You're Drunk, What About Them

Eldest Sister was no pushover either.

She sprang up and chased after Young Master Cao, pinning him down on the sofa with flailing fists and flying nails.

The scuffle only stopped when a phone rang.

It was Lingling’s piano piece—"Moonlight in Dreams"!

Utterly melodious.

Beautiful.

So beautiful that Cao Cheng didn’t even want to answer the call.

After the ringing stopped and resumed, he finally picked up.

"Sorry, Paul, I was busy just now," Cao Cheng said.

"My friend, I know you must be very busy right now," Paul replied, unfazed by the missed call.

Cao Cheng chuckled. "Judging by your tone, you’re doing alright? Fully recovered?"

"Not fully, but I won’t be kicking the bucket just yet. The doctors say I might have a few years left—assuming I take good care of myself. If not, I might be meeting God sooner than expected."

"Nah, you might not even get to see Him. After living here so long, you’re probably under the jurisdiction of the King of Hell now."

"..."

Paul gave a bitter laugh. "Still as sharp-tongued as ever. But I’m glad. Ever since leaving the company, I’ve had very few friends left, and even fewer who joke with me. Lately, the company’s been reaching out, hoping I could reconnect with General Manager Li. They think we have some… personal history. At least that makes me somewhat useful again."

Cao Cheng raised an eyebrow and patted Eldest Sister, signaling her to get off.

This wasn’t the best way to take a call.

Eldest Sister stood up, straightening her clothes—she’d put quite a bit of force into beating the guy up earlier.

Cao Cheng sat upright. "Paul, you should be talking to General Manager Li, not me. You know I don’t have the formula or raw materials. My stockpile is just leftovers from way back, especially since I’ve been under your blockade, right?"

Paul paused. "But I think there’s something off about this whole situation."

"Like what?" Cao Cheng countered.

Paul continued, "The timing of the X Essence Serum’s appearance was too convenient. You were the first to use it, and your relationship with General Manager Li is definitely better than mine. But for money—just a paltry sum—he’d betray a friendship? A few hundred thousand at most?"

Cao Cheng smirked. "Everyone has their price. Maybe General Manager Li’s just cheap."

"..." Eldest Sister.

"..." Paul.

Neither had a response.

That remark was downright shameless.

Paul didn’t argue or explain, instead murmuring, "At first, I thought I’d done something remarkable. But..."

"Lying in that hospital bed, I’ve had a lot of time to think."

"Something about this feels wrong, but I can’t quite put my finger on it. You know how it is—we Europeans aren’t as clever as you folks when it comes to playing the Art of War. We’re no match for your strategies."

"Until..."

Paul suddenly raised his voice. "Until this whole mess blew up. General Manager Li declared bankruptcy, supplies dried up, scalpers went insane, consumers panicked—but you..."

"You and your Miracle Cosmetics stayed completely silent. No news, no moves. That’s when I realized what was really going on."

"My friend, I have to say, your methods are brilliant. Masterful."

"Especially when I remembered the day I left China."

"I called to apologize—and I meant it. I shouldn’t have cut off your supply chain. That was a dirty move."

"Back then, you casually said, ‘You really think you can cut me off?’"

"It was noisy outside, so I didn’t catch it clearly, and I didn’t dwell on it—my mind was on my treatment."

"Now I understand. You weren’t worried at all. You even told me to focus on recovering so I could help you expand into the European market later."

"You had everything under control."

"Didn’t you?"

The line fell silent for a moment.

Cao Cheng laughed. "The hell are you even talking about? Rambling all over the place. You think your Chinese is that good?"

"..."

Paul was stunned, then suddenly chuckled.

"You know what the Analects say—‘The wise are slow in speech but diligent in action.’ I get it now!"

Get it?

As if you could understand the Analects.

Hell, even I don’t.

Still,

Cao Cheng knew the gist—speak less, act more.

Or in plain terms: don’t talk about what you can do, just do it.

"Paul, maybe study the Analects a bit more before throwing quotes around. You’re butchering it. Try ‘Be cautious in speech and diligent in action.’ Watch your words!"

"..."

Paul mused. "You’re right. So… can we discuss the formula and raw materials now, my friend?"

"We’re not friends yet. Don’t get cozy."

Cao Cheng scoffed. "I won’t cut you slack just because you’re sick. Even if you apologized before leaving, and even if I’ve forgiven what you did, that doesn’t mean we’re striking a deal. Besides, what’s your status now?"

Paul said, "I’m currently a special consultant for L’Oréal."

"So no real authority?"

"Right."

"Then what's the point of discussing? Instead of talking about raw materials, let's talk about you switching jobs. If you come work for me, I'll hand over the entire European region to you. You'll be the captain, the helmsman of the whole operation. And I won’t send anyone to restrict your actions—you’ll be the 'Emperor of Europe.'"

"..."

Paul sighed. "I’m tempted, but my body can’t handle such high-intensity work. I’d die."

"I know traditional Chinese medicine," Cao Cheng said.

Paul chuckled. "I know TCM is amazing. I’ve tried acupuncture and cupping. But I have stomach cancer. Even Western medicine, as advanced as it is, can’t keep me alive properly. TCM… that’s even harder."

"Stop the nonsense, Paul. If I’m asking you to switch jobs, it’s because I have a way to cure you. Don’t forget, I was the one who spotted your problem in the first place."

Paul gasped. "Right! You… you really have a way?"

Cao Cheng sidestepped the question. "Let’s talk about the job switch first?"

Paul’s voice turned urgent, losing its earlier calm. "If you can really cure me, my life is yours. I’ll help Miracle Cosmetics expand its territory. I won’t call myself any 'Emperor of Europe'—you’re the real emperor. At most, I’ll be your envoy, or even your eunuch supervisor if you want."

See?

Who says this guy doesn’t understand human relations?

That flattery was smooth as hell.

"Fine. Bring your family of three. I’ll be waiting in Zhonghai."

"We’ll book the tickets right away."

"Good."

The call ended.

Eldest Sister asked, "Do you really trust him? Aren’t you worried he might betray you if he gets cured?"

"If I can cure him, I can make him sick again—quicker and more painfully. I know a bit of TCM. At this level, killing someone doesn’t require a blade." Cao Cheng smirked.

Eldest Sister felt a chill down her spine. There was something far more venomous in Young Master Cao’s smile now.

Before, he used to joke around.

But this version of him? No jokes.

He’s ruthless with these foreigners.

"Of course," Cao Cheng continued, his tone softening. "Paul is smart—smarter than you’d think. And after experiencing despair, he’s also tasted the bitterness of being abandoned."

"He won’t talk to you about loyalty now. What he wants is profit."

"And in the cosmetics industry right now, who can offer him more than I can?"

"Profit, respect, face—even his life. I can give him all of it."

"He’s bald, but the kind of bald that comes with extreme cunning."

"Besides, I told him to bring his whole family. He knows what it means to be a eunuch supervisor. If he dares betray me, it’ll mean collective punishment."

Harsh words.

But Eldest Sister knew it wasn’t a threat—just facts.

From their conversation, it was clear Paul was sharp, but also desperate.

With his illness, his value had plummeted.

Otherwise, L'Oréal Group wouldn’t have reached out only after the crisis, just because he was a China expert who’d dealt with General Manager Li.

It was obvious.

Before the crisis, Paul had been discarded. No one cared about him—except his wife and daughter.

...

The next day.

Cao Cheng met Paul.

He looked exhausted.

Clearly, he hadn’t stopped for a moment—ten-plus hours in the air, then straight here after landing.

"My friend, you’ve lost weight," Cao Cheng laughed.

"Yeah. Hopefully, I’ll gain some back. My wife says I look too gaunt—like a miser."

"Hah, true."

Cao Cheng grinned, then shook hands with the woman beside Paul—his wife, a Chinese expat.

And his daughter, a mixed-race girl.

Not young anymore.

Interesting.

"Care for a drink?" Cao Cheng asked in the hotel’s private dining room.

Paul pointed at his stomach. "I shouldn’t."

"Relax. With me here, you won’t die." Cao Cheng tossed him a prepared vial. "Take this pill. You’ll feel like your old self again—the strong Paul."

"Thank God."

"You should thank me."

"Right. If this works, you are God."

Another smooth line.

Paul examined the pill. It had a medicinal scent.

He glanced at Cao Cheng, hesitating, but finally gritted his teeth and swallowed it.

His wife tensed, almost speaking up to stop him.

At least ask what it is first! You don’t just swallow something blindly—even at a hospital, you’d ask the doctor about the prescription!

Meanwhile, their mixed-race daughter was busy staring at Young Master Cao.

The man was too handsome.

Paul’s face lit up. "My God—no, Buddha… no, Jade Emperor! You really are my savior! I feel it—I feel incredible!"

Cao Cheng smiled. "Don’t celebrate yet. That’s just a short-term dose. It’ll keep you at your peak for a while. The long-term cure? That’s priceless. But I won’t charge you. I’ll judge based on your performance."

"Don’t worry. I’ll make Miracle Cosmetics famous across the West!"

"Good. Now, how about that drink? Red wine? Or baijiu?"

"Baijiu then. I want to get drunk today."

"Alright," Cao Cheng nodded.

Though,

he couldn't help feeling a bit exasperated.

That remark reminded Young Master Cao of a certain movie scene… He instinctively glanced at Paul’s wife and daughter.

If you get drunk, what about them?

Pretty sure there was a movie with that exact scenario, right?

Which one was it, though?

Can’t remember at all!

Someone tell me~