Chapter 1259: Beloved Confidant 6

…In just over a year, Huang Xiaojue’s movements spanned several continents… The problem is, in the end, no one knows where he is.

They can’t even track who exactly showed up in those places.

“According to the investigation, Huang Xiaojue used at least five different passports, one after another. No one knows why he was so well prepared beforehand…”

Everyone exchanged glances, their eyes all falling on a photo of a very famous Ruo City bank. In the depths of every heart, there was a faint, uneasy tremor.

What kind of mystery is hidden in all this?

Huang Xiaojue had been lurking within the Zhou Family for as long as four or five years, and before that he’d always been a renowned, high‑profile figure in the business world. In these few years, did he gain control of countless terrifying truths?

The conference room fell instantly silent.

For a long time, no one dared to speak.

Each person had a vague premonition that a final, massive storm was about to break: if it really hits, whether those present will be able to get through it is impossible to predict.

At last, someone spoke up, questioning: “Could Huang Xiaojue really be that capable?”

“Back then I already felt it was a huge mistake to let him serve as the ultimate decision‑maker on the seven‑member decision committee. But there was nothing we could do, both sides pushed for him, and he ended up on that throne…”

Once he took the seat as the group’s highest‑level economic decision‑maker, naturally, it put countless secrets in his hands—secrets the outside world wouldn’t even dare imagine.

Old Zhang said nothing as the crowd buzzed with discussion.

Hands clasped behind his back, he simply got up and paced back and forth, over and over.

When the meeting ended, he and his two sons drove home.

The discreetly modified car had every security measure in place. The cars of the security team followed behind the whole way, without a single gap.

The driver pulled up; as soon as he got home, his old wife came out at the sound.

“Old Zhang, go wash up, dinner’s about to start.”

He rinsed off casually, then sat down on the sofa. Seeing something on the coffee table, he picked it up to take a look.

On it was written, very clearly: “We invite Uncle and Aunt together with the whole family to attend the wedding on X year X month X day…”

The dining table was already laid; Mrs. Zhang came to call her husband to eat, and seeing him staring at the wedding invitation in a daze, she laughed: “This was delivered in person by Big Sister today, and she brought lots of little gifts too—snacks we used to like years ago, quite a few you can’t even find anymore. I never thought she’d manage to get them…”

Old Zhang was still staring fixedly at the invitation.

The invitation wasn’t overly luxurious, and the banquet was very low‑key. It was nothing like what the outside world imagines when a great family marries off a son—no massive pomp, rows of luxury cars, gold on display, gifts on display, that sort of thing… No, it was just a small internal gathering.

Very, very low‑key and simple.

Really just a notice to inform relatives and friends.

“I never expected Wan Donglin’s wedding to be held so simply. After all, he’s Big Sister’s only son… Big Sister explained that the daughter‑in‑law is already pregnant and she doesn’t want her to get too exhausted, and that what matters most in a marriage is mutual love, whether you make a big fuss or not is secondary… Old Zhang, look at the venue—clearly an internal gathering. Truly Big Sister’s usual style…”

Old Zhang suddenly spoke, lightly: “Do you still remember the spectacle when Wan Dongmei got married and they opened a hundred tables?”

Mrs. Zhang froze.

“This… yes, I remember now. When Dongmei got married they opened a hundred tables, the whole city was in an uproar. They said it was the most lavish wedding in history… Guests beyond counting… But Big Sister is old now and has no energy to handle such things, that’s understandable, isn’t it…”

Old Zhang said coolly, “I’m afraid it’s not that Big Sister doesn’t want to make a big show of it—it’s that Wan Donglin himself doesn’t want to.”

“Why?”

Old Zhang casually put the invitation back on the table and didn’t say anything more.

Seeing that he was preoccupied, Mrs. Zhang didn’t dare press further. She had never interfered in his work matters; instead she immediately instructed the household maid: “Serve dinner, serve dinner… Bring out the hot soup…”

(After the climax of this last story, the book will be coming to its grand finale! We’re entering the final arc.)