Jiang Huaixiao gazed at Jiang Xun's peaceful sleeping face in the rearview mirror, a rare, faint trace of fatigue surfacing in his eyes.
Of course he did not want to send Jiang Xun back to that remote mountain village.
Shiban Village was nearly a ten-hour drive from Capital City. Gravel slopes, flood channels, narrow tracks with a cliff on one side and a deep ravine on the other-the serpentine route on the navigation screen was enough to make anyone frown.
He had finally brought his younger brother back from that place. He had fitted his room with floor-to-ceiling windows, changed chefs three times, transferred his enrollment to Jinghua, and parked three sports cars in the garage for him to choose from.
Everything he could think of, everything he could do, he had done.
Yet now, this younger brother who had escaped through a window lay in the back seat, with bruises where his wrists had been bound and his brow still furrowed in his sleep.
Jiang Huaixiao knew how Jiang Xun would react when he woke up if he forcibly took him back to Capital City.
He would return to that two-thousand-square-meter house, keep shutting himself in his room, keep dumping the meals Wang Ma brought upstairs into the sink, and sit before the floor-to-ceiling windows with his knees drawn up, looking outside without saying a word all day.
But the light in those eyes had already gone out once, beneath the Old Locust Tree at the entrance to Shiban Village.
Jiang Huaixiao did not want to face those empty eyes again.
He had forced countless opponents to sign unequal agreements in conference rooms and vetoed a three-hundred-million project with a single sentence at a board meeting.
He was used to everything going according to his plans, used to everyone