Chapter 110: Young Master Sun's Banquet

The night in Shen City is even more silent than usual.

Outside the Security Army's main camp, lights remain bright and sentries strict; but observant people can see that patrol soldiers are twice as many as usual, and even routine shift changes appear especially cautious.

"How have things been lately?" In the duty room, an old soldier handed a cigarette to his comrade.

"What can we do?" his companion lowered his voice, "The higher-ups haven't said a word, but everyone knows something happened. You haven't noticed? Even night drills have been stopped."

Indeed, the shouting on the training field has disappeared, replaced by a suffocating silence. Soldiers gather in twos and threes, unconsciously lowering their voices when speaking, as if guarding against something.

The officers' quarters are even more eerie. Brothers who used to gather to drink now hide in their own rooms. Occasionally a few officers meet privately, but they scatter at the sight of others, fearing to give anything away.

"Have you heard?" a company commander whispered in the cafeteria corner, "Old Zheng gathered another batch of his direct subordinates last night."

"Shhh—" his companion hurried to stop him, "Say less of this. Now the camp is rumoring that supplies from the logistics department are being quietly moved outward—who knows which side is preparing…"

Before he could finish, both fell silent. A regimental staff officer walked past, his icy gaze sweeping over them.

The atmosphere in the office building grew more oppressive. Several officers from the staff department appeared to discuss routine duties, but each secretly observed the others' reactions. Who supported Commander Yang, who leaned toward Qin Chang'an, who wavered between the two—these subtle positions lay hidden in those meaningful glances.

"You need to be careful lately." An old staff officer warned his subordinate, "Some documents—better not handle them if you can avoid it."

The young staff officer nodded. He had already noticed that some sensitive orders and material requests were flowing through irregular channels. Clearly, someone was preparing for possible changes.

The rift within the camp was silently widening.

Supporters of Yang Chengdong believed they must stabilize the situation and wait for the right moment, while officers following Qin Chang'an urged immediate action, taking advantage of the fact that the news of the commander's "serious illness" had not yet fully spread.

Worse still, some officers began to rally under the banner of "avenging Commander Qin," hinting that Qin Dong Zhi's death had hidden circumstances, causing quite a stir among lower‑rank officers.

"If this continues, something big is bound to happen." A battalion chief gazed out at the night sky, muttering to himself.

He was right. Beneath the surface calm, a storm capable of tearing the entire Security Army apart was brewing; once it erupted, it would completely reshape the pattern of Shen City.

No one knew when the first shot would be fired, but everyone could feel that moment drawing near.

On Xiafei Road in the French Concession, a European‑style mansion blazed with lights.

Various foreign cars lined the entrance—from American‑made Model T Fords to British Austins—each displaying the host's grandeur. Servants in long gowns greeted guests at the door, while crystal chandeliers sparkled in the central hall.

"Young Master Sun certainly spends lavishly." A merchant in a long robe sighed softly. Indeed, just this three‑story French building was enough to leave onlookers in awe. Copper chandeliers bathed the hall in daylight‑like light, carved wooden staircases wound upward, and every detail exuded refinement.

Sun Lingyun stood at the turn of the staircase, raising a glass of Western liquor to greet guests. He had deliberately changed into a finely tailored suit, his every gesture revealing the elegance of a young noble.

"Boss Huang, your presence is an honor." Seeing Huang Rongrong enter, Sun Lingyun personally went to meet him. This Chinese director of the French Concession was no ordinary businessman.

"Young Master Sun is too courteous." Huang Rongrong laughed while exchanging pleasantries, his eyes scanning the guests in the hall. Bank bosses, chamber of commerce dignitaries, representatives of underground forces… Shen City's notable figures had nearly all arrived.

Amid the clinking of glasses, talk inevitably turned to the Security Army.

"I heard Commander Qin is seriously ill." A bank owner asked casually.

"Yes," Sun Lingyun swayed his wine cup, "At times like this, Shen City truly needs a strong leader."

This remark drew meaningful glances from those around. Everyone understood that with Qin Dong Zhi down, Shen City's military power had become a prize coveted by all.

"However," Sun Lingyun continued, "I believe everyone present wishes to see a stable Shen City."

"That's natural." Huang Rongrong replied, "I just don't know what Young Master Sun's view of 'stability' is."

Sun Lingyun smiled faintly: "Stability presupposes order, and order requires strength to uphold. My father once said that for a trading port like Shen City, the most important thing is peace."

The implication was clear: with the Sun family's backing, Shen City's order would naturally be secured.

The hall's atmosphere grew ever more lively. Amid the clinking glasses, Sun Lingyun's gaze swept over each person's expression without betraying a hint. He noticed that some businessmen who had previously kept their distance now softened their attitudes.

The phonograph played the melody of "Night Shanghai," and several couples swayed on the dance floor. Yet everyone knew the real stage lay among the clinking glasses—each greeting, each glance might conceal hidden intent.

Huang Rongrong stood in the corner, contemplatively watching all this. The young scion of the Sun family proved more shrewd than he had imagined. This banquet, ostensibly to thank all supporters, was actually laying the groundwork for the impending changes.

In the upstairs study, Sun Lingyun was in deep discussion with several key figures. Outside, the night deepened, but all knew that Shen City's new pattern was quietly taking shape amid this song‑and‑dance tranquility.

"Truly a clever move." An old merchant lamented. The banquet not only displayed the Sun family's strength, but more importantly revealed Sun Lingyun's skill. Though the young man's edges were sharp, he clearly understood how to win people's hearts.

Night deepened, the banquet continued. No one knew what tonight's private talks would yield, but one thing was certain: Shen City's chessboard had gained another player who could not be ignored.

"The Sun family's face is indeed great." Qin Chang'an stood on the second‑floor balcony, looking down at the bustling scene of clinking glasses, and could not help but sigh.

"This move by Lingyun is indeed formidable." Liu Wen said softly, "Almost everyone present tonight is a notable figure of Shen City. Even that old fox Huang Rongrong came."

Qin Chang'an raised his cup, a complex flicker in his eyes: "He's right—Shen City's heaven ought to change."

"Chang'an…" Liu Wen gazed at Sun Lingyun navigating the crowd downstairs, recalling their conversation a few days ago at Bailemen. The reunion of the Jiangnan Four Young Masters clearly involved more than just a post for the Security Commander.

Another wave of guests' laughter rose from below, but the two on the balcony knew clearly that a storm capable of altering the fate of the Great Dry was silently brewing.