Li Xunwen was taken aback, unable to comprehend what Gu Zhaoping was up to. Pressing fingerprints? Was she afraid he’d back out?
He glanced at her and asked, "What do you need my fingerprint for?"
Gu Zhaoping smiled faintly. "No need to be nervous. A wager like this requires an agreement, and biometric fingerprints add authenticity. Of course, if you’re uncomfortable, we can draft a different contract."
Li Xunwen’s expression turned incredulous. Signing a formal agreement over a casual bet during a variety show? Was Gu Zhaoping just bored?
But she was staring at him expectantly, and backing down now would make him seem cowardly. "Fine, let’s sign," he relented.
Assistant Little Zhao sprang into action. She carried a portable printer in the car and swiftly modified a template before printing the document.
"Boss, Mr. Li, here you go."
Before Li Xunwen could react, the agreement was thrust into his hands. He scrutinized it carefully but found no issues, so he uncapped a pen and signed.
Still wary, he eyed Gu Zhaoping and Little Zhao, sensing some hidden scheme. Yet, no matter how he thought about it, nothing seemed amiss.
"Two copies. If either party fails to fulfill their obligations, legal consequences will follow," Gu Zhaoping declared crisply as she signed. Only then did Li Xunwen spare a moment to glance at her signature.
Huh. He paused.
Gu Zhaoping’s handwriting—why did it look… pleasing?
Even with his bias against her, he had to admit it was elegant, the kind that naturally drew the eye. Clearly, she’d practiced calligraphy, and at a high level.
Li Xunwen felt awkward, unsettled by this unexpected discovery of her talent. He averted his gaze.
Losing the business challenge in the first episode had infuriated Li Xunxi and left her humiliated.
But with Gu Zhaoye taking the blame, it became a sibling rivalry. Now that Li Xunwen was stepping up for the next wager, Li Xunxi was delighted.
This wasn’t like business. Talent-based competitions were straightforward—you either had the skills or you didn’t.
Her brother Li Xunwen had a knack for chess; she knew that well. Since childhood, his teachers had praised him.
His mentor, Master Qi from the Chess Association, was close to their family and often commended Li Xunwen’s potential. With enough dedication, he could even earn a professional ranking.
Gu Zhaoping hadn’t provoked them outright, but her arrogance was insufferable.
Who did she think she was? Not some flawless prodigy, yet she carried herself with such unshakable confidence.
Another bet was sealed with the Li siblings.
Gu Zhaoping stood, and Little Zhao tucked the agreement into her briefcase, following her boss with practiced efficiency.
"Until next time," Gu Zhaoping said, raising a hand in farewell. "Looking forward to your performance."
Li Xunwen, still sulking, refused to acknowledge her, turning away instead.
He considered throwing in a taunt, but the memory of Gu Zhaoping’s composure during the bidding war drained his urge to speak.
For some reason, he pressed his lips together, swallowed his words, and walked off.
The siblings’ departure was almost hasty, skipping their usual posturing.
It felt like a retreat.
Once the crowd dispersed, Liang Zhiwei exhaled deeply, then fretted, "Zhaoping-jie, I’m not good at these games. What if I hold you back?"
"Relax, there’s a second round," Gu Zhaoping replied, unfazed by the first loss. Either way, their team wouldn’t lose out.
"Just enjoy yourself."
This was the first time someone had offered her a handicap. It piqued her interest.
The Li siblings were amusing, in their own way.
The two stood there, watching Gu Zhaoping leave without a backward glance.
To her, the show was just another task—neatly completed, then forgotten. The day’s challenges were mere pebbles on her path, effortlessly kicked aside.
Chu Yanze stared at her retreating figure for a long moment.
Then he turned abruptly, his gaze landing on the third group—and locking eyes with someone.
Su Yubai met his stare again.
This time, Su Yubai lowered his eyes, no longer watching Gu Zhaoping.
Chu Yanze found it odd. That lingering, almost yearning look didn’t suit strangers.
Did he actually know Zhaoping-jie?
"Su Yubai, our group’s having dinner tonight. You joining?" a teammate called out.
Su Yubai snapped out of his thoughts and declined softly, "Sorry, I have prior commitments."
The teammate sighed. Everyone liked Su Yubai—humble, hardworking, never leveraging his fame. But off-camera, he kept to himself, distant from all.
"Will you be okay for the next episode?"
Perhaps because he often played frail, tragic roles, the team worried about his health.
Su Yubai chuckled. Many misunderstood him. "I’ll manage. I’ve done this before—"
A figure flashed through his mind, and his smile faded.
No one stood by his side to guide him now.
"I’m not an expert," he admitted, "but I’ll do my best. Don’t worry."
As he left, he spotted someone else by his van—also preparing to leave.
He wouldn’t have paid attention, but the person froze upon noticing him.
Su Yubai looked up.
It was Chu Yanze.
Since everyone was looking at him, it was only polite to greet them. Su Yubai nodded courteously, "Hello, Teacher Chu."
Chu Yanze paused for a moment before raising his hand from across the narrow aisle, adjusting the brim of his baseball cap. "I’ve heard a lot about you," he said.
Su Yubai was about to respond with equal politeness when Chu Yanze added, "I really liked the role you played—the tragic white moonlight who died young."
Su Yubai: "..."
Though the character was indeed written that way, the phrasing made it sound particularly unpleasant.
"I love watching movies. Oh, by the way, are you also a friend of Sister Zhaoping?" Chu Yanze casually brought up the topic, then seamlessly shifted the conversation as if it were just idle chatter.
"..."
Kid, your intentions are a little too obvious, aren’t they?
Su Yubai suppressed a sigh.
After a brief consideration, he decided it wasn’t appropriate to say too much without knowing Gu Zhaoping’s stance. "We’ve met a few times," he replied.
Was it really just a few times? Chu Yanze’s gaze held a faint trace of skepticism. But then again, Sister Zhaoping hadn’t shown any particular reaction to Su Yubai either, so at most, they must have only crossed paths occasionally—nothing memorable for her.
"Oh, I noticed Teacher Su seemed eager to talk to Sister Zhaoping earlier. I thought you two were close," Chu Yanze said, his tone polite, but the words themselves were anything but. Su Yubai’s lips twitched.
Sister Zhaoping really did attract these brash young men, didn’t she?
"Not particularly close. It seems you know her better," Su Yubai replied with a smile. "Do you know Sister Zhaoping’s birthday? I haven’t seen her in a while and wanted to send her a gift to thank her."
Chu Yanze froze. He realized he didn’t actually know. He’d never asked—it felt too forward, and they weren’t that close yet.
But now that Su Yubai had framed it this way—implying that Chu Yanze was the one who knew her better—if he admitted ignorance, wouldn’t that be awkward?
After a brief hesitation, Chu Yanze said smoothly, "Why don’t you leave me your contact? I’ll let you know when Sister Zhaoping’s birthday is coming up."
He deftly deflected the question. Su Yubai didn’t press further, simply smiling as he took out his phone and scanned Chu Yanze’s QR code, sending a friend request.
Once in the car, Chu Yanze didn’t spare his phone another glance, tossing it aside.
He had no intention of accepting the request.
But wait—
Chu Yanze suddenly stiffened.
A gift to thank Sister Zhaoping? Thank her for what? Do you even know her well enough to be thanking her?
What exactly has Sister Zhaoping done for you?
Su Yubai, meanwhile, glanced at his phone but didn’t care whether Chu Yanze accepted or not.
His eyes lingered on the contact permanently pinned at the top of his list.
A - Sister Zhaoping
"Zhaoping" started with a Z, but he had never let Gu Zhaoping fall to the bottom of his contacts.
Opening their chat, he found no messages. Of course—it had been too many years. He’d changed phones multiple times, and no matter how carefully he tried to preserve things, some were inevitably lost.
He had never dared to check her social media either. It was like a fear of returning home—afraid she might have deleted him, or worse, afraid of seeing glimpses of a life that might hurt him.
He remembered Sister Zhaoping had a fiancé.
Had she married by now, under her family’s expectations?
Not that marriage mattered. Being by Sister Zhaoping’s side didn’t require a title. What he feared was her being so absorbed in her own life that she no longer had room to spare him a glance.
But judging by today, whether married or not, she didn’t seem to remember him anyway. Su Yubai chuckled softly.
For the first time, this long-buried feeling finally broke free. He tapped into her profile.
And then froze.
It was empty. No young male models, no wild parties, no extravagant lifestyle.
Just a single, simple post:
Looking for a private jiu-jitsu instructor and nutritionist. Contact me if interested.
That was it.
This was her life now?
Sister Zhaoping, were all those lavish displays back then just an act?
Su Yubai stared for a long moment before exiting. He opened his photo album, scrolling to the very bottom, where he unearthed a single picture.
A ski resort on the other side of the world. Endless snow and barren branches in the background. He wore a yellow snowsuit, while Gu Zhaoping stood beside him in bright pink, throwing up a "Y" with her hands, grinning widely with perfect white teeth.
He had been unsteady back then, clutching her raised arm for balance, his goggles pushed up, snowflakes clinging to his lashes as he gazed at her, slightly disheveled.
A passerby had taken the photo, calling them "cute." Gu Zhaoping had chatted effortlessly with the stranger while he stayed silent, fingers tightening around her sleeve.
Another photo—this one in a café. Gu Zhaoping sat across from him, flipping through a book, writing something. He had pretended to photograph their drinks and desserts, subtly angling the lens to capture her elbow and the hand holding the pen.
Her handwriting was beautiful. Perhaps only he knew that.
He didn’t have many photos with Gu Zhaoping. These two were practically the only proof. He’d always wanted to set one as his lock screen but never dared.
Everything he knew, she had taught him.
Once, Su Yubai had tried to ask about her birthday.
But she had said, "Don’t bother. I’ve been downplaying that day for years."
Worried he’d touched a nerve, he hesitated—until she explained, "I don’t like letting a predetermined date define milestones in my life. Age shouldn’t dictate phases either."
She thought for a moment. "If I ever achieve the success I’ve designed for myself, maybe I’ll celebrate that day as my birthday instead."
So Su Yubai understood.
Still, later, he couldn’t help but murmur, "Can I at least ask if you’re older or younger than me?"
Gu Zhaoping laughed, reaching out to tap his forehead twice. "Do I really look younger than you?"
Her fingers were cold, the touch lingering. Su Yubai ducked his head, cheeks warming as he whispered, "Jiejie."
He turned off his phone.
He wondered how Chu Yanze planned to ask her now.
People thought he was at the peak of his career, but those days at her side when he was eighteen or nineteen—that had been his golden age.
Jiejie.
Su Yubai mouthed the word silently.
I hope everything goes smoothly now that you’re back. May you soon reach the day you can call your "birthday."
...
Gu Zhaoping returned to the family estate. Seeing that it was still early, she spread out paper and practiced her calligraphy for a while.
Practicing calligraphy can calm the mind and soothe the spirit. Though writing requires some thought about structure and brushstrokes, it’s a simple kind of focus—one that brings her peace.
After finishing, she went to shower. While fetching clothes from the walk-in closet, something small tumbled out with the garments, clattering loudly against the floor.
She picked it up—a pair of ski goggles, well-worn, clearly cherished by their previous owner.
Turning them over, she spotted the initials "G.Z.P." engraved on the back.
So she liked skiing too?
That was nice.
Since arriving, Gu Zhaoping had come to realize that Miss Gu wasn’t as devoid of interests or talents as others made her out to be. For someone of her status, that would’ve been the real oddity.
She placed the goggles back in the wardrobe.
Only then did she notice the message from Chu Yanze, asking if he could inquire about her birthday.
She wasn’t particularly fond of celebrating birthdays, though it was still information worth remembering. Last time, she’d already used Miss Gu’s ID to unlock company documents, but she didn’t see much point in sharing this detail: "No need. I don’t like celebrating birthdays."
The other end seemed to freeze. After a pause, Chu Yanze’s typing indicator flickered on and off repeatedly, as if he were drafting and deleting messages in a fluster. He grew anxious, wondering if he’d misspoken. Did Gu Zhaoping have some taboo about birthdays?
Meanwhile, Gu Zhaoping was doing her pre-sleep meditation. She glanced at the screen and casually replied: "Don’t overthink it. I just dislike using age to define life stages. Birthdays don’t hold much meaning for me—they’re just an excuse for others to force social interactions."
Chu Yanze’s frantic typing finally stopped. The initial awkwardness faded, and his blush subsided as he realized how perfectly this response matched Gu Zhaoping’s usual detached demeanor.
She really was that kind of aloof person.
But then—
He froze.
Wait.
A sudden, unsettling suspicion gripped him.
Why had Su Yubai asked him to inquire about her birthday? Did he already know?
Was this about uncovering Gu Zhaoping’s birthday… or testing how familiar Chu Yanze was with her?
It hit him like a tolling bell, reverberating in his skull.
Chu Yanze jolted.
What exactly was Su Yubai’s relationship with Gu Zhaoping?
Her phone rang—Old Master Gu calling at this hour.
"Grandfather, you’re still awake?"
On the other end, the old man’s voice was vigorous but irritated. "Don’t even ask. That brat Gu Zhaoye has me too furious to sleep."
"I thought his years of entanglement with that actress were already disgraceful enough, but now I find out he’s been secretly seeing another woman! How are we supposed to face the Fang family? What do we say to Yining?"
Gu Zhaoping offered a gentle reminder: "Grandfather, with Ruan Nian in the picture, there was never going to be a good explanation for Fang Yining anyway."
Old Master Gu choked into silence.
…Right.
A strange realization dawned on him. Why had he previously dismissed Gu Zhaoye’s affair with Ruan Nian as merely unseemly, yet now, with Liang Zhiwei exposed, he was livid?
Whether cheating with two women or three, wasn’t it all the same betrayal?
The old man scowled, suddenly questioning his own judgment. What was wrong with him? Why had he never noticed this double standard before?
Was it because among their social circle, extramarital affairs were so commonplace that they barely registered? Especially for an engaged-but-unmarried couple.
Why had he never felt such strong disdain for Ruan Nian before?
Baffled, Old Master Gu muttered to himself, as if a veil had been lifted from his eyes.
"This is entirely Gu Zhaoye’s fault. I’ll personally apologize to Fang Yining and drag that brat to the Fang residence to make amends."
Amends were necessary, but—"Yining is quite busy these days. You should schedule an appointment before visiting her."
Old Master Gu paused, momentarily thrown. "Ah… yes, of course."
He wondered idly what Fang Yining could be so occupied with, but it wasn’t pressing. "Anyway, start packing. We’re leaving for Los Angeles soon—the flight plan’s approved. You’re ready, aren’t you?"
Gu Zhaoping replied smoothly, "Everything’s prepared."
After hanging up, she noticed a video Fang Yining had sent her. Scrolling up revealed a whole collection.
The footage was a riot of neon lights and pulsing music, the dance floor packed with gorgeous men. Fang Yining, right in the center, was dancing wildly, shouting, "Another round! On me!"
Gu Zhaoping didn’t bat an eyelid, replying with a simple: "[Thumbs up.]"
…
The mood couldn’t have been more different elsewhere.
Gu Zhaoye had dismissed his driver and assistant, speeding down the elevated highway in silence with Ruan Nian in the passenger seat.
Ruan Nian’s heart pounded. She bit her lip, scrambling for an explanation, but speaking first would only make things worse.
Finally, Gu Zhaoye spoke, his voice dark. "What exactly have you been telling people about me?"
Ruan Nian startled. "Zhaoye, I haven’t said anything! It’s just… when people kept saying you weren’t coming because we’d broken up, I panicked. I didn’t want them gossiping about you, so I made up a plausible excuse—one that made you look filial and respected in front of Old Master Gu. I just didn’t want them misunderstanding you…"
It was the best justification she could muster—framed as protecting his reputation. Yet Gu Zhaoye’s expression only darkened further.
"Nian Nian, I don’t want to ask this, but tell me the truth—how many lies have you told me over the years?"
His tone wasn’t yet harsh, but Ruan Nian’s heart leapt into her throat.
This was the first time Gu Zhaoye had confronted her like this. Once such questions were voiced aloud, a misstep could mean irreversible rupture.
At the very least, it would trigger a prolonged, bitter cold war—the last time they’d fought like this, he’d gone straight to Liang Zhiwei.
It was only then that Ruan Nian realized the gravity of her mistake. She had thought that throwing a small tantrum with Gu Zhaoye would make him cherish her more, but she never imagined that Gu Zhaoye was a man with endless options. If she didn’t cater to him, he would naturally seek emotional comfort from someone else.
Later, Ruan Nian switched tactics.
She couldn’t help but seethe with resentment, unable to comprehend how Liang Zhiwei had managed to win over someone like Gu Zhaoye—especially since, like Gu Zhaoping, she didn’t even have a system to rely on!
“No, Zhaoye, I’ve never lied to you. Why would you think that?” Ruan Nian said patiently. “This situation was unexpected, but I promise that from now on, if I ever need to protect your reputation, I’ll discuss it with you first. I won’t act impulsively again, okay?”
Gu Zhaoye, however, fell silent for a long moment before asking, “What about Liang Zhiwei? Have you lied to me about her?”
Ruan Nian’s face instantly paled. What did he mean by that?
She had called Gu Zhaoye over under the pretense that Liang Zhiwei might be planning to sabotage her on the show. Was he now accusing her of slandering Liang Zhiwei?
Did he really like Liang Zhiwei that much?!
“No, Zhaoye, I swear I haven’t lied. Everything I’ve said is true…”
Gu Zhaoye thought back on the events of the day. After Ruan Nian had called him over for support, he had run into Liang Zhiwei and lost control of his emotions, leading to the scandal with Gu Zhaoping that now topped the trending searches. If all of this had been built on Ruan Nian’s lies, then he had made a complete fool of himself.
For the first time, he began to doubt—had Ruan Nian been exaggerating or twisting the truth all those times he had confronted Liang Zhiwei in the past?
This was the first time he had ever questioned Ruan Nian like this, but the suspicion took root in his heart, lingering stubbornly.
Seeing that Ruan Nian had nothing more to say, Gu Zhaoye gradually calmed down and stopped pressing her. Instead, he stared coldly ahead and said, “After suffering such a huge loss this time, don’t call me out so casually in the future.”
Truthfully, he was so furious he could barely contain himself. Not only had Old Master Gu reprimanded him, but the whole incident had blown up into a massive scandal. And the worst part?
The fallout from this mess might expose his failed financing deal, making people question his competence.
He knew it had been an accident, but would others believe that?
On top of that, he had also managed to offend Director Hou today.
As he drove, Gu Zhaoye’s frustration boiled over, and he slammed his fist against the steering wheel, startling Ruan Nian. For a moment, she thought he was lashing out at her!
“I’m sorry. I won’t ask for your help like this again,” Ruan Nian said, swallowing her bitterness as she quickly apologized. Then, hesitantly, she added, “Should I go with you to explain things to Old Master Gu? We can tell him you were only trying to help me…”
Gu Zhaoye’s irritation flared even hotter. He couldn’t even bring himself to look at her. How had he never noticed how foolish Ruan Nian could be?
Old Master Gu was furious and had ordered him to reflect on his actions—did she really think he would take her to see him now?
All these years, no matter how much he doted on Ruan Nian, he had never introduced her to his family. Did she really believe this incident would be her chance to meet Old Master Gu?
Suddenly, Gu Zhaoye froze.
He was actually thinking of Ruan Nian as scheming. The realization only made him more agitated. No, that wasn’t right.
“Forget it. Stay out of it. I’ll go apologize to Old Master Gu tomorrow. He won’t stay angry with me for long.”
Ruan Nian finally let out a relieved breath. “Alright. Once he sees you, he’ll definitely forgive you. Maybe he’s just upset because he hasn’t seen you in a while.”
Gu Zhaoye merely grunted in response, no longer interested in continuing the conversation.
The car changed direction, and as the surroundings grew more familiar, Ruan Nian realized he was taking her back to her own apartment.
She glanced at him. “Zhaoye, aren’t I coming to your place tonight?”
This had never happened before. Gu Zhaoye had always been the type to miss her terribly after even a short separation, clinging to her the moment they reunited. Yet now, he was sending her home without hesitation?
Was he really that angry?
“Go on up.”
Ruan Nian looked at him with a hint of grievance but didn’t dare argue. She simply got out of the car.
Only after watching the luxurious car drive away did she suddenly remember—she still hadn’t told Sister Li about her dismissal.
Ruan Nian squeezed her eyes shut.
There was no avoiding this. No matter how difficult, she had to say it.
She pulled out her phone and dialed Sister Li’s number.
“Nian? I’ve already finished giving my statement at the police station. Everything’s fine on my end. How are you holding up? I haven’t had a chance to handle the online backlash yet—can you get someone else to manage it for now?”
Sister Li’s first instinct was to check on Ruan Nian, which only made Ruan Nian feel even more uncomfortable. The kinder Sister Li was, the harder it was to bring up the dismissal.
“This situation is really serious… Sister Li, the boss insists on firing you. Can you accept that?”
Sister Li fell silent, as if she couldn’t believe what she had just heard. After a long pause, she asked, “The boss is firing me?”
Then, voice trembling with disbelief, she added, “Nian, did you agree to this?”
“Of course I didn’t,” Ruan Nian said. Sister Li’s tension eased slightly, touched by her words—until Ruan Nian continued, “But the boss is adamant. He says we have to let you go to appease the public. I can’t defy him. You should resign on your own terms.”
“I don’t want this to get ugly. Being fired would be humiliating. After all these years together, this is the last bit of dignity I can give you.”
As Ruan Nian kept talking, Sister Li felt like the world had gone silent.
What did this mean? How was this possible?
Ruan Nian was the company’s golden goose, their biggest moneymaker. If she had stood her ground, the boss would never have pushed her this far. Even with the scandal, Ruan Nian wasn’t even directly involved—was Sister Li just being used as a scapegoat?
And what was this about resigning to avoid being fired? At her level, a formal termination would come with a hefty severance package! Plus, a black mark on her record wouldn’t even affect her—Sister Li’s reputation in the industry was solid. But if she resigned voluntarily, she’d get nothing!
At this moment, Sister Li suddenly realized—why was she so actively thinking about these things? Shouldn’t she be shocked by Ruan Nian’s heartlessness right now?
Sister Li remained silent for a long while before finally asking, "Nian Nian, did you really never consider pleading with the boss for me? You know we’ve worked together for so many years. If I’m suddenly replaced, your work will be affected."
Ruan Nian, of course, knew this. But she no longer wanted to stir up any conflict with the boss.
Besides, only by firing Sister Li could she give the fans an explanation, completely shifting the blame away. She still needed to clarify that gathering the fans wasn’t her doing.
"Sister Li, I understand how long you’ve worked for our company. But don’t worry, I’ll keep striving forward and won’t let you down. I believe you’ll see me reach the top of the entertainment industry one day."
Sister Li listened quietly, not saying a word. But her hands trembled faintly before gradually stilling again.
It was as if a bucket of icy water had been poured over her, chilling her to the bone.
Only now did she truly understand—Ruan Nian had never once considered fighting for her in front of the boss.
In a daze, she suddenly felt a clarity wash over her. What had she been working so hard for all these years, supporting Ruan Nian with everything she had? Was it really just to see Ruan Nian rise to the top of the entertainment world?
Even now, Ruan Nian was still talking about fulfilling her expectations. But had Sister Li’s unconditional devotion truly been about that?
Her mind felt submerged in ice-cold water, a sudden, numbing calm settling over her.
She had once treated Ruan Nian like her own daughter—no, even better than most mothers would.
But now, it all seemed meaningless.
Whether from Ruan Nian’s perspective or her own, none of it mattered anymore.
No one else would ever be willing to take the fall for Ruan Nian so unconditionally.
Sister Li suddenly laughed. "Alright, Nian Nian."
"Let’s meet again someday. If you see me somewhere else, don’t be too surprised."
Ruan Nian frowned. Though she did feel reluctant to let Sister Li go, things had already come to this. She could only say, "I won’t be, Sister Li. I’ll keep working hard and achieve my dreams."
After hanging up, Sister Li simply chuckled to herself.
She pulled up her contacts and scrolled to a number she hadn’t called in years.
"Does your offer from a few years ago—to poach me—still stand?"
The person on the other end paused before replying, "Of course."
"What made you change your mind? Back then, you turned down such a high salary just to stay loyal to that stingy company."
Sister Li didn’t answer. But anyone in the industry would recognize the voice—it belonged to the rival entertainment giant, the direct competitor of Ruan Nian’s company.
"By the way, I heard your company is planning to acquire another small agency recently. Isn’t Liang Zhiwei signed under them?"
"Yeah, why the sudden interest in Liang Zhiwei?"
"Nothing much. Just thought I’d mention that we’ll be colleagues soon." Sister Li spoke casually. "Oh, and I happen to be very good at managing artists like her."
...
Early the next morning, Gu Zhaoye woke up in a foul mood. The weight of so many troubles had kept him from sleeping well, leaving faint dark circles under his eyes.
He hurriedly washed up, changed clothes, and fastened his coat as he descended the stairs, ready to leave.
Today, he was visiting his grandfather at the sanatorium.
But when he arrived at the gates, the security guard who usually let him pass without question didn’t open them. Instead, he was made to wait.
Then, someone approached and politely informed him, "Apologies, Second Young Master, but you’ll have to turn back. The Old Master isn’t here today."
Gu Zhaoye was baffled. His grandfather had no other engagements recently—aside from an upcoming summit, but he wouldn’t have left so early. And if he had, wouldn’t he have notified the Gu family?
He usually stayed at the sanatorium and never went anywhere else. The only possibility Gu Zhaoye could think of was that he’d gone to play chess with a friend.
"I have something important to discuss with Grandfather. Please inform him for me."
Gu Zhaoye suppressed his irritation as he spoke.
But the guard’s expression remained unmoved, his smile perfectly polite yet unyielding. "I’m sorry, Second Young Master, but the Old Master is no longer in the country. He’s likely on a flight right now, and we can’t reach him."
Gu Zhaoye froze, his face darkening instantly. "What? On a flight?"
A terrible suspicion rose in his mind, and he demanded sharply, "Where did Grandfather go?"
