Chapter 290: Just After Getting Off the Plane, a Big Shot Blocked Me!

The Baystream II model government aircraft glided smoothly through the clouds; beneath its wings, the dazzling lights of Hong Kong Island, like a sea of stars, were quickly left behind, shrinking to a vague speck before vanishing into the vast night.

Lu Qingjun leaned against the leather seat so soft it seemed to swallow a person, cradling a glass of amber Scottish whisky; the ice clinked crisply, yet he could taste nothing. Through the huge window he gazed at the ink‑black night sky, the melancholy of being away from home and the yearning to return intertwining within him, a mixture of flavors.

Just a few hours earlier, Lu Qingjun had been looking down on the Xinghan Building that belonged to them, his heart swelling for the three employee dormitories that would let the brothers live and work in peace, but once the aircraft took off, all that splendor and glory seemed to become an illusion from another world. All that filled his mind were the old elm in the courtyard of the Baishan village house, the familiar salty, briny scent of the Tianjin salt‑drying yard, and his mother's hot sour‑cabbage stew with vermicelli that he could never get enough of, even enough to swallow his tongue.

A few hours later, the aircraft's altitude began to drop slowly.

Lu Qingjun looked out again; no longer endless mountains and a sea of neon, but the vast, boundless North China Plain, gray‑tinged in the night. Scattered pinpricks of light dotted the black earth like a toppled board of chess pieces—weak, solitary, yet exuding a stubborn vitality.

A dry, biting chill seemed to pierce the cabin's double‑glazed windows, making him instinctively tighten the expensive suit he wore.

"Brother, we've reached the Capital City," Lu Qingjun's voice carried a barely perceptible excitement and tremor.

The aircraft landed at Nanyuan Airport.

The moment the cabin door opened, a biting wind laced with thick coal smoke and dry, cold earth rushed in like an invisible beast, causing the thin‑suited Lu Qingjun to shiver violently, his teeth chattering uncontrollably.

That coarse, familiar scent instantly pulled him from the warm, luxurious dream of Hong Kong Island back into the cold, hard reality.

At the foot of the stair, beside a black Tiger‑Head Ben sedan, a man in a thick military coat, upright as a pine, rubbed his hands, exhaling white vapor, pacing anxiously; each time he turned to look at the aircraft, his eyes flashed brilliantly.

"Big brother!" Lu Qingjun's eyes lit up; the Lu chief of Hong Kong Island, the second‑in‑command of the Xinghan Group, all vanished like smoke, and he lunged forward, rolling and scrambling like a child who had been away from home for years and finally saw his relatives.

Lu Qingyuan scooped his younger brother in one arm, his palm‑sized hand slapping his thin back hard enough that Lu Qingjun's innards seemed to resonate. He grinned broadly, flashing white teeth: "You stinky kid, wearing a suit down south, surrounded by crowds, you've almost forgotten that a northern winter can freeze your very bones. Look at you, your face is as white as ice!"

"No way, I think about it every day! Even in my dreams!" Lu Qingjun's eyes instantly reddened, his voice thick with a heavy nasal tone.

The three brothers clung together, feeling the warmth of bloodlines intertwined, as if it could dispel all the harsh cold of the winter night.

At that moment, Lu Qingjun noticed another vehicle nearby. It was a black state‑run sedan, its body catching a cold, unblemished iron‑gray sheen under the airport's dim lights. Beside it stood a man in a dark‑gray woolen coat, posture as straight as a javelin. His face was solemn, his bearing efficient; in the frigid night he resembled an unmeltable ice sculpture, the authority he exuded even causing the howling wind to bend around him.

Lu Qingshan Shan saw him, the warmth on his face instantly receded, his gaze meeting his calmly, as if two invisible bolts of lightning intersected in the cold air.

He let go of his brother, stepped forward, gave a slight nod, his exhaled breath drifting before his steady face: "Bureau Chief Wang, it's so late and bitterly cold—why did you come in person?"

The newcomer was the Director of the Foreign Exchange Administration Bureau, Wang Shanghong.

Wang Shanghong stared at the young man before him, now even more composed and sharp than a few months earlier, his eyes filled with complexity. A few months ago, he had personally handed over fifty million Hong Kong dollars—state‑squeezed emergency funds—to him; Wang had taken on a monumental responsibility, even preparing to lose his silk hat. Yet who could have imagined that this young man would not only unleash a tidal wave in the International Market with that money, but also turn the entire Hong Kong Island upside down, even enlisting the Imperial Governor's Office as his ally? It had surpassed anything Wang could comprehend, stirring a hint of fear.

"Chen Lao wants to see you," Wang Shanghong said without any small talk, his voice as cold and direct as the weather, each word hewn from ice, carrying undeniable weight.

"Chen… Chen Lao?"

Those two words seemed to carry a certain magic, causing the howling wind around them to halt in an instant.

Lu Qingjun's mind buzzed, instantly going blank, his blood seeming frozen in that moment, everything before his eyes beginning to warp and spin. He felt his legs go weak, his body lurching backward uncontrollably; if not for his elder brother Lu Qingyuan's quick reflexes in grabbing him, he would have collapsed on the spot.

That name… that name that only existed in internal documents and news broadcasts! The name that, with a mere stomp, makes the whole Huaxia shudder three times!

Instinctively he looked at his elder brother Lu Qingyuan; the brother's perpetually genial smile was now replaced by shock and awe, his mouth slightly agape, unable to close for a long moment, his whole figure frozen like a statue, even forgetting to breathe.

Even if you added together all the Business Association bigwigs from Hong Kong Island—Li Fuying, Guo Dongying, and those so‑called magnates—they would amount to nothing before this "Chen Lao"!

Wang Shanghong also watched Lu Qingshan Shan's reaction, ready for the expected shock, panic, perhaps even elation. Yet he was disappointed. Lu Qingshan Shan's expression remained calm; only his deep eyes contracted imperceptibly at the mention of the name, as if a flash of lightning flickered from within, then returned to a still, placid surface.

He nodded, addressing the already‑dazed Lu Qingyuan and Lu Qingjun: "Brother, Qingjun, you two go back first, settle things. I'll return after I finish my business."

"Brother…" Lu Qingjun's voice trembled, filled with uncontrollable worry and fear; instinctively he clutched Lu Qingshan Shan's arm so hard his knuckles turned white.

"Go then," Lu Qingshan Shan brushed the back of his hand, the palm warm and strong. He turned his head, glanced at his two younger brothers, his gaze deep and tranquil, bearing a soothing power, "See you at home."

Having said that, he followed Wang Shanghong toward the black Hongqi car that symbolized supreme authority, without the slightest hesitation; his silhouette vanished into the night, resolute and mysterious.