Chapter 983: The Youngest Son of the Zhou Family

“What’s wrong?”

Jian Qiu noticed Zhou Andong’s unusual demeanor; after leaving the banquet hall, she asked softly.

Zhou Andong shook his head: “Nothing!”

The old man lived on the 29th floor, in a luxury suite roughly the same size as Zhou Andong’s room, though the decor style was different.

“Sit down!”

The old man had been in high spirits all along; even Jian Qiu offering to pour water was refused—he insisted on pouring water for Zhou Andong and the others himself, and he got angry when Jian Qiu said she could do it.

After everyone sat down, the old man kept asking about Second Brother’s condition, repeatedly, and Zhou Andong patiently answered each time.

Jian Qiu and Zhou Qianyi chatted happily beside them; they had been business partners before and were already familiar. Now that they were close family, joy shone on every face.

Only Zhou Anlei sat bored on the side, his eyelids drooping as it neared nine, but he dared not leave without Zhou Andong’s permission; soon, snoring began.

The old man looked at Zhou Anlei and suddenly burst out laughing: “When you’re happy, time flies.”

Zhou Andong said: “I’ll call home tomorrow and arrange for Grandpa and Grandma to come to Jingcheng. After the meeting ends, you’ll see them. This Spring Festival, don’t go back—let our two families, no, plus my maternal grandparents, let all three families celebrate together warmly in Jingcheng.”

“Good!” The old man was truly delighted: “I’ll call home tomorrow too and have them make arrangements—everyone should come to the mainland for the New Year.”

Zhou Andong was glad he’d bought a large courtyard; otherwise, where would he put three big families?

He didn’t know how the renovation was going—he’d check after returning to Jingcheng and had to speed things up.

“Hey!” Zhou Andong kicked Zhou Anlei, who was snoring against the sofa: “Stop sleeping, let’s go.”

“Huh?”

“Ah!”

Zhou Anlei opened his eyes, wiped saliva from his mouth, then got up drowsily, still remembering to greet Third Grandpa and Zhou Qianyi.

Seeing Zhou Andong, Jian Qiu, and Zhou Anlei off, the old man and Zhou Qianyi returned to their room only after watching them enter the elevator.

“Grandpa, I’m going back to my room too. Get some rest early.”

“Go ahead!” The old man was full of energy, sitting on the sofa, quickly dialing a string of numbers.

“I need to tell your grandma and your father this good news.”

Zhou Qianyi said helplessly: “It’s already this late—call tomorrow.”

“At this hour, your grandma and your father are still awake.”

No sooner had the old man spoken than the line connected, and a man’s impatient voice came through.

“Who’s this?”

In the past, the old man would have erupted in rage at such a tone, but tonight his mood was good—the man escaped punishment.

“Is your mother still awake? Have her take the call.”

“Dad!”

The caller was the old man’s youngest son, Zhou Xianyong, a notorious playboy.

He cycled through girlfriends—some lasted only a few days, none more than half a year.

What frustrated the old man most was that he couldn’t stop him, no matter how much he disapproved.

Because aside from being promiscuous, Zhou Xianyong was exceptionally capable.

At twenty-one, he co-founded a fashion magazine with friends.

Later, he entered the women’s luxury goods industry—perfumes, lipsticks, cosmetics, clothing, and handbags.

After more than a decade of growth, Zhou Xianyong’s personal assets exceeded 20 billion New Taiwan Dollars.

So the old man couldn’t even impose economic sanctions; no matter how much he disliked his youngest son, he could only scold him—nothing else worked.

Zhou Xianyong chuckled: “Mom’s asleep. Tell me what it is—I’ll pass it on tomorrow.”

The old man checked the time: “She never sleeps before ten. Why so early tonight?”

“Feeling a bit unwell—just a cough,” Zhou Xianyong said. “But nothing serious. I saw a doctor, took medicine, and I’m much better.”

The old man exhaled in relief; his wife had always been frail since youth, and every illness made him anxious.

Fortunately, he had good karma—though she suffered minor ailments constantly, she’d never had a serious illness.

“Tell her I found your Second Uncle.”

“What?” Zhou Xianyong’s voice shot up: “Qianyi searched for years and found nothing—how did you find him the moment you went? I’m telling you, you’re old and senile—don’t get tricked.”

The old man’s face darkened: “You’re really hoping I go senile and die sooner, aren’t you?”

“You always say you don’t want to talk to me—after two sentences you get angry. What’s left to talk about?”

Zhou Xianyong’s tone was equally dissatisfied: “I’ve never been to the mainland, but I’ve heard it’s poor and full of con artists. Many people dream of overseas relatives returning to claim kinship and inherit wealth.”

You’re so old, shouting everywhere about your lost brother—of course con artists are targeting you. Otherwise, why didn’t Qianyi find him after years, but you found him instantly?”

The old man took a deep breath: “So you think meeting me is just about our money?”

“Isn’t it?” Zhou Xianyong spoke earnestly: “Dad, I understand your feelings—I hope the man you found really is your Second Uncle.

But I must be clear: you can offer financial support, but you cannot give away any shares of Jinwan Group. I don’t want Jinwan Group shares—that’s my business—but you can’t give them to anyone else.”

The old man had once said that upon finding his Second Brother, he’d give part of the group’s shares to his Second Brother’s family. Back then, no one in the Zhou family took it seriously—after decades, no one knew if the man was even alive.

But now that he was found, not just Zhou Xianyong but everyone else would object. If the old man insisted, the family would never be at peace.

The old man had anticipated this—he knew giving away shares would be difficult the moment he found his brother. That’s why he rushed to find him: while he was still healthy and in control of the group, he could act.

Even if his children rebelled, as long as he held firm, they couldn’t stop him. But if he became too weak to move, lost control of the group, he’d be powerless.

“In the end, you only care about money. Family ties mean nothing to you.”

Zhou Xianyong snorted: “You’re really senile. Our family built Jinwan Group over decades of hard work—why should we give away part of it to strangers?”

The old man fell silent, sighed: “Do you really think your Second Uncle’s family wants our money?”

Zhou Xianyong sneered: “To your face, they might pretend to disdain money. But I don’t believe anyone in this world doesn’t love money.”

“Sigh,” the old man sighed: “Zhou Xianyong, you’re disappointing me more and more.”