novelraw Chapter 811: Welcome Back, Sir
Chapter 811: Welcome Back, Sir
Main venue, central convergence corridor.
The lights were bright, illuminating the walls inlaid with golf-themed artworks until they looked translucent.
The atmosphere had shifted from casual small talk to a tautness of restrained anticipation.
People no longer wandered freely, their gazes frequently turning toward the main passage leading to the course.
According to the club’s schedule, it was nearly time to enter and proceed to the viewing area at Hole 1.
As for the woman everyone had been eagerly awaiting, of course she would not appear during this bustling waiting period.
Someone of her stature would normally go directly through the VIP passage into the inner changing rooms, only making an appearance at the pivotal moment of the opening tee ceremony.
In fact, Ms. Ouyang rarely attended regional industrial exchanges like this in person.
This time she not only showed up personally, she had also gathered Xuanji Optical World, the Tangjin Family Office, and Tang Yi Precision’s core leadership here at Guanlan Lake.
That went far beyond ordinary business—it felt like a deliberate signal being sent.Local entrepreneurs from Dongguan present couldn’t help feeling subtly scrutinized, even edged out.
The area where the Fingertip Starlight crew was gathered sat toward the rear side of the convergence corridor.
They were indeed glamorous, flawless in makeup and couture.
But at this moment, nobody paid them any attention or approached to chat.
They didn’t dare act rashly.
Even the usually smooth-talking producer Wei Tingsong could only wear a professional, stiff smile and stand obediently in place.
Everyone tacitly kept silent, only trading occasional low whispers.
Beneath the excited masks lay deeper unease and restraint.
The most prominent name in that crew was Bei Yuwei.
But in terms of clout, she was just a recently skyrocketing trendy starlet.
There remained a thick wall between traffic-based celebrities and truly accomplished, credentialed stars with real body of work.
Only if someone like Su Yu—the kind of superstar who had turned herself into capital—showed up could they speak on equal footing with these titans.
But Su Yu was in a different world entirely.
Lin Keke stood at the back of the group, eyes anxiously fixed on the entrance.
She worried that Bei Yuwei, who had gone out alone, might get into trouble, and secretly hoped to catch sight of the rumored benefactor.
At that moment,
a blur of light flickered at the entrance and a dust-specked figure hurried in.
Lin Keke let out a small gasp, then, as if seeing something terrifying, quickly bowed her head, unable to look straight.
Xu An noticed too. He lowered his voice and signaled with his eyes to Ning Yufei and director Li Wenmo: “Young Master Zhou’s father is here!”
Whoosh—everyone in the crew turned their eyes instantly.
Zhou Lingjun. The helmsman of Hengke Group walked alone, his steps steady as he entered the corridor from a side door.
His face showed little emotion, still wearing that dignified mask of inscrutable authority.
He even smiled and nodded to a few familiar local entrepreneurs as he passed, leaving no obvious crack.
But careful observers could see a slight gloom in his eyes and that his pace was a bit faster than usual.
“Strange…why is Chairman Zhou alone? Where’s Young Master Zhou?” Ning Yufei murmured, confusion plain on her face.
She’d been hoping Zhou Ran would handle the trouble and then take her onto the course.
Normally, if Zhou Lingjun arrived late, it probably meant he had gone to deal with his son’s mess first.
Why was the father here while the son had vanished?
“Yeah, what’s going on? Even if Young Master Zhou’s invitation had an issue, Chairman Zhou coming in person—Guanlan Lake should accommodate him and let the young master in, right?” another actor chimed in quietly.
“This is Dongguan! Hengke’s the local powerhouse…”
“Shh—keep it down!”
Producer Wei Tingsong’s expression was complicated, brow furrowed.
He had planned to use Zhou Ran’s connection to curry favor with Zhou Lingjun and break into higher circles.
But he hadn’t expected Zhou Ran to drop the ball right at this critical entrance.
Seeing Zhou Lingjun up ahead talking to people, Wei Tingsong hesitated.
Should he seize the opportunity to greet him, or stay put to avoid a clumsy flatterer’s blunder?
In the end, caution overruled opportunism.
He decided to observe, his gaze following Zhou Lingjun tightly, trying to read his intentions.
Not only Wei, the rest of the crew also, more or less with curiosity and reverence, watched the local industrial tycoon’s movements.
After all, he was the only familiar face among so many unknown, high-ranking figures.
However, while a few quietly speculated and worried, the situation suddenly changed.
After a brief chat with acquaintances, Zhou Lingjun stepped away from that small circle.
His gaze swept the crowd, then he turned with an unreadable expression and walked straight toward this area.
The crew instantly tensed, offering respectful smiles.
Lin Keke went pale, instinctively shrinking behind director Li Wenmo, heart pounding.
After all, Bei Yuwei had publicly embarrassed Zhou Ran before.
Now facing the father—an obviously upset, local business magnate—fear and guilt surged naturally.
Wei Tingsong drew a deep breath and forced a smile as he stepped forward. “Chairman Zhou! You’re here! I… I meant to come say hello earlier. Um… about Zhou Ran—?”
He asked carefully, part concern, part desire to discover the man’s purpose immediately.
Zhou Lingjun stopped and scanned them calmly.
He ignored Wei’s forced pleasantries and cut to the point: “Did Zhou Ran come in with you just now?”
Wei Tingsong hurriedly nodded. “Yes, he waited a bit in the lobby with our crew, then went with a few lead actors to sign in. I was in the hall coordinating with the hosts, but Director Li told me what happened at the registration desk later.”
As he spoke, Wei subtly nudged Li Wenmo forward half a step.
“Tell me the details,” Zhou Lingjun said in a low voice, tone leaving no room for doubt. “What did he do? What did he say? Who did he clash with? Who did he show particular interest in?”
He had come expressly to probe his son’s behavior for any clue that might have touched Tang Yi Precision’s sensitive nerve.
He could not believe such a strike would be random, especially from that echelon.
Director Li dared not hide anything and recounted the lobby incident involving Zhou Ran, Bei Yuwei, and Ning Yufei in full.
Zhou Lingjun’s gaze swept over the crew as Li spoke, then he asked in a deep voice, “Bei Yuwei?”
Lin Keke’s heart leaped to her throat.
Oh no, the tycoon had indeed turned his attention to Yuwei!
This was heading for the worst outcome!
Li Wenmo forced himself to speak. “She… she went out a moment ago. Said she was going to the entrance to meet a friend. She hasn’t returned yet…”
Wei Tingsong hurried to clarify. “Chairman Zhou, Miss Bei is the female lead of this production, Bei Yuwei. She’s a trending star heavily promoted by Tang Entertainment over the past two years, very valued by the company with excellent resources.”
He purposely emphasized Tang Entertainment and the company’s support to hint to Zhou Lingjun that the actress had backing.
This actress wasn’t rootless; she belonged to another entertainment giant, near a hundred-billion market cap—someone not to be trifled with.
As a producer, Wei may have had his own calculations.
But in a crisis that could affect the whole crew and the project, he wanted to steady the waters and avoid escalating conflict.
He then unlocked his phone, opened a retouched still of the Fingertip Starlight heroine, and angled the screen slightly toward Zhou Lingjun.
Zhou Lingjun lowered his gaze, eyes settling on that carefully made-up, vivid face.
“So it’s her.”
His pupils flickered with recognition; he vaguely recalled his secretary mentioning his son chasing a popular young star lately, possibly by that name.
A thought that Zhou Ran had offended Tang Yi Precision out of jealousy flitted through his mind, only to be dismissed immediately.
Absurd!
What level was Tang Yi Precision?
Would they cause such a commotion merely over a celebrity rivalry?
Preposterous!
In his view, if Tang Yi Precision acted like this, there must be deeper, more direct commercial or strategic interests at play.
Maybe Zhou Ran’s careless words or actions had, somewhere unknown to him, touched or threatened Tang Yi Precision’s core interests or allies.
Or perhaps… this was a warning aimed at Zhou Lingjun himself or Hengke Group.
The possibility chilled him; his face darkened under the lights.
Hengke was a reputable industrial group in Dongguan and Yang Province.
But many of its businesses, particularly its shift toward high-end manufacturing and new materials, relied on core components, key technology, and policy channels that intersected with the behemoth ecosystem around Tang Yi Precision.
To generate friction with such a giant, even a fraction of attention from them could be a future landmine.
He dared not think further; the more he thought, the colder his back felt.
“Ladies and gentlemen, good morning.”
At that moment, the venue broadcast interrupted his thoughts with polite staff announcements.
“The passage to the Hole 1 tee ceremony area is now open. Please follow the usher guidance and enter in an orderly fashion.”
Zhou Lingjun snapped back to composure.
He forcibly suppressed the churning anxiety and anger, regaining his usual poise.
“Wait for Bei Yuwei to return. Have her come see me immediately.”
With that he adjusted his collar, avoided looking at the group further, and strode into the flow of people heading for the exit.
Once his silhouette disappeared,
the crew finally exhaled as one.
Their faces showed various expressions.
“This is over… why isn’t Yuwei back yet?” Lin Keke went white, frantic like an ant on a hot pan.
As her closest friend, she knew Yuwei’s worst fear was getting pulled into a dispute before this reserved benefactor.
And now? Zhou Ran had been stopped, but Zhou Lingjun had personally shown up!
If Yuwei appeared now, she might be intercepted and questioned—or worse—by an irate magnate.
Lin Keke couldn’t think further. She hurried to the back of the crowd, trembling, and sent Bei Yuwei a message on her phone to alert her.
After sending it and a couple of deep breaths, she forced herself to catch up with the crew.
...
They walked the final stretch of a bougainvillea-shaded path.
The view suddenly opened, vast and clear.
They had entered the Orasha Treasure Golf Course.
In front lay a seemingly endless swath of emerald fairway, an artificial lake glittering in the distance, and rolling sand traps.
Under winter sun the scenery was breathtaking.
But Lin Keke and the others had no heart to appreciate this costly panorama.
They were guided to the viewing area behind the Hole 1 tee platform.
Boundaries had been cordoned off with decorative ropes and low posts; ahead lay a red carpet, a simple podium, and the teeing-off point for the ceremony.
Temporary security lines surrounded the tee, and black-suited Shengtang Security personnel stood at intervals, stern-faced.
As people filled the viewing area, those inside naturally formed implicit layers.
The best spots nearest the red line were gradually occupied by composed core businesspeople and advisory committee members, who stood immovable, gaze sober.
A little further back were local Dongguan dignitaries and nearby influential entrepreneurs, standing straight and now discussing industry topics rather than pleasantries.
The Fingertip Starlight crew, as “invited entertainment guests,” naturally stayed on the side and rear.
They weren’t far from the main zone, but were separated by a clear distance of over ten meters.
There were still twenty-plus minutes before the official tee ceremony, but no one minded arriving early.
After all, this was Ms. Ouyang’s stage—nobody dared leave such a powerful person waiting.
A restrained hum of conversation and suppressed excitement filled the viewing area.
Low whispers rolled like tide, people adjusted attire and posture, eyes collectively fixed on the empty space in front of the red carpet and the private passage off to the rear side.
The air tingled with a coming storm.
Lin Keke anxiously glanced at her watch, eyes glued to her silent phone.
No reply from Bei Yuwei.
Her hand holding the phone was sweating. She wanted to call but feared causing more trouble at this critical moment.
“...Keke.” Xu An casually stepped closer, using the motion of straightening his cuff to lower his voice. “Did Yuwei say who she hurried off to meet?”
Another slightly older actor leaned in, gossip coloring his tone: “Yeah, someone from Tang Entertainment? Or another investor?”
Lin Keke pressed her dry lips together and shook her head. “I… I don’t really know.”
“Is it a man or a woman?” Ning Yufei slipped over. Her face was perfectly made up, eyes glittering.
Lin Keke bit her lip, knowing it was impossible to hide it now—people were about to arrive.
“...A man.”
At that, the core members exchanged knowing looks.
From Bei Yuwei’s coldness on the bus to her confrontation at the lobby, to this sudden errand, plus President Mo’s demands...
They had long harbored suspicions.
In this circle, they’d seen and heard everything.
The mysterious arriving man was likely Yuwei’s true patron—or her benefactor.
But…
They couldn’t ignore the figure of Zhou Lingjun not far away.
Even if a patron came, what could they do here?
This was Guanlan Lake, a top-tier capital gathering with industrial giants present, including Tang Yi Precision and the legendary Ms. Ouyang in person.
If someone like Zhou Lingjun wanted to make trouble, an entertainment patron wouldn’t necessarily protect Yuwei.
That rising star likely stood to take a hit.
Some felt worried, others gleeful.
At that moment,
the murmuring in the viewing area dwindled from the front, until silence spread.
Eyes turned almost in unison to the rear-side private passage.
Security posted around also sprang into motion, neatly clearing a wide path to the core area.
Those at the back, including Lin Keke, noticed the subtle but powerful change and felt a jolt.
The main arrival had come.
Those in front remained erect, but people behind couldn’t help rising slightly on tiptoe, craning their necks in nervous anticipation.
Most people’s first instinctive thought was “Ms. Ouyang.”
Though it was wishful thinking, hope fluttered.
Even a single sentence with her might change one’s prospects.
Under everyone’s held breath, a custom golf cart rolled onto the asphalt path shaded by trees.
Sunlight filtered through leaves and shone softly on the vehicle.
It moved at an unhurried pace.
It drove straight through the security-cleared channel toward the tee’s flank, as if unbothered by onlookers.
From the back row, Lin Keke and the others could only make out the cart’s hazy outline and several shadowy figures inside, features indistinct.
Yet that did not lessen the visual and psychological impact.
After all, who were these attendees?
They were arriving by golf cart, in this manner—astonishing.
Before they could formulate their astonishment, the cart slowed and stopped at the edge of the red carpet.
As it approached, details became clear through the gaps between shoulders and necks of those ahead.
Seated centrally was a man.
A very young man.
Even in the entertainment world used to handsome faces, he could be called top-tier handsome purely by looks.
More striking was his extraordinary bearing and poise.
Relaxed, composed, with no deliberate showiness, he naturally drew attention.
He slightly turned his head and, as if speaking softly to someone inside, a faint curve touched his lips.
Then, amid the cluster of attention, he rose and stepped out.
Wind swept across the open course.
Winter sunlight fell across his shoulders, making his silhouette stand out straighter and more towering, like a suddenly fixed center line.
Three more people emerged from the cart.
All women, different ages and temperaments.
Two older women in professional suits stood half a step behind him, cautious and professional—clearly assistants or senior staff.
The other was a striking, fashion-forward young woman with a sensual figure who stepped down a beat later and instinctively stood to the side, neither forward nor retreating.
She occupied exactly that line between “being seen” and “not crossing the boundary.”
“Ah—”
“This—this—!”
Suppressed gasps rose from the crew.
“Yuwei?!”
“Isn’t that Bei Yuwei?!”
Shocked murmurs spread through the members.
All eyes bugged and fixed on that figure.
Lin Keke’s mind went blank; she covered her mouth without thinking.
“Yuwei! It’s really her! How is she there?!”
Everyone froze, disbelief written on their faces.
Even the usually composed producer Wei Tingsong was speechless, pupils trembling as he tracked that figure.
Xu An, standing a bit forward, lurched and nearly sat down, his face drained of color.
He stared at the increasingly clear face in the sunlight, his throat constricted.
Tang... Tang Song?!
How could that be? This is impossible!
He could not forget the rival who had earlier humiliated him in front of Lin Muxue and Cheng Qiuqiu.
Four months had passed since that humiliating dinner on Wushan.
He’d fantasized that when he became truly famous one day, he would hold his head high upon meeting him again.
He never imagined this reunion would come like this.
A chill rose from his soles to the crown of his head.
He suddenly realized: he might be finished.
But at this moment, no one had time to note his reaction.
The scene did not stop for this small commotion.
At the front of the viewing area,
advisory committee members from the Tangjin Family Office, core executives from Tang Yi Precision, and Xuanji Optical World reacted as if receiving a silent cue and began to approach.
They did not rush in like ordinary pleaders; they stepped forward with measured etiquette, one after another.
“Mr. Tang, it’s an honor to see you,” an elderly, refined gentleman said first, voice full of respect.
“Mr. Tang, thank you for coming in person.”
“Good morning, Mr. Tang. I’m Zhang Heng, COO of Xuanji Optical World. I will coordinate onsite procedures with you.”
Chen, the secretary, and Jiang Yourong flanked Tang Song appropriately, quietly supplying key background or guiding the flow and order with glances.
The process moved like flowing water—clear hierarchy, organized.
Tang Song stood at the center, smiling to lead handshakes and brief greetings.
His movements were composed and elegant.
People stepped forward to greet him and then respectfully retreated.
A dynamic, star-circling formation formed around him.
The ripple spread to the back quickly.
Local industrial representatives who had been observing confirmed the newcomer’s identity from the front row’s reaction and snippets of conversation.
Core executive committee member of the Tangjin Family Office.
Newly appointed global CEO of Xuanji Optical World.
Also the distinguished guest Ms. Ouyang had specially come to receive.
These titles, combined with his shockingly young age, were enough to silence anyone.
...
It wasn’t until then that Lin Keke and the others recovered from their chaos.
Their doubtful, uncertain gazes returned to the young man being orbited like a sun.
A clear yet absurd thought rose:
The “friend” Bei Yuwei went to meet was him?!
Could he be Bei Yuwei’s real patron?!
After all, he was the only male on that cart.
But was that plausible?
How could it be!
Beyond his peerless looks and charisma, it was his displayed identity and aura that mattered most.
The respectful greetings and titles trickling in—“Mr. Tang,” “President Tang,” “Mr. Tang”—and the surrounding hushed discussions all pointed to a stature far beyond their imagination.
This was not some second-generation heir or entertainment bigwig; this was someone at the very top of the pyramid.
An indescribable reverence and bewilderment washed over them, choking words.
Attention refocused on Bei Yuwei, standing a step behind Mr. Tang.
Faces turned complex.
There was shock, hard-to-hide jealousy, a dawning understanding, and belated awe.
Lin Keke’s hands trembled.
She had guessed at her friend’s patron—maybe an older, resource-rich magnate, or a powerful internal Tang Entertainment executive.
But now, that imagination had been impossibly concretized.
At that moment, the usually composed Bei Yuwei slightly tilted her head, eyes passing through the crowd and landing on the crew.
Her face wore the practiced, standard smile she had rehearsed countless times before a mirror, and she gave a small nod.
There was an inexplicable meaning in her gaze.
Then everyone, including Lin Keke, realized at once—
Zhou Ran! Young Master Zhou!
That morning’s fiasco at the registration desk was no accident, nor a system glitch!
Several gazes flicked to Zhou Lingjun in the crowd.
The once dignified local tycoon now looked drained, standing with a face so dark it seemed to sweat.
He seemed to be holding something back.
It was obvious he understood.
In that instant, a chilly, deep dread rose among the crew; the air felt suffocating.
At the critical moment when all eyes were fixed,
the crowd’s murmur sank further.
People automatically turned toward the side-front passage.
That passage connected the VIP dressing rooms to the inner course, a private lane.
Several figures were emerging.
At the head was the hostess, Ms. Ouyang.
Unlike others in casual business attire, she had already changed.
She wore a highly professional golf outfit, the neckline revealing a long, fair neck—clean, precise.
Her navy high-waisted, tailored trousers pressed a straight line, a simple white belt at the waist.
Her black hair was neatly tied back, exposing a smooth forehead and a majestic, beautiful face.
Her mature, poised figure moved with natural rise and fall—nothing contrived, simply the composure and beauty carved by years and power.
“Ms. Ouyang!”
“Good morning, Ms. Ouyang!”
The crowd immediately erupted with more fervent, respectful greetings.
Everyone’s focus burned hot with sincere reverence.
Ouyang Xianyue offered a composed, gracious smile and slightly nodded to those presenting salutations, but did not slow her steps.
Her eyes passed over the crowd with precision, locking on the handsome figure at the red carpet’s end.
Their gazes met in the air.
Tang Song’s lips lifted in a radiant smile.
With his present acuity and insight he understood clearly.
The hostess had not been tardy or disrespectful in changing and arriving last so she wouldn’t overshadow him.
She intentionally left the “stage” to him.
She was showing respect and support in her own way.
That tacit understanding between them was moving.
Ouyang Xianyue’s footsteps were audible along the grass edge.
She stopped in front of Tang Song.
Even she—usually composed and reserved to the bone—had a flicker of barely-contained stirring in her steady phoenix-like eyes.
Like a tide under deep water, still on the surface but surging underneath.
Because this was the first time.
The first time they appeared together so openly and side by side in public view.
And one more thing that nobody there knew—perhaps not even Tang Song himself—
their first meeting had been on January 10, 2017, in Shen City.
Exactly seven years earlier—January 10, 2024—today marked that span.
Seven years.
A curve seemed quietly drawn by fate.
At this moment, for Ouyang Xianyue, this was more than a business event.
It felt like a reunion and settling across time.
Otherwise, she might not have been so moved.
Even in the face of Jin Meixiao’s ridicule, she insisted.
“Good morning, Ms. Ouyang,” Tang Song began, his tone intimate, eyes smiling.
Unexpectedly,
in front of everyone, the woman known for being composed, dignified, and reserved surprisingly opened her arms and stepped forward.
She gave Tang Song a gentle embrace, right there before all.
It was a standard Western social hug—polite, restrained, brief, perfectly measured, nothing to gossip about.
Only Tang Song knew:
at the instant she drew close, her warm, full body trembled slightly.
Then, a voice only he could hear brushed his ear:
“Welcome back, sir.”