A Letter from Keanu Reeves

Wednesday was a securities trading day, and Chen Wan went to Mingji Zhonghui to handle some procedures.

The Central Park District was expansive, radiating outwards from the Dove Square as its central coordinate, shaded by the dense branches of bauhinia trees.

Major conglomerates like Zhao’s Minglong and Shen’s Proli, both of which had rung the bell on the stock exchange, had their headquarters on the premium real estate of Finley Street. Meanwhile, emerging small to mid-sized companies like Chen Wan’s KeXiang could only afford to rent a few floors in the office buildings on the western section of Prince Street.

Wherever there are people, there’s always a hierarchy of disdain. Graduates from Harvard or Cambridge go to Finley Street, while those with degrees from Columbia or the University of Pennsylvania end up on Prince West.

As Chen Wan stepped into the cool air-conditioned building, he unexpectedly spotted Zhao Shengge.

The man stood alone, seemingly waiting for a car.

After disappearing for over two months and existing only in rumors, Zhao Shengge’s sudden appearance left Chen Wan momentarily stunned. A slow, inexplicable joy welled up within him—a useless joy, at that.

Chen Wan wasn’t sure if Zhao Shengge remembered him. He hesitated briefly, intending to act as though he hadn’t seen him and walk past. His toes had already pivoted in a different direction when, by coincidence, Zhao Shengge glanced over. Perhaps he was checking to see if his car had arrived. From his posture, it seemed like he’d been waiting for a while and was in a hurry to get somewhere.

Chen Wan found it hard to ignore him and walked over.

Zhao Shengge seemed to have some recollection of him but couldn’t place exactly who he was.

This didn’t surprise Chen Wan. He briefly introduced himself, glossing over the details. Zhao Shengge gave a slight nod and casually mentioned that his car had broken down.

With a polite smile, Chen Wan offered, “Are you in a rush? If you don’t mind, my car is nearby, and I can give you a ride.”

Zhao Shengge looked at him and asked, “Is that convenient for you?”

Chen Wan froze. The question caught him off guard—he hadn’t expected the other man to actually accept his offer. A burst of excitement mingled with self-reproach as he realized he hadn’t driven a better car that day.

A BYD, no less—a BYD that had been damaged by a lunatic not long ago.

But Chen Wan wasn’t willing to let the opportunity slip. He nodded and asked where Zhao Shengge needed to go. After hearing the destination, Chen Wan agreed without hesitation.

He led the way, maintaining a courteous distance—not too close, but slightly nearer than on their previous outings.

Zhao Shengge’s tall frame and long strides exuded a subtle authority. As they walked, their arms swung faintly, stirring the warm summer air. Chen Wan’s heartbeat unconsciously matched the rhythm of the other man’s steps, like the wings of the doves in the square.

He found himself wondering, somewhat dazed, if Zhao Shengge’s arm was warm.

Chen Wan tucked his hands into his pockets, fishing out his car keys. From several meters away, he unlocked his BYD with a press of the button.

The “beep” startled a flock of doves resting by the fountain into flight.

Chen Wan courteously opened the rear door for Zhao Shengge, holding a hand near the car frame to prevent him from hitting his head—a textbook gentleman’s gesture.

Zhao Shengge entered the car without hesitation. Though recently repaired, the compact interior of the BYD made him frown slightly. His long legs were awkwardly folded, clearly uncomfortable.

Chen Wan apologized, “The car’s a bit small. I hope you don’t mind, Mr. Zhao. There’s water beside you.”

“Thank you.”

Zhao Shengge’s response was distant. After asking if the temperature was comfortable, Chen Wan didn’t say another word, focusing solely on driving. There was no attempt at small talk.

In the back seat, Zhao Shengge was equally silent, so much so that Chen Wan almost doubted if there was anyone else in the car.

Yet the overwhelming presence in the rear was tangible, silent but imposing, keeping Chen Wan on high alert.

If he had eyes on the back of his head, he would have noticed that Zhao Shengge was observing him openly, unabashedly.

Chen Wan drove skillfully, shifting gears with precision and making decisions—yielding or overtaking—with ease.

Like a stoic examiner, Zhao Shengge’s gaze lingered on Chen Wan’s right hand, the same hand that had once poured tea for them, now gripping the steering wheel.

He turned his gaze away.

For some reason, they hit every red light along the way. At each intersection, they sat in the quiet car, waiting together through thirty-two seconds of silent, sharp anticipation.

To Zhao Shengge, it was a tedious stretch of observation. To Chen Wan, it was a sweet torment.

The car was almost soundless, the occasional inadvertent glance exchanged through the rearview mirror. One gaze was calm and proud, the other gentle and modest. A second later, their eyes would part again.

Chen Wan smiled apologetically, taking the blame for the red lights as if they were his fault, feeling guilty for wasting the other man’s time.

Zhao Shengge didn’t respond to his smile, shifting his gaze as he answered a call. “Traffic.”

“On my way.”

His words were succinct, spoken in a low, steady voice. Each syllable hit Chen Wan like a tiny ant crawling across a sensitive nerve, burrowing into his heart.

Their destination was Eagle Pool—a decadent den of indulgence in Haishi, infamous for its extravagance and lack of moral boundaries.

Chen Wan had no delusions or unrealistic fantasies. He was entirely clear-headed, rational, and self-controlled. But thoughts were one thing, and reality was another. If emotions were so easy to control, so effortless to restrain, then their power would be disappointingly mundane.

If Zhuo Zhixuan were here, he would’ve applauded Chen Wan for being impressive—personally chauffeuring the person he liked to a place like Eagle Pool.

Unrequited love was like walking a path of no return, where no sound could be made, and no glance could be spared.

Through a series of red lights, the blaring horns seemed to signal the transition from one phase of torment to another. The skyscrapers looming above resembled towering monuments, silently burying a love too quiet to speak of.

When they reached Eagle Pool, Zhao Shengge requested not to be dropped at the main entrance.

Though unfamiliar with Chen Wan, his tone carried an innate authority, as if giving orders was second nature.

Without turning back, Chen Wan nodded through the rearview mirror while reversing, asking, “Where would you prefer to be dropped off, then?”

Due to frequent police inspections, Eagle Pool had numerous side entrances. The higher the membership tier, the more access one had to these discreet doors.

Chen Wan wasn’t sure if Zhao Shengge wanted to make a statement or keep a low profile.

When Chen Wan hesitated, Zhao Shengge thoughtfully added, “Wherever is easiest for you to park.”

Chen Wan’s headache worsened.

Though the words seemed considerate, they actually pushed the decision onto him, revealing how much he knew and how he viewed Zhao Shengge’s preferences.

After careful thought, Chen Wan finally suggested, “How about I drop you off at the Water Gate?”

The Water Gate was centrally located, leading directly to private elevators where guests could choose their destinations.

Zhao Shengge met his suggestion with a faint smile through the rearview mirror. “You seem well-informed.”

Chen Wan wanted to deny it but feared saying too much, so he stayed silent.

In truth, he had only been there once, leaving early after being unsettled by the overtly obscene performances.

Ultimately, Chen Wan dropped Zhao Shengge at the Water Gate, driving away without asking if he needed a return ride.

Only after Chen Wan’s taillights disappeared did Zhao Shengge enter through a different door.

An Eagle Pool shareholder was already waiting at the entrance and led Zhao Shengge to a private elevator straight to the seventy-eighth floor.

The towering building loomed like a colossal creature in the misty night. Through one-way glass, they could look down on the hedonistic debauchery below, with Haishi’s lights glittering like a massive ship navigating the night.

In the room, a man nearing forty released the boy sitting on his lap, stood, and walked over. Extending his hand, he said, “Mr. Zhao.”

Zhao Shengge reached out, brushing his hand lightly against the other man’s. “Mr. Shao.”

Shao Yaozong glanced behind him, seeing no one else, though he knew that a mere cough from Zhao Shengge would summon dozens of armed guards from nowhere.

After Zhao Shengge sat down, Shao Yaozong gestured for another boy to join them.

This one was even more attractive, with a clean, innocent demeanor.

Zhao Shengge didn’t refuse and said to the boy, “Pour me a drink.”

The boy obediently retracted his outstretched hand and sat properly beside him.

Shao Yaozong’s murky eyes narrowed. “Don’t like him, Mr. Zhao? I selected him just for you.”

Both boys were not from Eagle Pool but had been personally chosen by him—meticulously vetted and handpicked.

Zhao Shengge cooperated, glancing at the obedient boy beside him. Leaning back into the sofa with one arm draped casually over the backrest, he said, “You’re very considerate, Mr. Shao.”

Then, turning to the boy, his tone softened as he commanded, “Roll your sleeves down.”