Chapter 466: Ripples of Beihai Park, Storms of Wall Street

The conversation in the study finally ended with Chen Lao's heavy "Good."

The kraft paper bag containing the agreement that could wound half of Europe's Old Aristocracy was solemnly handed by Wang Shanghong to Lu Qingjun. These were no longer cold legal documents, but heavy parcels of authority belonging to Huaxia's future.

When Chen Lao and Wang Shanghong left, their steps carried a visibly pioneering vigor and passion. The autumn wind in the Capital City seemed, because of this, no longer bleak.

Lu Qingshan escorted them to the courtyard gate, watching the black Red Flag car merge into traffic and vanish at the alley's end. He turned and saw Lin Yue'e holding Xiao Xue behind the screen wall, her gentle eyes bearing an inescapable trace of worry.

"All done?" Lin Yue'e asked softly, reaching to smooth Lu Qingshan's slightly rumpled collar.

"Hmm, it's finished." Lu Qingshan walked over, taking his daughter's warm little hand from his wife; the soft touch instantly soothed the last ripple of calculation in his heart.

"Dad, are we going rowing right now?" Lu Xiaoxue looked up with her rosy little face, her big eyes full of eager light, as if filled with stars from the sky.

"Yes, right now." Lu Qingshan smiled, pinching her little nose, and the softness in his heart overflowed.

Beihai Park, crisp autumn air and rippling azure waters. On Qiongdao, the White Tower gleamed dazzlingly in the bright sun, like a lighthouse leading to tranquility.

On the lake, small pleasure boats drifted by, raising rings of golden ripples. Willow branches by the shore swayed gently in the wind; under the trees, elders played weiqi, couples whispered, and the air was filled with the scent of peaceful passing years.

Lu Qingshan rented a rustic wooden hand‑rowboat, sitting at the stern, leisurely turning the oar with practiced ease, as if he were not rowing but plucking the strings of time.

Lin Yue'e and Xiao Xue sat at the bow, the little one excitedly pointing at a pair of wild ducks frolicking in the water, giggling nonstop, her crisp laughter drifting far across the lake.

"Mom, look, look! That duck is kissing! They're kissing!"

Lin Yue'e's face flushed red, amused by her daughter's innocent chatter, and she scolded Lu Qingshan with a sideways glance, a look more intoxicating than the lake's scenery.

Lu Qingshan also laughed, slowing his rowing so the little boat drifted gently in the lake's center. He watched his wife and daughter, their heartfelt, carefree smiles, feeling that this was the sole treasure he had lived two lifetimes to grasp.

The conspiracies in London, the bloodshed in Geneva, the brutality on Wall Street, the solitude at thirty‑thousand meters altitude… all of it, in this moment, seemed so illusory, pale compared to the real, vital beauty of the tiny lake and mountains before him.

"Dad, I'm hungry." After a while of play, Lu Xiaoxue patted her little belly, pouting coquettishly.

Lin Yue'e reached into her cloth bag, took out an oil‑paper wrapper, opened it gingerly, revealing the scallion pancake she had baked herself that morning, layered and still warm.

Lu Qingshan took a piece, bit down hard, his mouth filled with the simple aroma of scallion oil and flour, a mortal flavor no mountain delicacy could match.

He thought it must be ten thousand times tastier than the three‑century‑old red wine stored in the Rothschild family's cellar.

The little boat drifted to the White Tower's reflection, and the three of them sat quietly, eating pancakes, watching the ducks, enjoying this stolen half‑day of leisure.

At that moment, in an unremarkable corner by the shore, a middle‑aged man in a gray Zhongshan suit, looking like an ordinary park visitor, raised his hand subtly toward the lake's center, his motion concealed and hurried.

Lu Qingshan saw it.

His smile remained unchanged, that gentleness frozen on his face, and he said to Lin Yue'e, "Yue E, keep Xiao Xue on the boat while I go ashore to buy a bottle of soda."

"Okay, go, be quick and come back, don't let Xiao Xue wait anxiously." Lin Yue'e said without hesitation, gently reminding him.

Lu Qingshan rowed the boat to the shore, leapt lightly onto land, and walked toward the kiosk.

The gray‑clad man was Lu Qingjun; he trailed at a moderate distance, the two moving in tandem, silently entering a secluded Artificial Mountain Corridor by the shore.

"Second brother." Upon entering the shadows, Lu Qingjun halted, his leisurely expression instantly replaced by solemnity; he drew an unmarked envelope from his chest and handed it over, "Minister Wang asked me to deliver urgently. Top‑level."

Lu Qingshan took the envelope, his slender fingers lightly slicing it open.

Inside was only a thin sheet of paper, bearing a few lines printed by a military cipher machine—cold and glaring.

【Source: White House. Classification: Top Secret. Subject: Adjustment of the "Balance" strategy toward Huaxia. Core: Using trade barriers and tech embargoes to precisely strike Xinghan Capital's physical industries within Huaxia and Hong Kong Island. Objective: Sever its domestic roots, turning it into rootless floating weed. Codename: "Pull‑the‑Thorn Operation".】

After reading, Lu Qingshan's expression remained blank, his deep eyes showing not a single ripple. He simply folded the note repeatedly until it became a fingernail‑sized square, which he slipped casually into his pocket.

In the dimly lit Artificial Mountain Corridor, Lu Qingjun's face was hidden in shadow; he felt the air freeze, watching his second brother anxiously, awaiting the thunderous wrath.

Yet Lu Qingshan was silent for a moment, then suddenly asked an unrelated question: "Do you know how Brazil's coffee beans fared this year's harvest?"

Lu Qingjun was completely stunned, his mind crashing; he couldn't follow his second brother's unfathomable line of thought.

"I… I'm not clear on that…"

"Hmm." Lu Qingshan nodded, as if muttering to himself, yet stating an established fact, "The weather was bad, so the harvest should be average. Americans love coffee, especially those on Wall Street; without it for a day, their hands tremble."

He turned, looking at his still‑stone‑frozen fourth brother, a cold curve lifting his mouth, and in a commanding tone said, "Send a telegram to Ye Ning. Have her inform David Cohen immediately, saying exactly what I said."

"Tell him to go to the New York Futures Exchange and purchase all the Brazil coffee bean futures contracts for the coming year. Leave none for the market!"

Lu Qingjun's pupils snapped shut; he felt he was hearing not a business order but a divine punishment from the heavens.

The White House wants to launch the "Pull‑the‑Thorn Operation"; you're planning to monopolize coffee beans?

What kind of scheme is this? To bring the war to the American breakfast table?!

"Tell him, don't worry about the cost." Lu Qingshan added, his voice tinged with a chilling jest, "In our foundation, those new European 'Partners' have plenty of idle cash lately. Let them join in, as a token contribution to the new master's war, paying a trivial amount of military funds."

Lu Qingjun felt a cold draft rising from the back of his head, a chill shooting up his spine to the crown.

He fully understood! His second brother intended to make all of America unable to get cheap coffee! Using this method to counter the White House's ridiculous "Pull‑the‑Thorn Operation"!

"Also." Lu Qingshan seemed to recall something else, a faint murderous glint flashing in his calm eyes, "Have Li Junjie contact our South American friends, such as the new directors of Brazil Freshwater River Valley. Tell them that U. S. steel demand appears strong lately; perhaps our iron ore could be considered for a modest price increase?"

"Tell the outside world it's to respond to the global environmental call, that extraction costs have risen."

Lu Qingjun swallowed hard, his thighs weakening. He thought the White House's "Pull‑the‑Thorn Operation" name was both apt and utterly ironic.

They aim to pull the thorn from Xinghan Group.

Yet they have no idea that the other end of that thorn is linked to the world's economic lifeline! Forcibly pulling it will only cause their own great artery to burst, blood spilling endlessly!

"Did you note it?" Lu Qingshan's voice pulled him back from shock.

"Noted… noted!" Lu Qingjun snapped to attention, his voice trembling.

"Go. Pack up, tomorrow come with me to Si Li, then return to Shanwan."

Lu Qingjun replied, turned, and almost fled, sprinting away into the depths of the corridor.

Lu Qingshan stood still for a moment, then turned, walked back to the kiosk, bought three bottles of orange‑flavored Beibingyang soda, as if he had only arranged a trivial matter.

When he returned to the boat, his expression had returned to its previous gentleness, showing no sign of change.

"Dad! Soda!" Xiao Xue clapped her little hands joyfully.

Lu Qingshan smiled, popped the cap, and handed the chilled soda to his daughter.

He sat back at the stern, lifted the oar, and the boat drifted gently toward the lake's center again.

Lin Yue'e watched him, always feeling that his brief absence had changed something about him; behind that gentleness seemed a bottomless icy sea, though she couldn't put it into words.

"What's wrong?" Lu Qingshan noticed her gaze and asked softly.

"It's nothing." Lin Yue'e shook her head, nestled against her daughter, smiled, "I just feel the weather is really nice today."

"Indeed." Lu Qingshan looked up at the White Tower in the sky, then glanced at his daughter, who was sipping soda in small mouthfuls, eyes squinting with happiness, and said softly.

"The weather is really nice."

He wants this sky to stay forever this clear. Whoever dares to cast even a wisp of cloud over it, he will plunge that person's world into perpetual darkness.

On the lake's surface, golden sunlight spread across the water, warm and peaceful.

And on the far side of the Pacific Ocean, thousands of miles away, an economic storm called "Coffee" aimed at the entire United States was quietly brewing.