The broken cup was still spinning on the ground. The clear, vibrating sound was still lingering in the air. The air in the room seemed to have stagnated for a brief moment.
The people sitting beside Mr. Simon did not say anything. This was Simon's family matter. They had no right to interfere.
The boy broke free from the dizziness. Even when his vision darkened and the world spun around him, he still managed to maintain a steady standing posture. He ignored the warm stream that slowly flowed down his head and continued to maintain his humble, careful, and expectant smile.
"Father, I'm here to bring you some tea and pastries. It's been more than two hours."
Mr. Simon glanced at the almost empty kettle on the coffee table in front of him. Then, he said coldly, "Put the things on the shelf next to you and then get out. Without my permission, no one is allowed to come in, including you!"
The young man carefully placed the tray that was slightly spilled with tea on a shelf at the side. That was where some small parts were placed. There was a base, and on top of it was a small decoration that looked like a very shallow soup bowl. The middle of the bowl was concave.
When such small things were placed in the basin, there was no need to worry that they would 'run' around.
It was not used to store a tray, but now, it was carrying a tray that did not belong to it and should not be carried by it.
"I'll take my leave first, Father, and gentlemen …" The teenager bowed and left. When he closed the door, there was no sound at all.
The moment the door was about to close, the teenager raised his head. In the narrow world of the door, his eyes met with Mr. Simon's.
His eyes were filled with disgust. Mr. Simon had never liked this child. If it was not for the fact that he wanted to build a good relationship with the locals as soon as possible, if it was not for the fact that he wanted to dilute the 'foreigner' label on him, he would not have married a native woman here and had a child with her.
A bastard, a bastard, or whatever. In his eyes, this child was just a prop. A prop used to maintain his image in the eyes of the locals.
However, with the addition of the foreign forces, the merchants from the Federation, and Preston's escape, these things became worthless. He became even more annoyed with this unpleasant child.
Compared to Mr. Simon's intense gaze of hatred, the boy's gaze was much simpler. There was anticipation, humility, sadness … and despair.
The young man still did not understand what he had not done well enough to make his father never like him. If his father did not like him, why did he give birth to him?
His efforts were met with despair again and again. He seemed to have understood that no matter how well he did, he would always be an unlikable child.
At the moment when the door was about to close, he lowered his head like he had done countless times before. Only then did Mr. Simon look away from him.
"Young Master …"
The butler stood outside the door. He knew what had happened, but there was nothing he could do.
Compared to a foreigner like Mr. Simon, he actually had a better impression of the young master at home. This might be because the young master had at least half Nagalil blood flowing through his veins.
The young man looked at the butler. Fresh blood had already dyed his face red. He grinned. "Father still hates me."
The butler could not help but take out a handkerchief and press it on the young man's wound. He comforted him in a low voice. "It's not like that, Young Master. Actually …" He wanted to make up something, but he realized that no matter how hard he tried, he could not change this fact.
"Actually, the old master has been in a bad mood recently. You know, the Preston Trading Company has closed down and the Bylers are here to steal business."
The young man was not moved. He only used one sentence to silence the old butler. "I'm his son …"
Yes, no matter how bad a person's mood was, it was impossible for him to do such a thing. He smashed his son's head with a cup and asked him to get out in front of so many people.
No matter how he explained, he could not hide the cruel truth behind these problems. The head of this family, Mr. Simon, just did not like his son, no matter how outstanding he was.
The old butler did not dare to say anything, nor could he say anything. The young man pressed his hand on the handkerchief. "Alright, Grandpa Butler, don't worry about me. It was like this in the past, and in the future … it will also be like this. I'm used to it, so I won't find it scary."
"Your head …" The old butler's heart ached. He had personally seen the young master grow from a little Papa to what he was today. Moreover, the young master was very polite. He had won the butler's heart with just the word 'Grandpa Butler'.
However, there were many problems between this father and son, so he could only choose to remain silent.
At this moment, when he saw the young master's head was broken, for a moment, he really wanted to ask the old master why he did this.
"It's not bleeding anymore …" The young man loosened his grip on the handkerchief slightly. He could no longer feel the new warm flow from the wound. In fact, the wound was not big. It was just that there was a lot of blood, which was scary.
Now, after pressing it for a while, the bleeding stopped.
The old butler was still a little worried. "Young Master, please go to the courtyard. I'll get the people at home to treat your wound …"
The young man nodded. "I'll have to trouble you. Also, don't let my mother know about this."
The old butler nodded again and quickly left. The young man walked to the corner of the courtyard and found a place to sit down. Not long after, a maid in her thirties quickly walked over. She was carrying a medical kit in her hands.
Sitting under the shade of a tree, the young man calmly looked at the distant street. The sadness in his eyes could not be dispelled even by the remaining sunlight.
"Thank you!"
After the maid helped him treat his wound, he turned around and thanked her. The maid also knew the situation at home, so she comforted the young man and left.
Just as the young man was about to go back, there was a commotion outside.
Some young people had gathered together. They seemed to be arguing, as if it had something to do with foreigners.
He stopped to watch for a while and felt that it was meaningless, so he went back.
He knew that the thing that Mr. Simon disliked the most was him interacting with those people. He did not have any friends of the same age.
He did not know that at this moment, he had fallen into Mr. Simon's eyes.
"He's still a lowly native after all …" In the room, Mr. Simon took the cigarette out of his mouth and spat out a mouthful of smoke. He turned around and looked at the others.
This child that he did not like was quickly thrown out of his mind. What he was most concerned about now was what the Federation merchants would bring to him, and what they would bring to him.
"The Najalil United Development Corporation does not agree to us becoming a shareholder. If we can't become a shareholder, it means that we can't get the quota …"
The man who was speaking was also not a local. He was also a businessman who came from abroad but lived here. "I've heard some insider news through some connections. They plan to do what the business did before, and monopolize all the import and export trade."
"The major shareholders can export or import anything at will. The minor shareholders have to rely on the quota to import and export. Their management is stricter than Preston's group."
"If we can't join the United Development Corporation and get some shares, it means that our goods can't go out and the goods outside can't come in. We'll immediately lose our way to make money."
Another man knocked on the coffee table with his hand. He picked up the kettle and poured himself a glass of water. He took a big gulp in a very ungentlemanly manner. "Have you contacted Lynch? I heard that we've been assigned to work under him. How can he be on an equal footing with those consortiums?"
The others looked at Mr. Simon. Mr. Simon was still smoking by the window. He only looked outside again when the child that he hated disappeared into the courtyard.
At this time, when the people behind him asked, he immediately nodded and answered, "I've already sent a message. No matter what, I'll find a way to meet him."
"As for why he can be on an equal footing with the big consortiums, perhaps it's because he represents the interests of the Federation President."
His words stunned the others. "What new information do you have?"
"There's nothing new. It's just a guess."
Mr. Simon put out the cigarette in his hand and walked back to the sofa to sit down again. He poured himself a glass of water and said, "Lynch and Trumann have a good personal relationship. At the same time, he also has a good relationship with the president."
"It's hard not to think that there might be some kind of mutual interest between them. You know, without the president or Trumann backing Lynch, those big consortiums won't take him seriously."
Another man asked, "You mean the chances are slim. After all, what we're fighting for is not the share in Lynch's hands, but the share in the hands of the president or Trumann?"
Mr. Simon smiled noncommittally. He picked up the glass and drank it in one gulp. After smoking for a long time, he was a little thirsty.
He put down the glass and said, "But whether my guess is right or not, this is our last chance. I'll do my best to fight for it, but we have to be prepared."
He pondered for a moment. "Once the situation goes wrong, we'll have to evacuate Nagalil."
His expression was very serious, which made some people a little uneasy.
After a few seconds, someone broke the uneasy atmosphere. "That's unlikely. You have to know that we're not these natives. If they do anything to us, the Federation will be the one humiliated in the end!"
Mr. Simon thought about it and seemed to agree with him, but he still remained cautious. "I hope they'll take into account their own and the country's reputation, but I'm still worried."
"In fact, we've made a lot of money over the years. If it really doesn't work, it's not impossible to take a step back."
"Being an apartment manager in China might not be as exciting, but it's a stable life. Plus, I'm starting to miss home …" He lifted his head to look at the picture in the cabinet in front of him. It was a picture of his wife and his children.
They had the same bloodline, the same skin color, the same eye color, the same accent, and the same education...
That was his family!
That was his child!