Fan Tianlei smiled faintly but said nothing. Instead, he turned toward the young soldier beside him."Chenguang, this is Instructor Li Jie," he said. "He trained both me and your father."
He Chenguang straightened immediately and gave a crisp salute. "Hello, Instructor. I'm He Chenguang."
Yin Yang lifted his hand, irritation flaring in his tone. "Don't you two understand plain English? I'm not an instructor anymore."
He didn't mean it cruelly — in truth, he had a soft spot for the kid.He Weidong, Chenguang's father, had been one of the best soldiers Yin Yang ever commanded — disciplined, loyal, and sharp under fire.But Fan Tianlei? Yin Yang's patience for him had worn thin years ago. The man's tactical sense was sloppy, his judgment questionable. The fact that he'd outlasted better soldiers still pissed Yin Yang off.
Fan Tianlei ignored the outburst; he'd been on the receiving end of that tone more times than he could count. Instead, he nodded toward the man sitting beside Yin Yang. "And who's this?" he asked, eyes narrowing slightly. The younger man's posture and quiet confidence caught his attention.
"My boss," Yin Yang said evenly.
"Oh." Fan Tianlei left it there. The watch on the man's wrist, the tailored cut of his jacket — it screamed money and control. Bodyguard for some rich kid, Fan thought. Probably thinks he's better than us.
Yin Yang crossed his arms. "What's this test you're running today, Fan?"
Fan Tianlei leaned forward. "I want Chenguang to enlist."
The words had barely left his mouth before Yin Yang stood and drove a boot into Fan Tianlei's shin, sending his chair scraping backward.
"Do you even know who this kid is?" he barked. "He's the Falcon's son — a martyr's only child. You want him drafted so the He family can vanish completely? You out of your damn mind?"
His voice carried a weight of fury that came from more than principle — it came from loss. He'd buried too many good men, watched families fracture under the flag of sacrifice. Yes, He Chenguang came from a line of soldiers, but that didn't mean he had to die like one.
Across the table, Arthur sat quietly, arms folded, eyes steady. He understood the man's anger — he'd seen too many sons inherit their fathers' ghosts.
If Chenguang had a brother, a cousin, anyone else to carry that weight, Yin Yang might have let it go. But there was only one heir left in that bloodline — and that meant the cost was too high.
Arthur finally spoke. "What do you think, kid?"
He Chenguang looked torn, caught between duty and fear. He'd grown up idolizing his father — wanted to wear the same uniform, stand for the same cause. But he also remembered his grandfather's words, the years of silence in that old house, the framed photograph by the shrine. Dream on one side. Family on the other.
"Instructor," Fan Tianlei cut in, "Chenguang's a soldier's son. He's built for it. The bloodline's in him — he should continue the legacy."
Yin Yang sank back into his chair, scowling. He didn't answer immediately. Deep down, he knew Fan wasn't wrong — but he hated hearing it from him.
He Chenguang's grandfather had been a deputy commander in the Southeast Military Region; his father, the Falcon, one of Wolf Fang's best snipers. If the man had lived, Fan Tianlei wouldn't be sitting in his seat right now.
Yin Yang exhaled slowly. "I'm not in the army anymore," he said finally. "It's your choice, Chenguang. Not mine."
The room fell silent. Every eye turned toward the young man.
After a long moment, Chenguang raised his head. "If I join… can I serve in my father's unit?"
The answer hit Fan Tianlei like a spark — the decision was made. He grinned, proud. "You've got potential, kid. But you're not ready for Wolf Fang yet. Keep training — earn it."
"Don't listen to this turtle bastard," Yin Yang snapped, standing. "You're coming home with me."
He grabbed Chenguang by the arm and hauled him toward the door. He wasn't giving up — not yet. The kid needed time to think.
⸻⸻
Later, inside the car, the city lights rolled across the windshield as Arthur watched from the back seat. Yin Yang sat brooding beside him, hands clasped tight.
Arthur finally broke the silence. "He made the right call. With his background and ability, the army's where he belongs. Hell, give it time — he'll outrank Fan Tianlei."
Yin Yang sighed, staring out the window. "Yeah. I know. I just… don't want him dying like his father."
Then he looked over his shoulder at Chenguang, who sat quietly in the back. "You really want to be a soldier, kid?"
He Chenguang nodded. "I do. But my grandparents won't agree."
"Are you sure you won't regret it?" Yin Yang pressed.
"No regrets," Chenguang said firmly.
Yin Yang's expression softened. "Good. Then I'll go home with you — talk to your grandfather myself. Been a long time since I've seen the old man."
He turned to Arthur. "You in?"
Arthur hesitated for a beat, thinking through the next move. He hadn't come to Shanghai for family reunions — he'd come to close a deal, one that could shift leverage between nations.
Owen Davian, he thought. Still alive. Still useful. Handing Davian over to Chinese intelligence could buy him access — maybe even protection for The Round Table's future operations in Asia. And if I can drag John's IMF ass down with him, all the better.
Arthur met Yin Yang's gaze and nodded once. "Yeah. I'm in."