Chapter 969: Dad! I Want One Too!

What level are you, to be on the same tier as me!

Li Xuewu guessed Zhou Gancheng was thinking exactly that—otherwise why was he smoking, glaring, yet not lighting up?

Zhou Gancheng’s eyelid twitched, his eyes narrowing slightly as he asked, “What are you staring at?”

“Huh~”

Li Xuewu chuckled softly, flicked open his lighter, and gestured toward him.

The other man stared at him for several seconds before leaning over to accept the light.

Only after lighting Zhou Gancheng’s cigarette did Li Xuewu light his own.

The two stood silently in the carriage connection, smoking.

The northern weather at the end of December was dry and freezing; on windy days, it could even induce tension and melancholy.

Describing it as “northern winds curl the ground, snapping white grass, and snow flies by August” still wasn’t quite right—it should be “a thousand li frozen solid, snowflakes drifting in your bowl.”

Looking out the carriage window, the daylight was dim, white earth rushing past, rolling like hills—truly like silver snakes dancing over mountains, waxen elephants charging across plains.

Zhou Gancheng, cigarette in hand, squinted for a long while at the young man gazing out at the snowscape before asking, “Your child’s doing well?”

“Huh? Oh~”

Li Xuewu pulled his gaze from the window, turned, and smiled faintly at Zhou Gancheng beside him: “Doing fine—just a real handful.”

He turned his body, pressed his side against the wall, took a drag, and added with a grin: “This morning he knocked over a flowerpot and told on the goldfish.”

“Mm~”

Zhou Gancheng smiled slightly, nodded at Li Xuewu, and said, “You’re lucky.”

“You believe in that?”

Li Xuewu flicked ash and exhaled smoke: “I believe in self-cultivation bringing fortune.”

“True~”

Zhou Gancheng lowered his head, exhaled smoke, and said, “You’re more impressive than I imagined.”

“No need for such flattery, right?”

Li Xuewu smiled at him: “We’ve got some rapport, haven’t we?”

“Hehe~”

Zhou Gancheng chuckled, glanced sideways into the carriage, and asked Li Xuewu: “Your factory’s taking on such a big project?”

“Your idea?”

He raised an eyebrow, skeptical: “Or… do you have some special channel?”

“What channel? I don’t follow your meaning.”

Li Xuewu frowned slightly, then smiled and countered: “Haven’t you heard about the Yangcheng exhibition?”

“Huh? So this old man made contact there?”

Zhou Gancheng knew about the event, but didn’t know the steel mill’s angle.

He glanced again into the carriage, then smirked: “Pretty capable.”

“Leaders have grand ambitions, workers have lofty aspirations—what can you do?”

Li Xuewu shrugged helplessly, pursed his lips: “The hardest work falls to us who actually do it.”

“You’re joking?”

Zhou Gancheng sized Li Xuewu up, eyes skeptical: “Excessive modesty is just blatant boasting.”

He shook his head slightly, teasing: “Young man, remember to stay humble.”

“Understood—learn from the experienced comrades.”

Li Xuewu smiled back, gestured toward the carriage behind him, and asked, “What’s the Waishi Force planning?”

“That depends on you.”

Zhou Gancheng’s gaze never left the carriage; he took a drag, turned to look at Li Xuewu, and said: “You don’t need me to remind you about security and secrecy, do you?”

“Security’s fine. Secrecy…”

Li Xuewu smiled at him: “Do you really think our shipbuilding technology needs to be kept secret from outsiders?”

He tapped the window glass, gesturing to the dilapidated countryside flashing by outside, then said: “I think your secrecy efforts are going to face challenges.”

“That’s your own doing!”

Zhou Gancheng glanced out the window, then signaled a Waishi Force officer standing by the carriage door to pull the curtains.

The officer nodded, walked inside, and checked whether all window curtains were properly drawn.

Though this carriage had soft seats, their comfort was poor.

Fortunately, there were many accompanying personnel—each Italian delegation member had someone with them.

The windows remained covered with white gauze curtains; the snow-covered black earth outside appeared faintly, blurred through the fabric.

No one was allowed to look out or take photos—rules had been clearly stated beforehand.

Li Xuewu’s remark carried both warning and mockery; Zhou Gancheng was helpless.

“Tell me about your factory’s plans.”

Zhou Gancheng crushed his spent cigarette underfoot, pointed into the carriage, and said to Li Xuewu: “I asked around—they all say you’re in charge of foreign trade.”

“Who let the cat out of the bag?”

Li Xuewu raised an eyebrow, studying Zhou Gancheng: “You know a bit too much.”

“Old age brings curiosity.”

Zhou Gancheng shrugged, unfazed by Li Xuewu’s scrutiny: “I just want to hear how you conned some foreign old man into giving you orders and equipment.”

“Hey! Comrade Zhou!”

Li Xuewu pointed at him, tossed his cigarette, and said: “I regret your wording.”

“Oh?”

Hearing Li Xuewu use diplomatic language, Zhou Gancheng narrowed his eyes: “‘Conned’ might be a bit…”

“How can you say that?!”

Before Zhou Gancheng finished, Li Xuewu shook his head, displeased: “What do you mean ‘old man’? Mr. Andrew is only in his forties.”

“….”

Zhou Gancheng’s lip twitched, staring at Li Xuewu in disbelief.

He didn’t care whether the guy was old!

He wanted to know if there was something fishy!

So you only heard “old man” and ignored the part about conning him into giving orders and equipment?

Thank goodness we’re on a train with tracks—otherwise your abrupt topic shift would’ve thrown me eight hundred meters off the train!

“So?”

Zhou Gancheng stared into Li Xuewu’s eyes: “Is your factory going through all this trouble just for a few yacht orders?”

“Or…”

He pursed his lips, tugged up his pants, and looked up at Li Xuewu: “Is there some other agenda among your factory’s leadership?”

“You really are a department cadre—your vision is high.”

Li Xuewu glanced at him, amused: “You call a yearly order of over a hundred high-end yachts ‘just a few’?”

“Cut the nonsense—I said ‘a few’ relative to you, not me!”

Zhou Gancheng glared, pointed at Li Xuewu, and asked seriously: “What are you really up to?!”

“You know what you’re thinking—and why I’m here—better than I do.”

“Of course development. Of course progress.”

Li Xuewu’s lips curled slightly as he met Zhou Gancheng’s gaze without fear: “You don’t think we’ve got some extraordinary international friendship with that Italian businessman, do you?”

“First, Italy isn’t in the Third World. Second, our cooperation involves no political factors.”

“Enterprises must develop. Technology must advance.”

Li Xuewu explained seriously: “What you see is us going to great lengths to build them small boats—luxurious yachts for indulgence.”

“What you don’t see is us learning new material applications, expanding new mechanical technologies, and accumulating development strength.”

“Comrade Zhou, what’s your basis for suspicion?”

He studied Zhou Gancheng’s expression and asked bluntly: “Is it just because he’s a foreigner?”

Zhou Gancheng stared into Li Xuewu’s eyes, silent—until the air between them froze.

The train swayed slightly as it passed a switch; Zhou Gancheng finally spoke slowly: “I don’t care whether you want development or progress—I need to know if this will affect my own advancement.”

He narrowed his left eye, stepped closer, and whispered to Li Xuewu: “You don’t know all foreign activities are flagged for retroactive review?”

“The BaoMi Department?”

Li Xuewu’s gaze shifted, fixed firmly on Zhou Gancheng: “I see no reason why the BaoMi Department should review me.”

“But you—I want to know what you’re worried about!”

“….”

Zhou Gancheng pressed his lips together, didn’t answer, only looked at Li Xuewu with concern, then raised his right hand and placed it on Li Xuewu’s right shoulder.

He took two steps toward the corridor corner, gazed into the carriage, and murmured: “Extreme hardness breaks. Extreme wisdom harms. Extreme strength invites humiliation. The truly noble are humble.”

“Oh?”

Li Xuewu’s lips curled in a mocking smile, leaning against the corridor corner, eyes fixed on the window: “So someone’s teaching me how to act?”

“I admire them—must be used to doing shady things, accustomed to being rats, so even talking to me requires them to send you as a middleman.”

“Don’t act on impulse.”

Zhou Gancheng let out a faint sigh, then patted Li Xuewu’s shoulder and said, “I’m only looking out for you—this anger isn’t worth it.”

“Heh.”

Li Xuewu turned his head, glancing sideways at the man, raising an eyebrow. “Do I look like the humble, refined gentleman you’re describing?”

“Or perhaps!”

His eyes narrowed slightly, a sly grin tugging at his lips. “You see my gentle, jade-like demeanor and assume I’m kind, right?”

Ignoring Zhou Gancheng’s faintly stunned expression, Li Xuewu lifted his right shoulder slightly, shifting the man’s hand away, then stepped past him toward the carriage.

“Please pass on a message for me—tell that man: if he’s got guts, let him come at me. I guarantee he’ll be the one to strike first.”

Inside the carriage, the air was warm as spring—far warmer than the connecting passages.

As soon as Li Xuewu stepped in, several people greeted him and invited him to sit and chat.

He stood in the aisle, smiling warmly as he politely responded to each greeting, occasionally exchanging light jokes with seated passengers.

Watching his effortless grace, both Zhou Gancheng, standing thoughtfully at the front of the carriage, and the officials at the rear, engaged in lively small talk, kept watchful eyes on him.

Some people are born with the aura of a leader—wherever they go, they draw attention.

Just a moment ago, Li Xuewu had claimed he was gentle and refined, which sounded amusing.

But now, watching him fluidly switch between languages, move with poise, and laugh warmly with everyone, even the most virtuous gentleman couldn’t do better.

A person’s demeanor can’t fully mask physical flaws, but it amplifies their personal charm, making them shine all the brighter.

“He sure can talk.”

Luo Yun puckered her lips and whispered to Zhou Xiaobai beside her with a smile.

Zhou Xiaobai smiled sweetly, lips curling slightly, and nudged Luo Yun, reminding her to be mindful of the setting.

Her gaze unconsciously drifted to the girl across from them—elegant, stylish, impossible to ignore.

Luo Yun didn’t care about such things. Even as the girl across from them occasionally glanced their way, Luo Yun boldly observed the carriage, especially curious about the foreigners.

“You’re not from the steel mill, are you?”

The girl across from them set down her white porcelain teacup, smiled faintly, and asked: “Are you friends of Deputy Director Li?”

Luo Yun tore her gaze away, sized up the girl, ignored the sweat on Zhou Xiaobai’s hand gripping hers, and asked bluntly: “Are you a train guard or a stewardess?”

“Heh~”

The girl had a good temper—perhaps unwilling to quarrel with two girls, or perhaps wary of the Deputy Director Li Luo Yun had just mentioned.

Hearing Luo Yun’s sharp retort, she merely smiled lightly, lips pursed: “What a lively little girl.”

“Thank you. You’re lively too.”

Luo Yun felt Zhou Xiaobai’s subtle warning to avoid trouble, but she was used to never backing down.

At the institute, outside—girls who weren’t sharp got bullied to the brink. She was the one who usually protected Zhou Xiaobai.

“I mean no harm—I’m just curious.”

The girl smiled, extended her hand in introduction: “I’m Zhou Miaomiao, from the Propaganda Division’s Cultural Troupe at the steel mill—I work in the dance team.”

“Oh~~~”

Luo Yun glanced at her, tugged Zhou Xiaobai’s hand away from the offer to shake, sized her up, and said casually: “You do look cultured.”

“Thank you.”

Zhou Miaomiao sensed their wariness—likely because she’d mentioned Deputy Director Li.

She didn’t mind their reluctance to shake hands, smiled, lowered her arm, and said: “I know Deputy Director Li too—I saw Secretary Peng lead you aboard, so I asked.”

“Oh, really?”

Luo Yun nodded, making up a lie: “We’re Secretary Peng’s cousins. Just hitching a ride to Jinmen.”

“Hehehe.”

Zhou Miaomiao laughed at her words, lips pursed, eyes full of playful mockery toward the girl.

Luo Yun now realized her slip, but had no intention of explaining—she just tilted her chin up, ignored the laughter, and kept watching the foreigners.

In this era, foreigners were rarer than monkeys and elephants in the zoo—such close-up chances were few.

According to Peng Xiaoli, who’d brought them aboard, these were Italians.

Luo Yun studied them with intense curiosity, whispering to Zhou Xiaobai: “Xiaobai, they don’t look like cowards at all!”

“Don’t say that~”

Zhou Xiaobai glanced warily at Zhou Miaomiao across from them, nudged Luo Yun gently, telling her to stop.

The jokes about Italy’s battlefield incompetence came from her father—she’d whispered them to Luo Yun secretly at the station.

Luo Yun judged these unknown Italians as all show, no substance—cowards.

Now, with Zhou Xiaobai’s reminder, she knew to mind international optics—she couldn’t let them hear that.

If she couldn’t talk about the foreigners, she’d talk about Li Xuewu.

She leaned close to Zhou Xiaobai’s ear, whispering: “How does Wu-ge know foreign languages?”

“I don’t know.”

Zhou Xiaobai’s gaze swept over Li Xuewu, laughing and chatting with the foreigners—her eyes filled with admiration and reverence.

It wasn’t just awe at his stature—she admired his confidence and versatility.

“Deputy Director Li is famous in our factory for his talent and charm.”

Hearing the praise, Zhou Xiaobai smiled proudly.

Luo Yun, however, watched her sharply and asked: “Does the dance team have many chances to interact with your factory’s leadership?”

Zhou Xiaobai smiled, pleased by the compliment.

Zhou Miaomiao glanced at her, smiled, and explained: “Leaders are always busy—just meeting one is rare. Everyone in the factory knows this.”

She then glanced at Zhou Xiaobai’s slightly flushed face and asked: “Has Deputy Director Li never told you this?”

Zhou Miaomiao glanced at her and smiled in explanation: “The leaders are all busy; just meeting them once is rare—everyone in our factory knows this.”

Zhou Xiaobai hesitated before speaking: “He never praises himself—always makes fun of himself.”

“That’s right—exactly.”

Zhou Miaomiao nodded in agreement: “Deputy Director Li’s greatest strength is humility—he praises others often, speaks of himself rarely.”

She probed gently: “Is Deputy Director Li not very serious in daily life?”

Zhou Miaomiao, seeing she had taken up the thread, nodded in agreement: “The greatest strength of Deputy Director Li is his humility—he praises others more and speaks of himself less.”

Zhou Xiaobai had barely opened her mouth when Luo Yun tugged her. As she turned, Luo Yun was winking at her.

Zhou Xiaobai froze, then pressed her lips shut, lowering her head, refusing to say more.

Zhou Miaomiao now sensed something was off. She lifted her teacup, glanced across, and stopped initiating conversation.

For the rest of the journey, the two girls whispered quietly among themselves, glancing over occasionally—as if wary of her.

Zhou Miaomiao simply pulled a red-covered book from her bag and began reading, focused, earnest in her study.

Luo Yun glanced at it, lips curling slightly, leaned close to Zhou Xiaobai’s ear, and whispered: “I’ll bet you anything—this woman’s no good.”

A Willys led the way, followed by three Magu brand sedans, and bringing up the rear, a Beijing CA10 bus.

After exiting Jinmen Railway Station, the business negotiation team was met by the Foreign Affairs Department and escorted directly to the waiting fleet.

The five vehicles, in order, followed the lead car along the street toward the steel mill’s Trade Management Center in Jinmen.

The last time Li Xuewu came to Jinmen, he and Li Huai had chosen the location for the Trade Management Center.

The former bank building and courtyard were more than enough space for them.

The main office building alone had three floors—not counting the auxiliary buildings and dormitories in the back.

Li Xuewu was the head of the Jinmen Trade Management Center; the official in charge was Zhuang Cangshu, Director of the Economic and Trade Office overseeing joint trade.

The first vehicle carried the factory’s security officers and fleet dispatchers.

The second vehicle held Li Huai, Li Xuewu, and Zhuang Cangshu.

The third vehicle carried Andrew, his personal secretary, and technical advisor.

The fourth vehicle held Liu Shaozong, Gao Yaqin, and Zhou Gancheng, his face grim.

The rest were seated in the following minibus, with other vehicles trailing behind, not part of the main convoy.

This arrangement was deliberate—in the interior, you might eat the wrong meal, but you’d never sit in the wrong seat.

Let me explain the reasoning briefly—don’t think me tedious.

Host is host; guest is guest.

As a guest, follow the host’s lead.

As a host, follow the guest’s preference.

By external distinction: today, the steel mill is host; the other two parties are guests—so the steel mill’s vehicles lead, the others follow.

By etiquette: today, the interior is host; Andrew is guest—so Andrew’s vehicle leads, Zhou Gancheng’s follows.

This is a deep matter—whether in the interior or abroad, even in the most “open” nations, this rule holds.

Of course, actual circumstances vary—the order must be adjusted accordingly. It’s an unwritten rule, requiring discretion.

In the second vehicle, Li Xuewu and Li Huai sat in the back; Zhuang Cangshu twisted his body to sit in the front passenger seat, giving them a progress report.

“The Italian technical and management team’s offices are on the third floor, near the rear building.”

“Their lodging and daily life are arranged on the third floor of the dormitory, with dedicated sections and staff managing both work and living areas.”

Zhuang Cangshu watched Li Huai and Li Xuewu’s expressions carefully, afraid his arrangements had flaws that might draw criticism.

Li Xuewu had no intention of criticizing him—he stared out the window, comparing the scene to his last visit to Jinmen.

Zhuang Cangshu watched Li Huaide and Li Xuewu’s expressions cautiously, afraid his arrangements had flaws and would be criticized by his superiors.

Li Xuewu had no intention of criticizing him; his gaze was fixed on the window, comparing the differences from his last visit to Jinmen.

The street remained clean and bright, with neither too many nor too few cars; the buildings were still the same few tall ones, the rest low-rise structures and single-story houses.

Along the way, pedestrians either stopped to watch the convoy, or frowned and detoured away, their attitudes varied.

Li Huai De ’s eyes half-closed; no one knew if he was listening or had already dozed off.

Zhuang Cangshu had not received instructions from his superiors, so he dared not stop his report, merely shifting from venue arrangements to the operational plan for this mission.

“The canteen has prepared a banquet, specially arranged by Western chefs, primarily featuring seafood…”

“Passed.”

Li Xuewu gazed out the window and softly spoke a single sentence.

Zhuang Cangshu’s brow twitched slightly; he said nervously, “Then as soon as I arrive, I’ll notify logistics to reduce ingredient usage and waste, striving to…”

“I mean the Trade Management Center has passed.”

Li Xuewu turned his head and glanced at him, pointing out the window at the building nearby as if looking at an idiot.

“Huh? Ah!”

Zhuang Cangshu was stunned by Li Xuewu’s words, then awkwardly smiled and explained, “The road outside our gate is under repair—we have to detour around the corner.”

“Hehe~”

Li Huai De heard their exchange and chuckled softly, glancing at Zhuang Cangshu, whose face had turned slightly pale from Li Xuewu’s tone, then looked at Li Xuewu and gently patted his knee. “Relax. Whatever it is, we’ll sort it out after we get back. First, handle this matter.”

“Understood, Leader.”

Li Xuewu first replied, then nodded at Zhuang Cangshu. “Continue.”

“Uh…”

Zhuang Cangshu opened his mouth awkwardly, then said, “Also, for tonight’s arrangements, I’ve contacted the Seafood Company’s guesthouse—they can…”

“Don’t do anything reckless tonight.”

Li Huai De suddenly interrupted his report; his smile had vanished. He pointed at him and said, “Follow the rules. Be cautious. Don’t try anything unusual. Don’t make mistakes.”

“Yes.”

Zhuang Cangshu looked at Director Li, but his peripheral vision had already noticed Deputy Director Li’s cold demeanor—he realized his arrangements were unnecessary.

“Don’t be nervous. Don’t panic.”

Li Huai De leaned back in his seat as the convoy entered the street where the Trade Management Center stood. He advised, “Foreign reception must follow procedure. Do exactly as the Foreign Affairs Office arranges.”

After speaking, he turned to look behind the car, then asked Li Xuewu, “Will you be staying at home tonight?”

Without waiting for Li Xuewu’s answer, he continued, “After dinner, we’ll go together.”

Li Xuewu merely nodded, saying nothing. After the convoy pulled into the Trade Management Center’s compound and came to a stop in order, he stepped out first to greet Andrew.

Sha Qizhi, Director of the Foreign Affairs Office, held a notebook, his expression stern as he gestured to the reception staff.

Security personnel had already run over to open the car doors and guided the passengers from the minibus toward the reception lounge.

The leaders from the first three sedans, accompanied by Li Xuewu, joined Li Huai De in leading everyone to tour the Trade Management Center’s main building.

Andrew walked beside Li Huai De , his secretary following; on the other side, Li Xuewu was explaining something to him.

A teacher from Huaqing University, serving as a temporary interpreter, walked beside Li Huai De , providing service.

Liu Shaozong from the Ministry of Industry, Gao Yaqin from Foreign Economic Relations, Zhou Gancheng from the Foreign Affairs Office, and others walked in the second row, entering the building with the group.

When the convoy turned onto the street, they had been awed by the solemn, imposing building before them.

Once inside, seeing the high ceilings and crystal chandeliers, they widened their eyes in surprise at the lavish decoration of stone and solid wood.

They knew little of the steel mill’s history and had never realized it possessed such strength—owning such a large, luxurious office facility outside its premises.

Li Huai De , with unrefined delight, basked in the astonished glances from Andrew and others, struggling to suppress the corners of his mouth so his pride wouldn’t shatter his aura.

Zhuang Cangshu walked at the front, turning his body to introduce the general layout and functions of each zone of the Trade Center.

Andrew occasionally commented on the European-style reliefs on the walls; Li Xuewu softly explained the history in French.

Li Huai De rarely spoke, afraid he might laugh out loud in triumph; only when Li Xuewu reminded him of a point worth boasting about did he modestly offer a few light remarks.

Each time, Andrew would sigh in admiration and offer a compliment, causing those behind to chuckle and echo him after translation.

When Zhuang Cangshu led them up the luxurious marble staircase to the third floor and introduced the designated office area for Jili Xing Shipbuilding Company, Andrew expressed delighted thanks.

Andrew’s family shipyard was named Jili Shipyard—a simple, unglamorous yet precious name.

Anyone who sailed the seas hoped for smooth voyages; no one wished to encounter pirates.

Thus, the name “Jili” was favored not only by Chinese but also by foreigners.

To expand yacht sales in Asia, Andrew, being cautious, did not directly use his family brand but chose to establish a dedicated Asian sub-brand: Jili Xing.

The implication was: if the brand succeeded, the family shipyard would step forward and claim it as its own true son, reaping profits and gaining prestige.

If Jili Xing performed poorly, had bad reputation, or poor quality, they would pretend ignorance—even if someone mentioned it, they’d say it was merely an adopted son, unrelated.

This alone showed Andrew’s seasoned business acumen and his lack of confidence in the domestic yacht manufacturing project.

In Beijing, he had been so difficult and picky; even after multiple communications with Li Xuewu, he still harbored concerns about the shipyard in Yingcheng.

Why insist on taking everyone to Yingcheng? Why even actively request the Ministry of Industry and Foreign Economic Relations to join? Simply to pressure the steel mill and bolster his own confidence.

When he saw the office space and living facilities prepared for them, his worries eased considerably.

“Tailoring treatment to the person” existed domestically—and abroad, it was no less common.

Don’t watch too many foreign dramas and assume Westerners don’t care about appearances; otherwise, how do you explain the prestige of Rolls-Royce?

Business negotiation convoys and office displays must not be lacking. Big-company bosses never take buses or subways to negotiations—do you think they’re selling insurance?

Don’t be fooled by so-called public intellectuals. What they write about foreign countries? They’ve probably never left their county, fabricating stories just for a few yuan in article fees.

What nonsense about strictly obeying traffic lights, streets cleaner than faces, not a single scrap of paper left after concerts, or absolute refusal of bribes—believe that and you’re the biggest fool of this century!

Later, this competitive trend in inland areas? Entirely imported by these foreigners.

On the balcony of the Trade Management Center’s third floor, facing the Haihe River, Andrew enthusiastically pointed out the large yachts moored at the nearby shipping dock.

Li Huai De ’s face had lost its earlier pride; his gaze was deep as he stared at the luxurious yacht.

Hearing the translator recount Andrew’s boasts, he turned his head, his eyes hopeful, glancing at Li Xuewu.

Li Xuewu, sensing his intent, looked back instantly and understood the meaning in Li Huai De ’s gaze: Dad! I want one too!

He knew Li Huai De too well—a man obsessed with showing off, who could only boast in front of others, never tolerate being someone else’s backdrop.

Li Xuewu had seen the yacht—it was truly beautiful, unlike the sleek, modern yachts of the future; it bore the unique style of this era.

Leaving other details aside, just the nearly forty-meter hull—no need to ask, the price must be astronomical.

A yacht isn’t a fishing boat; the value increase per meter far exceeds that of a fishing vessel.

Andrew stood by the balcony, pointing at the white yacht and telling everyone, “This was my fifth birthday gift, personally designed and supervised by my father.”

“Length: 115.8 feet, width: 21.9 feet, draft: 6.7 feet—easily accommodates eight people for long-term residence…”

Li Huai De listened to the translation, his gaze drifting again toward Li Xuewu.

The meaning was clear: Look! Other people’s fathers give yachts as birthday gifts—I’m almost my birthday too!

Can I have a yacht drawn for me?!

What could Li Xuewu do but turn his head to gaze out the window, pretending not to see Old Li’s look?

I can’t do it!

He couldn’t just go over and cover Andrew’s mouth to stop him from boasting!

Do you really expect him to fulfill Li Huai De ’s wish—contact the Yingcheng shipyard to build such a yacht?!

Are you mad?!

Is a yacht expensive to build?

Is the Yingcheng shipyard incapable of building one?!

Of course not. The cost is one thing, but maintenance? That’s the real expense!

This thing only goes to sea when you feel like it, have time, and the weather is good.

Aside from taking it out for a couple of joyrides and firing a few shots, the rest of the year it sits docked, earning nothing, just burning money.

More importantly, look at Andrew’s yacht—it’s new, built and delivered in 1961.

But wait three or five years, and it’ll be a full refit—only the hull remains usable; every other system must be replaced.

Nobody likes outdated things. Retro is about style, not substance—even the elderly.

Otherwise, why are yacht owners always young and beautiful? Have you ever seen a sixty- or seventy-year-old man take a group of equally aged women out on a yacht?

That’s not a yacht—it’s yacht insurance!

Even now, Andrew uses it as a business transport. Do you really think he loves his father so much that he treasures this yacht?

His father is a billionaire; loving his father is fine, but it has nothing to do with loving the yacht.

A scion raised in such a family, if he spent his days lounging on a yacht, hugging the hull to sleep, his father would be screaming curses.

In truth, it’s just a boat—a passenger vessel.

Only its equipment and facilities are extravagantly luxurious, ensuring passenger comfort.

You might sail it a few times a year; after eight years, only those with more money than they know what to do with would buy one for fun.

Given Old Li’s cowardly nature, even if he got such a boat, he’d only dare to look at it from the dock—would he really dare to sail it?

Whoever dares suggest building one for Li Huai De —he’d grab his gun and send them to the West Sea.

Boast with restraint. Know when to stop. Don’t seek glory in front of others only to suffer behind the scenes.

After boasting to Li Huai De and the others, Andrew turned to Li Xuewu and said, “Mr. Li, tomorrow morning we’ll take this yacht to Yingcheng.”

“Good.”

Li Xuewu smiled slightly and turned to Zhuang Cangshu. “Contact the crew. Provide any assistance they need.”

“Yes, Leader.”

Zhuang Cangshu glanced enviously out the window, then went to liaise with Andrew’s personal secretary.

Li Xuewu didn’t want Andrew to keep showing off; he raised his hand in a courteous gesture and smiled, saying, “Let’s go see the staff rest area, how about that?”

…

The trade management center’s banquet was quite good; Zhuang Cangshu feared Li Xuewu might complain, so besides the Western kitchen’s seafood feast, he hastily arranged a Chinese kitchen.

He reduced the number of Western dishes and increased Chinese ones, blending both cuisines—this slightly softened the leaders’ expressions.

This was only possible in Jinmen, where he could still find a Western kitchen; in Jingcheng, even eight men carrying a palanquin couldn’t lure one in.

Who the hell would dare claim they could cook Western food? He’d rather say he wasn’t a cook at all than admit he was a fake Western chef, just mooching meals.

Li Xuewu sat at the main table and didn’t hold Andrew’s afternoon boasting against him by forcing drinks on them—this wasn’t the time for drinking contests.

What mattered was eating well, drinking well, and talking well.

Drinking-table culture wasn’t unique to China; from Andrew’s social behavior, it was clear he’d negotiated plenty of deals over wine.

Li Xuewu stole a glance at Zhou Xiaobai and the others; if it came to mooching meals, those two eating warriors were the real pros.

Seizing the chance, at the corner table, those two little devils gorged on the seafood feast like squirrels stealing nuts.

The banquet didn’t last long; the main table did most of the talking, with everyone eating and chatting, avoiding work entirely and shifting to personal life.

Especially as Andrew voluntarily described differences in domestic and international lifestyles and cultures, sharing his own likes and opinions about local customs.

No wonder this old dog understood business banquets—you think talking about life instead of work really means discussing family routines?

Of course not—it was about expressing personal stances toward each other’s living and business environments, gauging mutual impressions and seeking shared values.

Don’t be naive! Do you really think these bigwigs at this level of business banquet discuss which kindergarten your kid attends, how your wife behaves, how old your son is, or playing mud with the neighbor’s kid?!

Stop it!

You think this is a class reunion? Even if it were, no one would talk about that—everyone’d be saying, “After dinner, let’s book a room…” uh… you know what.