novelraw Chapter 758: Sowing Discord, Inheritance
Chapter 758: Sowing Discord, Inheritance
Chapter 758: Sowing Discord, Inheritance
The image of Su Yu on the screen was aggressively beautiful.
That red dress burned like fire, and under those signature amber eyes, it seemed as if even the Manhattan night sky had been set alight.
She stared straight into the camera, her gaze scorching.
It felt like she had crossed the vast Pacific, penetrated the screen’s physical barrier, and locked onto the couple embracing in the center of the square, Tang Song and Secretary Jin.
After a brief moment of stunned silence, the surrounding crowd gradually erupted.
“Su Yu! It’s Su Yu!”
“Oh my god! Is that the Asian superstar... I’ve seen her films, she’s breathtaking!”
“Crazy! Who did this? This is Times Square!”
Countless tourists raised their phones, furiously recording the stunning scene.
The flashbulbs formed a sea of stars.
Although Su Yu had a strict policy against filming passionate or intimate scenes and thus left few commercial footprints in Hollywood, her occasional cameos were always breathtaking.
Her international awards tended to be at European venues like Cannes and Berlin, which favor acting and artistry.
But that did not stop her face from becoming a global passport.
Her beauty transcended skin color, race, and even gender.
Besides, she was the global ambassador chased by top luxury groups.
Right now, her image was everywhere: in Fifth Avenue shop windows, on giant SoHo posters.
Add to that a few English hits that once topped the Billboard charts and helped her touch the Grammys.
Here she was not an unfamiliar Asian face but a bona fide global icon.
The footage showed no signs of stopping.
Su Yu shifted poses continuously on the screen, each frame more heart-stopping than the last.
Times Square fell into a frenzy of red mania.
The clamor grew louder; even passersby who didn’t know Su Yu were stunned by this unprecedented spectacle and stopped to gape.
Everyone knew this event would enter marketing history for Times Square.
Billboard ownership there was extremely fragmented.
The Nasdaq screen, Reuters, TSX Broadway...
They belonged to different media giants with independent scheduling systems.
Usually a “dominate-the-screens” stunt meant buying rotation on one screen.
Expensive, yes, but doable with enough money.
But to achieve the effect seen now—dozens of screens across Times Square cutting their original signals in the same second to play the same footage, creating seamless visual synchronization—required more than astronomical funds.
It required terrifying resource coordination and transnational media influence.
The red-dressed figure spread like a flag, covering the night sky.
It covered Tang Song and Secretary Jin as well.
Amid the noisy astonishment, Tang Song still kept his posture as if embracing Secretary Jin, but his body had stiffened noticeably.
The peaceful, warm atmosphere brought by Snowfall Morning Light had been ripped open.
He watched the incomparable star on the screen, offering the whole world to him.
Then he looked at the silent Secretary Jin in his arms.
A prickling ran across his scalp.
After all, he had accompanied Secretary Jin to meetings in New York and was due to fly to Paris to attend this star’s birthday party.
No matter how you looked at it, this was straight-up playboy behavior.
The body in his arms tightened slightly.
Secretary Jin slowly withdrew from his embrace.
She turned, not to look at Tang Song but slightly up, and through her intellectual black-rimmed glasses she scanned the surroundings with an unreadable expression.
Red and purple neon reflected on her lenses, hiding any emotion in her eyes.
That gentle, scholarly, bookish elder-sister persona vanished instantly.
In its place stood a sharp-eyed, commanding business leader: Jin Meixiao.
At this moment,
one was a business titan overseeing trillions in capital.
One was a top global star who, though far away, forced her way into everyone’s sight.
Two women at the peaks of their respective fields,
separated by space and screens, completed a silent but fierce stare-down before Tang Song.
He felt pressure like never before.
He exhaled softly, stepped forward, and angled himself to shield Secretary Jin.
“This place is too noisy, let’s move somewhere else.”
Secretary Jin did not reply immediately.
She tilted her head slightly, her gaze passing over Tang Song’s shoulder, lingering deeply on the giant screen still flashing the words: “Waiting for your arrival.”
A faint curve lifted one corner of her mouth, almost appreciative.
“Very impressive event marketing, isn’t it?” She withdrew her gaze, speaking calmly. “Timing is precise, visual impact top-tier. In the coming days, the global internet will be flooded with her birthday party. I have to admit, her camera presence is dominating. President Tang, your eye for investment back then was as ruthless as ever; this will be a high-return, long-term investment.”
Tang Song could only grimace inwardly and squeezed the hand she kept in her pocket.
“...Secretary Jin, you flatter me.”
“Huh.” Secretary Jin gave him a half-smile, a strange glint flickering behind her lenses. “President Tang, you didn’t bring me here just to watch this, did you?”
“Of course not. I only wanted to enjoy the New York night with you. This was an accident.”
“An accident?” Secretary Jin raised an eyebrow. “Then it was done on purpose for me. She knew today was the first day of the shareholders’ meeting, knew my schedule. She knew I’d be in Midtown Manhattan tonight, maybe at Hudson Yards, maybe at The Plaza.”
Tang Song stood opposite her, at a loss for how to answer, so he remained silent.
He knew better than anyone that he himself was the root cause of the hostility between Secretary Jin and Su Yu.
In 2017, when Smile Investment had just completed its initial accumulation and was dominating the financial markets, he acted like a foolish ruler, pouring most of his energy into the “idol cultivation game.”
For nearly two years in reality, Su Yu had been the closest person to him and the center of his attention.
He wrote songs for her, scripts for her, personally managed every promotion.
To boost her international fame and fashion resources, he used Smile Investment’s capital to buy stakes in overseas entertainment media companies.
He fed all those resources to Su Yu.
Tang Entertainment and Nebula International were just snapshots of his Asia-Pacific layout.
In Hollywood, Europe, Latin America...
The backstage entertainment resources he controlled gave Su Yu countless top endorsements and international awards.
Even overseas, the entertainment circle is still a game of capital and resources.
This Times Square takeover showcased Su Yu’s hidden influence in global media.
In those two years, he had basically let Secretary Jin use her own money to make Su Yu famous.
Worse,
in 2019 he abruptly withdrew, leaving Su Yu, and refocused fully on fintech.
Any attempt by Su Yu to contact him required going through Secretary Jin to make an appointment.
He then established the Tangjin Family Office, completing the capture of Secretary Jin.
During that period, he even stirred internal checks and competition between Ouyang Xianyue and Secretary Jin to maintain balance.
Looking back, Tang Song could only sigh internally.
This was textbook-level playboy maneuvering.
Though he knew in his heart that those were decisions made by Dream Tang Song in a special state—cold, ruthless moves to beat the game and maximize profit—now he was innocent and tender!
But faced with the crimson sky and Secretary Jin’s flickering profile,
it seemed he would have to shoulder the heavy blame whether he wanted to or not.
Court intrigue from the harem, involving Secretary Jin, Su Yu, Ouyang Xianyue, Annie and others from the game, would inevitably seep into his real life and be laid out on the table.
Unless he could turn back into Dream Tang Song, become an emotionless dictator, ignoring everyone’s joys and sorrows.
But clearly, the real him could not do that.
Tang Song reached out, gently smoothing Secretary Jin’s wind-tossed hair, his fingertips brushing her cool cheek.
His eyes held apology and affection.
Secretary Jin glanced at him and let out a soft laugh. The sharp aura vanished in an instant.
She raised a hand, adjusted her black-rimmed glasses, and tucked her chin and lips back into her thick scarf.
She returned to the intelligent, gentle, restrained scholar she had been.
“Forget it, that’s in the past.” She took her phone from her pocket, raised it, and waved it at Tang Song. “President Tang, since we’re here, let’s take a photo.”
Tang Song did not refuse. He turned slightly and put his arm around her shoulder.
Secretary Jin stood with her back to the sea of red light and gave a beautiful smile to the camera.
“Click.” The image froze.
She put her phone away and returned it to her pocket.
“Let’s go.”
She stepped forward again.
They threaded through the bustling crowd.
Around them were exclamations from tourists of many nations; overhead, Su Yu’s suffocating beauty displayed itself.
The takeover lasted a full three minutes.
During that time, Times Square felt like Su Yu’s personal stage.
When the lights faded and commercial ads reclaimed the screens,
Secretary Jin glanced back once at the now-ordinary big screen, then returned her attention to Tang Song beside her.
She knew Su Yu had done this to provoke her, to drive a wedge between her and Tang Song and to punish her for extending the shareholders’ meeting.
She was still so childish and reckless, trying to steal adult attention with noisy stunts.
But the more she acted like that, the more it showed she was afraid—
afraid of losing, so she had to desperately assert her existence.
...
The atmosphere seemed to normalize on the way back, but a subtle hush lingered.
Secretary Jin became somewhat silent; the eyes behind her glasses occasionally betrayed complex emotions.
Passing a well-decorated food truck, the air filled with the scent of freshly baked caramel and cinnamon.
On a cold winter night, that warm sweetness was tempting.
On impulse, Tang Song stopped and bought a hot Belgian waffle.
He specifically requested Spekulatius spread, fresh strawberries, and a generous dollop of whipped cream.
“For you. You ate little tonight; you should like this dessert.”
He smiled and handed it over.
But when it came time to pay, he pat his pockets and realized he hadn’t taken his wallet when he changed clothes—this stall didn’t take Alipay or WeChat Pay.
Awkwardness froze for three seconds in the cold wind.
A light snort of laughter came.
As if she had expected it, Secretary Jin pulled a black card from her coat pocket and handed it to the vendor.
At that moment, Tang Song’s memories seemed dragged back into the past.
Whenever he was with her, he never had to worry about expenses, lodging, or itineraries.
She always arranged everything, meticulous down to the last detail.
Before he came back to his senses,
Secretary Jin had already taken the waffle and bitten a small piece.
The crisp base and airy cream melted in her mouth; it was a tad too sweet, making her knit her brows.
Feeling guilty about the calories, she naturally offered the rest—half of the waffle—toward Tang Song’s mouth. “Too sweet. You help me finish it.”
Tang Song reflexively took a bite.
He bit too hard; white cream smeared the corner of his mouth and his nose.
This slightly ridiculous, childlike look hit Secretary Jin’s funny bone.
She laughed uncontrollably.
Her eyes curved, dimples showing.
Against New York’s brilliant night, her smile looked particularly vivid.
[Secretary Jin smile count: 6/10]
Secretary Jin stepped forward, her steps noticeably lighter.
By the time Tang Song wiped his mouth, caught up, and took her hand again,
the temperature warmed in that small moment.
Their fingers intertwined as they threaded through Manhattan’s glittering night.
The city’s neon left long trails behind them, as if the whole metropolis were providing the soundtrack to their date.
......
They returned to The T.J. Suite close to 10 p.m.
Secretary Jin unwrapped her scarf, removed her glasses, and took off her heavy coat.
Underneath was a soft, fitted off-white knit sweater paired with loose cashmere wide-leg pants.
In the warm lighting, she looked like an intellectual at home wearing black-rimmed glasses.
Smart, gentle, and alluring.
A scene that had never occurred in his memories.
She glanced at her wristwatch and turned to Tang Song. “President Tang, it’s late. Tomorrow is the decisive voting session of this conference; we need to stay absolutely clear-headed.”
She paused, regaining restraint in her tone. “Get some sleep. Good night.”
She turned to leave.
But a warm, strong hand gripped her wrist.
A gentle tug.
She collided into a solid embrace.
Tang Song lowered his head and kissed her again.
“Mm...”
Secretary Jin was compelled to tilt her head back, accepting his claim, toes instinctively curling.
Breaths mingled, temperature climbing.
With the scent on her person and a faint reciprocation,
Tang Song’s hands squeezed her slim, supple waist, his thumbs rubbing the sensitive hollow above her hip through the knit sweater, fingertips brushing the curve of her rounded hips.
The intimate warmth sent tingles down the spine.
This kiss told Tang Song that Secretary Jin had improved—she’d learned to exchange breath and even to respond lightly.
After a long while,
they slowly broke apart.
Foreheads pressed, breaths mingling.
Tang Song looked into her eyes and asked, “Secretary Jin, at Times Square today, was there something you wanted to tell me?”
Up until now—whether in dreams, on the phone, or in this real-life reunion—the ultra-rational Secretary Jin had never confessed her feelings in person.
He hoped, in this perfect atmosphere, to hear that answer.
Secretary Jin pressed her moist lips together, looked at him, and suddenly smiled; her eyes brightened. “There is, actually.”
“What is it?” Tang Song held his breath.
They gazed at each other.
Secretary Jin reached out and gently fixed his slightly rumpled collar, her touch as tender as a wife straightening her husband’s clothes.
“President Tang, you may not know, but not long ago Ms. Ouyang arranged a trip. She’ll personally visit your hometown, Quancheng, to inspect.”
Tang Song’s expression stiffened. “...?”
“She probably wants a closer connection with you. If you have time, you could engage more with her. After all, she’s been single for so many years; she must be lonely.”
With that she turned and walked into the master bedroom.
As they brushed past, the high, full curve of her chest brushed his arm.
The surprising spring and softness passed through clothing in an instant, like an electric jolt skittering along nerves, leaving a lingering tingle.
Click—the door locked.
Secretary Jin leaned against the solid door and inhaled deeply.
The room was quiet enough to hear the heartbeat.
But her mind was not quiet.
She replayed not the suffocating kiss or the tacit understanding in the conference room,
but his embarrassed search for a missing wallet in the cold, the cream on his nose when he bit the waffle, and the way he cornered her at the door and kissed her.
Thinking this, she couldn’t suppress the curve of her mouth.
Undeniably, the once-calculating, cold, even distant President Tang had left an indelible imprint.
But only now did she realize she preferred being with the Tang he was now.
Like when they first met in 2016.
To learn more about him,
she had stood at a street corner watching him and Liu Qingning share the same candied hawthorn in sunlight.
Back then, his eyes were full of vivid emotions.
“I see... so that’s how it was...”
She murmured, her gaze slightly distant.
After a while, she took her phone and lit the screen.
....
Shen City time, 10:50 a.m.
Nanshan District, Tang Yi Precision chairman’s office.
Warm sunlight streamed through the floor-to-ceiling window, bathing the broad reception area in golden dust.
The air carried the top-notch aroma of Phoenix single-bush tea, curling and elegant.
On the sofa, two figures of contrasting temperament sat opposite each other.
One dignified and composed, wearing a well-tailored new-Chinese style jacket in luxurious cloud brocade, radiating calm and nobility accumulated over years.
One cool and sexy, dressed in casual designer wear that could not conceal the aloof sharpness only a top star possesses.
“How was your trip to Yancheng?” Ouyang Xianyue lifted a bone porcelain teacup and took a small sip, asking casually.
“Not bad.” Su Yu leaned against the sofa back. “I met some people, made up for past regrets. Feels pretty good. Next I’m off to Paris to meet him.”
At the mention of the last sentence, Ouyang Xianyue’s pupils flickered. “This Christmas, your birthday, and the previous raffle drew a lot of attention, so... Xiao Yu, no matter what happens between you two, I want you to stay calm. If anything comes up, contact me at any time.”
Su Yu smiled. “Since you worry, Sister Xianyue, why not come with me?”
“Um...” Ouyang Xianyue adjusted herself and shook her head with a smile. “I’m busy. I don’t have time to join your festivities.”
She felt a strange itch in her heart, a real desire to see him.
Like Jin Meixiao and Su Yu, going abroad seemed to reduce many constraints and concerns.
But outwardly she remained composed and changed the topic.
“About Qingning Technology’s equity—you must have heard. Moonlight Trust has been launched. Director Jin moved quickly; the shares under her name have been transferred. Next are the portions for you and me.”
Su Yu was silent for a moment, her long fingers gently turning the teacup as pale tea rippled along the cup wall.
“No problem. Take them.” Her voice was light but decisive. “Have Luo Bin coordinate with Xiang Wan on this.”
Seeing her composed, Ouyang Xianyue breathed a quiet sigh of relief and spoke gently, “The shares held on behalf of Stellar Convergence need not be moved. Those are company assets and they belong to you. With the future rise of AI, that will be a trump card in your hands.”
“Mm.” Su Yu replied faintly, seemingly unconcerned.
“Our pan-entertainment fund is already scooping up assets overseas. My point is, when you hand over Qingning’s shares, swap them for a larger stake in the pan-entertainment fund. Consolidate your scattered Hollywood and European assets into this...” Ouyang patiently explained the business logic, earnest. “Though you’d lose shareholder status in Qingning Technology, your voice in the pan-entertainment sector would be absolute. That’s your foundation.”
Su Yu listened to the complex interest swaps, her eyes drifting. “Actually, I don’t care about these things.”
Ouyang Xianyue shook her head helplessly.
She knew the star was thoroughly love-struck, her desire for money and power nowhere close to her obsession with romance.
“Director Jin’s control is too strong. Her move in New York—delaying the meeting and leveraging media—”
“Sister Xianyue.” Su Yu suddenly laughed and interrupted, blinking her amber eyes. “Actually... I haven’t been idle either. Today in Times Square I ran a full-screen birthday countdown ad, and I’ve already pushed several mainstream entertainment outlets to follow up. Soon the whole world will know I’m going to Paris for my birthday, and that someone must show up that day.”
Ouyang Xianyue’s hand twitched; she tightened her fingers on her knee.
This was why Su Yu was the most uncontrollable to her—too impulsive, too emotional.
Ouyang had intended to use Jin Meixiao’s New York “caprice” to win moral high ground and secure more benefits, such as legitimizing Su Yu’s entry into the family office’s core.
But Su Yu’s blatant provocation put contradictions on the table and made the situation more volatile.
At that moment, secretary Chen Jing walked in quickly, breaking the awkward silence.
“Ms. Ouyang, Qin Yingxue called. There are urgent legal matters about the trust structure that need your confirmation.”
“All right.” Ouyang Xianyue rose and nodded at Su Yu. “You drink your tea; I’ll take the call.”
She left with Chen Jing, footsteps receding.
The large office was left with just Su Yu.
Her smile vanished instantly; she looked out at the blue sky, but her thoughts had already flown across the ocean.
Only six days remained until her birthday.
And now he was with that woman.
Vrrr—
Her phone vibrated.
Su Yu picked it up, read the name on the screen, and her expression hardened.
[She-Devil]
She frowned and opened the message.
No text—only two photos.
The first: a minimalist office interior in which Tang Song kneeled on one knee, holding a black-stockinged ankle with a focused, tender expression.
The second: under Times Square’s crimson glow, Tang Song tightly embraced the woman in his arms, intimately close. The background showed the birthday countdown ad she had paid for.
Snap!
Su Yu clutched the phone; her cold face contorted.
Her chest heaved, breath coming fast and harsh.
A full minute passed before she suppressed the urge to smash the phone.
She inhaled deeply and typed a quick reply: “Looks like you just saw my photos. Well? Did he praise me? Tell him that when we get to Paris, I’ll let him see clearer, in more detail.”
[She-Devil: You’re in Ms. Ouyang’s office right now, aren’t you?]
Su Yu: “So what if I am? Do you think I don’t know you’re watching me? Stop your control-freak act. It’s disgusting.”
There was a brief silence, then a long block of text arrived.
[She-Devil: I’m in a good mood, not interested in petty quarrels. Just a reminder: Ms. Ouyang has been married before and her position is special. Two great families stand behind her. You’re smart—think carefully. Is she truly as selfless as she appears? If she achieves her goal, might she or those behind her harbor other intentions?]
Su Yu’s eyes chilled as she read: “Ha, are you trying to sow discord? Save it. Am I that stupid?”
[She-Devil: I’m merely stating a risk. Good night, I’m going to sleep.]
Su Yu: “You say she has other designs, but what about you? Can you guarantee you don’t?”
She sent several more questioning messages, which disappeared into silence like stones sinking in deep water.
Su Yu bit her lip and tossed the phone onto the sofa.
Her gaze flickered uncertainly.
After a while, footsteps sounded at the door.
Su Yu snapped back to composure, smoothed away her rippling emotions, and put on an unassailable languid look.
“Sorry, the call took longer than expected.” Ouyang Xianyue entered with an apologetic smile.
“It’s fine, work is important.”
Ouyang Xianyue personally refilled Su Yu’s tea, speaking lightly: “Qin Yingxue just called about implementing the trust company this month.”
“Heh, they’re impatient.” Su Yu’s tone carried faint mockery.
“You know, 2024 is coming. AI will be key; Qingning Technology and Xuanji Optical World are on the cusp...”
Su Yu nodded as if listening, but her gaze kept drifting across Ouyang Xianyue.
She examined the elegant noblewoman before her, noting skin preserved by good care and a tasteful, high-status wardrobe.
Leaning slightly forward, she asked, “Sister Xianyue, we’ve known each other a long time. You always listen to me complain about romance and private life; I seldom ask about you. Can we talk?”
Ouyang Xianyue hesitated then smiled. “Of course. What do you want to talk about?”
Curious, Su Yu asked, “Could you tell me about your past? Your romantic history, for instance?”
Ouyang Xianyue’s expression shifted awkwardly.
Her hand holding the cup stilled, gaze lowered; her smile faded.
An instinctive avoidance and self-protection surfaced.
“Sorry, Xiao Yu, those are old wounds. There’s nothing worth talking about.”
“Oh, sorry. I shouldn’t have said that.” Su Yu immediately apologized but kept a probing look. “Then tell me about you and Tang Song. I’ve always been curious about how you two first met.”
Ouyang Xianyue was silent for a moment, then finally nodded. “All right.”
In her account,
Su Yu learned, for the first time from this noblewoman’s perspective, the story between her and Tang Song.
Su Yu listened quietly, eyes glazing somewhat.
The story mirrored hers closely.
Both had been in desperate straits, both saved by his godlike arrival.
Only then, Su Yu had been an artist with nothing, unjustly vilified online.
Ouyang Xianyue was nearly thirty, bearing her family’s rise and fall and desperately holding the company together.
When the story ended, a brief hush settled in the office.
Only the steam from the teacup lingered in sunlight.
Su Yu looked at the exceptional woman in front of her and had to admit that time had been kind.
It had not left wear but had refined a mature charm like aged wine—something a young girl could not reach.
But she was already thirty-six.
A crucial, even cruel question loomed:
offspring and inheritance.
If she, for the sake of family face or her late husband’s reputation, chose not to have children, who would inherit Tang Yi Precision?
The family office?
Relatives?
Or be split?
If that happened, wouldn’t Tang Song be building someone else’s legacy?
“Xiao Yu?” Perhaps her bluntness had made Ouyang Xianyue uneasy; she took a sip and broke the silence with a teasing smile. “Why are you staring at me? Is there something on my face?”
Su Yu returned to the present and gave a non-threatening smile. “No, I just think you’re gorgeous. If you’re this charming now, you must have been even more beautiful when you were younger.”
“Heh, compared to a generally acknowledged beauty like you, I’m far behind. Besides, you’re still young.”
“Beauty is bone-deep, not skin-deep.” Su Yu leaned forward slightly, tone shaded with concern. “But after hearing your past, I really think... you’ve suffered a lot. For the family, for national industry, even for Tang Song’s layout, you’ve been sacrificing and giving.”
She paused, amber eyes locking onto Ouyang Xianyue. “Sister Xianyue, you always think about others. Have you ever thought about yourself, even once?”
“Oh? You mean...?” Ouyang lifted an elegant brow.
Su Yu’s red lips parted. “Passing on your excellent genes.”
Ouyang Xianyue’s hand twitched violently.
Tea sloshed in the cup, ripples colliding against the cup wall.