Marry You on Doomsday 02012

Leaving Ganzhou.

Young Master Cao continued his journey southward, heading to Dongguan... mainly for business negotiations.

At this time, nothing scandalous had happened yet.

After two days of leisure—well, two days of negotiations—he went to Hong Kong to stroll around with Tang Xin, picking up some exclusive limited-edition dresses while indulging in a few more days of affection.

But it wasn’t all fun and games. The main purpose was to inject $120 million into ATL through a shell company.

This was the future mother of CATL (Contemporary Amperex Technology Co. Limited).

At the moment, CATL hadn’t yet spun off from ATL.

The timing was deliberate—this year, the market was sluggish due to the European debt crisis that had persisted since 2008, making life difficult for everyone.

So,

Young Master Cao had long instructed Third Sister to send a team to negotiate with several companies.

By the time he arrived in person, the deal was sealed in just a few words.

Most of the terms had already been ironed out to mutual satisfaction.

For instance, after the $120 million investment, two key rights were secured:

First, priority access to lithium iron phosphate patents.

Second, Old Zeng had to personally lead the R&D project for ternary lithium batteries.

This was non-negotiable.

Otherwise, why would Young Master Cao make a detour to Dongguan?

Just for fun?

Of course not!

The main reason was that Old Zeng happened to be in Dongguan, so it was convenient to meet up, share some tea, and chat about... women.

......

"Exhausting, these past few days."

"Finally, it’s all wrapped up."

"Phew~~"

"Nothing beats the comfort of home."

Cao Cheng rested his head on Tang Xin’s lap, savoring the tranquility and the smooth warmth of her bare thighs.

The warmth seeped from the back of his skull straight into his heart.

No pillow could compare to this sensation.

At last, the busy stretch was over.

Once he returned to Zhonghai to sign one last major contract, the year’s work would be done.

All the strategic moves had been set in motion.

Every chess piece was in place.

After a lifetime of hustling,

it was time to enjoy the fruits.

Even Tang Xin felt sorry for him.

She had never seen Young Master Cao so swamped before.

As she gently combed her fingers through his short hair, her fingertips lightly grazing his scalp, drowsiness began to overtake him.

While massaging his scalp, she murmured softly, "This isn’t home—it’s a hotel."

"Wherever you are, that’s home," Cao Cheng replied, eyes still closed in bliss.

Tang Xin chuckled. "Where did you learn such cheesy lines?"

She had a soft spot for corny romantic talk.

Back then, it hadn’t gone out of style yet.

Especially for Tang Xin, who never tired of him.

Hopelessly smitten, she was utterly captivated by his looks.

And Cao Cheng, perpetually at the peak of his charm, had her wrapped around his finger.

If she ever had free time and didn’t video-call him, she’d struggle to sleep.

"This is genuine, straight from the heart. When I was in Beijing, I met Her Majesty—my future mother-in-law—and she brought up marriage again. Second time now."

Tang Xin’s heart skipped a beat. She instantly grasped the significance of "second time."

Three strikes and you’re out.

Her voice carried a barely perceptible tremor. "So... do you plan to marry me?"

"No one but you!" Cao Cheng declared firmly.

A man’s gotta keep his promises.

At least in this moment, Young Master Cao wouldn’t deceive her.

Otherwise, he wouldn’t have brought it up himself.

But...

Tang Xin was aware of Cao Cheng’s mixed-heritage child.

There was no hiding it.

Especially with her background—even if she didn’t actively dig, someone would’ve "leaked" the news to her.

Once she knew,

Her Majesty and the Old Mountain (her parents) would inevitably find out too.

Still...

These things were unavoidable in their circles. As long as it didn’t disrupt the family or go public, nobody made a fuss.

So Cao Cheng had been upfront with her.

Once, Tang Xin had called him in a jealous fit, but her weakness for his looks won out.

A little sweet-talking smoothed things over.

The only condition she set was that he never mention other women in front of her or bring them around.

That was the bottom line.

Besides, Cao Cheng was... insatiable. She couldn’t handle him alone.

Even with them living apart and meeting just once a month, she needed days to recover.

A beast, really.

Having someone else share the load might not be a bad thing.

Of course,

these excuses alone didn’t justify her turning a blind eye. The real reason was simpler: she was used to it.

In her world, so-called "high society" often had looser morals than ordinary families.

Moreover,

Tang Xin’s "magnanimity" was seen in their circle as the mark of a "first wife’s grace."

"Next year, we’ll get married!"

"Why next year?"

"Because 2012 is the apocalypse. If the world doesn’t end, I’ll marry you. If it does, we’ll be doomed lovers—and I’ll marry you in the next life."

Tang Xin was moved to tears.

That night, sleep was off the table. They played "landlord" (a euphemism for intimacy) until dawn!

Originally, Young Master Cao had wanted to discuss the European debt crisis.

That could wait till next year anyway.

But clearly, tonight was a lost cause.

Next time, then.

The European debt mess wasn’t urgent.

Chaos had reigned for over a year. Last year, the EU finally reached a deal, pledging €80 billion in bailout funds for Greece.

But when they checked the fine print, the disbursement deadline was 2013.

By then, it’d be too late.

Hell, Cao Cheng might even have kids by that point.

Wall Street rejoiced, launching another round of harvesting and beating the euro into submission.

Now, the EU had no choice but to start debating a second bailout.

During the first round, many had been reluctant, hesitant to throw money at Greece.

But now? No rescue meant even greater losses.

Still,

negotiations took time. From what Cao Cheng knew, it’d take months.

No rush!

Once the second bailout kicked in, Young Master Cao could cash out.

By then, his reputation as the "financial bandit" would grow even louder—enough to make the EU despise him.

Every cent Cao Cheng earned now was stained with Europe’s blood.

......

......

While Young Master Cao was busy with Tang Xin,

a seismic scandal rocked the mainland entertainment industry.

#Flying Tigers internal feud?#

#Three-minute craftsman...#

#Fans are idiots...#

#Plastic brotherhood...#

One explosive headline after another flooded the internet, dominating forums, blogs, Weibo, and tabloids.

Aside from the involved parties and their fans, everyone else was feasting.

Such a juicy scandal—

sweet and irresistible.

A leaked video, though pixelated and quickly taken down, had already spread like wildfire.

"They actually dug up this footage? No wonder he’s the top paparazzi."

"Shameless! How dare you call Brother Zhuo a dog? Without him, we’d never get drama this spicy. Even if—hypothetically—he really were a dog, he’d be the Divine Hound, the god of dogs!"

"Right, right, the Dog God!"

"Dog God +1"

"Dog God +999!"

"LOL, biting the hand that feeds you. Classic move. Then again, you Cao fans are capable of anything."

"Hey, I’m not a Cao fan. But I’m not a ‘craftsman’ fan either."

"Damn, 'handyman' is killing me lol..."

"What's the joke about 'handyman'?"

"Did you just get internet?"

Some were clueless, but soon, the crowd filled them in with a juicy scandal.

And let’s face it—people love gossip.

Within just two days, the entire internet had descended into full-on scandal mode.

Every other news story or trending topic paled in comparison.

Especially in the entertainment industry—this was the definition of clout-chasing.

Many got a firsthand lesson this time.

For example, someone who’d worked with Old Wu before came forward with their real name, spilling that they’d seen Old Wu and his agent, Old Ren, leaving the set together and disappearing into the bathroom for ten minutes. At the time, they’d been suspicious, but figured ten minutes was too short for anything to happen.

Turns out… three minutes was enough.

So, a ten-minute bathroom trip… either he was being a "handyman" or they went at it three times?

LMAO!

Fans were dying in the comments:

"BS, I don’t believe you can do that in a bathroom unless you show me."

"Damn… you’ve got a point. I don’t buy it either."

"Nah, I respect the skills of a true 'handyman.'"

Then a female actress chimed in, saying back when she’d worked on a period drama with Old Wu, she was just an extra, and he’d tried to pressure her into sleeping with him.

Luckily, she was young and didn’t understand what he meant—otherwise, she’d have been screwed.

Three minutes… shorter than her bathroom breaks.

This was just artists taking shots and riding the wave.

Other agencies who’d worked with Old Wu’s company didn’t mind kicking them while they were down.

After all, Old Wu had been running his mouth a month ago, trashing the Heart Shock crew, investors, and even Hong Kong artists like Zhong Hanliang.

Sure, Hong Kong and Taiwanese artists are familiar with each other, but this is showbiz.

Familiarity? Please.

Even if you were my dad, if you got exposed like this, not taking a swing at you would make me look like a saint.

…

Everyone was having a blast.

The most miserable party? Maybe Old Wu.

But his fans were definitely suffering the most.

Especially the longtime fans of his trio—many had watched them grow up, and now all those memories were shattered.

Online, stans turned into haters overnight.

The nicer ones just quietly unfollowed without cursing him out.

…

Three days later.

Old Su landed in Zhonghai, only to get ambushed by reporters outside the airport.

They bombarded him with questions about Old Wu trying to leech off his fame.

"What’s your take on this?" they kept pressing.

Old Su’s expression darkened. He tried to dodge, but they had him cornered. Fans swarmed too—some cheering, some gawking, chaos everywhere.

With just one assistant and a bodyguard, breaking through was impossible.

Finally, he caved:

"I have nothing to say about this. Even brothers fight, let alone non-brothers. As for our past relationship, I thought it was good, but people change over time."

"So,"

"I don’t see how this concerns me. I have no response. I just want to focus on my work—acting, singing, and giving my fans the best version of myself."

"Thank you."

…

A near-perfect answer.

But the reporters weren’t done.

They hurled more loaded questions:

"Do you prefer your dad or mom?"

"Do you prefer Taiwan or the mainland?"

"Do you prefer Old Wu or Old Chen?"

Old Su was visibly annoyed but had no choice but to inch forward.

Then—

Out of nowhere, a group of men in black suits shoved through.

They forced the reporters aside, clearing a path.

One reporter, about to curse, turned and saw Young Master Cao strolling over, smiling.

What luck—Young Master Cao happened to be flying back to Zhonghai too.

Whoa—

The crowd erupted, instantly swarming him instead.

Cao Cheng ignored them. With his security, everything was under control.

"Long time no see," he said.

"Mr. Cao, hello! It’s been a while," Old Su quickly extended a hand.

They’d met backstage at the Spring Festival Gala.

Practically acquaintances now.

"I just heard about this mess. Ever thought about joining my company?" Cao Cheng asked with a grin. "Miracle Media."

"Me?"

"Yeah, you."

Cao Cheng nodded. "Of course, you’re already established—no rookie contracts here. My idea is you set up your own studio and affiliate with us."

Sure, Old Su had some skeletons too.

But skeletons meant drama, and drama meant engagement.

Why not recruit someone who’d make him money for free?

Old Su hesitated. "I—I’ll need to think about it."

"Take your time. Reach out whenever." Cao Cheng handed him a business card.

Then, to the reporters: "Alright, listen up. I don’t discriminate against Taiwanese artists. Me and Jay Chou? Tight as hell. So—who you gonna believe? Me, or the 'handyman'?"

"Pfft—"

"HAHA—"

The meme wasn’t new online, but coming from Young Master Cao? Comedy gold.