Speechless Enough to Laugh

Brooklyn, New York. Inside a lavishly furnished office at New State Bank, Liu Ren leaned back in his executive chair, humming a jaunty tune. The smug satisfaction in his eyes was impossible to conceal. His business was booming, save for a few petty nuisances. *Ring, ring, ring!* The telephone rang. Liu Ren picked up the receiver and answered casually, "It's me." "Ah Ren, the list has been verified—every last one taken care of! Lundin called to say he worked things out with the Federal Bureau of Investigation. The matter ends here!" As A Chao finished speaking, a light smirk crossed Liu Ren's face. "*Very good.* But Brother Chao, while we're on the clock, please address me by my plant!" "Plant? What plant? You want to put a money tree in your office?" A Chao asked, sounding utterly baffled. "Not that kind of plant! My position! You're supposed to call me President!" Liu Ren barked into the receiver, working himself into a flustered rage. After a long silence, A Chao replied into the phone, "All right, Plant." *Click!* Slamming the receiver down, Liu Ren muttered in total exasperation, "What the hell is wrong with that guy?!" Meanwhile, miles away, A Chao grinned as he set down the phone. "Tch. That kid, calling himself President?" *** Two days later, at a lavish evening banquet hosted at the Astor Estate. Dressed in a sharp, tailored suit, Liu Ren was chatting about financial matters with Little John when a bearded gentleman approached, wearing an obsequious smile. "Good evening, distinguished Mr. Morgan, Mr. Liu..." "Who are you?" Liu Ren and Little John exchanged a puzzled glance, each assuming the man was an acquaintance of the other. "My name is Tom. Tom Buchanan!" Introducing himself with palpable excitement, Tom seemed thrilled to have cornered them. These were two of New York's true titans. Although Tom privately looked down on Liu Ren's background, the staggering disparity in wealth meant that, despite his own affluent pedigree, he stood no chance against him. In New York, no matter how wealthy you were, you could never out-money the New York Syndicate. And in Manhattan, the Astor family could make sure you literally didn't have an inch of ground to stand on. "Is there something we can do for you?" Little John asked politely, studying him with mild curiosity. He had heard of the Buchanan family, but they had never done business together. When it came to commercial ventures, Buchanan was never Little John's first choice—they simply possessed no resources he needed. "It's like this, Little John, sir. I'm a Yale graduate, and I was once a celebrated football star..." As Tom rambled through his self-introduction, Little John's face took on the bewildered expression of an old man squinting at a subway map. What in the world was this fellow prattling about? "Can you cut to the chase? We don't have time to sit here listening to your nonsense," Liu Ren cut him off without hesitation. They were in the middle of discussing plans to take Silver Rock Group public. Nobody ever complained about increasing their fortune, especially when using other people's money to do it. As for whether anyone might try to snatch control of Silver Rock Group in the process, Liu Ren couldn't care less. After all, his name might mean "benevolence," but benevolent he was not. When the time came, a swing of his dual axes would finish off anyone foolish enough to try. Anyone daring to rob him would end up as tomorrow's headline about an unidentified corpse washing up down the Hudson River. Abruptly cut off, Tom shot Liu Ren a resentful glare, but remembering the vast gulf between them, he quickly recovered. "I only wanted to speak about the acquisition of Buchanan Farm..." "Acquisition? Is there such a project? I'm not aware of it. The group handles too much business. If you have time, get in touch with my assistant and we'll see!" Little John raised his glass, his patience clearly exhausted. He and Liu Ren had already hammered out how they would drive up Silver Rock Group's stock price, only for this clueless, trust-fund idiot to barge in. Sensing their distaste, Tom nodded awkwardly. "Of course. I will contact your assistant then!" Once Tom slunk away, Liu Ren sneered in disgust. "Morons like that—useless for anything besides being born lucky." "Liu, should I take that as a dig at me?" Little John asked with a good-natured chuckle. "Hahaha! I never said that. Under your leadership, the Morgan Group is flourishing!" Liu Ren raised his glass toward Little John with a warm smile. "What are you two chatting about?" A man of about fifty slowly strolled over. It was John D. Rockefeller Jr. Seeing him approach, both Little John and Liu Ren offered respectful nods. "We were just discussing taking Silver Rock Group public," Little John explained to the second-generation Rockefeller. Rockefeller's interest was piqued at once. "Oh? Is that so? Liu, would you be open to parting with some original shares?" Liu Ren smiled readily. "Of course. Though not too large a share, naturally." "About five percent should suffice." Rockefeller offered a grandfatherly smile, not pressing for an exorbitant slice. Holding an equity stake in Silver Rock Arms was an excellent move—a surefire investment one could make with eyes closed. "No problem at all. We can sign the contract whenever you're ready," Liu Ren agreed without hesitation. He understood the vital importance of staying unified with the ruling elite. "Aren't you going to ask what I plan to offer in exchange?" Rockefeller teased with a smile. "I trust you won't shortchange me." Liu Ren raised an eyebrow, entirely composed. He and Little John had already arranged that Silver Rock Arms would surrender a thirty percent stake in asset swaps to secure vital resources held by the major syndicates. Granted, Silver Rock Group's current valuation wasn't yet high enough, meaning Liu Ren had to put up additional considerations, but he could easily afford them now, so it posed no problem. For now, he was a minor player within the New York Syndicate, but in the near future, who was to say he wouldn't become its leader? The coming war would catalyze Silver Rock Group's meteoric rise, forging it into the most terrifying military-industrial complex on the planet. And when that day arrived, the New York Syndicate would no longer be the one calling the shots. *** When the banquet finally concluded, Liu Ren exited surrounded by his entourage. Just outside, he ran into Tom Buchanan again. By Tom's side stood his wife—Daisy, the very woman who had driven Gatsby mad with obsession. Seeing Liu Ren, Tom hurried over. "Mr. Liu, could you spare a moment?" "What is it?" Liu Ren eyed him with undisguised distaste. He had no patience for people who offered no business value. If you're a rich kid, go enjoy your inheritance—stop running around wasting everyone's time! "Well, it's about the construction project leading to the downtown avenue. I was hoping we could talk it over reasonably. There's no need for wasteful competition, don't you think?" Tom's words left Liu Ren utterly baffled. He had no clue about the group acquiring that parcel of land; perhaps he had glanced past it in some document, but he hadn't given it a second thought. Nowadays, anything that could be solved with money wasn't even an issue to him. Staring at Tom in speechless disbelief, Liu Ren suddenly broke into a laugh. "If you want to bid against me, Buchanan, you'd better bring cash instead of wasting breath!" Turning on his heel, Liu Ren climbed into his car, giving the encounter no further thought. Did Tom honestly think he could use the Buchanan family name to make him back down? The problem was, who did Buchanan think he was dealing with? This was Liu Ren—a man whose greed was pure instinct.