him!*
Zhang Yuanqing's heart skipped a beat, and he nearly tossed the phone aside. After a moment of thought, he replied:
*Who on earth are you? Why are you acting so bizarrely?*
Heavenly King Demonic Eye: *Heh. After everything I stirred up in Songhai over the past few days, as a Level 3 Night Wanderer, there's no way you're completely in the dark. Pretending not to know who I am? Well, there can't be many Night Wanderers in Songhai capable of wielding the divine power of the sun. It won't be hard to dig up your identity—unless you've never used that power before.*
*Suit yourself,* Zhang Yuanqing shot back defiantly.
*Heh. Has anyone ever told you that my Demonic Eye can track Spirit Realm walkers? Songhai might be big, but Kangyang District isn't. Given a little time, I'll still find you. I imagine your expression will be quite entertaining when I do.*
*Are you that bored? Hunting for Yuanshi Tianzun and the Palace Master of Halting Slaughter on one hand, while threatening official walkers for kicks on the other?* Zhang Yuanqing quietly switched off his secondary SIM card and stopped replying.
He felt like deleting Heavenly King Demonic Eye altogether, but keeping him as a contact allowed him to indirectly gauge the man's attitude and movements.
Besides, the ability to trace his phone might come in handy someday.
*Not many people should know I can use the divine power of the sun. This is getting bad. Demonic Eye is gathering more and more clues. How much longer can I stay hidden? Even the Palace Master of Halting Slaughter is better at lying low than me...*
Just as he was pondering this, his mother's text finally arrived.
It was a photo of a business card printed with a name, contact details, and a corporate title.
His mother had also jotted down a Songhai address on the card.
*Bill Tarantino, Head of Marketing, Ante Pharmaceutical Company.*
*Ante Pharmaceutical...* Zhang Yuanqing turned back to his computer and searched for information on the company.
What he read startled him. Ante Pharmaceutical was a world-renowned pharmaceutical company—one of the top ten pharmaceutical giants globally.
*Mom's business is booming even more than I imagined.* Zhang Yuanqing saved the phone number and dialed the one on the card.
*Ring, ring—*
After two rings, the line connected. A woman answered, immediately launching into a string of a foreign language.
Zhang Yuanqing grasped the general gist and replied in the foreign tongue:
"I'm Chen Shu's son. I'm looking for Mr. Tarantino."
"One moment, please. Let me check the appointments..." A few seconds later, the woman's voice returned. "All right. Mr. Tarantino gave instructions that he has been expecting you. Sir, could you please provide your address? We can send a car to pick you up."
"No, that's fine. I'll head over myself." Zhang Yuanqing was very cautious about keeping his residential address confidential right now.
"Understood! Is there anything else I can help you with?"
*Have Mr. Bill take a shower and wait for me?* Zhang Yuanqing said, "Nothing else, thanks. I'm heading over right now."
Ending the call, he put on his shoes, dug out the formal suit Li Dongze had tailored for him from his wardrobe, and put it on in front of the full-length mirror by the window.
The Decurion, who placed great value on elegance, had mandated that his subordinates wear formal attire to and from work, which was why he had ordered a custom suit for him. Later, as Zhang Yuanqing racked up merit after merit to the point of outshining his superior, the Decurion's baseline had steadily plummeted.
It started with stocking Coke in the fridge, then progressed to not needing to wear suits.
Later still, when the Decurion suspected him and Guan Ya of getting frisky in the restroom, all he had offered was a single comment: *There are hotels nearby. Doing such things at the workplace is profoundly inelegant.*
Dressed sharply in his suit, Zhang Yuanqing quietly slipped out of his bedroom, crept out the front door, and hailed a taxi by the curb to head toward the International Building.
The International Building was one of the landmark structures in Songhai's central CBD. Many prominent financial firms were headquartered here, and well-known foreign corporations favored setting up their mainland branches on its premises.
As the bridgehead for foreign capital entering Songhai, the city had many such places, and the International Building was the most famous among them.
Right now was the morning rush hour. Workplace elites in crisp suits and polished leather shoes crossed the streets in droves, swarming into the surrounding office towers.
The sea of heads and packed traffic were a quintessential sight of the Songhai CBD.
The vast majority of these office workers could not afford rent in the CBD. Every day, they endured subway commutes of over forty minutes. The first thing they did upon waking was not savoring breakfast, but braving the crack of dawn to cram onto crowded trains, scrambling to avoid being late.
The pace of their lives was fast—so fast that even for an exceptionally handsome young man like Zhang Yuanqing, the passing women didn't spare a second glance. All their attention was fixed squarely on the traffic lights.
The instant the light turned green, they hurried across the pedestrian crosswalk, not daring to linger for even a second.
Zhang Yuanqing followed the crowd across the street and arrived at the foot of the International Building, then dialed Bill Tarantino's number.
"You need an employee badge to enter the building. I can't get up," he said in somewhat broken English.
"Please hold on a moment."
A few minutes later, a man wearing a bluish-green suit and a white dress shirt stepped out of the building. He glanced around and called out loudly:
"Which one of you is Mr. Zhang?"
Zhang Yuanqing raised a hand. "Over here."
The suited man looked him up and down before flashing a warm smile. "Mr. Tarantino's assistant sent me down to bring you up."
The two waited downstairs for quite a while before finally squeezing into an elevator. The suited man shielded Zhang Yuanqing with an arm, carving out a pocket of space for him, and apologized, "Sorry about this. At this hour, it's always packed like this."
Zhang Yuanqing hadn't reached the age of job hunting yet, nor had he ever been to a place like this. He nodded reservedly without commenting.
The elevator came to a halt on the thirty-seventh floor. He followed the suited man out of the car.
The entire thirty-seventh floor served as Ante Pharmaceutical's office space. The suited man led him into the marketing department and said to the receptionist:
"The client Annie is expecting has arrived. Please let her know."
The receptionist nodded slightly, picked up the desk phone to report, and shortly after, a tall woman in a white blouse and pencil skirt walked out from within.
She looked to be around thirty, with loose blonde hair and azure eyes like the sea, brimming with alluring charm. Her facial features were sharply defined and striking—an exceptionally captivating beauty.
As she walked toward him, it felt like a warm spring breeze sweeping over, carrying a seductive allure that stirred heat in the lower abdomen, drawing dazed stares from the male employees in the office.
The foreign woman looked Zhang Yuanqing up and down, smiling as she extended her hand, speaking in fluent Chinese: "Hello, I'm Annie. You're younger than I imagined."
"Hello, hello!" Zhang Yuanqing shook her hand, unconsciously giving the soft, silky palm a few gentle squeezes. He praised, "Your Chinese is also far better than I imagined."
At that, Annie showed a pleased smile. "Chinese is very difficult to learn, but it only took me three years to master it."
She did not pull her hand back, allowing the young man to take liberties as her smile turned increasingly coquettish.
"Oh heavens, you truly are a woman blessed by God. Your linguistic talent leaves me in awe. Unlike me—I've studied a foreign language half my life and my pronunciation is still awful, but I really have tried my best, I swear," Zhang Yuanqing said.
Annie paused, taken aback. "I can converse normally. You don't need to speak to me in translated Chinese."
"Oh, God, that's wonderful," Zhang Yuanqing said cheerfully.
"..." Annie forced a smile. "Follow me. Mr. Tarantino is waiting for you."
Only then did Zhang Yuanqing reluctantly let go of her hand and follow the female assistant inside. Along the way, his gaze seemed to lose control, drawn like a magnet to Annie's hips.
The rounded curves hugged by the pencil skirt looked like ripe peaches, like full moons, stirring a rush of hormones.
*This woman...*
Before long, the two stopped before the department head's office. Annie lightly knocked on the brown wooden door and spoke in English:
"Mr. Tarantino, your guest has arrived."
A rich, mellow male voice drifted from inside: "Come in!"
Annie turned the doorknob and ushered Zhang Yuanqing inside. The office was decorated with immense luxury. On the right stood a handcrafted solid wood desk, with a small striped flag displayed on its right corner.
On the left was a reception area featuring soft sofas, a glass coffee table, a liquor cabinet, and more.
Behind the solid wood desk sat a foreign man in a light-colored casual suit. He had short, light-brown hair, sharp features, and fine crow's feet at the corners of his eyes.
His gaze was deep and serene, carrying the weathered air of someone who had seen far too much—a mature, deeply charismatic middle-aged gentleman.
Bill Tarantino rose slowly to his feet. Walking toward the reception sofas, he smiled and said:
"Good morning, Mr. Zhang. Would you like my assistant to prepare some breakfast?"
"No, thank you." Zhang Yuanqing shook his head in refusal and sat down on the plush sofa.
Bill Tarantino took a seat across from him and said in a gentle tone:
"Your mother and I are close business partners. She is a highly capable and remarkably assertive woman. I admire her greatly, but she also gives me terrible headaches, because at the negotiating table, she is relentlessly aggressive.
"Yet she has one outstanding virtue: efficiency. She never indulges in empty pleasantries or tedious socializing. That is a quality I have rarely encountered in mainland businesspeople."
*She just wants to make money off you foreigners as fast as possible. After all, she's a workaholic who even finds attending parent-teacher conferences for her son inefficient...* Zhang Yuanqing roasted his mother inwardly, but kept a pleasant smile on his face:
"Mr. Tarantino, thank you for the compliment. Like my mother, I dislike inefficient communication. Do you know the purpose of my visit today?"
Bill Tarantino leaned back on the sofa, crossed his legs, and rested his clasped hands over his stomach. "You are referring to the pills that treat your headaches?"
Zhang Yuanqing nodded.
"I'm very curious about what kind of medicine it is. Apart from Ante Pharmaceutical, I can't buy it anywhere outside, nor can I find any information about it online. My mother said it's a new drug developed by your company. To be completely honest, that doesn't convince me.
"Developing a new drug requires enormous capital. A rare, non-widespread condition couldn't possibly yield massive profits for you."
Bill Tarantino pondered for a few seconds, then said:
"You are correct. This medicine was not developed for your specific illness. It simply happens to alleviate your headaches. The drug we developed is applicable to all issues concerning the soul, repairing trauma suffered by the soul.
"Pardon me, my phrasing was slightly off. Allow me to correct myself: it treats the mind. In Chinese, the term 'mental' or 'spiritual' would be more fitting."
*Applicable to trauma suffered by the soul...*
Zhang Yuanqing fell completely silent.
Chapter 155