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“Sir, I don't think it's a good idea to meet him alone. We can arrange an official meeting, but not like this. He's very dangerous—” The man stopped when his master raised a hand, signaling him to stop.
“Beihong,” his master called his name lazily. “How long have you been working for me?”
The man named Beihong, uncertain of how the question related to the situation, responded quickly, “Three years, sir.”
“I see... that's quite a while, isn't it?” His boss hummed, feigning contemplation. An elegant hat rested above his eyes, concealing them perfectly. “I thought you knew me by now.”
Hearing his master's ridicule, Beihong could only nod in resignation.
Meanwhile, inside a distinguished car, a prominent man read a newspaper article with great interest.
Outside, men in black suits guarded the vehicle amid a political protest rally. The crowd raised their signs high, shouting their demands to the officials as if their lives depended on it.
Their echoing protests filled the air: We want justice, you can't silence us.
Anti-capitalists, enraged by the growing poverty, questioned who they were truly fighting—the wealthy officials or the world itself, which seemed their greatest enemy.
In the end, society functioned by accepting whatever the world handed them.
Yang's eyes narrowed when Zhou Shwan informed him of a certain someone's arrival.
“He is here, master.”
“Let him in.”
The mysterious man entered the car, unfazed by facing one of the most feared men in society, Liang Yang.
“Never thought I'd meet the young master like this,” the younger man said, his hat still shadowing his eyes.
Two nobles, of different blood, inside the same car.
Yang chuckled and acknowledged him leisurely. “Sicheng.”
“I must say,” Yang remarked, putting the newspaper down, “You've trained your dogs quite well.”
“Yeah, right,” Sicheng responded playfully. “After all, they only bite thieves.”
As if they were old friends, Sicheng relaxed in the seat and picked up the newspaper beside him, muttering, “The public can be fools sometimes. They don't realize the innocent are portrayed as evil, and the real evil ones are worshiped.”
Yang's lips twitched at the underhanded comment, knowing exactly who was being referred to.
His eyes narrowed dangerously. “A man who seeks power often chooses the path of evil,” Yang said seriously. “Stop meddling with my business, Sicheng. I'm warning you because I've taken a liking to you. You're smart enough to know how I deal with people.”
