Negotiation

Men like him always looked unreadable.

Even when he seemed to be smiling, the corners of his lips naturally curved upward even at rest.

A kind, gentle face—but instead, it gave off a sense of distance.

“Let’s not bring that up and ruin the mood.”

Wu Qie yawned.

Zhao Guipu’s expression remained calm.

As expected, he didn’t continue the topic, as if what he said earlier had only been a passing joke.

Only then did Zhao Shu realize that he was the only one present who couldn’t follow what had just happened.

The news continued playing.

The black-haired Beta looked like a stray cat that had just crawled out from under a wall at dawn—eyes half-lidded, yawning endlessly.

Zhao Shu walked over, grabbed his head with one hand, and turned his face away from Zhao Guipu.

His body naturally shifted to block the space between the two.

“Finished your hangover soup?”

Zhao Shu asked, looking down at him.

“Finish it and go to sleep. Tomorrow morning, get up early and come to the court with me.”

“?”

Who the hell trains early on a weekend morning.

“I’m not going. I’ll have a hangover.”

Zhao Shu went silent.

He didn’t actually want to train either—he was just trying to get him out of here before something worse happened.

“A few days ago, I asked Ah Shu a question.”

In the still air, Zhao Guipu’s low, steady voice suddenly sounded from not far away.

Zhao Shu’s grip on Wu Qie loosened instantly.

The two young men turned back at the same time.

Zhao Guipu lowered his gaze toward the globe.

After a brief pause, he repeated the exact same question from that day, word for word.

“The continents bordering the Arctic Ocean—combined with the intensifying greenhouse effect in recent years—what insight does the news just now give you?”

“Why are you suddenly asking that again?”

Zhao Shu frowned.

It sounded like a standard integrated exam question—geography plus current affairs.

Wu Qie’s teacher instincts kicked in.

Even though he had only been teaching for a month, his “teacher radar” was screaming.

He straightened slightly.

Only now did he realize that what he had casually said earlier—about sudden fortune—had been heard.

Zhao Guipu was prompting him to elaborate.

Wu Qie reached out and pulled the globe closer to himself.

“Many years ago, for commercial fleets—non-container cargo ships and oil tankers traveling between Asia and Europe—there was only one route.”

“Departing from European ports like Rotterdam, passing through the Mediterranean, the Suez Canal, into the Red Sea, across the Indian Ocean, and finally reaching Asia.”

“The major Asian ports were located in Sloc, Japan, and our country.”

As he spoke, his fingers traced the corresponding points across the globe.

“This route was called the ‘Suez Canal Route.’”

He paused briefly.

“At that time, Japan, as a developed country, had the best free trade ports and shipbuilding industry.”

“So Western ships often chose to stop there for resupply and rest.”

Zhao Guipu listened quietly, offering no comment.

Only his long fingers tapped lightly against his trouser seam.

It was hard to tell whether he was distracted or listening intently.

“But as time passed, Asian ports opened up.”

“And with the greenhouse effect causing glacial melting, previously impassable regions became navigable.”

“A new route was developed—the ‘Arctic Route.’”

The Arctic Route connected Northern Europe through the Arctic Ocean, reaching Sloc directly, then passing through the Bering Strait down toward Asia and even the west coast of North America.

“Compared to the Suez Route, it shortens travel distance by about 40%.”

“So in recent years, it has become one of the most important routes between Asia, Europe, and North America.”

Wu Qie pushed the globe away slightly.

Then he tilted his chin toward the TV.

“But the key ports of the Arctic Route are controlled by NATO countries and Sloc.”

“If NATO declares a trade cutoff, the Arctic Route could be forcibly shut down.”

“And ships from both sides would no longer be able to freely enter each other’s ports.”

That would throw everything into chaos.

Perishable goods, live cargo, massive commercial losses—

And in the long run, even basic supply chains would collapse.

Trade wars weren’t a game.

Yet decisions like this often came from those at the top—

While ordinary people suffered the consequences.

“So what happens next?”

Wu Qie continued calmly.

“Merchants will find a way.”

“They either revert to the Suez Route and trade only with other Asian ports—”

“Or…”

“They change ships.”

“If your ships can’t enter, then use ships that can.”

Where do those ships come from?

Nearby Asian free trade ports.

Major shipowners.

“Very soon—maybe even tomorrow—your inbox will be flooded with ship leasing requests.”

“You don’t have to transport cargo yourself to make money.”

“Leasing ships earns just as much—while saving labor and operational costs.”

He smiled faintly.

“For many people tonight, the sky is falling.”

“But for the Zhao family…”

“Money is falling from the sky.”

Wu Qie tilted his head slightly and looked at Zhao Guipu.

“Doesn’t that deserve me asking—do I get a share?”

Under the living room lights, the usually quiet teacher now looked different.

More alive.

Less restrained.

Like someone eager for approval.

Zhao Guipu smiled slowly.

Then suddenly turned to Zhao Shu.

“I really hope you reconsider canceling the engagement.”

Both Zhao Shu and Wu Qie froze.

“Take pity on me.”

“Sometimes I’d like to come home and have someone I can actually talk to.”

Zhao Shu: “…”

Wu Qie, however, immediately perked up.

“I got it right?”

Zhao Guipu nodded.

He adjusted his posture, removed his tie, and personally poured Wu Qie a cup of tea, sliding it gently toward him.

“For such good news…”

“Of course there’s a share.”

“Ask for whatever you want.”

“Smart children deserve rewards.”

Wu Qie immediately looked at the globe.

Zhao Guipu nodded.

“Of course.”

Zhao Shu clicked his tongue.

“Ge, you sound like such a dad when you talk to him.”

Zhao Guipu waved it off.

Wu Qie, however, responded instantly—

“Any man can be a father, but it takes a hot middle-aged guy with a big job to be a Daddy.”

He recited it seriously.

Zhao Shu looked like he’d just eaten something disgusting.

Wu Qie handed him a tissue and patted his hand.

“You? Doggy.”

Zhao Guipu laughed out loud.

The globe—worth 250,000—ended up in Wu Qie’s hands.

He was genuinely shocked by the price.

Zhao Guipu said it was custom-made.

Zhao Shu mocked him nonstop.

Wu Qie ignored him completely.

After all, no one had asked him whether he wanted to be dragged here in the first place.

He held the globe, completely absorbed.

The texture, the details—it was on another level.

He loved it.

Back in the guest room, it was nearly 12:30.

After a shower, he felt much more sober.

The room was dimly lit.

And sitting on his bed—

Was Zhao Shu.

Wearing a loose robe, carelessly tied, chest exposed.

And playing with the globe.

“Put it down.”

Wu Qie said coldly.

“Break it and I’ll break your hand.”

Zhao Shu barely reacted.

He spun the globe once before letting go.

But didn’t move from the bed.

“Do you ever speak to me like a normal human being?”

“Depends if I’m talking to a human.”

Wu Qie replied flatly.

Zhao Shu sighed.

“I came to make peace.”

Wu Qie paused.

“…Oh.”

“Are you even wearing underwear?”

“…Are you sexually harassing me?”

Wu Qie stared at him critically.

Zhao Shu waved him over.

Wu Qie didn’t move.

So Zhao Shu grabbed him and pulled him in.

Now standing between his legs, forced to lean closer—

Their faces were close.

Very close.

Zhao Shu looked up at him.

For once, quiet.

Not annoying.

Wu Qie spoke first.

“Did something happen recently?”

Zhao Shu blinked.

“…What?”

“You weren’t this annoying before.”

Zhao Shu laughed weakly.

“You sure it’s not just because you liked playing basketball with me?”

Wu Qie tried to pull away.

Zhao Shu grabbed him again.

“…You’ve been anxious lately.”

Wu Qie said.

“Why?”

Zhao Shu lowered his gaze.

Then said quietly—

“Tomorrow is my mom’s death anniversary.”

“…Actually, today.”

Wu Qie froze.

He knew some of Zhao Shu’s past.

At five years old, he lost his mother.

His father disappeared.

Only his brother remained.

…

“That’s why you’ve been acting like this.”

Wu Qie said calmly.

“No.”

“I just noticed your pheromones are stronger.”

Zhao Shu looked at him.

“…You can sense them?”

“No.”

“But I can smell them more.”

Silence.

Then Zhao Shu laughed softly.

“Sounds like I’m playing the victim.”

“So—truce?”

“…No.”

He pulled Wu Qie closer again.

Their faces nearly touched.

His gaze dropped to Wu Qie’s lips.

A drop of water fell from Wu Qie’s hair onto Zhao Shu’s lip.

“Zhao Shu, are you seriously thinking about—”

The door suddenly opened.

Zhao Guipu stood at the doorway.

Leaning casually, shadowed by the corridor light.

The faint scent of tobacco drifted in.

His voice was tired.

“Ah Shu.”

“The Manchester house just called.”

A brief pause.

Then, calmly—

“Father committed suicide.”