Chapter 2: The Intimidating Presence of This Body

The loser who had borrowed money to buy medicine twenty minutes earlier, Ma Weimin, couldn’t quite digest the fantastical notion of “an Apple company” and began to suspect once more that he’d stumbled onto a film set. The beautiful woman with short hair had fallen silent, her expression tense; she sensed that the chairman’s resurrection was laced with uncanny oddities.

Lost in thought for a moment, she went to the door, snapped her fingers briskly, and immediately several legal advisors entered. No matter how one looked at them, these lawyers appeared to be the sort who charged thousands per hour, elite professionals of their kind. Yet in this woman’s presence, they seemed utterly deferential, almost beyond the typical superior-subordinate dynamic.

She spoke: “Bring those documents here.”

“Yes, Miss Zhang Ziran,” the lawyers replied, each producing a stack of documents from their briefcases.

Ma Weimin gathered that this woman was called Zhang Ziran, someone close to the center of power. Beyond that, he couldn’t even recall his own name.

“Do you still want to sign this family trust document?” Zhang Ziran handed over the papers.

A complex array of documents, in English, obscure scripts, and Chinese, faced him. Even with the Chinese, the specialized terms tangled so tightly that Ma Weimin found himself lost in the legal thicket, unable to grasp the gist.

Zhang Ziran prompted him again, “This was personally drafted by you earlier. It details the division of interests should you become incapacitated. Unfortunately, your previous decline was swifter than expected, and you fell unconscious before handling it. I was concerned about your unstable health—perhaps you should sign a backup now, to prevent chaos in the family.”

Sign? He didn’t even know his own name.

Besides, this could easily be a trap.

Could he simply sign any document? Was Zhang Ziran trustworthy? Who could say?

Thinking thus, Ma Weimin figured that as the scion of a wealthy family, he ought to display authority, not weakness. He waved his hand with studied calm: “I know what I’m doing.”

Zhang Ziran hesitated but nodded slightly, saying as she left with the lawyers, “If you need anything, call me.”

“Leave the documents here, I’ll review them myself,” Ma Weimin added.

As she set the files down, Zhang Ziran wondered to herself: When did he learn to use words like “please”?

In her memory, Yellen had nearly been driven out of her post after exchanging a few heated words with him, and only after yielding and apologizing did the matter settle. Everyone knew Yellen was the President of the United States…

Alone in the lounge, Ma Weimin grew increasingly alarmed as he read. This body seemed to possess not just one company.

“If this isn’t a film set, this body is the head of the Freemasons themselves—a hidden master of the world.”

That, roughly, was Ma Weimin’s conclusion.

On first glance, it appeared that Apple, Goldman Sachs, Microsoft, Bank of America, IBM, Morgan, Intel, Boeing, Samsung, Google, ExxonMobil, General Electric, and others were all “his.”

Looking deeper, he saw that there weren’t many Fortune 500 companies unconnected to “him.”

Though he spent nearly the whole night, he couldn’t fully understand the documents. In short, according to these terrifyingly obscure family records, if this document were signed and this body died, a woman named Ma Jiaohong would receive twenty percent of the shares.

A woman named Zhang Ye would receive fifteen percent of the family’s honorary shares—non-negotiable, non-voting, but entitled to dividends. The operation and voting rights of these shares would belong to Ma Jiaohong.

A man named Huo Dongjun would get five percent.

“Damn it, if this isn’t some fake reincarnation, five percent of the family’s profits is at least equal to five Apple companies,” Ma Weimin thought as he read.

Someone called Ma Wen would receive eight percent after the young master’s death.

There were many other names listed.

From this, Ma Weimin understood that Ma Jiaohong was meant to be the next master. This woman must be crucial.

“We’ll be arriving in Haizhou soon, Chairman, you should prepare yourself,” Zhang Ziran reminded him as she entered.

Ma Weimin truly didn’t know what she meant or how to respond. What did “prepare yourself” imply? Did she mean that once in Haizhou, he had to appear full of vigor for the onlookers?

“Chairman?” Zhang Ziran prompted again, puzzled.

Still at a loss, Ma Weimin tried, “Alright, have someone come in to tidy me up. It’s not appropriate to meet people in a patient’s gown.”

Zhang Ziran nodded and gave instructions outside. Instantly, a small army of housekeepers and stylists entered—one for shaving, another for eyebrows, another for hair, and a meticulous attendant for dressing.

The frustrating part was, he still didn’t know the name of this body.

Elsewhere, feigning illness and amnesia might suffice. But in this family, that would spell disaster; the fall of a leader here would trigger a “prince’s rebellion,” and nothing good would come of that.

All Ma Weimin wanted now was to escape, before he was inevitably caught in some deadly scheme. These people could outmaneuver the most cunning; a nobody like himself would probably end up counting their money after being sold.

There were compensations, though.

Among the stylists were two girls of striking beauty. Once, to even meet such women was Ma Weimin’s dream—provided his credit card wasn’t maxed out. In truth, his only friend was Wang Xiao’ai; the rest he’d met were just drink scammers.

But even with these perks, without the soul of a true master, he was just a pretender in king’s robes—never truly the prince. He felt utterly out of place.

He longed to leave it all behind…

Haedong District.

A private airport closed to the public, usually only used by the scions of the most privileged families.

At 4:30 a.m. on September 8th, teams from three distinct security firms had already taken up positions, effectively locking down the area.

One company was a local Haizhou outfit, providing elite protection for the city’s most prominent figures. The other two, known as “Bluewater” and “Gemstone,” were international, their armbands familiar to anyone in the know, their teams comprised mainly of ex-special forces operatives from around the world.

At five o’clock sharp,

Seven specially customized Range Rovers formed a motorcade, speeding along Haizhou’s expressways.

“I thought the Demon King died on the plane? Why are we up before dawn to meet someone?” a pale-faced playboy grumbled lazily in the flagship SUV.

Another young man in the car, Ma Wen, replied, “Huo Number Four, words have consequences. Your fate is still in others’ hands, and you never know who’ll be in charge next. Out of respect for the deceased, just do as you’re told.”

“Man, I just partied too hard last night—took a bunch of Russian models out on a yacht, drinking, popping pills, all sorts of fun. Then halfway through, we heard he was coming back to Haizhou. Had to turn the yacht around and head back.” Huo Number Four sounded thoroughly put out.

The Range Rover convoy soon reached the airport’s runway, their dramatic arrival kicking up clouds of dust. The doors opened in unison, and a swarm of men in black suits and earpieces poured out.

As the two playboys got out, four Bentleys roared up from the other side.

Huo Number Four frowned at the Bentley convoy. “Isn’t she the one who wanted the Demon King dead the most? What’s she doing here?”

The Bentleys stopped. From the flagship, a pair of exquisite high heels stepped out first.

She wore stockings with a formal black skirt suit, her features sharp as if sculpted, her bearing icy and proud. Tall and imposing, her presence was intimidating.

“Second Sister-in-law… Sister-in-law…” Ma Wen and Huo Number Four hurriedly greeted her.

Huo Number Four was especially bold, sneaking a glance at her figure. What a pity, he thought—she and the Demon King had been at odds for years, barely acknowledging one another, each living their own life.

“Is he not dead yet?” the woman, Zhang Ye, asked sharply, as if out of spite.

“Uh, Second Sister-in-law, unfortunately this time he really is dead,” Huo Number Four replied awkwardly.

Zhang Ye was taken aback. She’d been annoyed before, but on hearing the news, she felt an inexplicable sense of emptiness…