novelraw Chapter 767: The Meaning of Your Existence
Chapter 767: The Meaning of Your Existence
"Ding——" The elevator came to a steady stop on the first floor.
"President Xie, President Meng, have a safe trip." Secretary Chen stood at the elevator doorway and did not see them out, she only bowed politely.
Her manners were thorough yet maintained the exact right distance, her sense of propriety impeccable.
"Thank you, Secretary Chen. You may go." Xie Shuyu nodded in return.
They stepped out of the hotel lobby.
The city's winter wind, mixed with honking and hustle, rushed toward them.
They reached the above-ground parking lot and climbed into the rugged Jeep Wrangler.
"Sfrr—"
The car door closed, cutting off the outside noise and the biting wind.
The engine did not start immediately.They sat in the front seats like that, staring at the parking lot ahead through the windshield, silent.
After a moment.
"Glug—" Meng Ran swallowed hard, as if suddenly awakened.
She grabbed the Chanel bag at her feet and frantically rummaged through it.
Her movements were hurried and clumsy, and the lipstick she treasured flew onto the floor mat.
At last she pulled out her phone and her fingers began tapping the screen rapidly.
"Oh my God! Oh my God! Oh my God!" Three "oh my gods" in a row, each one higher and more excited than the last.
Xie Shuyu turned toward her, seeing her usually sharp, composed friend looking completely unglued, and asked, voice a little dry, "What is it?"
"Found it! Really found it!" Meng Ran held the phone up to her, "I searched the foreign web for 'Tang Song,' 'TangJin Capital,' and 'Xuanji Optical World'... turns out there really are reports! They were just very hidden, mostly in top-tier industry journals, not trending on mainstream social media. Look—"
Xie Shuyu took the phone; the light froze on the screen.
There were short English financial flashes and in-depth reports, few words but each one weighty.
[Mysterious Figure Emerges: Tang Song... (Mysterious figure surfaces: Tang Song appointed global CEO of Xuanji Optical World)]
[TangJin Capital..... (TangJin Family Office reveals new governance structure...)]
Xie Shuyu inhaled deeply, then exhaled slowly, feeling the air in her chest tremble.
She closed her eyes and leaned the back of her head hard against the headrest.
In her mind, past scenes replayed like a film.
Outsourced programmer Little Song; an admired young talent; a man she physiologically liked, who made her heart flutter; an investor, a boyfriend; the chairman of Rongliu Capital who controlled billions...
And the new identity she had just heard from Ms. Ouyang.
[TangJin Family Office · Global Strategic Partner]
That was an identity on par with Wall Street titans and old-money dynasties.
In light of this title, the Rongliu Capital she had once looked up to now seemed merely the tip of his enormous iceberg.
No wonder he had that kind of relationship with Ms. Ouyang.
No wonder Ms. Ouyang treated her so courteously, even calling her "one of us."
After a long time,
she finally fully digested and accepted the reality.
After weathering so many storms, Xie Shuyu's inner bearing was stronger than most.
She opened her eyes again; the shock in them faded, replaced by renewed resolve and radiance.
Meng Ran took back the phone, still buzzing with excitement, off-topic and giddy:
"Xiaoyu, you didn't just find a boyfriend, you found... you found a god!"
"Oh my God! CEO of Xuanji Optical World, partner of the TangJin Family Office..."
She started counting on her fingers, getting more alarmed the more she added up.
"No wonder Ms. Ouyang vouched for you so strongly! Think about it: Ms. Ouyang isn't only the head of Tang Yi Precision, she's also chairwoman of Xuanji Optical World! That means at that level, Tang Song and she are equals, real partners!"
"You... I... my God!"
Having been an executive at a giant like Alibaba, Meng Ran understood the class barriers all too well.
Within a big company, P8 or P9 ranks are top-tier, but compared to someone of Tang Song's level, you don't even have the right to hand over a business card.
So back in Rongcheng, when she learned Tang Song was chairman of Rongliu Capital, she thought that was the ceiling.
But now the ceiling had been blown off; above it was a vast starry sky.
She finally understood the real weight behind Tang Song's casual promise back then—"In the future, you can rise to my side."
What that promise contained in gold content.
It was a ticket to the world's top business halls!
Not to mention her own close friend.
Meng Ran whipped her head around and stared at Xie Shuyu, eyes bright and fierce as if about to devour her: "Xiaoyu, you're taking off! You're really taking off!"
If Weiguang Coffee were truly brought into the TangJin ecosystem and actually received their dollar investment...
Future fundraising, IPO, even ringing the bell at Nasdaq would be easy!
Then as founder, CEO, and shareholder, you might even have a chance to enter the legendary family office and join that circle!"
TangJin was never an isolated fortress.
It was like a massive black hole, absorbing the world's top assets and the best talents and LPs.
Faced with her friend's enthusiasm, Xie Shuyu did not get swept away.
She started the car calmly, eyes on the road: "It's still late night in New York. Let's wait until Tang Song wakes and I'll ask him. This kind of big decision must be made by him."
"Emm... right, that's correct. Ultimately, Tang Song is your support, our strength." Meng Ran nodded, waved her phone, and her expression softened into something suggestive: "Alright, we'll talk more when we get back. You should also get ready for accompanying Ms. Ouyang at tomorrow's event. And... I need to buy you some things."
"Buy what?" Xie Shuyu asked instinctively.
Meng Ran lowered her voice, leaned in with a mischievous smile, "Of course the latest tech gadgets! Ones that make long-distance, cross-country relationships like yours more... 'satisfying'... heh heh heh."
Xie Shuyu pushed her, about to put on a stern face and retort.
"But Lingling—"
The car's Bluetooth ringtone suddenly sounded, interrupting the intimate mood.
[You Rong].
Xie Shuyu's eyes shifted slightly as she pressed the answer button: "Hello? Yourong."
"Hi, Xiaoyu, are you free to talk now?" On the other end, Jiang Yourong's voice sounded a bit tired.
"Yes, what's up?"
"Have you... met with Ms. Ouyang?"
Xie Shuyu's heart skipped, "Just finished. How did you know?"
"I didn't. I wanted to surprise you. I'm also part of Tang Yi Precision's inspection team for Quancheng this time. But this morning Ms. Ouyang temporarily arranged me to be in Yancheng to coordinate some projects with the provincial tech office, just finished that. Packing up now, heading to Quancheng."
"Huh? You...?"
"I'm representing Xuanji Optical World." Jiang Yourong seemed to read her confusion and explained, "I told you before, my lab works on AI emotional interaction. We recently reached deep tech cooperation with them. The specifics are complicated. By the way, did Ms. Ouyang tell you anything?"
Xie Shuyu hesitated, then recounted what had just happened briefly.
Silence on the line for a moment.
Then Jiang Yourong breathed out in admiration: "Ms. Ouyang is making a huge move. Okay, I won't say more. I'm leaving now. I'll be at your place tonight and we can talk in detail."
"Okay. Travel safely."
They hung up.
Silence returned to the car.
Meng Ran in the passenger seat asked curiously, "Since when did Yourong have such close ties with Xuanji Optical World?"
"I heard it's because she used to work at Smile Holdings, so it's from past connections."
"Ha!" Meng Ran couldn't help but exclaim, "Feels like we've been swept into the currents of our era. Suddenly, our social circle got so high-end. Even lazy, food-loving Professor Jiang is now a representative for Xuanji Optical World."
Xie Shuyu said nothing.
She pressed the accelerator; the Wrangler roared out of the parking lot and merged into Quancheng's winter traffic.
Jiang Yourong's call, and her former identity—as assistant to Director Jin—
Wen Ruan, Ms. Ouyang, TangJin, Director Jin, Tang Song...
She sensed something faintly but could not be certain.
Maybe when they met tonight she could get answers from this close friend.
But as Meng Ran said,
she had already been swept into a current.
There was no escaping.
Quanfu · Yunzhen Hotel, presidential suite.
"Ms. Ouyang, President Xie and President Meng have left."
Secretary Chen closed the door gently and reported in a low voice.
"Mm."
Ouyang Xianyue remained seated at the huanghuali tea table, her long fingers gently stroking the warm rim of her cup, eyes unfocused.
The room fell into a brief silence, only the humidifier's mist hissing.
Just then.
"Vrrr—"
The private phone placed on the side of the tea table suddenly vibrated.
Chen Jing hurried forward, glanced at the caller ID, her face changing slightly, and quickly presented the phone with both hands: "It's Dr. Zhang!"
Ouyang Xianyue's gaze sharpened; the lazy, relaxed expression vanished instantly and she took the phone swiftly.
Her voice unconsciously softened, "Hello, Dr. Zhang, it's me."
"Ms. Ouyang, good news!" The voice on the line was steady and joyful. "We just completed a new round of comprehensive checks on the old gentleman. The results are in: all physiological indicators are improving, especially cardiopulmonary function and blood oxygen levels—he's even back to where he was six months ago!"
"Just half an hour ago, he refused help, used his cane and walked two full laps in the courtyard! He's in great spirits!"
Ouyang Xianyue's grip on the phone tightened and her eyes reddened.
She inhaled deeply, forcing herself calm, "That's good. Send the detailed medical report to my email. Do not let anyone know about this."
"Understood! Don't worry, I know the importance!" Dr. Zhang hurried to reassure her.
They hung up.
Ouyang Xianyue closed her eyes and exhaled a long breath as if releasing a thousand-pound burden, slowly leaning back into the chair.
Her gaze fell, almost involuntarily, on the cup of tea cooling at her side.
But in her mind rose the image of the Gleam Spring Teapot Tang Song had gifted her.
Her pupils contracted sharply.
Gratitude, shock, affection...
A tangle of emotions swirled in her chest.
Soon, the instincts of someone in power made her think of deeper ramifications.
In Huaxia, an ecosystem that values pedigree and background, that grandfather—an academician of two academies with countless disciples—was the family's stabilizing pillar.
Originally, his health was on the decline and she had to plan prudently, step by step, enduring tremendous internal pressure.
But now...
If Grandpa's bodily functions recovered and he received top-tier medical care and careful nurturing,
living three to five more years, even longer, would be entirely possible.
As long as that pillar stood firm,
she could act bolder, follow her will more freely.
After a long silence,
Ouyang Xianyue opened her eyes and suddenly asked, "How is Songmei Apparel doing in Yancheng recently?"
Chen Jing responded immediately, producing a live data report from her briefcase and passing it over.
"Developing very rapidly. After the Double Twelve promotion, their monthly revenue again broke the hundred million yuan mark. In the women's apparel vertical, they are firmly in the quasi-top tier."
Ouyang Xianyue inclined her head slightly and picked up the tablet.
Her fingertip slid across the screen as she scanned the streaks of red-highlighted numbers and a series of planning proposals.
After a long time,
she put down the tablet and leaned back, languidly sinking into the chair.
She tilted her head slightly, revealing a graceful line of neck—an image of elegant detachment while thinking.
Her fingers tapped the armrest in a measured rhythm, producing a dull "tuk tuk" sound.
"Those prime storefronts Songmei Apparel eyed in several core commercial districts haven't been secured because of rent and location issues, right?" she said lightly. "Arrange for someone to extend a greeting. Whether through the mall's upper management or by leveraging government investment promotion and subsidy policies, offer the most favorable terms. Push this project to land quickly, get Heyi's offline flagship store rolling."
"Also... regarding Songmei Apparel and the AI fashion integration project being advanced with Zhilian Future and Yimai Technology. Contact Wen Ruan. Find a way to have Tang Yi Precision's IT research institute send an expert team."
"As for the official line... call it technology poverty alleviation or an industry model project. Keep it low-key, no big publicity. Help them set up that digital system and connect the AI interfaces."
Chen Jing's pen froze.
She looked up, hesitation clear in her eyes.
After a few seconds of silence, she couldn't help but speak cautiously: "Ms. Ouyang, is this appropriate? Should we inform President Tang first?"
As a long-standing confidante, Chen Jing understood that unwritten rule well—especially concerning Songmei Apparel.
This was Tang Song's public starting point and a longtime focus of work.
No one knew exactly how he regarded this company and those women within it.
Previously, whether Director Jin or other high-ups from the family office, everyone had tacitly observed from the sidelines, no one daring to overstep.
Ms. Ouyang had been cautious before, even repeatedly warning staff not to interfere with the company's operations.
Yet now she planned to extend her hand proactively?
"Communicate?" Ouyang Xianyue laughed softly, her eyes shifting, "Times change. Do as I said."
"Understood." Chen Jing felt a chill in her heart and did not press further.
Ouyang Xianyue turned her gaze toward the layered clouds outside the window, her look deep and distant.
She knew her position clearly.
She did not have the absolute rapport and shared startup history with Jin Meixiao and Tang Song.
That was a temporal barrier she could neither break nor resent.
Over recent years, she and Tang Song maintained mutual respect, a perfectly measured partnership distance.
Aside from Jin Meixiao, no one knew the secret of Tang Song's transformation.
No one knew where the true boundary lay.
But as a scion who had come to power, her insight into situations and people was top-tier.
With Tang Song formally entering the family office's executive committee and about to move from the shadows to the forefront,
the wind had shifted.
Some moves could be bolder now.
She wanted to accelerate Tang Song's ascent, freeing him from trivial emotional entanglements and commercial supports, letting him devote more energy to his own vast ambitions.
There was also a more personal, private reason.
His backyard couldn't always be a greenhouse.
Compared to women like Xie Shuyu and Liu Qingning—already mature, wise, and fully capable— or those like Wen Ruan, Zhao Yaqian, Tian Jing, Lin Muxue, whom Tang Song had personally elevated and who had absolute loyalty and status,
others were simply too far behind.
Gao Mengting, Cheng Qiuqiu, Yao Lingling, Xu Qing, and that girl Zhang Yan...
They were too young, too inexperienced.
Like greenhouse flowers: beautiful but lacking the resilience to survive storms.
Once Tang Song flew higher, they might not even manage to gaze up at his back.
Jin Meixiao's approach was suppression—using her authority to prevent these girls from harboring disloyalty or becoming a nuisance to Tang Song.
That was the domineering first wife approach.
But Ouyang Xianyue wanted a different path.
Tolerance and support.
Call her scheming or calculating if you will.
This was her nature and survival method.
She wasn't just trying to hold Tang Song's heart and share his burdens.
She was cultivating a domestic faction.
Who knew how many Wall Street hunks or European "socialites" Tang Song might attract later?
These Huaxia girls who watched him rise would be natural allies—this was the "mass line."
Thinking of this, a trace of helplessness flashed through Ouyang Xianyue's eyes.
Her identity and the fact she had been married once prevented her from acting as openly and wantonly as Su Yu.
She couldn't use her body to declare love.
So she had to work through other means.
Ouyang Xianyue inhaled deeply, her eyes regaining clarity and authority as she looked at Chen Jing:
"And those top talents for clothing design and interaction design I had you prepare—through Zheng Qiudong, send them all into Songmei Apparel. Let these people build both business and personal ties with Yao Lingling and Cheng Qiuqiu, supporting their work and growth."
She paused, voice turning especially serious: "Remember, act subtly and naturally."
"Don't let those proud young women feel we're doing them a favor. Let them believe these are opportunities they've earned and deserve."
"Also... don't let President Tang know about this for now."
"Yes! Understood." Chen Jing bowed deeply and left briskly.
The room was left to Ouyang Xianyue alone.
She slowly closed her eyes.
Tang Song's young, handsome face swam through her mind, his mouth curving with perfect tenderness.
She reached out and, through her clothing, gently stroked the Xianyue's Blessing crescent pendant she wore close to her chest.
Sir.
If you observe closely,
I might be better suited to manage your backyard.
Of course, that's only my fanciful wishful thinking.
......
New York time, 4 p.m.
Manhattan, Central Park.
The sky was a heavy leaden gray, seeming within reach.
Large clusters of snowflakes fell silently.
The world felt reduced to a serene expanse of white.
Tang Song held a long black umbrella and strolled side by side with Secretary Jin along a path dusted with thin snow.
The air was sharp and fresh, each breath smelling of snow.
Children chased each other in the snow at times; couples walked hand in hand, whispering and smiling.
It was New York, but it also felt unlike New York.
Secretary Jin had swapped her professional suit for a cashmere coat, a cream chunky knit scarf, slim dark jeans and knee-high boots.
Her long hair fell casually; her nose was slightly red from the cold.
This outfit shed the "Director Jin" authority and added intellect and gentleness.
She looked like a heroine out of a Korean drama.
They chatted casually.
About the snow, New York winter, changes in Central Park,
and occasionally about the family office's European layout or an adjustment in a certain fund's rhythm.
Their topics shifted naturally between light and weighty.
The atmosphere was just right.
"I'm leaving New York tomorrow," Secretary Jin said suddenly, tone even.
Tang Song’s step faltered imperceptibly, then he hummed agreement.
The answer was expected, but hearing it aloud still made his heart feel nudged by a falling snowflake.
"The antitrust probe in Europe had new developments. I must go to Brussels and London myself. Also, after releasing so many signals externally, if I stayed here after the shareholders' meeting, it would invite excessive interpretations and suspicion."
"I understand." Tang Song glanced at the profile of her face and said softly, "Thank you for your hard work, Secretary Jin."
Secretary Jin stopped and smiled lightly, "If President Tang really cares, why not... accompany me?"
"Emm... after I finish my current work."
"Oh? Is that so?" She raised an eyebrow. "Then I'll be waiting to see."
Tang Song tactfully changed the subject, "By the way, I have a favor to ask."
"What is it?"
"After the shareholders' meeting I have a break. I want Lin Muxue to undergo a short-term training with you. Let her learn the family office's operational workflow, private asset management, and... how to become a more capable aide. In this area, you are perfect."
"President Tang, you do speak well." Secretary Jin's eyes flickered, a smile playing on her lips as she caught a falling snowflake on her hand: "I just wonder, when you get to Paris and meet that big star, if you'll be even smoother with your words?"
Before Tang Song could answer, she continued, "Alright, leave it to me. I planned to do some grooming for her anyway."
"Good."
They walked on.
Their steps in the soft snow made a light "crunch crunch."
Wind rose and shook snow from the branches.
Because most of the umbrella leaned over her, Tang Song's left shoulder had a thin layer of snow.
Secretary Jin's gaze lingered on that snow for a moment, then she brushed it off.
She did not withdraw her hand.
Instead, she slowly raised her long fingers and gently laid them on Tang Song's Adam's apple.
She applied a slight pressure, as if feeling the blood flow beneath the skin.
This intimate, suggestive touch made Tang Song's throat involuntarily move.
Memories of last night surged like a tide.
Not just because of Secretary Jin's initiative and warmth,
but because, fully sober, he could tangibly feel the shape of her body.
If Su Yu's figure was a perfect, almost cartoonish ideal—slender, extreme waist-hip contrast and overtly alluring—
then Secretary Jin's figure was realism perfected.
She was a masterpiece sculpted in golden proportions, every muscle line full of life, a tight, powerful waist and rounded, full hips that carried the mature woman's charm and embrace.
Especially when their bodies fit closely together, that heavy pressing, that seam-perfect fit...
It was soul-consuming.
More important was the psychological flutter.
"Tonight, I'm going to stay in my own apartment." She looked into his eyes, voice soft.
"Why?"
Secretary Jin did not answer.
She simply stood quietly in the snow, her gaze deep and fixed on him,
making Tang Song feel uneasy.
"No reason." Secretary Jin smiled lightly and tilted her head.
"Alright."
Her fingers slipped down, entering his coat collar and, through his shirt, pressed exactly on his clavicle.
There, last night she had left her mark.
A deep red kiss bruise, even slightly broken from the force.
"Does it hurt?" she asked softly.
"A little," Tang Song felt her fingertip's pressure. "It did at the time. Now it's fine."
She withdrew her finger, tone calm but with a teasing edge, "So, President Tang, do you want to retaliate?"
"How would I retaliate?" Tang Song asked, knowing the game.
Secretary Jin did not answer.
She only tilted her chin slightly, her long fingers undoing her coat collar and gently pulling back a corner of her scarf,
revealing a small patch of snow-white, delicate clavicle skin,
three parts seductive, seven parts clear-eyed.
Tang Song wrapped around her supple waist and drew her closer.
The black umbrella's canopy fell like a curtain, covering the falling snow and shielding them from view.
He lowered his head, inhaling her scent, his lips pressing to that warm skin,
biting and sucking hard.
Punishment, and a deep possessiveness.
Plum blossoms bloomed in the snow.
......
Night fell.
The snow intensified.
Central Park, Fifth Avenue exit.
A black Bentley rolled to a stop at the curb.
Secretary Jin smoothed her scarf, covering the fresh red mark on her clavicle.
Her face had returned to composed rationality.
"Alright, President Tang. I'm leaving now. I have a transatlantic video conference tonight."
"Mm, travel safely."
Jin Meixiao inclined her head lightly and stepped toward the car.
Her heeled leather boots made faint sounds on the snow.
Snowflakes dusted her hair; her figure was resolute and elegant.
But she had barely taken a few steps.
Tang Song suddenly reached out and grabbed her wrist.
She paused and turned, her hair swirling in the wind and snow, "Yes?"
Tang Song stepped closer.
Snow fell between them.
His gaze pierced the night and fixed on those clear, spirited eyes.
"You've never directly answered the question I asked in the beginning."
A flash of understanding crossed her eyes.
She did not feign ignorance; instead she looked at him calmly and asked, knowingly, "Which question?"
Tang Song's voice dropped, "For you, what is the meaning of my existence?"
The snow grew heavier.
Neon lights cast shifting color over their faces.
Ms. Smile's mouth curved slowly into a smile that could dim the world.
She took a step back.
She tucked the wind-blown brown hair elegantly behind her ear,
lowered her gaze.
She was silent for a long time, so long that snowflakes melted on her lashes.
Then she finally spoke softly:
"As long as you still exist in this world, no matter what this world becomes, it will be meaningful to me."
She finished speaking, turned, and got into the car.
The door closed,
separating the wind, snow, and his silhouette from the interior.
The Bentley Mulsanne started and glided into the white night.
Secretary Jin leaned back against the soft seat, her right hand slipping into her coat to rub the faintly sore mark on her clavicle.
The smile on her face gradually faded into a deep, tranquil depth.
So, Tang Song.
Please remain healthy and live long in this world.
Otherwise, I cannot guarantee what I might become.