“Dad!”
Wang Shuang was genuinely stunned.
Not long ago, he was haggling with his dad, trying to use the 400,000 yuan he made from selling his “Shrimp King” shares to claim a portion of Wang Jun’s investment in Tianjiao.
Back then, Wang Jun had been firm, telling Wang Shuang to bear his own profits and losses. If he made money, he’d get a share; if he lost, Wang Jun wouldn’t cover the shortfall.
How much time had passed since then? Now, Wang Jun was suddenly generous, gifting him Tianjiao shares for his birthday. It was enough to leave Wang Shuang floored.
It was so sudden that Wang Shuang’s first reaction wasn’t gratitude but suspicion.
This was *too* good.
Was his dad really not hiding some guilty secret?
Of course, he didn’t voice those doubts. Remembering Xie Qian’s words from two days ago, Wang Shuang knew that airing baseless suspicions in this setting would ruin not just the coming-of-age ceremony but also his relationship with his father.
Xie Qian had said maturity means cherishing the kindness others show you.
It also means knowing when to speak.
Thankfully, Wang Shuang recalled Xie Qian’s advice and dropped his urge to question his dad’s decision. Awkwardly, he gave his dad a quick hug.
“This gift is awesome, Dad! You’re too good to me!”
Wang Jun, short and stout, contrasted with Wang Shuang’s lanky frame. The son hugging his dad moved Wang Jun, the giver, more than Wang Shuang, the receiver. His eyes welled up, and just as he was about to say something to deepen the father-son moment, Wang Shuang let go.
“Dad, don’t you think it’s time to lose some weight? Your belly’s poking me… Ow, don’t hit me! I’m just worried about your health! Mum, save me, Dad’s gonna kill me!”
Watching Wang Jun chase after Wang Shuang, Wen Ying could barely stand to look.
Classic Wang Shuang.
Good thing he didn’t ask his dad if he’d done something shady in front of everyone… or this coming-of-age ceremony might’ve turned into a crime scene, with Wang Jun at least breaking his son’s legs!
Wang Shuang’s mum ignored her son’s plight, urging Wen Ying and the others to eat, telling them to make themselves at home.
“Dream Jiao and the others used to come over all the time. Xie Qian’s been here a few times, but Wen Ying, this is your first visit. Come back often, okay?”
Wang’s mum spoke casually, but Wen Ying caught something.
Oh? Xie Qian had been to Wang Shuang’s house multiple times?
She hadn’t known that.
Wen Ying glanced at Xie Qian, who remained unfazed, “Wang Shuang’s foundation is the weakest.”
Oh, so Xie Qian came to Wang’s house to pile on extra study tasks. Wen Ying and Li Mengjiao weren’t jealous—they felt sorry for Wang Shuang.
Nearby, Tang Yifeng and Geng Xiao lowered their heads, stifling laughter.
Xie Qian hadn’t been tutoring Wang Shuang—he’d been gaming with them.
Who knew Xie Qian cared so much about his image in front of girls, avoiding any mention of gaming to protect his losing streak from tarnishing his reputation?
After chasing his unfilial son, Wang Jun returned, panting, and invited Wen Ying and Xie Qian to the study.
“Uncle has something to discuss with you two.”
The Wang family, of course, had a study.
Wang Jun and Wang Shuang might not read, but a study was a must for any boss. If everyone else had one and Wang Jun didn’t, wouldn’t that be embarrassing?
Not only did they have a study, it was huge.
A whole wall of bookshelves, a massive desk with a computer, decorated to match Wang Jun’s personal style. Wen Ying was a bit envious.
What a great space for writing! Quiet, with big windows—perfect for looking out when you’re tired.
“Uncle Wang, what did you want to talk about?”
Wen Ying’s envy flickered and faded. No big study or fancy house now? No problem, she’d have them eventually. She was confident in her future.
Xie Qian had a hunch.
Wang Jun had just announced he was giving most of his Tianjiao shares to Wang Shuang as a birthday gift. Wang Shuang was too excited to notice Wang Jun said “most,” not “all.”
Wang Jun didn’t seem invested in the film industry. Why keep a small portion of shares?
Now, calling Wen Ying and Xie Qian to the study, Xie Qian could guess what was coming.
Wen Ying wasn’t clueless—she just hadn’t thought that far.
Xie Qian noticed her interest was solely in the study’s decor. Such nouveau riche style—did the hamster’s taste really run that way?
Wang Jun had thought this through carefully.
To convince Wen Ying and Xie Qian to accept his gift, he poured his heart out.
From the struggles of starting his business to the joy of becoming a father, to the regret of neglecting Wang Shuang during busy years, he nearly talked himself to tears, almost overwhelming the two.
“You’re not at the age to start a family or career, so you can’t fully understand a father’s heart. The impact you’ve had on Wang Shuang, the help you’ve given him—last year, you saved him. My family and I are deeply grateful.”
Wang Jun paused, “Today, Wang Shuang turns eighteen, legally an adult. But I know his road ahead is long. Parents can’t be there forever. As he grows, there are things he might not tell us, but you’ll be his friends for a long time. I hope your friendship lasts. If Wang Shuang messes up someday, don’t give up on him easily. For my sake, give him another chance.”
A parent’s love plans far ahead.
Wen Ying and Xie Qian felt Wang Jun’s selfless devotion to his son.
Wen Ying sensed something off, “Uncle Wang, Wang Shuang and we are good friends. Friends help and forgive each other. He’s getting better every day, but even if he makes a mistake, as long as it’s not illegal, he’ll always be our friend. I can promise you that!”
Wang Jun nodded, gratified, but didn’t abandon his plan. He opened a desk drawer and placed two prepared documents before them.
This wasn’t Wen Ying’s first time seeing a share transfer agreement.
But it was the most surprising one.
Wang Jun was transferring 2% of his Tianjiao Film and Television shares to each of Wen Ying and Xie Qian.
After Yuan Fenghui joined Tianjiao, the share structure shifted. Li Zhentao, Qin Xianming, and Wang Jun had each given up some shares to Yuan Fenghui. You want the horse to run, you feed it well—Wang Jun and the others understood that. Yuan Fenghui’s hard work wasn’t just about pursuing her ambitions through Li Mengjiao; her shares tied her to Tianjiao’s ship.
Li Zhentao remained the largest shareholder, but Wang Jun held only 20% now. Giving 2% each to Wen Ying and Xie Qian meant a fifth of his total shares.
Tianjiao’s registered capital was only 5 million at founding, but a company’s share value isn’t based on that.
With hits like *The Princess’s New Clothes* and stars like Li Mengjiao and Yun Chen, if Wang Jun sold his shares, plenty would buy.
Were they worth 10 million? 20 million? 30 million? Without being listed, it depended on the buyer’s valuation of Tianjiao’s present and future worth. But that wasn’t the point—the point was Wang Jun giving shares to Wen Ying and Xie Qian!
“Uncle Wang, we can’t accept this.”
