26: Chapter 26 Shen Wanqing's Thoughts
On the other side of the world, the hustle and bustle of New York continued in a more international fashion.
After their diplomatic protests failed to achieve the desired results, the Spanish Government predictably took legal action.
The formal notice forwarded by Samuel Colt indicated that the Spanish Government had submitted a complaint through its legal representatives to the United States District Court for the District of Rhode Island, asserting ownership of the san antonio treasure, requesting that the court enjoin the auction, and adjudicate the treasure to Spain.
"Their core arguments remain the same," Colt analyzed for President Chen Ran during their video conference, with a bookshelf filled with heavy legal tomes behind him. "First, they insist that the san antonio belongs to Spain's historical and cultural heritage, and that its ownership has not been abandoned with the passage of time;
Second, they question the absolute nature of the high seas status of our salvage site, implying it might be close to their historical jurisdiction.
Additionally, they have roped in that Cultural Heritage Protection Foundation, attempting to exert pressure through moral grounds and international public opinion."
President Chen Ran looked at Colt's calm face on the screen. "What about our preparations?"
"Very thorough," Colt said, pushing up his glasses. "Regarding the evidence of the shipwreck's status as a private merchant vessel, we have added copies of the insurance claim records from the time of the wreck, found at the Netherlands Maritime Museum, which further prove its commercial nature.
Regarding the high seas coordinates, we have hired three internationally recognized authorities on maritime law who have prepared detailed academic reports and analyses, confirming that the coordinate point is undoubtedly located outside the jurisdiction of any country.
Regarding the non-abandonment of ownership, we have collected and organized historical materials showing that since the 18th century, the Spanish Government has never organized any recorded, or even the most preliminary, search operation for the ship. This will strongly support the argument for presumed abandonment."
He paused and continued, "The court has scheduled the preliminary hearing for next week.
This is a tough battle, but it is also one we must win, and one we are very confident of winning.
If we win, not only can we completely clear the legal obstacles for the auction, but we can also establish a precedent that will be extremely favorable for our future actions."
"You have full authority; do you need me to appear in court?" President Chen Ran asked.
"It doesn't seem necessary at the moment. The preliminary hearing is mainly for both sides to state their positions and exchange evidence.
The final trial stage is when you might truly need to be present, but the Colt team is confident in establishing a sufficient advantage early on to force the other side to settle or withdraw the lawsuit." Colt's confidence stemmed from absolute professional competence.
"Good." President Chen Ran nodded. He had no doubt about Colt's ability.
Ending the call, President Chen Ran walked to the window.
The autumn sky in Providence was high and vast, with a few clouds drifting lazily.
The street below was quiet, with vehicles passing by occasionally.
But beneath this calm lay the undercurrents of legal confrontation, global attention, and the initial busyness of building a vast wealth empire.
He thought of Shen Wanqing.
The woman who sat quietly reading on a bench by West Lake, who encountered harassment at ten thousand meters in the air, and whose temperament was as pure and beautiful as a lotus.
He wondered how her academic conference in New York was going.
They hadn't been in contact since they parted ways at the airport that day.
The black card he had given her lay quietly in her wallet, like a silent promise and also like an invisible boundary.
At this moment, in a quiet café near Columbia University on the Upper West Side of New York, Shen Wanqing was sitting by the window.
Her laptop was open in front of her, with an abstract for a conference paper that needed revision on the screen, but she had been staring at the same line for nearly ten minutes, her gaze unfocused.
Outside the window was a typical New York street scene; pedestrians hurried by, and autumn was deepening.
Her thoughts, however, had drifted far away.
President Chen Ran.
That name, along with the globally sensational press conference, his steady figure at the conference, his lawyer's sharp counterattack, and earlier, the scene on the plane where he had acted decisively and his words had been like a blade, repeatedly intertwined and surfaced in her mind.
Did she have feelings for him?
Shen Wanqing gently stirred the herbal tea in her cup that had long since gone cold, facing her own heart candidly.
Yes, she did.
That feeling stemmed from his timely rescue when they first met by West Lake and that sense of calm that seemed at odds with the surrounding noise.
It stemmed from the back he presented when he stood in front of her without hesitation on the plane, and that sentence that made her heartstrings tremble slightly: "Stand up, I didn't tell you to kneel."
It also stemmed from the composure and subtle edge that revealed itself in his speech and manner, which seemed beyond his years.
Was he humorous?
Perhaps a little, but that humor was restrained, hidden behind plain words.
Was he handsome?
Yes, with a tall, upright figure and regular features, especially those eyes—like deep pools when calm, and like cold stars when sharp.
At 180 centimeters tall, it was hard to ignore him wherever he stood.
However, this feeling seemed to stop at just that—a feeling.
Like the shallow ripples stirred by the first breeze when the lake ice thawed in early spring—clear, slightly cool, not yet gathered into a rushing stream, and certainly not yet brewed into a surging spring tide.
Falling in love?
It didn't seem to have reached that point yet.
They had only met three times in total.
Once at West Lake, once on the plane, and once at the airport when they parted in a hurry.
Each meeting was accompanied by accidents and conflicts; they hadn't even had the chance to chat, have a meal, or take a walk like normal people.
Most of her understanding of him came from the explosive news of the past few days.
Deep-sea treasure hunting, billions in wealth, international lawsuits... what these words constructed was a legendary, distant "President Chen Ran" shrouded in a massive halo and complex background, not the concrete young man who would smile at her by West Lake or hand her a card on the plane.
Shen Wanqing came from a scholarly family; her father, Shen Boyuan, was a professor at a well-known university in Hangzhou, steeped in Neo-Confucianism, rigorous in scholarship, and upright in family character.
She had been influenced since childhood by the Confucian classics, poetry, calligraphy, and painting, by "restraining oneself and returning to propriety," and by the principle of "a gentleman being cautious when alone."
Her world was quiet, orderly, and filled with the ink fragrance of old papers and the vibration of zither strings.
Whereas President Chen Ran's world was the darkness of the deep sea and the blinding glare of gold, the maneuvering of international courts and the pursuit of global media, the immense power and risks brought by a strong security team and vast wealth.
These two worlds were too different.
So different that she instinctively felt a hint of alienation and uncertainty.
She admired his courage and sense of responsibility, respected the calm he seemed to maintain in the face of immense wealth and fame—at least that's how it appeared in the news—and even felt a sense of gratification at the professionalism and toughness his lawyer showed when refuting the Spanish counselor at the press conference.
But this admiration, respect, and gratification seemed to be separated by something from the kind of romantic stirring between a man and a woman—that desire to get closer, to share each other's lives.
Perhaps it was because there were too many secrets shrouding him.
Perhaps it was her own overly cautious and slow-to-warm personality.
Perhaps, it was simply that the time and opportunity had not yet arrived.
Shen Wanqing sighed softly, pulled back her drifting thoughts, and refocused her gaze on the computer screen.
The conference paper still needed revisions, and there was a seminar on Dunhuang manuscript restoration techniques to attend in the afternoon.
That was the real, concrete life she should be putting her energy into right now.
She picked up the herbal tea and took a sip, the slightly bitter taste melting on the tip of her tongue.
Her fingers unconsciously touched the wallet on the edge of the table; the hard edge of the black card inside transmitted a clear tactile sensation through the leather.
"If you encounter trouble in the United States, the dangerous kind, you can contact me."
His voice seemed to ring in her ears again, calm, yet carrying a power that made people feel at ease.
Shen Wanqing lowered her eyelids, her long eyelashes casting a small, soft shadow beneath her lids.
She pushed her wallet further inside and closed the browser tab on her computer about the news on President Chen Ran.
Outside the window, the New York sky remained high and vast. Her mood also gradually calmed down, like lake water gradually settling in autumn.
Some ripples, let them just exist quietly.
There was no need to rush to explore the depth of the lake center, nor to worry about which direction the wind would blow from next.
Life has its own rhythm, and as for the threads of fate, who can say for sure what kind of pattern they will eventually weave?
She packed up her things, stood up, left the café, and her slender figure merged into the flow of people on the streets of New York, walking in the direction of Columbia University.
The wind brushed a stray hair from her cheek, and in the autumn sunlight, her profile appeared exceptionally serene and elegant.