Chapter 367 Why Has the Rothschild Family Come?
"Haoran-ge, why can't we tell my daddy?" Guan Jiahui had clearly overheard Lin Haoran's call with Hu Xuyong. Once he finished, she couldn't help but ask.
"Your father left you behind in Hong Kong to face debt collectors while he ran away. Don't you have any thoughts about that?" Lin Haoran smiled as he countered her question.
"He's still my father. What can I do?" Guan Jiahui replied with a helpless, bitter smile.
"If you tell him, he might think the debt was too easily settled and won't appreciate it. Would your sacrifice still be worth it then? It's better not to tell him for now, to keep him feeling guilty toward you. Once I take care of this, you won't have anything to worry about in Hong Kong. Isn't that better? Besides, as I understand, he left Hong Kong with his mistress, didn't he? Why bother disturbing their life?" Lin Haoran said lightly.
In fact, he didn't want Guan Shan coming back at all. Having Guan Jiahui here was more than enough.
After a long silence, Guan Jiahui finally nodded. "Alright, I won't tell my father."
That night, to repay Lin Haoran for settling her father's debts, Guan Jiahui devoted herself wholeheartedly to serving him, using techniques she had learned from videotapes, making Lin Haoran feel like he was floating on clouds.
The next morning, Hu Xuyong called to report that everything had been taken care of.
Not only that, but Jinjiang Finance had even returned part of the interest.
Lin Haoran didn't care about that little bit of money and simply told Hu Xuyong to keep it as a reward for his work.
Over the following days, Guan Jiahui stayed at the Shixun Road villa and didn't return to school.
After her father's abrupt departure, she had lost all interest in studying.
Besides, she was already a Form Six student, and there was little left for her to learn.
She wasn't planning to attend university either.
So whether she went to school or not didn't make much of a difference.
Since the Dark Guard team had not yet officially joined him, Lin Haoran had little interest in going to the company.
Trusted professional managers were handling operations; there was nothing to worry about.
Of course, Jardines Matheson was an exception.
But since the time wasn't right to deal with Niu Bijian, he simply let it be for now.
Besides, with a beautiful woman accompanying him at home and only a week to go until the Dark Guards' protection began, there was no rush.
Occasionally, he would take a private yacht out with a dozen bodyguards to go fishing.
Thus, even without going to work, Lin Haoran was living a life of leisure.
This was truly the life of the wealthy! Unlike those bosses who exhausted themselves working day and night—Lin Haoran had no desire to experience that.
While Lin Haoran enjoyed his vacation, over at the Atlantic Café next to the Oriental Cultural Hotel in Central, Henry Keswick once again met with Niu Bijian.
"Mr. Henry, judging by your beaming face, you must have had great success during your trip back to Britain," Niu Bijian said with curiosity.
"Indeed, Mr. Niu," Henry Keswick replied, smiling. "I have good news for you. I successfully persuaded the current head of the Rothschild family. They agreed to invest in Jardines Matheson and have even contacted the royal family.
This time, a core member of the Rothschild family will personally come to assist, and more excitingly, a royal prince will also accompany him.
With their involvement, even if Lin Haoran is unwilling to relinquish control, he'll have no choice but to give face to Jardines Matheson and the Rothschilds!" Henry Keswick laughed heartily, clearly very satisfied with his trip.
"So, Mr. Henry, what do you want me to do?" Niu Bijian asked, delighted by the news.
This meant that his position as Taipan of Jardines Matheson for the next two terms was secure.
In his view, Henry Keswick's promises were certain to be fulfilled.
Niu Bijian was still naively trusting, not realizing that in the face of real利益, verbal promises were worthless.
"Mr. Niu, your task is simple: keep Jardines Matheson stable and cooperate with our actions. Report any movements from Lin Haoran immediately. When the time is right, you'll know what to do," Henry Keswick said with a smile.
"Recently, Lin Haoran truly seems indifferent toward Jardines Matheson. He's practically let go of everything. Right now, the only department he's touched is Finance—the current CFO and most of the finance team are his people," Niu Bijian said, frowning.
Although he preferred less interference, Lin Haoran's total disinterest made him a little suspicious.
"Don't worry about him. Mr. Lin's time controlling Jardines Matheson is running out. Whether he's truly indifferent or secretly plotting something behind the scenes doesn't matter," Henry Keswick said dismissively.
"Alright, Mr. Henry, I understand. I'll report any developments to you immediately," Niu Bijian nodded.
November 18th, midday.
Lin Haoran lounged on a deck chair on the terrace, eyes closed, basking in the sun, feeling extremely comfortable.
Behind him, Guan Jiahui stood massaging his shoulders.
In November, even at midday, Hong Kong's temperature was only around 20 degrees Celsius. Even under the noon sun, it wasn't hot.
Just then, the phone inside the house rang.
Lin Haoran reluctantly stood up and went inside to answer it.
If only mobile phones were available, he thought. Unfortunately, in the early 1980s, mobile phones existed but weren't yet commercially widespread.
"Hello, this is Lin Haoran," he answered without checking the number.
"Mr. Lin, this is Governor MacLehose. I have good news. Remember I mentioned nominating you for a CBE medal? It's been approved, and Prince Charles will personally present it to you.
Tonight at 7 p.m., there'll be a small banquet at Government House. I hope you can attend. His Highness will present the award personally!" Governor MacLehose said cheerfully over the phone.
Lin Haoran wasn't surprised; Governor MacLehose had mentioned the nomination months ago.
What surprised him was that Prince Charles would personally come to Hong Kong to present a CBE medal.
In Lin Haoran's understanding, the CBE medal wasn't a particularly high honor—it didn't even confer a knighthood.
For a medal of this rank, it seemed excessive for a royal prince to personally attend.
Unless…
Unless the medal wasn't the real reason for the visit.
Although suspicious, Lin Haoran quickly responded, "Of course, Governor. I'm honored. I'll be there before 7 p.m. tonight."
"Good, then I'll see you tonight!" Governor MacLehose said before preparing to hang up.
"Governor, wait," Lin Haoran interjected. "May I ask who else will be attending tonight's banquet?"
"Besides you, Mr. Lin, there'll be Mr. Henry Keswick, Mr. Niu Bijian, Mr. Shen Bi, Mr. Amos Rothschild…" Governor MacLehose listed the names without hiding anything.
Lin Haoran was surprised to hear that all the attendees were British.
He was the only Chinese invitee.
Even Bao Yugang, the world-renowned shipping tycoon, hadn't been invited.
After hanging up, Lin Haoran sat silently, deep in thought.
Something wasn't right.
Moreover, among the names listed, he had heard of someone globally famous—Mr. Amos Rothschild.
Although he didn't know who Amos Rothschild personally was, he certainly knew the Rothschild family.
In fact, Ma Shiming had once considered starting his own business because a Rothschild family member was willing to invest in him.
The Rothschild family's presence in Hong Kong was highly unusual.
Even today, decades later, they remained one of the most powerful financial families in Europe.
Why were they coming now?
Unable to figure it out, Lin Haoran decided not to dwell on it.
He returned to the terrace, lay back down, and smiled at Guan Jiahui.
"Jiahui, continue. Your massage feels great," he said.
Although Guan Jiahui's skills were still a bit rough, her strength was perfect, and Lin Haoran felt incredibly comfortable.
"Alright, Haoran-ge. I'll continue," she said sweetly, resuming her massage.
Meanwhile, Lin Haoran closed his eyes again, but in his heart, he was already preparing for whatever surprises tonight might bring.
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