Chapter 17

“What’s wrong? What happened?”

In the afternoon, the schedule no longer consisted of unified meetings and discussions. Instead, the Kangman representatives split into small teams. Industry reps and corporate executives, accompanied by Bailunting counterparts, toured major companies or industrial parks to inspect opportunities for economic development and industrial restructuring firsthand.

Wen Du stayed by Chairman Ao’s side the entire time, escorting him to the high-tech demonstration zone in the eastern district. Before leaving, she noticed Keqi was still lingering in the lobby. She silently prayed that everything would go smoothly and that the afternoon would pass without incident.

Keqi indeed had no need to head out for inspections. On their very first day, that dazzling tour of Chenxi had served as a practical examination of the tourism route. Every subsequent outing had powerfully showcased North County’s cultural and natural attractions.

Moreover, the tourism cooperation between Bailunting and Kangman was time-tested. Rail and road lines stretched all the way from Yecheng in Kangman to North County, and the infrastructure was still intact. If the two nations resumed tourism ties, there would be no need to build from scratch—just reopen the routes.

That was why Keqi and the other tourism industry representatives had gathered in the hotel’s conference room. They engaged in in-depth exchanges with officials from the Tourism Bureau and Transport Bureau, successfully leaping from the potential of cooperation to the specifics of implementation.

If things progressed smoothly, by the end of next month, tour buses from North County could cross the border into Kangman without a hitch, reviving the cross-border charm of years past. Starting with a pilot between Yecheng and North County, they could expand nationwide if the response was positive, with rail lines spanning east, west, south, and north.

There was just one caveat: free-traveling citizens did not include the Sern people. North County’s border checkpoints would not permit Sern people to leave, nor did they welcome Sern people from Kangman entering.

All matters under discussion in these talks applied only to citizens excluding the Sern people.

Kangman’s willingness to send representatives this time implied their tacit acceptance of Bailunting’s established protocols. Bringing it out into the open for agreement elicited no objections. Keqi assured them that during tourist registration, they would thoroughly vet identities and nip any Sern travelers in the bud.

In the opulent conference room, Kangman people and Homer people chatted amiably. They might clash on issues of “equality,” but with “profits” thrown in, they saw eye to eye in an instant—equality was precious, sure, but profits were priceless!

As discussions moved into the latter half, the representatives shifted into casual chit-chat mode, awaiting the return of those out on tours. Dinner would double as the farewell banquet, after which the Kangman delegation would embark on their journey home.

With time still to spare before the meal, Keqi, in high spirits, sidled up to Bureau Chief Ren with an expectant look. “Bureau Chief, your region’s wines have quite the reputation. I’ve sampled a few at the banquets since arriving, and the quality lives up to the hype! This visit has been so meaningful—I’d love to take some distinctive bottles back as souvenirs for my staff. Could you recommend a spot?”

He spoke a smattering of Balun language laced with Kangman words—fluent yet folksy. Dai Enrui, wary that Bureau Chief Ren might find it a chore to follow, smoothly translated it into pure, polished Balun and murmured it in his ear.

Even so, Ren Weitao couldn’t help but wince inwardly after hearing it. The VIP itinerary had been meticulously planned in advance, vetted step-by-step by the Foreign Affairs Office and Guard Bureau to guarantee quality and safety. Taking foreign guests to buy souvenirs wasn’t on the schedule, and getting approval now was impossible. It was up to him to decide.

He couldn’t outright refuse, so he took the roundabout approach. “We’re deeply grateful for Mr. Ke’s appreciation—it’s truly precious to us. If you and your staff enjoy it, we can deliver a selection to your company later for you to taste and choose from. I’m sure plenty of wineries would jump at the honor.”

Keqi waved it off with a laugh, his broad eyebrows arching cheerfully in that warm, forthright Kangman way. “No need! If you send to my employees, won’t you have to do the same for everyone else’s? You’re already putting in so much effort hosting us. Leave the gift-buying to me—just point me to a few cellars, and I’ll handle the picking.”

Ren Weitao’s face creased into folds from smiling. He thought, I never said anything about sending to each one individually—just some samples for you to try, a nice gesture!

Keqi made it sound so simple, leaving Ren Weitao awkwardly torn. But then he reconsidered: these VIPs had come seeking collaboration. Keqi personally selecting wines was an opportunity. As the head of Yecheng’s largest travel agency, he was a walking billboard. The wines he took back would get free promotion—and who knew, it might even lead to steady business.

This wasn’t some emergency—it was an unexpected windfall, a bonus from the Kangman visit!

“Absolutely. Any particular varieties in mind, Mr. Ke?”

…

Factoring in Mr. Ke’s preferences along with time and location, Ren Weitao phoned Xiangdun Wine Cellar and instructed the manager to prepare for their distinguished guest.

Though he hadn’t formally reported this impromptu detour, Ren Weitao did notify Ji Tingxi. As an officer of the Wei Investigation Institute, she ought to know. Director Ji raised no objections but cautioned Keqi’s accompanying translator, Dai Enrui, and the other planted personnel to stay observant and vigilant for anything amiss.

Xiangdun sat smack in the city center, on prime real estate next to a five-star restaurant. The place had character: walls of white stone accented with black wrought-iron railings and ornate scrollwork. Inside, the vibe shifted to warm wood tones. Neat display cases lined up rows of wines, illuminated by pinpoint lights that made the bottles gleam invitingly for shoppers.

The manager was primed and ready in the cellar, sporting the winery’s gold-plated badge. His eyes, sharp behind his glasses, gleamed like a brand ambassador ready to rave about their stellar labels to an international audience.

“Good day, Mr. Ke. How can I assist you?”

“Got anything suitable for special occasions, as gifts for employees and friends?”

“Do your employees and friends drink wine often?”

“A few do regularly, but most rarely touch it.”

The manager smiled knowingly, mentally narrowing his list. “Then, do you prefer tart or sweet profiles? What dishes do you usually pair it with?”

Keqi smiled inwardly too—he’d prepared answers for all this—but played the puzzled customer, furrowing his brow in thought.

“Not too sweet, but fruity tartness is fine. Mostly with red-braised pork or veal steak.”

Without missing a beat, the manager plucked a bottle from the upper shelf and pitched it enthusiastically. “Based on that, sir, we recommend this merlot. It’s dry, under 4g/L sugar, with a tart edge. Compared to cabernet sauvignon, it has milder tannins—easy on occasional drinkers. Aged in oak, it carries vanilla and cherry notes, perfect for pairing with steak, and a smooth mouthfeel.”

Keqi took it, weighing it in his hand. The dark bottle and shimmering liquid matched the pitch exactly—his “dream wine,” flawless.

“Any magnums?” Keqi looked up. “Planning a banquet back home. Big bottles would look impressive.”

The manager grinned in understanding. “Right this way.”

The basement level was a full-on wine cellar replica: vaulted ceilings, brick arches, rough-textured walls evoking old-world charm.

Compared to upstairs, the wines here were more profound—and the bottles bulkier: 2L, 3L, even 5L giants. The 5L ones dominated their own case, massive as supermarket water jugs. One on the banquet table? An absolute showstopper.

Keqi’s eyes locked on the big bottles. He pointed. “Pack four of the 5L ones, and sixteen 750ml merlots.”

A major sale—high value, huge volume. The manager summoned two staffers to select and pack in the back room. A wall separated the public picking area from the inner storage, stocked for easy retrieval and crating.

The small merlots went into classic wine boxes, but the four giants needed oversized wooden crates padded with foam to prevent damage. The staff worked swiftly, soon hauling the crates and boxes to the courtesy car at the curb and loading them into the trunk.

Keqi chatted with Ren Weitao beside him, his gaze flicking casually over the crates. Nothing obvious, but his pulse quickened. The switch in the back room was done—the crate held not giant bottles, but Sern compatriots bound for the border.

Everyone from their group waited curbside. Keqi filled the time with effusive questions about local wineries, drawing all eyes. No one spared a glance for the wine crates or the porters.

As the trunk slammed shut, Keqi’s peripheral vision caught the motion. His racing heart settled into a steady, triumphant rhythm.

Smooth sailing—they were safe!

“Safe travels, sir. Come again!” The manager stood at the door, waving warmly.

Mission accomplished, Keqi felt unburdened, grinning ear to ear. Even the manager looked better to him now; he slipped him a generous tip to toast their “slipped-through-undetected” success.

…

That evening, the banquet and farewell ceremony proceeded on schedule.

At half past six, the visit reached its close. Just as at the welcome, the hotel staff lined up in crisp uniforms outside the entrance, beaming uniformly as they bid the VIPs goodbye.

Bailunting representatives stood at the hotel doors, exchanging farewells with the Kangman side. Ren Weitao, as lead, shared final words with Chairman Ao. Confident in their hosting over the days, he grew animated, turning to gesture at his team behind him, conveying on behalf of all the warm invitation to collaborate.

But on turning, he spotted a gap: Ji Tingxi, ever punctual, was nowhere to be seen.

What was going on? Hadn’t she wrapped up her other duties?

At this hour, she should be at the entrance for the send-off. Everyone else was present—how proper was it for the Foreign Affairs Office head to be absent?

The atmosphere grew a tad awkward, but Director Ren smoothed it over. In a lull, he signaled his subordinates discreetly: “Get Director Ji here now. Everything else can wait!”

Wen Du had also noticed Ji Tingxi’s absence, a bad premonition stirring within her. Still, she persisted in translating the formalities. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Keqi’s translator, Dai Enrui, hurrying along the wall—clearly with urgent news.

Wen Du found it odd. In such a formal setting, everything followed protocol. No one should burst in panicked, disrupting the flow… unless it was truly unavoidable.

Dai Enrui was panicked, and as Keqi’s translator, Wen Du couldn’t ignore it. The woman approached in shaky mincing steps, lips trembling.

Rushing up, she ignored the curious stares from the VIPs and leaned close to Wen Du, whispering the report.

Wen Du had steeled herself mentally, but the details still unleashed an inner quake. She kept her composure, but adrenaline surged, veins constricting, leaving a pallor on her face.

Ren Weitao sensed something off but held the scene together, powering through his farewell speech. The Foreign Affairs Office director beside him picked up the slack seamlessly.

Finally free, Ren Weitao stepped aside and beckoned Dai Enrui over. His expression stayed cordial, but his tone burned with urgency. “What happened?”