July 27th, 2128.
7:20 a.m.
Second-floor restaurant, hotel.
Blaze was the first to arrive.
He wore a washed-out black T-shirt and plain casual pants, back straight as a spear.
Mason showed up right after—hair a bit messy, faint red veins under his eyes from late nights, but his energy was good.
Chen came in with a worn briefcase, and—by force of habit—checked the time before stepping through the door.
7:25.
Zoe was the last one in, heels tapping softly on the floor. She wasn't late.
7:28—precise.
Blaze and Mason already knew each other; Chen and Mason had met before too. Within minutes, the three of them were talking easily.
Zoe didn't know any of them. She stayed on the other side of the entrance, waiting alone—
for Ethan.
7:30.
Right on time, Ethan walked out of the elevator.
No suit today.
Light shirt, dark casual trousers. He looked looser than he had the last few days—
but that anchor–like presence was still very much there.
"Mr. Ethan."
"Mr. Ethan."
"Mr. Ethan."
"Mr. Ethan—"
All four spotted him at once and greeted him together.
"Everyone's here. Very punctual. That almost makes me look late," he said with a small smile. "Come on, let's sit. We'll talk at the table."
—
Once seated, Ethan waved the server over and ordered directly instead of sending people to the buffet. When the server left, only the five of them remained at the table.
"Let's start with introductions."
Ethan lifted his cup, his gaze moving over each of them. "From today, you're all officially colleagues."
He gestured toward Blaze.
"Blaze—security lead."
"Easiest way to understand it: my personal safety, all project-site security, and Peach Garden's future safety are his responsibility."
Blaze stood, gave a short nod. "Nice to meet you. If you need me, just call me Blaze."
Ethan turned to Mason.
"Mason, head of warehouse operations at PineRiver Asset."
"All five warehouses and the supply chain run through him."
"Morning, Mr. Mason," Chen said with a polite smile.
Mason scratched his head, a little embarrassed. "Don't, don't. Just call me Mason. I'm not used to 'Mr. Anything.'"
"And this is Chen, my chief assistant."
Ethan's eyes landed on him.
"Admin, finance processes, reconciliation, payments, contract execution—they all go through him."
"Simple version: your reimbursements, salaries, project payments—he's the one who approves them."
Blaze and Mason straightened almost at the same time.
"Brother Chen, looking forward to working together."
"Yeah, Brother Chen—please be kind," Mason added.
Chen flushed. "I wouldn't dare. We're all working for Mr. Ethan. I'll just be running around more, that's all."
Finally, Ethan looked at Zoe.
"This one you don't know yet. Let me introduce her properly."
"Zoe—financial strategist, attorney, and investment advisor. Dual master's in finance and law from Harvard."
"Equity, capital flows, project structures, all financial terms and legal documentation—she'll be handling them."
Zoe stood and gave a small nod.
"Nice to meet you all. On the job, no need to be polite—if something is my responsibility, I'll see it through."
In just a few sentences, the core skeleton of his team came into focus:
— Security;
— Warehousing;
— Steward;
— Law and finance.
"Today isn't just for introductions," Ethan said, setting his cup down. "There's also a small matter."
"From today on, you're my core team. Not having cars will slow you down."
"I'm planning to assign each of you a vehicle. Chen will handle the bill. For things like this, use the Peach Garden account."
The reactions around the table were all different.
Blaze's eyelids twitched. "Cars?" he blurted.
Mason's fingers paused. He said nothing—but disbelief flickered in his eyes.
"Company cars" had always been leadership-level treatment in his experience.
Chen's reaction was automatic. "Mr. Ethan, my car can wait—"
Only Zoe's brow moved, just slightly.
She understood his capital base better than any of them.
"Company fleet?" she confirmed.
"Yes. Don't stress over the cost," Ethan said. "It's for work."
He looked at Zoe. "Your recommendation?"
"Is there a cap on the budget?" she asked directly.
"Don't worry about my wallet," he said lightly. "Stay within reason. You decide."
Zoe thought for two seconds.
"I'd suggest the latest full–electric Mercedes MPV across the board."
Her tone was calm, but her logic was crisp.
"First, this generation's autopilot system has passed zero-incident certification. Each row has full collision warning and avoidance coverage. Safety matters."
"Second, the rear cabins are large. Mr. Ethan will ride often, and it gives you room to work on the road."
"Third, at around 800,000 a unit, it's not ultra–luxury—but with the size and direction of the company, the cars shouldn't look cheap either."
Blaze's mouth twitched.
Eight hundred thousand was her idea of "not exactly a luxury car"?
Mason ran the numbers in his head.
Four cars… just over three million?
In his old life, a full year's net profit might not have hit that.
Ethan simply nodded. "Fine."
"Then Zoe and Chen—each of you gets an MPV."
"Blaze, Mason—you two will each get a top-spec full-electric ute. From a work standpoint you'll need the bed and the torque for site runs and hauling."
Blaze frowned. "I've only driven regular SUVs—anything that drives well and carries enough is—"
"No."
Ethan cut him off, shaking his head. "You'll listen to me on this."
Blaze straightened instinctively. "Mr. Ethan, this really is a bit…"
"Just drive," Ethan said. "Cars are tools. Proper tools make proper work."
"Plates, insurance, maintenance—all on the company. The only condition—don't drive like idiots."
He turned to Chen.
"Once we order, get the dealer to send them to Shengtang Custom. Have the bodies refitted with the latest drill-steel reinforcement. Replace all glass with bullet-resistant. I want them to survive falling debris and crashes. Then full anti-radiation, acid-resistant, insulated coating. Last, have someone design a PineRiver logo and paint it on. I want our vehicles instantly recognizable."
"Mr. Ethan, that's… a lot. The refit alone will cost a few million…"
"It's worth it. All future company vehicles get that treatment," Ethan said. "Your lives are worth more than any of these cars."
Her smile was cool and contained—
one of those "old-money" smiles from someone who knew what was good,
and when it was appropriate to use it.
Ethan nodded.
"Settled, then."
Internally, the reactions around the table were volcanic—
But none of them let it show.
"Chen, find the number for the Mercedes flagship. Make an appointment. After breakfast, we'll all go choose cars."
These days, if you booked early and knew what you wanted, you could walk in, sign, and drive out in the same visit.
—
10:00 a.m.
Mercedes Flagship Experience Center.
The vast showroom was laid out like a "future city" sample—floating holo-screens cycled through model footage, light strips mapped vehicle outlines on the floor, and the air carried a custom scent.
"Welcome," the receptionist said with a practiced bow. "Are you Mr. Ethan's party, by appointment?"
"Yes," Ethan said.
This was top-tier reception protocol—for a reason.
The note had said: purchasing four vehicles in one go.
No dealership took that lightly.
The sales manager came in person, escorting them towards the VIP area with warm enthusiasm.
Blaze's eyes flicked automatically over exits and camera angles.
Mason's gaze snagged on a silver–grey high-performance electric ute in the main hall, unable to hide his awe.
Chen stayed at the back, walking carefully as if afraid his shoes would mark the floor.
Zoe's steps were slow and measured, as if she were walking a courtroom aisle.
"Mr. Ethan, this way, please," the manager said, opening the VIP glass door.
The moment Ethan stepped through, he ran into a very familiar face.
For that instant, time jerked.
Lena.
She was dressed impeccably—light professional makeup, tailored dress, a brochure of car specs in hand.
At her side stood Shawn, sharp suit, limited-edition smart watch glinting on his wrist. He was in the middle of talking with another salesperson.
"This one's fine," Shawn said. "Six hundred eighty thousand. Good value. The tier above that is unnecessary."
He turned—and his gaze froze for one second.
"…"
His expression went from instinctive stiffness to quick calculation, then into something that said:
Ah. So the rumors were true.
"Well, well."
Shawn chuckled, not loudly—but just loud enough for the nearby staff to hear.
"Isn't this—"
He paused deliberately, like flipping through an old business card.
"Former Mr. Ethan?"
Lena froze as well.
Clearly, she hadn't expected to see him here.
Their eyes met for a fraction of a second.
Not like the day she signed the divorce papers.
This time, the light was bright. Sun through glass. Reflections off new metal.
She didn't know where to put the brochure in her hands, and ended up gripping it tighter.
"Here to… look at cars?" Shawn asked casually. "Still got the money for that?"
His gaze slid past Ethan to the group behind him—
Blaze with that dangerous sharpness;
Mason with the tired yet crisp look of someone holding projects together;
Chen, obviously admin, but standing naturally closer to Ethan;
and Zoe—the one whose presence screamed "not simple" without her saying a word.
"This lady's what, a client or your boss?" Shawn asked with a mock-friendly tone. "Or are you working here now, bringing customers in for the dealership?"
Whatever sliver of respect he'd once had was gone.
In his head, the story was simple:
Ethan's company hit cash-flow issues, took on debt, sold to Qingyuan Group, and got "kicked upstairs" out of management.
In other words:
The man in front of him was a loser.
"So what are you here for?" Shawn asked, half mocking, half prodding. "Tagging along while your friends buy? Or hustling some business?"
The air pressed down.
Blaze's brow drew together. He was about to speak when Ethan lifted a hand and stopped him.
"You're mistaken, Mr. Zhou."
Ethan's tone was level.
"I'm here to buy cars for my team."
"Oh?"
Shawn's smile sharpened.
"Team, huh?"
He leaned on the word, like he could press it into something pathetic.
"Well, you'd better watch your price brackets. We don't exactly have any 'budget' lines on this side."
Before he could continue, the sales manager cut in quickly.
"Mr. Zhou, this is Mr. Ethan—the one with the appointment."
His tone shifted into something visibly more respectful.
"Mr. Ethan is here to look at multiple models. We've already reserved several vehicles for him. The VIP test-drive area is ready as well."
"…Multiple?"
Shawn's smile faltered.
Lena heard it too. Her fingers tightened around the brochure.
"How many cars?" Shawn finally asked, his tone changing.
The manager, a seasoned reader of people, kept his smile steady.
"At least four, based on our internal scheduling. Exact number depends on Mr. Ethan's choices."
"Four?"
Shawn repeated, voice dropping involuntarily.
Lena stared at Ethan for two long seconds.
She knew he wasn't incompetent.
But after the divorce, all the stories she heard from Shawn had painted him, layer by layer, as a man who'd failed.
"Bad investments. Broken cash flow. Forced buyout. Pushed out…"
She hadn't dug into every rumor.
She'd simply, on a tired night, persuaded herself:
"So this is what he really is."
Now, the details in this showroom were quietly rearranging that conclusion.
"Mr. Ethan," the manager said tactfully, "shall we look at the MPVs you selected yesterday first? The four of you can check the seating and space together."
It was exquisitely phrased—
He didn't say "which one of you is the boss,"
but everything about the treatment made that answer obvious.
"Sure."
Ethan nodded and turned.
"What a coincidence," he said lightly. "You go ahead. See you around."
He started to walk away.
Lena's lips moved, but no words came.
Shawn couldn't help a cold snort.
"Yeah, really is something," he said. "Just—remember to live within your means. Times are rough. Don't jump into loans you can't handle."
It was a small jab, a way to reclaim a bit of footing.
Before Ethan could bother answering, Zoe laughed softly.
"Loans?"
Her voice was cool.
"Sorry, you misunderstood."
"Mr. Ethan is paying for our cars in full. This amount of money doesn't really register as an issue for him."
"If you're curious, you can ask the staff later—see exactly which models he's buying us."
Shawn's smile snapped off his face.
"And you are?" he managed.
"Zoe," she said.
"Until recently, I was a partner consultant at Xingtu Capital and Fenton Law."
This time, Shawn went blank.
—Xingtu Capital: a capital firm even he had heard of, top-tier nationwide.
—Fenton Law: the largest firm in the city.
"Zoe," Ethan said mildly.
"Yes?"
She turned back to him.
"Don't waste time," he said. "We still have cars to pick out."
He turned away toward the display area.
Blaze gave Shawn a very deliberate glare before following.
As he passed Lena, the air shifted barely.
"Are you… doing well?" she asked suddenly.
Her voice was quiet, but it carried.
Ethan's steps paused.
He didn't turn around. He only angled his face slightly, catching her reflection in the glass.
"Things have been much better," he said, "since the divorce."
He didn't linger. He walked on.
Lena stood frozen, fingers crumpling the brochure.
Every word landed like a fine needle, pricking her heart one by one.
Zoe, hearing the word "divorce," momentarily forgot to look away. She stared at Ethan's back for two full seconds.
Shawn's face had gone dark.
He watched as Ethan's group was led into the VIP area.
Then he looked at the car he'd just been haggling over—a "mid-high trim" sedan—
and suddenly, it looked… cheap.
"Mr. Zhou, about the model we discussed—" the salesperson asked carefully.
"Let's keep looking," he said coldly. "I'm not in a hurry."
—
Elsewhere—
In the MPV section.
Two gleaming, full–electric MPVs stood under the lights, doors open.
Inside: wide rear cabins, rotating captain chairs, floating central consoles, fold–out worktables, integrated communication terminals.
"Holy—"
Blaze was the first to slip, then clamped his mouth shut.
"Get in," Ethan said. "You'll be spending plenty of time in them."
Mason took the second row and let himself sink into the seat.
"Once I drive this…" he muttered, "it's going to be hard to go back to my old car."
Chen carefully slid into the driver's seat, moving as if afraid to dirty something.
"Chen," Blaze protested, "this will be your car. Try it like you mean it."
"I'm really not used to it," Chen confessed, ears red.
"You'll get used to it," Ethan said from outside, tone even. "You'll get used to a lot of things you didn't dare imagine before."
Zoe didn't sit immediately. She walked around the MPV once, reading the specs—autonomy level, range, rear interface standards—
Always starting at the base layer.
"Yeah," she finally said. "This model's right."
"Then we'll take two," Ethan told the manager. "Help us pick low-key colors."
"As for the utes…"
He glanced at Blaze and Mason. "Come on. Over there."
—
High-end ute display area.
Two high–clearance beasts sat under the spotlight—one a deep forest green, the other gunmetal grey. Aggressive lines, oversized beds.
"Now this is a proper vehicle," Blaze said, eyes lighting up.
He circled the green one, slapped its side, then hauled at the bed rail. The frame didn't so much as tremble.
"Raised chassis, reinforced impact beams," Ethan murmured as he read. "Good clearance, solid shock tolerance, high load capacity. Bed can take modular builds—gear, supplies, whatever."
We'll need more of these, he thought. Soon.
The apocalypse runs on trucks like this.
Out loud, he only said:
"Pick your colors."
"Green," Blaze said instantly, patting the forest one. "Looks right."
Mason hesitated, then nodded to the gunmetal. "I'll take this one."
"Good."
Ethan looked to Chen. "Handle the contract and payment."
"Don't worry about the paperwork or plates, just drive them home when we're done."
The sales manager, listening, felt his chest get hot.
This was what a clean client looked like.
"Mr. Ethan, if you're ready, shall we move to the VIP room to sign the agreements?"
"Hm. Have Chen handle it," Ethan replied.
"Payment—company account. In full," Chen added naturally.
"Of course. We'll prepare the contracts right away."
—
In the VIP room—
Printouts, digital contracts, invoices, QR codes—everything lined up.
Chen watched the price lines on the screen. His heart beat a little faster.
Zoe took the paperwork, read the terms line by line, and only when she found no hidden binding clauses or fees did she slide it over to him.
"You can sign."
Chen's hand shook slightly as he signed his name on the pad.
Account holder: PineRiver Asset Holdings Ltd.
Payment: total vehicle price + tax + registration fee.
For most people, that number would sit on their chest like a cinder block.
For Ethan, it was a line item.
"Confirm payment?"
The system prompt popped up.
Chen glanced back at Ethan.
"Pay," Ethan said.
"Okay."
Fingerprint. Code.
The loading bar crawled across, then flipped to Payment Successful.
On the sales manager's phone, the notification came through a second later.
He took a breath, glanced at the amount, and schooled his expression before coming in.
"Mr. Ethan, we've received the funds. Thank you very much for your trust."
"The AI PDI checks are complete, plates are generated. You can take delivery right away."
"Appreciate it."
Ethan rose and shook his hand.
The handshake wasn't just "buyer and seller."
It was:
We'll be doing business again.
—
By then, it was close to noon.
The sun beat down outside—but in all four of their chests, there was a rare kind of solidity.
Blaze was already running evacuation scenarios in his head, every version of them involving that green ute.
Mason imagined negotiating with suppliers pulling into their yards in that truck—
the leverage it brought without him saying a word.
Chen's palms were still damp, but his heart held a soaring pride:
This is the car Mr. Ethan bought me.
Zoe realized, quietly, that she'd crossed a line.
She was no longer watching a game from the stands.
She was on the board.
"Afternoon, everyone goes their own way," Ethan said, pausing in front of the vehicles. "Blaze, Mason—head back and get your current work sorted."
"Chen, you're coming with me to Peach Garden."
"Zoe, manage your time. When the company doesn't need something reviewed, you're free to structure your own schedules. The office will be on the 18th floor of Peach Garden, but it'll be a few more days before we begin renovations."
"Yes, Mr. Ethan."
The four answered almost in unison.
They didn't realize yet—
That one "Mr. Ethan" from all four of them had quietly become a kind of oath.
Back at the entrance to the hall, two faces watched through the glass.
Shawn's expression was black enough to drip ink.
Lena stood beside him, silent.
Neither moved forward.
A real blueprint for a city built for the end times had already begun to unfurl.
And all the love, resentment, misunderstanding, and contempt from the past—
were now like that mid-tier sedan in the showroom that no one ever signed for.
Left on the floor.
And, slowly, left behind.