Chicago's weather was abysmal, with lightning striking askew across the Willis Building's lightning rod, blinding white flashes exploding in the sky.
Zhou Luchen leaned against the floor-to-ceiling windows, slowly turning the mobile phone in his hand, emotionless.
Zhuang Ming glanced at the man's clean, slender fingers. "You're not in New York. They thought something had happened to you and made quite a commotion, but you..."
Heavy rain poured outside the glass behind him. He glanced at Zhuang Ming. "But what?"
"But you seem to be having fun in Chicago, winning lots of chips," Zhuang Ming said.
At first, Zhou Luchen's lips curled into a smile. His eyelids flickered, and his expression turned cold in an instant. "Stop her."
Zhuang Ming didn't move. "The Old Chairman still has tasks for you."
"Can't be bothered," Zhou Luchen said steadily. "I've given him the best possible outcome at the summit. Isn't United Bank's current advantage enough to satisfy him?"
