Jiang Cheng acted as if he hadn't noticed the bravado in the other man's tone; his fingertips still tapped the table in an unhurried rhythm. The sound was soft, yet every knock landed on Jiang Xin's heart, carrying an unmistakable pressure.
He set down his teacup, and when he lifted his gaze the smile in his eyes had cooled a few degrees. His tone was flat, but every word hit the mark.
"Holding up, are we? How long has your family's Mining Permit renewal been stuck at the Approval Bureau? And that Tailings Pond west of the city—its Environmental Rectification Notice will probably be taped to your factory gate next Monday, right?"
Jiang Xin's knuckles whitened as his grip on the cup tightened.
These were the thorniest messes the Jiang Family currently faced.
Hardly any core members of the clan knew the full picture, yet Jiang Cheng had just reeled them off with languid ease.
So after that night at the bar he'd started investigating the Jiangs.
Seeing Jiang Xin's stony silence, Jiang Cheng leaned back in the bamboo chair.
Relaxed in posture, but with an iron certainty in his voice: "Rare-Earth Refining's technical barriers—your family can't crack them. Policy red lines—you can't skirt them. Internal splits—you can't afford them. How long can you last just guarding that little mine?"
Jiang Cheng inclined forward slightly, his gaze sharp as a hawk's, staring straight at Jiang Xin for the first time.
"But what the Jiang Family can't handle becomes nothing more than child's play in my hands…"
At that, Jiang Xin's expression changed instantly.
He didn't doubt the man; he'd seen Jiang Cheng's methods and energy more than once.
Yet the clearer he was about that capability, the colder the sweat on his back.
Dealing with a titan like this offered no middle road.
Either hug this thigh for dear life and let the teetering Jiang Family rise from the ashes,
or invite the wolf inside and be silently swallowed whole—never even knowing how you died.
Watching Jiang Xin's shifting face, Jiang Cheng added unhurriedly: "As for the price, it's simply turning your Rare Earth from 'making money lying down' to 'making far more money standing up.'"
Jiang Xin swallowed; the scales in his heart tipped completely.
Every sentence from Jiang Cheng stepped on his soft spots—and on the Jiang Family's fatal points.
He understood this wasn't charity; it was cooperation, a game with no option to fold.
After a long silence he spoke hoarsely, weariness and resignation in his voice.
"Brother Cheng, you know the Jiangs aren't run by me alone. I have to go back and discuss this with my father and several uncles."
Clearly the answer didn't satisfy Jiang Cheng.
His fingertips tapped the table twice more, his smile thinning, tone still languid yet carrying unquestionable weight: "In the Rare Earth business, if I truly want in, do you think the Jiang Family is my only possible partner?"
Jiang Xin swallowed again, steadied the teacup, and kept his courteous smile, neither servile nor arrogant: "You're too kind, Brother Cheng. Plenty in the circle are eager to get in line with you."
"Exactly." Jiang Cheng withdrew his hand and once more reclined, entirely at ease.
Looking at Jiang Xin, he raised an eyebrow. "Then have you ever wondered why I came to you specifically?"
Jiang Xin slowly shook his head. Just as he started to reply, Jiang Cheng chuckled and cut him off: "It's because we've known each other for a while, right?"
"If you're willing, we'll keep talking about this win-win deal. If not, no harm done—let's treat today as a Beijing-cuisine lunch and a friendly chat."
Jiang Xin took those words with calm clarity.
Known each other? It sounded comforting.
But he knew perfectly well that at previous gatherings Jiang Cheng's gaze had never lingered on him for even a second.
In the end, the Jiang Family's Rare Earth veins just happened to fit the man's needs.
Still, he dared not let a hint of that thought show on his face.
He merely smiled, lifted his cup in a token toast, and said with earnest restraint: "Brother Cheng, that's generous of you. I was overthinking earlier."
After a pause Jiang Xin asked, "Brother Cheng, may I ask why you suddenly want into Rare Earths? This year's market is nothing like before."
Jiang Cheng didn't hide it; he spun the cup lightly with a fingertip, eyes darkening. "To build lithography machines."
The moment those words landed, Jiang Xin nearly dropped his teacup, pupils shrinking in shock.
A veteran of the business world, he knew the high-tech game well, and "lithography machine" was synonymous with a money-burning abyss.
Collecting himself, he lowered his voice and urged, "Brother Cheng, this isn't quick-money Rare Earth trading. A lithography machine can swallow tens of billions without a splash. R&D cycles stretch forever, tech barriers tower sky-high; giants have poured lifetimes in and still failed. It's a thankless money pit. There are easier ways to make a fortune—why jump into this fire?"
Jiang Cheng's fingertip circled the cup rim. He clicked his tongue softly.
Naturally, it was because the System rewarded it.
Sure, it would guzzle money, but compared with waiting seven more years for China to produce its own lithography machine, taking an early step to kick-start the technology was worth every cent.
After a moment he put on a solemn, "nation-worrying" expression.
His voice dropped: "Why else? This year the international blockade has left choke marks on our necks—Chips blocked, lithography machines blocked, downstream industries gasping. As a Chinese, it's maddening. We can't let them strangle us for good, right?"
Seeing Jiang Xin's face change, Jiang Cheng set down his cup, sighed, and spoke with ringing force: "There are countless ways to make money, but someone has to do certain things."
He then pretended to ponder, turning his gaze toward the window.
Wind from the Rear Sea rustled leaves outside, and his eyes seemed to hold an endless landscape.
"Our great China can't live with someone's hand forever clamped around our throat. Chips are the heart of tech, and a lithography machine is the hammer that forges that heart. As long as that hammer rests in others' hands, we remain at their mercy. I'm a businessman—profit is instinct—but I'm a Chinese first. That identity matters more than making money."