BL Ch121

The yacht set sail at nine in the morning, and now, nearing noon, the flybridge’s canopy provided shade but couldn’t fend off the heat. Du Shuyan, in a formal three-piece suit, was sweating profusely, constantly wiping his face with a handkerchief. Seeing this, Yu Duqiu invited him to the cooler salon area below.

A ten-meter-long rosewood table served as a coffee table in the cabin’s center, its intricate grain resembling the shimmering sea outside, strikingly beautiful.

Hong Liangzhang emerged from the kitchen with iced fruit drinks, thoughtfully placing a glass before each of the four. He said, “Lunch is almost ready.”

Yu Duqiu subtly scanned him from head to toe, noting no knives or sharp objects.

“No rush. I have business to discuss with Brother Shuyan. Tell the kitchen to take their time.”

Typically, hosts urge the kitchen to hurry so guests aren’t kept waiting. This was the first time anyone heard a host delay meals for their own agenda. That Yu Duqiu wasn’t blacklisted as a host was solely due to his status.

“Brother Shuyan, do you play chess?”

Du Shuyan, shedding his suit jacket, sat stiffly on the sofa, giving an awkward smile. “I know a bit, but compared to you, I’m at an elementary school level. It’d be like showing off in front of a master.”

“You’re too modest, Brother Shuyan. Bai Zhao, fetch my chess set.” Yu Duqiu, after giving the order, continued, “I used to play chess with Mu Hao and always complained about his skill. After his incident, I realized the process and outcome aren’t what matter. Reading your opponent’s mind with each move, deepening mutual understanding—that’s the real fun.”

Du Shuyan nodded obligingly. “Your perspective is beyond us ordinary folks.”

“I’m just an ordinary guy.”

“If you’re ordinary, what does that make us?”

Fei Zheng chimed in, “To many, President Yu is like a god. No need to downplay it.”

“Many? Including you, Secretary Fei?” Yu Duqiu’s gaze carried a hint of flirtation. “I’ve always admired you. Loyal, capable employees are rare these days. Brother Shuyan’s lucky to have someone as skilled and devoted as you.”

Fei Zheng lowered his head slightly, his thick lashes hiding his eyes. “Thank you, President Yu. I’m not as great as you say. Bai Zhao’s far more capable and utterly devoted to you.”

“Him? You saw last time—taking advantage of my favor, he gets cocky. Can’t spoil him too much.” Yu Duqiu propped his forehead, his expression tinged with just the right amount of playboy irritation. “Forget him. Brother Shuyan, you know why I asked you here, right? I’ll be blunt—my Themis project. Any chance of restarting it?”

“Well…” Du Shuyan drew out the word, pausing for a few seconds, seemingly uncertain, his eyes darting side to side before he spoke cautiously. “Duqiu, that project was always sensitive. You claimed ten billion in investments, visited top experts abroad, and earned the government’s trust. But it was all fake. How can anyone trust you again? I’m not blaming you, just saying it’s tough…”

“Tough means it’s doable, right?”

“If you put it that way, it’s… possible,” Du Shuyan said awkwardly. “But it’ll cost money and time… Clearing all the hurdles could take a year or two.”

“I can’t wait that long. One month, max.” Yu Duqiu toyed with the blade-shaped pendant around his neck. “I trust your ability, Brother Shuyan. Don’t let me down. Otherwise… the shares my grandpa holds could change hands any time.”

Du Shuyan froze, too stunned to mind the disrespect in his tone, blurting, “Duqiu, what’s that supposed to mean?”

Yu Duqiu shrugged. “Exactly what I said. When your dad passed suddenly, the family business nearly got carved up. My grandpa stepped in, buying shares to secure your board position. But since you took over, the company’s been losing money, not bringing him a cent of profit. He’s been grumbling to me lately—maybe he shouldn’t have propped up an inexperienced you. Someone else might’ve done better.”

Du Shuyan fell silent. The ingratiating smile he’d worn for years sagged, like the corners of his eyes, as if the perfect mask of human skin on his face melted, dripping to reveal a trace of hypocrisy.

Yu Duqiu pressed on with ease. “That’s all I’ll say. Think it over. Where’s Bai Zhao? Taking so long to grab a chess set…”

His phone buzzed.

Yu Duqiu glanced at it, sighing. “Sorry, I forgot my room’s locked. He can’t get in—I need to unlock it myself. Sit tight, have some tea. I’ll be right back.”

Du Shuyan forced a smile. “No rush.”

Yu Duqiu met the shadow in his eyes, mentally whistling a victory tune.

Hurry up and snap, make your move. I don’t have all day.

The master suite was at the bow, accessible only by facial scan. A “beep” unlocked it, the door popping open.

Yu Duqiu stepped in, only to be yanked inside by a strong arm, pinned against the door.

Unfazed, he slid his hand to the man’s neck, tracing the hard ridges of his spine downward. “Told you, the lock’s programmed for your face too. Luring me here—what naughty plans you got?”

Bai Zhao grabbed his wandering hand, pinning it behind his waist. “Ji Lin just messaged. The bureau wants us to turn back.”

Real business, then. Yu Duqiu’s face fell. “Why?”

Bai Zhao kissed his forehead, then pulled him close, gently stroking his hair. “Xu Sheng, while questioning the owner of Fei Zheng’s apartment, stumbled on a key clue: the day before Du Weiming’s car crash, they overheard Du Shuyan and Fei Zheng plotting to drug him.”

Yu Duqiu, like a cat smoothed into contentment, leaned into his shoulder, mood lifting, mind sharpening. “Overheard, my ass. Probably an accomplice. Why else would Fei Zheng pick him to buy the place?”

“Xu Sheng thinks so too, digging deeper. But the task force says since they’ve got a rap sheet, they’re more dangerous. Three cops might not be enough to protect us, so they want us back ASAP.”

“We’re one step from the end. Quit now? Ask Ji Lin if he agrees.” Yu Duqiu said, “I just provoked Du Shuyan. If he doesn’t want to be my puppet, he’ll act soon. Give me a bit more time. They passed security—no weapons. What, they gonna kill me barehanded?”

Bai Zhao pondered briefly. “I’m with you. One more thing—Hong Yuanhang’s gone, vanished. Xu Sheng says he can’t leave the city, so where’d he go? Ji Lin asked if you know any other hideouts.”

Yu Duqiu tapped his forehead. “Dummy, how’d we leave Pingyi? He could do the same.”

Bai Zhao blinked. “He’s got a yacht too?”

“No, but renting a speedboat’s easy. It’s fishing season—lots of folks rent for sea fishing. He could’ve blended in, sailed out. A regular speedboat can go hundreds of miles, enough to hit nearby coastal cities. Tell Xu to check dock CCTVs, don’t let him sneak abroad like Bai Zhiming.”

Bai Zhao nodded. “Got it. But him bolting—doesn’t that mean he knows the police are onto him?”

“Possible. That bank I bought might have their mole, tipping him off about his accounts being checked. How else did he flee the day after I handed the data to the cops?”

Bai Zhao, seeing Yu Duqiu hadn’t grasped the bigger issue, hesitated, then cruelly pointed out, “Hong-bo probably knows too.”

Yu Duqiu froze, silent for seconds, the light in his pale eyes dimming. “Yeah… right.”

Bai Zhao patted his back, holding him tighter. “Don’t be sad.”

Hong Liangzhang’s request to join the trip must’ve thrilled Yu Duqiu deep down, despite his neutral front. As his employer, he could’ve said no.

The kid he’d watched grow up, blood or not, carried weight. The old butler cared, shielding him from criminals multiple times, Myanmar included. That leak nearly killed them—maybe guilt drove Hong Liangzhang to stick close, ready to risk himself again.

But that hope was likely just self-delusion.

If Hong Yuanhang sensed the police’s secret probe, he’d likely told his grandpa. So why wasn’t Hong Liangzhang home, helping his grandson flee? Why board the yacht? To distract them? Or… had his grandson’s exposed crimes turned his care into rage, pushing him to join others for revenge?

A pawn, once wavering on the midline, seemed to have decisively joined the enemy.

“Can’t fully blame him.” Yu Duqiu sighed softly, stepping out of the warm embrace, pulling a heavy chess set from a sleek custom suitcase. “Blood ties versus duty—it’s different. Let’s go. Whatever he’s planning, we just need to execute our plan.”

The main salon was bright and airy. Du Shuyan, through the glass, saw his two bodyguards chatting idly on the portside platform, lax as if truly on vacation. Turning back, Yu Duqiu’s bodyguards—one burly, one lean—stood sharp, their keen eyes locked on the cabin, missing nothing.

Du Shuyan, irritated, loosened his tie, his knee subtly brushing Fei Zheng’s. Fei Zheng gave a “relax” look, but Du Shuyan stayed uneasy, especially after Yu Duqiu’s threat.

Yu Youhai’s shares were critical. Sold to anyone, they’d become the top shareholder, able to ally with disgruntled minor shareholders and oust him from the board. Many company founders fell this way.

His father’s company was his lifeline. If kicked out, what were his years of toil, his desperate gambles, his bitter consequences for? All to pave the way for someone else? Absurd!

Initially, bound by gratitude and a marriage pact, he’d heeded Hong Liangzhang, trying to stop Fei Zheng from targeting the Yu family, with little success but effort made.

Now, he saw they’d treated him as a disposable tool. Their past aid was self-serving, and their true, ugly face had emerged.

Right—where were the selfless in this world? The Yu family seemed upright, but who at their level was clean? Yu Duqiu was poised to crush him—should he still stay soft?

Wild, frenzied thoughts took shape in his mind, their clamor drowning his fear and hesitation. Du Shuyan felt a thrill he’d never known, surpassing even the rush years ago, seeing his uncle reduced to a bloody pulp.

Du Weiming was mortal—killing him was mere revenge. But dragging a god who lorded over mortals from the heavens, stomping his proud head, watching him beg and writhe—that triumph was far greater!

He’d lived a life of deference, reading faces—playing the good son for his father, the groveling grandson for the board, even committing crimes to appease greedy investors.

Pei Ming had his glory days and still fared decently. But him? Never respected.

Except by Fei Zheng.

Fei Zheng had granted two of his three wishes. In return, if Fei Zheng wanted Yu Duqiu dead, why shouldn’t he help? What was wrong with that?

Slaying a god—what a life-defining moment to seize.

Du Shuyan’s smile crept back, his flawless human mask restored, fully convinced.

Sin, like thick ink, didn’t fade with time. Instead, it seeped outward, unnoticed, until it stained the clean white paper black.

Excitement parched his throat. Du Shuyan grabbed the juice on the table, gulping it down, then, under the cover of wiping his mouth with a napkin, whispered to the man beside him, “I think I get why you want Yu Duqiu dead. He deserves it.”

Fei Zheng’s thick brows twitched. “Shall I send the message?”

Du Shuyan’s palms sweated. “Will it work?”

“Work or not, we’ve got no way back.” Fei Zheng patted his shoulder. “Make it to shore alive, and this is all behind you.”

Du Shuyan swallowed hard. “…Alright, I’m counting on you.”

Fei Zheng’s gaze met his tense, hopeful eyes, his lips curving faintly, voice soft as a murmur. “Got it. Sit tight, hold on. The storm’s… coming soon.”

In the interrogation room, Xu Ming clutched his head, sobbing, muttering, “I should’ve stopped them.”

Lu Qing, kind enough to pass him tissues, felt no pity, griping back in the monitoring room, “What’s he crying for? He’s not the one who got killed.”

Xu Sheng said, “Acting for us. If he really just overheard Du Shuyan and Fei Zheng plotting to drug Du Weiming in the break room, they were way too careless. And Xu Ming’s been the general manager’s assistant—Du Weiming was his boss. Think he’s clean?”

Peng Deyu, arriving, pinched his brow, sighing heavily. “It’s been nearly a decade. Who’s digging up evidence he was complicit? Du Weiming, killed by his nephew… Can these rich families cut the soap opera drama?”

The old case’s threads were clear now: After leaving the system, the Du brothers co-founded Muto Media, thriving on sharp news instincts. The ambitious younger brother, unwilling to stay subordinate, schemed to seize control, luring his cousin into drug use.

Du Yuanzhen, already corrupt and extravagant, spiraled after addiction, his health collapsing fast—likely worsened by Du Weiming upping his doses, hastening his death three months later.

Du Shuyan initially suspected Pei Ming, but his probe uncovered his uncle’s betrayal. Somehow, he met Fei Zheng, fresh from U.S. studies, who could source new overseas drugs. Du Shuyan turned the tables, staging Du Weiming’s crash.

This mess was a villain-fest. Du Shuyan’s revenge tale might sway a judge for leniency, but Fei Zheng? Guilty as sin.

“Back then, unlike now, drugs like ecstasy or LSD were rare nationwide, yet the Du family had two victims.” Peng Deyu rubbed his stubble. “We suspected the drugs came from one source.”

Lu Qing gaped. “You mean Fei Zheng sold to Du Weiming, then Du Shuyan?! No way…”

“Only they can confirm the truth. What’s weirder is, why’s this MO so familiar?” Peng Deyu felt a nagging unease, recalling an older case. “Cen Wan’s family crash—everyone thought her brain-computer device caused a breakdown, leading to tragedy. Du Weiming’s crash was from hallucinogens causing a breakdown. Both mental collapses, both crashes…”

Lu Qing scratched her head. “But those cases are over a decade apart. Coincidence, right? Cen Wan’s case is reopening soon—Pei Xianyong and Bai Zhiming are confirmed culprits. Fei Zheng was 15, studying in the northwest, unconnected to these feuds.”

True—back then, Fei Zheng likely hadn’t set foot in the eastern coast, knowing no one from the Yu, Du, or Pei families. No way he’d mimic a decades-old crime.

But Peng Deyu’s decades of cop instinct screamed it wasn’t that simple.

Like, how did Bai Zhiming, key in Cen Wan’s case, link up with Fei Zheng? Why, for drug pickups, did Fei Zheng poach from Pei Ming instead of others? And why threaten Wu Min to drug an innocent Pei Ming?

What seemed clear grew murky again.

No one could chase the yacht now. Peng Deyu could only hope Ji Lin and the team held it together.

And that pawn—that piece planted nearly twenty years ago, still undetected—might prove crucial…

Countless questions and theories swirled in Peng Deyu’s sleep-deprived mind, tormenting his frayed nerves. “Forget that for now. Has that Yu brat turned back?”

Xu Sheng grimaced. “No word from Xiao Ji.”

Peng Deyu clutched his shiny forehead, head pounding. “Knew he wouldn’t listen. Fine, a boat full of cops and guards—shouldn’t be a disaster…”

“Xu Team!” A detective burst into the monitoring room, spotting the chief, snapping to attention, then blurting urgently, “Found Hong Yuanhang’s trail!”

Peng Deyu disliked rashness, frowning. “Found him, fine. Why the panic? A few hours—he can’t have gone far.”

“Y-Yeah, not far…” The detective swallowed nervously. “Just… a dozen nautical miles behind Yu Duqiu’s yacht…”