After finishing a plate of dumplings, Li Jichuan was so full he kept hiccupping.
Were Yunnan dumplings really that famous? How could they taste this good?
He wheeled himself into the living room with the empty plate and immediately spotted Su Pu sitting cross-legged on the carpet, arms resting on the coffee table, completely absorbed in the reports Li Jichuan had brought back.
Su Pu was so focused that he hadn’t even noticed Li Jichuan entering.
“What are you doing?”
Li Jichuan spoke suddenly, making Su Pu startle.
Under the steady gaze of Li Jichuan’s deer-like eyes, Su Pu sheepishly shrugged.
“I didn’t mean to scare you, but… what are you doing with those?”
Su Pu always seemed to know exactly how to push Li Jichuan’s buttons.
He lowered his eyes, pressed his lips together, and braced himself. Then, he picked a few files from the small mountain of papers, hugged them to his chest, and handed them to Li Jichuan.
Li Jichuan glanced over them but didn’t notice anything unusual at first.
“What’s the matter?”
Su Pu hesitated, then pointed to two sets of data on the first pages of two files—identical numbers.
But the stamped dates on the files were about five years apart.
Grasping the documents, Li Jichuan carefully compared them.
Su Pu then produced a third file.
The same set of numbers, precise to three decimal places—exactly the same.
No words were needed; Li Jichuan understood immediately.
Seeing Li Jichuan’s expression turn serious, Su Pu pulled out a neatly organized stack of files and handed them all over.
The suite fell into quiet, the only sound the rustle of papers.
After a while, Li Jichuan had verified everything and looked up. His face still bore traces of lingering weakness, but his eyes were sharp and cautious.
“How did you find this?”
Su Pu typed:
“Last night, I accidentally spilled a cup of coffee. While salvaging the files, I thought I’d seen the same numbers before. I guessed the pattern and compared several times, something felt off.”
Li Jichuan still held the first two files Su Pu had given him, noticing faint brown stains on the first page.
“I see…” Li Jichuan rubbed his temples.
Su Pu pouted, hurriedly clarifying:
“I didn’t mean to flip through your files. I just thought it was strange and wanted to help…”
Since being awakened by Li Jichuan’s weak groans the previous night, Su Pu had been tending to him tirelessly. He even made a quick cup of instant coffee for himself during a break—and accidentally caused this discovery.
He had merely thought that such exact repetition of numbers was unusual.
More importantly, he wanted to help Li Jichuan, even if his own efforts seemed trivial. He had come all the way, disrupting Li Jichuan’s schedule, so at least he needed to do something. He needed to feel useful, to have value, so he wouldn’t be left behind.
As Su Pu persisted in comparing the data, the cold remarks of others still echoed in his mind.
Some came from Zhao Qing, mocking him for obsessively comparing numbers by candlelight, calling him overambitious, pushing a hot face to a cold butt.
Some came from Su Hui, laughing at him as a “servant,” saying he was worthless and would eventually be kicked out of his shabby rented apartment.
Oh, by then, the apartment would probably be gone too—after all, it wasn’t his. Once the lease ended, the landlord would rent it out to someone new, and Su Pu would have nowhere to go…
But seeing Li Jichuan struggle over such small discrepancies, he couldn’t just stand by. Even if his efforts were futile or amateurish, if they could ease Li Jichuan’s burden even slightly, his trip wouldn’t be wasted.
Through his persistent efforts, Su Pu soon discerned a pattern—five years apart, the rose petal harvest weights were identical, precise down to each month.
However, the total production figures reported each year were the sum of multiple numbers, so the yearly reports submitted to headquarters varied, generally showing an upward trend.
In short, the same set of numbers had gone unchanged for about five years, deliberately repeated, while the overall production and gross profit continued to increase. This created the illusion of steadily growing output and profits.
Of course, Su Pu was an outsider with no knowledge of Li Group’s industrial structure—yet he boldly presented his findings to Li Jichuan, seeking recognition.
Would Li Jichuan think he was foolish?
Li Jichuan exhaled heavily, then smiled lightly.
Su Pu’s heart sank—so he did think he was naive and short-sighted… just as his mother had mocked him.
He was like a little dandelion, drifting wherever the wind blew, with no choice of his own.
“Su Pu…”
Li Jichuan finally spoke, his eyes sparkling.
“You really are my savior!”
But Su Pu didn’t quite understand the next sentence. Was it praise? Had he “saved” Li Jichuan?
Li Jichuan gathered the files into a neat stack on his lap, then called Anderson, urging him to come quickly.
His voice, expression, and movements all radiated excitement—visibly thrilled.
“Su Pu, Su Pu…”
Li Jichuan called his name, and Su Pu felt dazed. Somehow, it was the sweetest sound in the world.
After a moment, Su Pu confirmed:
“Will these help you?”
“They’ll help a lot!” Li Jichuan smiled, looking at him.
“Su Pu, you’re incredible! Maybe you should be the CEO—really, you found the problem’s root!”
Su Pu was stunned.
Ah—so Li Jichuan hadn’t thought he was wasting time. It hadn’t been in vain…
His effort had earned Li Jichuan’s genuine smile and identified a breakthrough in a problem that had him overwhelmed.
Su Pu felt light as if walking on clouds.
Later, when Anderson arrived, he further confirmed this. Anderson was smoother, knowing how to flatter Su Pu’s little pride.
He treated Su Pu as a hero, a key figure, a vital piece in Li Group’s development.
Su Pu’s ears flushed as Anderson praised him extravagantly. He knew it was exaggerated but still felt proud.
He was truly useful! This trip to Yunnan had been worth it.
Without him, no one would have tended to Li Jichuan’s illness or discovered the discrepancies in the files.
Su Pu was brilliant, he was useful.
Because the smartest Li Jichuan and Anderson both said so…
…
That afternoon, Li Jichuan ran a program, importing nearly twenty years of production data.
The results completely confirmed Su Pu’s discovery.
Fifteen years ago, the production line had started repeating past data in five-year cycles. Every entry matched perfectly.
Li Jichuan laughed angrily at the arrogance of whoever assumed no one would check, leaving numbers unaltered.
Yet everything still lacked one final proof—a witness to confirm that rose raw material production did not match the reported data.
Li Jichuan stayed at the hotel for two more days, then returned to the factory to see the manager.
The manager respectfully complied, taking him into the rose gardens.
“It’s autumn; the roses are past their peak, not suitable for harvest as raw material,” the manager explained.
“Therefore, fewer workers are here. The troublemaking workers you wanted to meet are off on leave; those remaining have little to do.”
Li Jichuan said nothing, gazing over the vast fields of roses.
Autumn meant the roses were past peak bloom, failing to meet the group’s harvesting standards. Only a few workers remained, collecting petals and fruit that hadn’t wilted, sent to nearby partners to make farmer-assistance products. All proceeds were donated.
Li Group maintained strict standards for rose variety and condition; even slightly wilted flowers were excluded from harvest.
Now, Su Pu breathed in the rich floral scent, walking joyfully through the rose fields. He loved flowers, especially roses—so romantic.
Lost in thought, he wandered deeper into the field.
Suddenly, someone grabbed his arm with such force that he was pulled across the field from one end to the other.
Startled, Su Pu instinctively signed, Why drag me like this? Couldn’t you just warn me?
The other person paused, then signed back: You’re about to dirty the field!
Su Pu realized something.
Everyone’s standing in the field… why am I the only one being told off?
Indeed, the little mute had changed—he now stood up for himself. Influenced by someone or something, he believed he was right and argued without yielding.
He simply didn’t understand why he was being singled out, as he was just walking through the field like everyone else.
But the other person was even more anxious, more indignant.
“No, you’re wrong!”
They signed and muttered, “This is Dianhong rose, different from others… if we don’t protect the soil and plants, next year this place will be gone.”
Su Pu froze, then looked around.
The petals here were indeed a slightly deeper shade than the ones ahead. But without careful observation, the difference was almost invisible.
“But… the whole garden is planted with Dianhong roses, isn’t it?” he asked.
Faintly, he felt the key to uncovering the truth had once again fallen into his hands.