Chapter 71 - The Foreign Monk and the Hidden Truth
The atmosphere in the conference room of Huaqing Tech was thick with the scent of expensive espresso and the silent, electric tension that always accompanied a Series B funding round. Xiao Fengtai sat at the head of the polished mahogany table, his expression a mask of professional indifference that belied the roiling turmoil beneath his tailored suit. Across from him, Jiang Tong looked every bit the "Pride of the West Coast Chinese Community," though the slight, almost imperceptible furrow in his brow betrayed the immense weight of the company he had built from the ground up.
The negotiation had reached a grueling stalemate over the "milestone payments." Xiao Fengtai’s family office, Huayu Capital, was demanding a significant discount on the valuation if certain clinical targets for their lead candidates weren't met. It was a standard move in the cutthroat world of biotech investment, but in this room, between these two men, it felt like a calculated betrayal.
"Business is business, Jiang Tong," Xiao Fengtai said, his voice cool and steady, echoing the sterile environment of the high-tech park. "We need to protect our cornerstone investors. A Series B is a different beast than the earlier rounds; the stakes are higher, and the scrutiny is absolute. We’re looking at the long game now, not just the immediate survival of the lab."
It was then that Fang Yuan, the "foreign monk" recently brought in by Fang Zhixing, stepped forward. Unlike the "old courtiers" of the firm who relied on established relationships and cautious, often stagnant projections, Fang Yuan possessed a ruthless, data-driven efficiency. He moved with a confidence that bordered on arrogance, his eyes scanning the spreadsheets like a predator. He presented a revised due diligence report that bridged the expectation gap, proposing a complex structure of warrants and performance-based equity that satisfied the investors' need for security while allowing Huaqing the capital it desperately needed to push BTK27 and CD30 into the next phase of clinical trials.
It was a masterstroke of financial engineering. Fang Yuan had won his first battle, securing his place within the hierarchy of the firm and proving that sometimes, an outsider’s perspective was exactly what was needed to break a deadlock.
But for Xiao Fengtai, the victory felt hollow, a mere distraction from the personal ghost that haunted the room. Later that evening, after the lawyers had packed their briefcases and the fluorescent lights of the office had dimmed, he found himself standing alone in Jiang Tong’s private study. His eyes were drawn to a silver-framed photograph on the desk—a young boy with bright, inquisitive eyes and a smile that felt hauntingly familiar, a mirror to a past Xiao Fengtai had tried to bury.
"His name is Jiang Zhen," Jiang Tong said, appearing in the doorway. He looked exhausted, the professional veneer finally cracking. "But we call him Dennis."
The name hit Xiao Fengtai like a physical blow, knocking the breath from his lungs. In an instant, he was transported back to the cold, damp winds of London, the long, contemplative walks through Hyde Park, and the heavy, suffocating silence of the departure lounge at Heathrow. The boy was biracial, a "mixed-race" child whose very existence was a testament to the years they had spent apart.
"He was born in London," Jiang Tong continued, his voice softening to a whisper. "During those years when... well, when everything was falling apart and I was trying to find a reason to keep going."
Xiao Fengtai felt a surge of something he couldn't quite name—a volatile mixture of regret, sharp longing, and a sudden, agonizing realization. The "milestone" they had been discussing all afternoon wasn't just about pharmaceutical pipelines, RNA sequencing, or clinical trials. It was about the life Jiang Tong had built in the shadows of his absence, a life that Xiao Fengtai had no part in.
As he finally left the building, the first glimmers of dawn were beginning to break over the horizon, casting long, distorted shadows across the pavement. He thought of the "foreign monk" and the "old courtiers," of the Series B and the "milestone payments." But mostly, he thought of the boy named Dennis, and the "red line" he had unknowingly crossed a lifetime ago. He realized then that no amount of due diligence could ever account for the hidden truths of the heart.
