Shen Linchuan · Chat

<narration>Shen Linchuan was in a meeting when he saw that text message.</narration> <narration>His phone screen lit up, and he glanced at it, causing his lips to curl up involuntarily. Having been in a relationship for over a year, he always checked this person’s messages the second they arrived, even while a dozen executives sat below waiting for him to finalize the quarterly plan.</narration> “Mr. Shen, regarding the East China region—” <message>“Wait a moment.”</message> <narration>Shen Linchuan raised a hand to interrupt, his slender fingers swiping across the screen.</narration> <message>“Shen Linchuan, bye-bye.”</message> <narration>Just those six characters, followed by an emoji—a little yellow face flipping the middle finger.</narration> <narration>The temperature in the conference room dropped by three degrees.</narration> <narration>Everyone saw their young Mr. Shen stare at his phone for five seconds, the smile that hadn't yet faded from his lips gradually freezing, eventually settling into an extremely dangerous arc—he was smiling, but the storm in his eyes was already visibly gathering.</narration> <narration>Shen Linchuan tapped his phone onto the table, the force neither light nor heavy, yet it made everyone present skip a beat. He leaned back in his chair, his knuckles unconsciously tapping on the armrest, the frequency fast, like some restless pulse.</narration> <message>“Meeting adjourned.”</message> <narration>Two words, no emotional fluctuation, but the pressure seeping from his bones made people’s scalps tingle. No one dared to ask another word; the sound of files closing echoed one after another, and in less than thirty seconds, the conference room was empty.</narration> <narration>Shen Linchuan sat where he was, closing his eyes. He told himself to stay calm. It wasn't the first day he knew what this person was like. In the year or so they’d been dating, that guy would cause trouble every few days. Last time, he replaced all the rare collections in his wine cabinet with a row of sugary drinks; the time before that, he secretly set a screensaver on his office projector that read “Shen Linchuan is a big idiot.” Every time, he’d be so angry he’d want to strangle that person, but every time he looked at those eyes leaning in to kiss him, saying “I was wrong,” he’d lose his temper out of sheer weakness.</narration> <narration>He didn't even need a kiss, just a smile would do. But this time was different. A breakup text. Driving away.</narration> <narration>Shen Linchuan opened his eyes, the darkness in his pupils chillingly deep. He looked down at the text message again. That little yellow face flipping the bird looked infuriatingly provocative now. He could even imagine the cocky expression on your face when you edited this message—mouth curled up, eyes full of cunning light, like a little fox that had stolen a chicken, its tail practically wagging to the sky.</narration> <narration>He was so angry he laughed. Shen Linchuan was truly so angry he laughed, the kind of laughter that comes from being pushed to the absolute limit. He grabbed his phone and car keys, not even bothering to take his suit jacket, and strode out in just a dark gray shirt. As he passed the secretary’s desk, the secretary stood up, wanting to say something, but was pinned back into her chair by a single look from him.</narration> <narration>In the underground garage, that Mercedes-AMG ONE lay quietly in its designated spot. The silver-gray body shimmered with a cold, sharp light in the dim environment. He had only taken delivery of this car less than two weeks ago—a limited edition, with only a few in the world, capable of making one's soul leave their body with a single stomp on the gas.</narration> <narration>The moment Shen Linchuan sat inside, the roar of the engine sounded like the low growl of some awakening beast. He fastened his seatbelt, his long fingers gripping the steering wheel until his knuckles turned white. The car’s navigation system showed your phone signal moving along the intercity highway, at a decent speed, heading south.</narration> <message>“Run.”</message> <narration>Shen Linchuan squeezed this word through his teeth, the smile still on his lips, looking both crazy and wicked. He wasn't exactly angry about the breakup—well, he was, but he was more furious that this person wasn't even willing to say it to his face, just sending a text and running off. What kind of talent was that? Weren't they quite the drinker when they were drinking him under the table at the club? Weren't they quite the talker when going toe-to-toe with him at the negotiation table? Now, they were acting like a complete coward.</narration> <narration>The AMG ONE shot out of the garage like a silver bullet. The way Shen Linchuan drove was like a different person compared to his usual business self. The steady, restrained, and calculated Mr. Shen disappeared without a trace, replaced by the most authentic side of his bones—crazy, irritable, and reckless. He held the steering wheel with one hand, while the other held a cigarette between his lips; the smoke was blown away by the wind rushing through the car window, swirling around his cold, hard facial features.</narration> <narration>The numbers on the speedometer climbed steadily: one hundred sixty, one hundred eighty, two hundred. The traffic on the highway was left behind one by one. Occasionally, a driver would be so scared by the speed at which he zoomed past that they’d honk frantically, but he didn't even blink.</narration> <narration>His phone rang. It was his assistant. “Mr. Shen, the contract in East China needs your—”</narration> <message>“Don't anyone look for me today.”</message> <narration>He hung up the phone directly and tossed it onto the passenger seat. The screen lit up again—it was a message from the butler at home, asking if he was coming back for dinner tonight. Shen Linchuan glanced at it and didn't reply.</narration> <narration>Going home for dinner? His wife was about to run away; what would he be eating at home?</narration> <narration>When this thought popped up, he himself was stunned. Wife—he wasn't married yet, didn't even have a proper public ceremony. Although the two families had close cooperation, the relationship had always been defined as “business partners,” or at best, “business partners with a very good relationship.” There were whispers in the circle, but that person was too clever, never giving a definitive stance in any public setting.</narration> <narration>Shen Linchuan, on the other hand, never thought about hiding it. That was just his personality; once he committed to someone, he would hold everything out to them without reservation. If you said you wanted something, he gave it; if you wanted to do something, he supported it; if you were in a bad mood, he would find every way to coax you. The dignified helmsman of the Shen Corporation, worth tens of billions, was as obedient as could be in front of you.</narration> <narration>Shen Linchuan bit down on his cigarette filter, his eyes fierce. The navigation indicated that your signal was slowing down three kilometers ahead. Shen Linchuan squinted, and his foot pressed deeper into the accelerator. The engine of the AMG ONE let out an excited roar, and the whole car, like an activated beast, tore through the air ahead in a frenzy.</narration>