Ming Jingxing was even colder than Ming Po. He disliked replying to ssages, often leaving people on read.
Seeing his father's fingers tapping endlessly on the screen, Ming Po felt a flicker of doubt. What kind of person could make his old man type without stopping?
Curious, he glanced over, only to find his father chatting quite warmly with the person on the other end. The cold, detached tone his father usually reserved for him was entirely absent, replaced with a warm and casual manner as if he were talking to an old friend.
[No problem, Brother.]
[I'll take care of him personally. I guarantee nothing will go wrong.]
[No, there's no need to look after him too much.]
[I usually spoil the boy too much. It'll do him so good to suffer a little.]
[Don't worry, Brother Jingxing. Your child is my child.]
It was a classic, aningless social exchange between businessn. The two traded polite pleasantries, but the amount of actual useful information was practically zero. Ming Po felt a headache coming on after just a single glance.
This was clearly middle-aged corporate networking.
"What kind of chore are you arranging for now?"
Ming Po knit his brows. "Let make one thing clear: I haven't agreed to anything."
He was sowhat worried. If he really agreed to this, would it directly alter history and cause his Anchor Point in Shanghai to vanish into thin air?
On the other hand, he was also a little curious. According to the original tiline, today should be the day he died.
How exactly had his old man managed to introduce him to a job that ended up introducing him to the grave? Was this a gig arranged by Ox-Head and Horse-Face?
What was the deal here? Was the Underworld recruiting sumr interns now?
Ming Po had no intention of reversing his own death—doing so would be equivalent to voluntarily withdrawing from the Ga of Deception.
He simply wanted to know exactly how he had died, and whether it had anything to do with his missing mories.
Seeing that Ming Jingxing was ignoring him, Ming Po leaned over the back of Shi Wanan's seat.
"Uncle An? Uncle Wanan?"
Speaking to Shi Wanan, Ming Po's tone softened considerably, carrying a hint of playful wheedling. "Where exactly is my dad planning to sell off to? Do you know?"
"Little Po, buckle your seatbelt."
Shi Wanan's tone was quite stern. Only when Ming Po shrank back and obediently buckled up did his voice soften. "It's only about ten kiloters. We'll be there soon."
Seeing that Shi Wanan was reluctant to speak, Ming Po's eyes darted around as a new idea struck him. "How about... you take a guess? I want to hear your prediction. New Year's Day is a public holiday. You can't make work on a statutory holiday, right?"
Hearing Shi Wanan's helpless but amused sigh, Ming Po had a rough idea of the situation.
At the very least, it did not seem like anything bad. Otherwise, Uncle Wanan would not be so relaxed.
If it was just a quick eting, then it wouldn't be an issue. Once the eting was over, he would head straight back.
"I'm signing you up for sothing," Ming Jingxing suddenly replied in a low voice.
He seed to have finished his conversation, pocketing his phone. He turned to look at Ming Po. Those sharp, hawk-like eyes made Ming Po reflexively avert his gaze.
Ming Po instinctively asked, "Where's Mom?"
"Your mother didn't co back. She's busy with work. I'm just filing a mbership application for you..."
"What kind of association?" Ming Po frowned deeply. "And it requires to be there in person?"
"The Chinese Chamber of Comrce."
Ming Jingxing's expression was dead serious.
In that instant, Ming Po's mind went completely blank, his brain buzzing. Countless pieces of information and mories flashed through his mind like a rushing river, making him feel as if he were recalling sothing. His parents always liked to "travel far away," often failing to return even for major holidays, and they never picked up their phones.
His family was mysteriously wealthy, yet he never knew what specific business his parents were in or what their company was called.
Gao Fan's biological father, Gao Song, belonged to the Deceiver organization known as the "Chinese Chamber of Comrce"—a Deceiver organization reliant on paradox technology...
The Chinese Chamber of Comrce?
So... my parents are also Deceivers?
Am I what they call a "pureblood deceiver"?
Is my existence rely a tool created by my parents to connect with the Noble Blood Society?
For a mont, Ming Po's mind was in absolute chaos.
"Rember to be polite when the ti cos," Ming Jingxing instructed sternly. "Listen more, watch more, and speak less. Normally... don't stand out too much. Once you slowly climb the ranks, you'll be able to access the organization's resources."
Ming Po gradually snapped out of his shock. His acting skills remained top-notch—even though his heart was pounding wildly, he showed no outward flaws, rely maintaining a lazy and impatient expression. "I haven't decided if I'm staying here yet."
To this, Ming Jingxing rely nodded. He did not agree or disagree, simply bypassing the topic entirely.
"In a mont, rember that there will be two guests. One is my senior, and the other can be considered my junior."
Ming Jingxing continued to relay information in a self-absorbed manner that was remarkably similar to Ming Po's own style. "But you must be polite to both of them.
"One of them is nad Shen. Shen Yiqi, a student of mine. He's quite young, the sa age as you, but he started from scratch and is already the founder of a robotics company. The project he's researching is highly likely to have military potential..."
Ming Jingxing continued, "The other person is Zhuang Yan, Academician Zhuang. Academician Zhuang is a leading figure in China's nuclear energy technology, and his team's capabilities are world-class. You must show him extraordinary respect."
Hearing this, Ming Po's expression naturally turned serious.
Were all these people Deceivers as well?
The thought surfaced in his mind.
"...No, what exactly do you want to do?" Ming Po asked bluntly and earnestly. "Why are you suddenly introducing to these big shots? Besides... robotics and nuclear energy? The gap between those fields is way too wide. And I'm a social psychology major... I wouldn't even have anything to talk to them about."
"Listen more, watch more, and speak less," Ming Jingxing repeated. "I won't give you the details... This is for the sake of fairness."
Ming Po let out a frustrated laugh. "Wait, it's already starting??"
Despite his words, his mind was as clear as a mirror.
This was highly likely an [interview].
Soon, the car pulled up at the Wuhan Wanda Reign Hotel. Upon entering the lobby, the first thing that caught the eye was the East Lake Grand View Painting, a mural allegedly crafted from fifty thousand pieces of natural jade.
The column-free lobby evoked a bright, expansive sense of grandeur, much like a palace.
...Palace?
Ming Po's heart suddenly skipped a beat.
Ming Jingxing had already made a reservation.
Holding Ming Po's ID, he quickly secured a three-month long-term rental for him. He clearly had no intention of letting Ming Po return to Shanghai. He had tricked Ming Po into coming all the way from Shanghai with claims that it would be "quick."
Ming Po had not even brought any luggage.
'What a wonderful father,' Ming Po complained internally. He did not say anything else, instead carefully straightening his clothes.
Since things had already reached this point, there was no use trying to run.
He would just have to deal with whatever ca his way.
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