786: Chapter 781: Should We Continue Acting?

Shen Yan slowly uttered those few words, his tone as flat as if he were reading the evening news.

But those few words sounded like a clap of thunder in the ears of the three big men.

Scarface's pupils suddenly contracted to the size of a pinprick, and every hair on his body stood on end in that instant.

How did he know?

This deal was extremely secret; even in the underworld, few people knew the real identity of this hostage.

Who exactly is this random passerby?

"Still want to act?"

Shen Yan straightened the non-existent wrinkles on his cuffs, his gaze passing over Scarface to look toward the patrol booth flashing blue and red lights not far away.

"Three seconds. If you don't scram, you can look forward to rotting in prison."

No need for extra nonsense, no need for fierce fighting.

Merely that look, that certainty of holding everything in his grasp, made the three desperate men tremble from the depths of their souls.

On the system panel, in Song Zhixing's status bar, the words "Extreme Terror" were slowly fading.

A new tag was being generated.

[Trust Level: 10% (Fledgling Attachment establishing).]

The night wind blew, stirring up the discarded newspapers on the ground.

Shen Yan stood under the mottled lights of the night market, with the lights of ten thousand homes behind him and the abyss of sin before him.

He slightly hooked the corner of his mouth—not a cold arc, but the composure of a hunter watching his prey fall into the net.

Tonight's night market seemed even more exciting than anticipated.

The three burly men were pinned in place by Shen Yan's sharp glare, cold sweat mixed with grease trickling down their foreheads.

Scarface ultimately didn't dare to bet that Shen Yan's threat of "rotting in prison" was a joke. He gnashed his teeth, spat fiercely, and led his men to slink away into the crowd, disappearing.

The surrounding crowd that had gathered to watch, seeing that there was no more entertainment, dispersed like a receding tide, leaving only whispers from those who hadn't recovered.

Song Zhixing gripped Shen Yan's trouser leg tightly, his knuckles turning pale from excessive force, like a drowning person clinging to the only piece of driftwood.

Shen Yan squatted down, bringing his line of sight level with the little fellow who wasn't even as tall as a stove, and reached out to tidy up his hair, which was a complete mess.

"It's fine now. Uncle chased those bad guys away."

Although the little fellow stopped trembling, his vigilant eyes still darted around like a startled fawn, clearly not having emerged from the shadow of being kidnapped.

Liu Hui handed Youyou over to the Nanny at this moment and hurried over to squat on Song Zhixing's other side. She took out a wet wipe from her bag and gently wiped the soot and dirt from his face.

"Good child, don't be afraid. Come home with Auntie, and Auntie will make you some hot noodles, okay?"

Perhaps it was the maternal radiance on Liu Hui that was too warm, or perhaps the word "noodles" had touched his rumbling stomach, but Song Zhixing's tense little shoulders finally slumped, and he nodded almost imperceptibly.

Shen Yan scooped up the dirty little bundle, not caring that the stench would soil his custom-made sportswear, and turned toward the parking lot.

"Stay at my place tonight. I'll let your family know you're safe right away, and have your grandfather pick you up first thing tomorrow morning."

It was already past nine o'clock in the evening when they returned to Royal View Manor.

Song Zhixing was led by the Nanny to soak in the large bathtub in the guest room. He changed into a set of Youyou's neutral-style pajamas. Although they were a bit short, they were much better than that set of ragged suit clothes.

When he timidly walked into the dining room, Shen Yan was sitting on the sofa dialing a number on his phone. The screen of the laptop on the coffee table displayed a string of complex encrypted numbers.

That was the "Jinghai tycoon system's private line for the head of the Song family in Jinghai," a number supposedly known by fewer than five people.

The phone rang only once before being picked up. A voice, aged yet authoritative, came from the other end, laced with impending explosive anxiety and exhaustion.

"Who is this? If this is a prank call, you will regret making it."

Shen Yan leaned back against the sofa, his tone as relaxed as if chatting with an old friend.

"Mr. Song, your grandson Song Zhixing is at my humble abode right now. He just finished a bowl of egg noodles and is about to drink some warm milk."

Deathly silence followed on the other end of the line, immediately succeeded by the crisp sound of a teacup shattering and rapid breathing.

"Who are you? If you dare touch a single hair on him, I, Song Guoliang, will bankrupt myself to make you..."

"Shen Yan. Yan, as in rock."

Shen Yan interrupted the threat, stated his name, and glanced at Song Zhixing, who was holding a cup of milk and staring with bright eyes at the Lego toy in Youyou's hand.

"I encountered your grandson at the night market. We can discuss the specific details when you arrive tomorrow. It's too late tonight; the child is frightened and needs rest. I will send you the location."

Song Guoliang on the other end was clearly stunned for a moment. Shen Yan's name had recently been ringing in the business world—that madman intent on crushing Western technology underfoot.

If it really was Shen Yan, then this matter wasn't kidnapping for ransom, but a tremendous favor.

"Good... Good! CEO Shen, I cannot thank you enough for this great kindness. This old man will personally visit tomorrow morning!"

After hanging up, Shen Yan watched the task progress bar on the system interface jump to "Pending Settlement," and a playful smile curved his lips.

Tonight, the atmosphere at Royal View Manor seemed a few shades livelier than usual.

The next morning, before the first ray of sunlight had completely pierced the manor's mist, a low and dense engine sound shattered the morning tranquility.

The manor's security captain was currently reporting to Shen Yan via walkie-talkie, his voice carrying undisguised tension.

"Boss, there's a motorcade at the gate. All of them are black Hongqi L5s, all bearing Jinghai A transit permits. They say they're here to pick someone up."

Shen Yan stood by the floor-to-ceiling window of the second-floor study, looking at the motorcade parked like a row of black behemoths outside the carved main gate. He couldn't help but marvel that the Song family of Jinghai had quite the grand presence.

A vehicle of the Hongqi L5's caliber was not something one could necessarily buy even with money; it represented a status that transcended mere wealth.

"Open the gate and let them in."

Shen Yan adjusted the deep blue loungewear he was wearing and turned to go downstairs.

In the living room, Song Zhixing was already awake, sitting on the carpet building the giant Lego castle with Youyou. Although his eyes were still a bit red, his spirits were much better than last night.

Liu Hui was preparing breakfast in the kitchen, and the aroma wafting out added a touch of domestic warmth to the slightly solemn morning.

Following a set of hurried yet steady footsteps, the main door to the living room was pushed open.

The leader was an elder with white hair and beard, dressed in a Zhongshan suit only seen in old photographs, leaning on a dragon-headed cane. Although his face was etched with hardship and anxiety, the aura of someone long accustomed to being in a high position could not be concealed.

Behind him followed four bodyguards in black suits, carrying several silver briefcases that looked quite heavy.

"Grandpa!"