Chapter 11 — Called Off Right on the Spot

The screen of Shen Zhihang’s phone suddenly lit up, piercing the air with its sharp ring. He answered, listening for just a few seconds before his entire expression twisted in violent disbelief and dismay.

"What did you just say? The research institute has suspended all negotiations with the Shen Corporation?"

He snapped his head up, his gaze locking onto me with accusing fury. "Xu Qinghe, was this your doing?" Before the words could even fully leave my mouth, Tang Tang stepped in front of me like a protective barrier, her posture rigid.

"Don't go throwing your filthy accusations around. Your own assistant got blind drunk and caused a hit-and-run, dragging the whole corporation's reputation through the mud. Who else is there to blame?"

Shen Zhihang ended the call, his eyes chilling into something genuinely frightening. "Xu Qinghe, you had better pray this has nothing to do with you." I met his gaze without flinching. "And if it does?" He took a slow, deliberate step toward me. "Then it proves you are using the decades of goodwill between our families to settle a petty personal vendetta." I calmly swallowed the final bite of my steamed bun, wiping my hands. "Shen Zhihang, you people from the Shen family love to call it 'goodwill' when you are begging for favors, but the moment you get rejected, you scream 'personal vendetta.' That template must be terribly convenient for you." He opened his mouth to retort, but his phone rang once more. This time, as his eyes scanned the incoming text message, his face turned a shade paler and far more horrified than before. Tang Tang leaned in close, whispering by my ear, "What on earth is wrong with him?" I cast a sideways glance at the way his knuckles were turning white from gripping the phone too tightly. "The Shen Corporation is in deep trouble." Shen Zhihang stared at me with a dark, suffocating intensity. "Xu Qinghe, tonight you are coming back to the Shen estate with me."

"On what grounds?"

"My grandfather wants to see you."

"I'm not going."

"He said that if you refuse to come, he will personally go looking for Uncle Xu."

I slowly raised my head, the warmth draining from my voice. "Then let him go." Shen Zhihang spat out the next words with deliberate, crushing weight. "In his hands is the binding pledge your own father signed with his blood and hand." The faint amusement vanished from my face entirely. Even Tang Tang’s sharp tongue froze in her throat, choked off by the sudden shift in atmosphere. Shen Zhihang watched me carefully. "Now do you think we can finally have a proper conversation?"

I followed Shen Zhihang back to the towering headquarters of the Shen Corporation. It was not because I feared him in the slightest. I merely wanted to see, with my own eyes, what kind of leverage these people supposedly held over my father that made them arrogant enough to threaten me repeatedly. Inside the cavernous boardroom, the old patriarch sat in supreme arrogance at the absolute center of the head table. Next to him rested an old, weathered wooden box. He did not bother to stand up as I walked through the doors.

"Qinghe, take a seat."

I remained standing, completely motionless. "Where is it?" The old man frowned, displeased by my lack of deference. "Young people really need to learn some patience." Tang Tang had been blocked outside the heavy glass doors by security, but before she left, she had mouthed a fierce warning to me: *Don't hold back.* Naturally, I had no intention of holding back. "Old man, I didn't come here to listen to your lectures." Shen Zhihang furrowed his brows in annoyance. "Xu Qinghe, watch your tone." I shot him a withering glare. "You were the one who invited me here." He choked on his own breath, completely silenced by my blunt reply.

The patriarch slowly opened the wooden box, drawing out a yellowed, fragile sheet of paper. "This is the promise your father wrote down with his own hand all those years ago." I stepped forward and took the paper from his grip. The handwriting was indeed an exact match to my father's neat, precise script. The gist of it was clear: the Xu family owed the Shen family a monumental debt of gratitude, and if the Shen family ever faced ruin, the Xu family was bound by honor to extend their help. At the very bottom sat my father's signature. I finished reading, lifted my gaze, and asked, "So?" The old man let out a cold, cynical laugh. "So, an engagement like this isn't something you can just cancel whenever the whim strikes you."

"What on earth does this piece of paper have to do with a marriage?"

"The Xu family owes the Shen family. The Shen family wants this marriage, which means you people are required to pay your debts."

I let out a dry, humorless laugh, thoroughly provoked by his utterly unreasonable and tyrannical logic. "Mr. Shen, do you treat lifelong debts of gratitude like some kind of human trafficking contract?" Shen Zhihang lowered his voice, stepping into the argument. "Don't use such ugly words."

"You people are pulling dirty stunts behind the scenes, and yet you're afraid of hearing the truth?"

The patriarch’s expression darkened into a scowl. "Xu Qinghe, back then, the only reason your father survived was because of rare medicine provided exclusively by the Shen family. Without the Shen family, there would be no Xu family today." I stared unblinkingly into his eyes. "My father never once mentioned this to me."

"Of course he didn't mention it. When human lives are bought with blood and debts, there is hardly any glory in telling the tale."