The message was simple—only six short characters.

Yet it made the teacup in Ouyang Xianyue’s hand ripple in widening circles.

Her mother across from her immediately noticed the shift in her emotions and asked with concern, “Little Bear, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing.” Ouyang Xianyue shook her head gently, a faint smile lifting the corner of her mouth. “Someone…very important, is back.”

Hearing her daughter’s words and seeing the soft expression on her face, her mother seemed to realize something. Her eyes flickered as she ventured, “Is it that…Tang Song?”

“Mm.” Ouyang Xianyue nodded. “And he’s coming to Rongcheng at the end of the month. He’s going to come with me to visit Grandpa.”

“Oh…” Her mother’s eyes widened slightly. “He’s coming to our house? Oh my, I need to get ready right away! Do you want me to tidy up the east wing room? The one next to yours—good orientation, quiet…”

Her tone brimmed with joy and anticipation she couldn’t hide.

Ouyang Xianyue smiled and shook her head. “Mom, you’re overthinking. It’s not like that. It’s mainly that Grandpa’s been mentioning him a lot—he wants to see him once more before he goes. You know, he’s one of the few young people Grandpa has admired over the years.”

“Ah?” Her mother’s face showed a flash of disappointment, then she spoke more carefully, “Little Bear, actually it’s not just your grandfather. Your father and I…we also admire him a lot. We all feel this young man—his vision, ability, and character—are remarkable. We’re relieved you have such a…friend.”

“Heh.” Ouyang Xianyue chuckled. “You two have such wild imaginations. I’m thirty-six and he’s twenty-six—do you really think that’s possible? Besides, what we are isn’t what you’re imagining.”

As she spoke, she tapped the screen with her finger and replied deliberately, “Long time no see, Tang Song.”

After sending the message, she exhaled softly.

Even though she had already received a clear reply through Wen Ruan, a direct message from him felt entirely different.

She set the teacup down gently and picked up her phone.

Her fingertip slid across the cool screen.

The previous message was still from about a year ago—just before Christmas 2022.

Back then, on Su Yu’s behalf, she had sent Tang Song a message asking if he would be in Modu for Su Yu’s birthday.

That message had seemed to sink without a trace—no reply.

Just as he’d said when he left, he wanted to be more decisive than anyone imagined.

Come to think of it, she herself hadn’t seen Tang Song in a year.

Her phone buzzed.

[Tang Song: “I’ll arrive in Rongcheng tomorrow at 3 PM. Will you come pick me up?”]

Seeing the message, a smile involuntarily spread across Ouyang Xianyue’s face. She typed quickly, “Of course. As you wish.”

Her mother sipped her tea, watching her expression with thoughtful eyes.

Their family had only learned of the name “Tang Song” five years earlier.

At that time, Tang Yi Precision had just completed a crucial round of financing and technological upgrades, even forcefully acquiring a German optical lens company.

It had also secured core OEM contracts from eight well-known overseas tech firms.

It had become the hottest “white horse” in China’s tech manufacturing scene.

When they heard from their daughter Ouyang Xianyue that a mysterious young man stood behind all of it, they were naturally shocked.

But after using the family’s resources to run the deepest background checks, their worries eased.

Tang Song’s background was astonishingly clean—almost unbelievably so.

From three generations of ancestors to himself, everything was clear and verifiable.

He was simply a young man from an ordinary rural family in Yan Province with no special background.

And yet this seemingly unremarkable young man had stirred up the domestic and international financial markets.

He had built Tang Yi Precision, Smile Investment (the predecessor of Smile Holdings), and Jingwu Capital into the famous enterprises they later became.

More importantly, he was extremely important to their daughter, who had always held herself above others.

So important that Ouyang Xianyue had mobilized both the Ouyang family’s and her ex-husband’s family’s connections and favors to ensure his absolute safety within the country.

At the same time, he had been the only man she had remained close to for so many years.

As a mother, she couldn’t help but be expectant.

After a moment’s thought, she couldn’t help asking the question that had lingered in her heart for so long: “Little Bear, what exactly is your relationship now?”

Ouyang Xianyue cleared her throat, about to say something.

But then she stopped.

Her fair fingers unconsciously skimmed the cold phone screen as she drifted into thought.

What relationship?

She realized she hadn’t really considered it seriously.

Elder and junior? That was nonsense. Tang Song, while respectful around her, had never shown the slightest reverence. Their interactions had always centered around him.

Friends? Even that seemed insufficient.

Maybe…soulmates?

The term made her feel embarrassingly pretentious.

Her thoughts slipped back nine years.

At the time, not yet twenty-seven, newly married, her husband had died in an accident.

To escape the suffocating family disputes and to find something she could pour herself into, she had taken over the mess he’d left—the failing Xin Kaihang.

It had once been glorious but was now heavily indebted, a precision instruments company on the brink of collapse because of backward technology, broken financing, and fierce market competition. Xin Kaihang had been her husband’s biggest worry.

Though their marriage hadn’t been deep, as his wife she wanted to fulfill his wish.

Even after exhausting herself and mobilizing every resource to save it, factory shutdowns, staff riots, and sharply declining orders surged like tides.

For two long years, she was pushed to the brink.

She felt like a taut string about to snap.

It was under these circumstances that Tang Song appeared.

A nineteen-year-old youth with clear, clean eyes, yet possessing wisdom and calmness far beyond his years.

At their first meeting, he gave her an inexplicable sense of closeness, like a long-lost friend returned.

With his support and guidance, she pulled herself up step by step from the abyss.

Together they rebuilt the shattered Xin Kaihang into the vast, awe-inspiring Tang Yi Precision technology empire.

There had been countless stories between them.

Now she was thirty-six.

Seven years felt like the blink of an eye when she looked back.

Tang Song had once been cold and emotionally distant.

In truth, she had always wanted an honest conversation with this confidant—about Jin Meixiao, about Anne Kate, about his true future plans.

To warn him about certain people.

She had so many doubts and worries.

Over the years she had wanted to raise them countless times, but Tang Song in her presence was too aloof, too self-contained, too inviolable.

And Jin Meixiao was the person closest to him—closer than she was.

Many things she could not bring herself to say.

Now that he’d returned from his “walkabout” changed, could their relationship change as well?

Ouyang Xianyue didn’t answer her mother’s question.

She set down her teacup, rose, and walked alone to the courtyard.

In November, Rongcheng had long since lost summer’s heat.

The air carried a faint sweet chill left behind by the burned-off osmanthus blossoms.

In the yard, the century-old ginkgo’s leaves had turned fully yellow, like a massive golden canopy unfurled.

She vaguely remembered Ouyang Little Bear—herself as a child—tirelessly circling that tree, collecting ginkgo leaves.

She looked up at the high, clear sky where clouds drifted.

In the interplay of light and shadow, a radiant, spirited silhouette seemed to form.

From nineteen, he had already destined to astonish the rest of her life.

“Tang Song, you don’t know how much I’m looking forward to meeting the brand-new you tomorrow.”

Night deepened.

In a high-rise apartment in Qingyang District,

Lights were bright and furnishings cozy.

On the large white sofa in the living room, Xie Shuyu lounged lazily, bare, pearly feet crossed, her posture easy and relaxed.

She wore a simple white silk shirt dress;

her model-thin legs were striking.

Under cool-toned lighting they gleamed with an ivory-like luster.

She hugged a Chibi Maruko-chan cartoon pillow in her arms, a charming contrast to her current mature sensual aura.

Born in 1991, she had once been an anime fan—especially of Chibi Maruko-chan and Inuyasha.

On that point, Meng Ran and she shared much in common.

They had once promised that after making some money they’d travel together to Shizuoka in the Land of the Cherry Blossoms to visit the school that inspired Chibi Maruko-chan.

But now, their moods and circumstances had changed.

Meng Ran sat across from Xie Shuyu, holding a bottle of cocktail.

Her usually sharp face showed admiration and longing like a devoted fan.

“…Honestly, Xiaoyu, I truly think Ms. Ouyang is the real idol among our era’s female entrepreneurs.”

“She not only single-handedly pushed Tang Yi Precision to global prominence, she’s also made huge contributions to our country’s tech innovation industry…”

Xie Shuyu listened quietly and occasionally smiled, agreeing.

She knew her longtime friend had always regarded Ouyang Xianyue as her ultimate idol, even imitating Ms. Ouyang’s classic short-to-medium haircut.

Such a woman was indeed worthy of respect.

If Xie Shuyu compared internally, however, she actually admired Director Jin more.

Ms. Ouyang’s family background was so prominent—her maternal uncle was now the second-in-command of Sichuan Province.

Her success had been bolstered by that entrenched family tree’s protection and uplift.

Director Jin’s story, on the other hand, seemed more legendary—young, terrifyingly capable.

It looked like she had built Smile Holdings with her own hands in just a few years.

At that moment,

The phone on the coffee table rang.

[Zhao Ying]

Meng Ran cut off mid-sentence, leaning forward, her gaze sharpening as she lowered her voice. “Is that the deputy secretary-general of the Sichuan Catering Association?”

“Mm.” Xie Shuyu answered and put the call on speaker.

A warm middle-aged female voice came from the speaker: “Ah, President Xie! Sorry to bother your rest—”

Xie Shuyu spoke warmly, “Secretary Zhao, you’re too polite. If you need me, I’m always available.”

After some small talk, Zhao Ying got to business, her tone switching to formal.

“It’s like this, President Xie. Our association received feedback from several member units saying some of your new Weiguang Coffee stores’ fire safety and food safety permits seem to still be in process. We’d like to confirm whether you need the association to step in and help coordinate?”

Xie Shuyu’s expression didn’t change;

she smiled and replied, “Thanks for your concern, Secretary Zhao. Weiguang Coffee always operates legally and compliantly, and all store permits are being processed to the strictest standards. Since the association is so concerned, I’ll have our legal colleagues send you the progress documents for your records.”

They chatted a little longer and then hung up.

Xie Shuyu sighed and rubbed her aching brow.

This wasn’t the first time.

An hour earlier, a sales manager from New Hope Dairy—a company that had previously contacted Weiguang Coffee—had subtly mentioned Zhongshu Group and Coffee Talk Time, hinting at implications.

Zhongshu Group’s influence was like an invisible web, infiltrating every corner of this region.

And Chen Hao was using that web to apply pressure.

Meng Ran’s face grew serious.

“Xiaoyu, if you want Weiguang Coffee to expand smoothly in the Southwest, you can’t do it alone.

If you don’t want Zhongshu Group stirring things up, you must bring in a stronger investor—one with a complete ecosystem and absolute capability who can shield you.

Otherwise, as Weiguang grows, more troubles will come.”

Xie Shuyu nodded.

This situation was common in business—why healthy, cash-flow-positive companies still accept financing. It’s not just about money, but also about the resources, connections, and umbrella protection investors bring.

They whispered for a while.

Meng Ran asked suddenly, “When is that mysterious boyfriend of yours coming?”

“The exact time’s not set, but he should be here before the 2nd.”

“You really should talk to him properly about this. It’s not a small matter,” Meng Ran’s tone turned serious. “If he can put out forty million in cash to help you, he must have backing, right?”

Xie Shuyu shook her head. “I never asked about that.”

She was fiercely independent and liked the space they each kept. She had never probed Tang Song’s privacy, like his exact assets.

“You’re something else.” Meng Ran shrugged helplessly, then, thinking of something, asked tentatively, “By the way, where will he stay this time?”

“Probably a hotel.”

“How about letting him stay here for a night? Share a room with you.” Meng Ran’s eyes glittered. “We’ve been sisters for years—I really want to properly meet him and help you check him out.”

She was drawn to this COO Tang Song, but cautious because Weiguang Coffee was currently unstable. She wanted to meet this mysterious Tang Song in person to assess his real strength—he might become her future boss if things changed.

Xie Shuyu’s cheeks flushed at her friend’s suggestion;

she hesitated.

Meng Ran, seeing this, acted like she’d uncovered a bombshell. “No way! You two haven’t…yet?!”

Xie Shuyu’s eye twitched. She picked up her glass to hide her embarrassment. “Is that important?”

“Of course it is!” Meng Ran’s voice skyrocketed with disbelief. “You said you’ve been together for months. With your beauty, how can he bear it? Does he have some physical problem?”

“Shut up! Don’t say that!” Xie Shuyu lightly smacked her friend on the back. “We just don’t have time.”

“Oh my, I want to meet this Tang Song so badly—he’s like a saint!” Meng Ran sighed. Then she brightened. “Dear Xiaoyu, he’s your boyfriend! Isn’t it odd that you two haven’t even had a proper day together? Even when traveling, you don’t sleep together. Is that normal?”

Xie Shuyu froze for a moment.

Meng Ran had a point.

Their relationship was far from normal.

But if he came to Rongcheng, they’d certainly stay together.

At the thought, her outward calm remained, but her heart began to race.

“I’ll ask him what he prefers when he arrives.”

At that moment, Xie Shuyu’s phone rang again.

[Inspiration Design—Cheng Qiuqiu]

“I’ll take this,” she told Meng Ran, picking up the phone as she walked toward the bedroom.

“Hello? Qiuqiu.”

“Mm, it’s convenient—what’s up?”

“Lawyer? Are you in trouble?”

“Uh…okay, I’ll find someone for you and forward the contact later.”

...

Rongcheng Second People’s Hospital.

End of the corridor on the sixth floor of the inpatient ward.

Outside the window, the night sky was black and the city’s patchwork of rooftop lights lay below.

Qiuqiu stood by the window, her phone warm in her hand, lips dry.

She took a deep breath and dialed the number Xie Shuyu had sent.

“Hello? Is this Lawyer Wang? Hi, I’m Cheng Qiuqiu—President Xie recommended you. The thing is, two and a half years ago my mother purchased an 87-square-meter two-bedroom in Harmony Elegant Residence in Tianfu New Area, paid in full…”

She recounted, as calmly and objectively as possible, her mother’s purchase, the project’s collapse, the rights-protection scene, and the injuries.

Then she held the receiver to her ear and listened closely to the lawyer’s professional advice, occasionally answering with “Mm,” “Yes,” or “Right.”

As the main lawyer knew the situation with this year’s halted project well, their exchange went smoothly.

Ten minutes later she hung up quietly.

She didn’t return to the ward. Instead, she sat slowly on a plastic chair in the corridor.

Her mother’s condition had basically stabilized and she could have been discharged this afternoon.

But that woman, stubborn and defiant, refused to leave her hospital bed.

She insisted she had been beaten by the developer’s security and demanded full compensation;

she wanted every penny of the house money returned.

Qiuqiu didn’t know what to do and was afraid her mother might do something irreversible. So she had to swallow her pride and ask President Xie for legal help, to try to find a solution.

The answer was brutal.

First, regarding personal injury compensation.

In chaotic mass-rights-protection scenes, gathering evidence is extremely difficult. The best outcome might be the other side, out of “humanity,” offering one or two thousand yuan to cover medical expenses.

Second, and most fatal, the halted housing project.

Even if they took legal action and won, forcing the developer to return funds, the developer might be bankrupt and have no money;

they would only get a legally meaningless IOU.

The worst—and most likely—outcome: if the developer entered bankruptcy liquidation, banks and trust companies’ mortgage claims would be prioritized over ordinary buyers.

At that point, don’t talk about regaining money—the property might legally no longer belong to them.

She sat in the corridor for a long time.

Suddenly, someone called, “Qiuqiu.”

She looked up and saw her mother coming out of the ward.

Li Meihua’s usually sharp eyes were now clouded and bloodshot.

She sat heavily beside Qiuqiu.

“Did you ask that lawyer kid? Will we get the house money back?”

“No.”

Qiuqiu pressed her lips together and stated the five blunt words as if reciting a fact.

Hearing that curt reply, Li Meihua froze.

Then large, murky tears burst from her eyes.

She slapped the wall hard. “Damn those bastards! Those sons of dogs! May they be hit by cars when they walk out the door! All the money we put in went to medicine and coffins!”

She cursed the damned developer in the strongest dialect she had, her tears increasing.

Her voice shifted from anger to sobbing.

Other patients’ relatives and nurses passing by turned to look—faces showing sympathy, impatience, or scorn.

Qiuqiu instinctively shrank, her body trembling with shame and discomfort.

Li Meihua seemed oblivious, pounding the wall with her fists and repeating, like a grief-stricken chorus:

“He told me it was so nice! Said Tianfu New Area would be Rongcheng’s new center;

it’d make finding work so easy!”

“They said they’d build a subway next to it and parks! I saw the renderings—separated traffic, lots of greenery, even a little garden!”

“All five permits were complete! The building was almost topped out when we bought it!”

“How—how could it just disappear? Why would this happen?!”

The glares multiplied around them like needles in Qiuqiu’s skin until she couldn’t bear it.

The years of accumulated disgust, confusion, and resentment toward this woman erupted like a volcano.

She sprang from her chair and turned, shouting almost hoarsely:

“Who told you to buy a house?! Who told you to spend your money like that?! What house are you buying now?!”

“You damn woman! Everything you do is for me!”

“For me again?! For me again!” Qiuqiu’s expression edged to hysteria. “Enough! Everything you’ve done your whole life was for me?!

You went to work out of town and left me alone as a left-behind child—was that for me?!

You brought me to Rongcheng in middle school where I was bullied—was that for me?!

When my grandmother got sick and needed money, you clung to it and didn’t pay it out—was that for me?!

Now you’ve spent your life’s savings and it’s for me?!”

“This is two hundred thousand! It even includes my father’s death compensation!”

Li Meihua was stunned by her daughter’s barrage, looking at her in a daze. Her tears fell harder.

She cried and defended herself frantically, “Everything I did was for you! Do you know how I’ve survived since your father died? Just the two of us, with no home of our own, living by others’ mercy every day! I’m afraid you’d suffer like I did!”

She wiped her tears, her voice taking on a crazed insistence.

“Your old man fell off scaffolding when building a house in Rongcheng. His greatest wish was to have a place in the city so you could come live and enjoy life. I had no ability to keep it. I couldn’t—couldn’t even protect him. I can’t lose you too! This house was bought for you;

the deed is in your name, Cheng Qiuqiu. How could I have imagined it would be halted…”

Hearing her mother’s words, Qiuqiu froze.

Her lips trembled and every word jammed in her throat;

she couldn’t utter a single sound.