The two of them headed back into the city from the coast, and Qi Ji was dropped off at the studio. The Bugatti Veyron was far too eye-catching for everyday commuting, so the driver who came to pick them up was still driving the Mercedes G-Class.
It just wasn’t Uncle Xu again. Qi Ji asked out of curiosity, and Pei Yusheng only said that Uncle Xu had other matters to deal with and hadn’t been in S City lately.
Qi Ji didn’t press further.
The beach was closer to Yuntu. Qi Ji had assumed they would send Pei Yusheng to the company first, but instead the driver took a detour and went to Lina’s studio before anything else.
Qi Ji was full of questions about that, too. Even early in the morning, Pei Yusheng clearly wasn’t idle. On the drive alone, his phone rang no fewer than five times—calls he couldn’t easily ignore—fragmenting nearly every bit of conversation he and Qi Ji tried to have.
Even so, the man still accompanied Qi Ji all the way to the studio, even stopping for breakfast along the way.
During breakfast, Pei Yusheng’s phone kept ringing, but this time he didn’t pick up a single call. He focused on eating with Qi Ji and even added a sunny-side-up egg to Qi Ji’s plate.
Qi Ji wasn’t dropped off until they were just one intersection away from the studio.
He went back to working on pastry designs and spent another full day busy alongside Zheng Hang. Lina still didn’t come in that day. Everyone else at the studio was already used to it, and no one asked questions.
It wasn’t until noon the next day that Lina finally showed up. When Qi Ji returned from lunch, the first thing he saw was a flash of vivid red.
Lina had dyed her hair back to a bright color. The fiery red looked like burning flames, paired with a dark green long dress—still her usual intense yet aloof style.
Qi Ji noticed that Lina’s makeup was back as well. The black tattoo line beneath her right eye was still there, and it seemed even longer than before.
Qi Ji didn’t have the habit of staring at people, but he had an excellent memory. He clearly remembered that the tattoo line used to reach only to Lina’s jaw. Now it extended to where her chin met her neck, as if another tear had fallen.
Aside from that, Lina seemed completely normal. Even the way she criticized Qi Ji was exactly the same as before.
If he hadn’t seen it with his own eyes, Qi Ji would’ve found it hard to connect Lina to what had happened that night.
After reviewing the first draft, Lina offered plenty of feedback. Fortunately, it didn’t need to be scrapped entirely, thanks to the many rounds of revisions Zheng Hang and Qi Ji had already gone through.
The overall concept needed major changes, though. As the project’s chief person in charge, Lina focused on the big picture and didn’t involve herself in specifics like color palettes or styling. The finer details still fell to Qi Ji and Zheng Hang.
They kept working on the proposal. Zheng Hang handled the incorporation of S City’s local elements, while Qi Ji spent more time liaising with the Forest Architecture Studio.
Over this period, Qi Ji had absorbed a lot of architectural design knowledge. Under the guidance of the senior architect mentoring him, he’d even personally worked on several interior design schemes. Though they weren’t directly related to tea-pastry packaging, they substantially deepened his understanding of the field.
And unexpectedly, among the designs Qi Ji worked on, one turned out particularly well—so much so that several designers at Forest were surprised and impressed.
Granted, the piece had been completed under the guidance of a professional architect, but achieving that level in such a short time was still remarkable.
It was inseparable from Qi Ji’s personal aesthetic sense. The forms differed, but art had no boundaries, and clearly, Qi Ji’s talent and foundation had been fully displayed in this design.
When they saw the work, the designers at Forest were first startled, then borrowed Qi Ji’s draft multiple times, discussing it among themselves. It left Qi Ji genuinely surprised.
The piece did have strong results—almost an overperformance—but in front of seasoned architects, it was still obviously not enough. To be honest, Qi Ji didn’t think his work was worth that much analysis.
After all, design was inherently subjective, interior design even more so. This piece had been created entirely according to Qi Ji’s own preferences. He liked it a lot, and others approved of it, but change the client and they might absolutely hate the style.
On top of that, the unit type he’d chosen was a large-scale layout specified by his mentor. The bedroom alone was nearly a hundred square meters. Even without deep industry knowledge, Qi Ji knew that clients with the wealth to own property like that would be extremely picky—there was no way they’d let an intern handle the design.
From the very beginning, Qi Ji had treated it as a concept piece. He’d carefully considered materials, construction, and budget, but he’d never thought about actual implementation.
Even established architects had finished works that were shelved indefinitely, let alone an intern like him.
Yet the seniors’ repeated, serious discussions didn’t feel like how one treated a mere concept draft.
Qi Ji couldn’t quite make sense of it.
About half a month later, the tea-pastry design was finally completed, and Lina gave her approval. In the interior renderings provided by Forest, the finished set looked stunning—good enough to become one of Xinghai’s retail stores’ signature attractions. It would also fit perfectly in the tea rooms of Xinghai’s various subsidiaries in S City.
After that, only minor tweaks and mass production remained, much more relaxed than the early stages. Qi Ji left the studio and returned to Yuntu.
By then, his internship was nearly over.
Before he left, since work happened to be light, the studio held a farewell dinner for him. Zheng Hang alone downed an entire crate of beer, calling Qi Ji “little bro” the whole time and turning the farewell into a one-man comedy show.
More people came than Qi Ji had expected. He hadn’t even imagined having a farewell dinner. With the experience from the welcome-back event at Yuntu, he handled everyone’s kindness without being flustered.
Even Lina, who didn’t attend, sent word telling Qi Ji to keep reading those Xinghai books.
After the dinner, Qi Ji returned to Yuntu.
But unlike the lively farewell at the studio, Yuntu was steeped in a palpable gloom.
The moment Qi Ji came back, he felt it. Although work continued as usual, everyone’s mood was clearly suppressed. Even routine nods and greetings lacked their usual smiles.
Such an obvious change meant something big had happened. Without much inquiry, Qi Ji learned the reason from his coworkers.
Yuntu had failed in its bid for the new R&D center design project.
Qi Ji was confused. Pei Yusheng had been extremely busy during this period. Qi Ji had assumed he was occupied with this very matter. He hadn’t expected Yuntu to lose the bid.
But the deal was done. The prime Feng Shui site at Shanhai Manor had gone to someone else. The company had poured nearly all its effort into the bid. After the failure, disputes arose even over the previously agreed backup plan, and to this day, Yuntu still hadn’t settled on a location for the R&D center.
Morale within the company was scattered. Even though work had returned to normal, people’s emotions were still hard to lift.
Even the carefully prepared tea-pastry hall was being ignored.
The design department was wrapping up its projects. Qi Ji was assigned some minor tasks, not busy at all, and finished them quickly. At lunch, Chen Zixuan was away on a business trip, so Qi Ji ate with Li Anbei. The cafeteria atmosphere was oppressive—most people finished in silence and left in a hurry, a stark contrast to the usual bustle.
Li Anbei wasn’t too affected, but the cafeteria wasn’t a good place to chat. After eating, the two of them went to the tea-pastry hall.
The spacious hall was empty, with only the soft hum of the freezer running. The long table was still filled with fresh pastries, but no one came to taste them.
Since it was still early, they sat down in a booth in the lounge area.
Qi Ji set his tray on the table and opened a bag of nougat. The packaging design was done, but mass production hadn’t started yet, so it was still in transparent bags. The manufacturer, however, had changed from Fugui Foods to Wonder.
Looking around, Qi Ji asked, puzzled, “Senior, why isn’t anyone coming here? Isn’t lunchtime usually the busiest?”
Yuntu’s internal surveillance only recorded video, not audio. With no one else around and seated in a corner, they could speak freely.
Li Anbei said bluntly, “Because this place was specially approved by President Pei.”
Qi Ji frowned. “President Pei?”
What did this have to do with Pei Yusheng?
Li Anbei took a sip of his zero-calorie soda. “Honestly, it’s kind of displaced anger. The tea-pastry hall was originally a headquarters plan. Yuntu just happened to be the first pilot, and President Pei signed off on it. People are unhappy with him, so this place got dragged into it too.”
Qi Ji didn’t understand. “Why are people unhappy with President Pei?”
“Because of the failed bid,” Li Anbei said.
Qi Ji hadn’t been around and didn’t know the details, so Li Anbei explained at length.
With the Jiang family’s influence collapsing, the bidding process was finally brought into the open. Even though the competition was fierce, after analyzing the rivals one by one, everyone still had high hopes.
Yuntu’s advantages were obvious. As a communications tech company, Xinghai was highly attractive to the local government. For this bid, the company mobilized all available manpower, with full support from headquarters, producing an exceptionally persuasive and nearly perfect proposal.
When news of the loss came, it felt like a blow to the head. It was hard to accept—some people even cried on the spot.
“Honestly… how do I put it,” Li Anbei thought for a moment. “The company was insanely busy before this. Overtime, all-nighters were routine. Plenty of floors were lit up all night.”
“Our department too. We revised the PPTs over and over, used every visual trick we had, poured in so much effort—and still lost.”
Even though Qi Ji hadn’t been at Yuntu, he could imagine it. During the time he worked as Pei Yusheng’s caregiver, the man did sleep a bit more—but even then, he usually only slept three or four hours before getting up to work.
But Li Anbei said, “Vice President Zhang was fully in charge of the bid. He stayed at the company the whole time and basically never left. His personality was still as strict as ever, but everyone respected him.”
“It’s just President Pei…”
Qi Ji asked, “What about President Pei?”
Li Anbei was about to continue, but Qi Ji’s urgency made him curious. “Qi Ji, weren’t you never into gossip before? Why are you suddenly so concerned about President Pei today?”
Qi Ji stalled. “It’s not that, I just…”
He gripped his ice cream cone and finally cobbled together a reason. “It’s actually because of desserts. I like desserts, and the tea-pastry hall was approved by President Pei.”
As he spoke, it even started to sound convincing. “And I was involved in designing the pastry packaging before, so I’m paying more attention to this.”
Qi Ji felt the explanation was logically sound and well structured. He even thought it made a lot of sense—until he looked up and met Li Anbei’s increasingly suspicious gaze.
“…What is it, Senior?”
Li Anbei laughed and waved it off. “Nothing.”
He’d only asked casually. He hadn’t expected such a detailed explanation. Anyone familiar with Qi Ji’s personality would start overthinking after hearing that.
Seeing how serious Qi Ji looked, Li Anbei didn’t pursue it further—lest the kid get even more nervous and stand up to give a full presentation.
“Anyway, where was I? Vice President Zhang and President Pei, right?” Li Anbei continued. “Vice President Zhang was running things, but President Pei never showed up at the company.”
Qi Ji had just relaxed when that sentence tightened his chest again.
Never showed up?
How was that possible? Pei Yusheng was clearly working every day—sometimes even later than Qi Ji. And at such a critical time, how could he not be there?
Remembering his earlier misstep, Qi Ji kept his doubts to himself.
Li Anbei went on, “Everyone was working overtime. At the busiest point, the top boss wasn’t around, so people started resenting President Pei. Some said it wouldn’t have mattered even if he were there, that he couldn’t have changed the outcome. But he was absent for too long, and people couldn’t get past that. Compared to Vice President Zhang, their impression of President Pei just kept getting worse.”
Qi Ji understood.
Even though the bid was a collective effort, the CEO’s presence at the actual bidding could be seen as a measure of sincerity. Not to mention the CEO’s role in overseeing the entire plan. It was normal for colleagues to feel dissatisfied.
Still, having personally seen how the man worked, Qi Ji couldn’t help feeling unsettled by these accusations—ones that had nothing to do with him.
President Pei wasn’t irresponsible. There had to be some misunderstanding.
“I actually think this has nothing to do with President Pei either,” Li Anbei said. “It’s mostly emotional.”
“You know the Shanhai Manor plot, right? It was about ninety mu, over sixty thousand square meters—perfect for an R&D center, maybe with some extra space. Our early proposals were basically built around that.”
“But during the auction, the government announced that Shanhai Manor, along with Qingpu Lake and several thousand mu of surrounding undeveloped land—nearly a million square meters—would all be auctioned together as one package.”
Qi Ji froze. “Several thousand mu?”
“Yeah,” Li Anbei said. “Surprised? Everyone was. Shanhai Manor is on the east side of Qingpu Lake—the best location in the area. That’s why so many companies wanted it. But now the government just bundled the entire Qingpu Lake area together. Who could even use that much land?”
“The company hadn’t expected it. Revising the proposal was manageable—the real issue was the funding. And the land was simply too large. No one knew what the higher-ups were thinking. When the news came out, people still hoped no one would win, so the government would split it up and auction it again.”
Qi Ji guessed, “But someone won?”
Li Anbei sighed. “Yeah.”
Qi Ji asked, “Do we know which company got it?”
“Not yet. It’s supposed to be announced this afternoon.”
Qi Ji frowned. “They must’ve gotten advance notice. Otherwise, raising that much capital on such short notice would be nearly impossible…”
A million square meters of land with a fifty-year lease—even in a remote area like Qingpu Lake, it would still cost tens of billions.
“Exactly,” Li Anbei shrugged. “Couldn’t compete with better-informed players.”
“So really, this isn’t President Pei’s fault. People were just exhausted, and the emotional whiplash after failing was too much. That’s why things have been like this.”
He added, “While we were working on the bid, some people repeatedly reported President Pei’s absence to the board. The board didn’t respond. After the failure, they changed tactics—collectively writing an open letter, gathering evidence of President Pei’s dereliction of duty, and submitting it to headquarters.”
Qi Ji hadn’t expected it to be that serious. “…An open letter?”
“Yeah,” Li Anbei said. “It’s already been submitted. They’re still collecting signatures—apparently they’ve reached one-fifth of Yuntu’s employees. Brother Xuan told us to stay out of it as much as possible. Qi Ji, if anyone brings it up to you, just say you’re an intern and don’t understand these things.”
A buzzing filled Qi Ji’s ears, unstoppable. He clenched his fingers reflexively, forcing himself not to show it, suppressing his emotions and nodding vaguely. “Mm… I know.”
The purpose of the joint letter was obvious. Xinghai valued employee feedback and never ran as a one-man show. On the internal forum, employees even posted suggestions directly to the chairman—and had received personal replies.
With signatures already reaching a fifth of Yuntu’s staff, this was no small matter. Headquarters would definitely take it seriously. Even if the letter went unanswered, once it was posted publicly on the forum, a response would be inevitable.
With this on his mind, Qi Ji found even sweets tasteless. He was distracted all afternoon.
Honestly, this wasn’t something Qi Ji needed to worry about. From the company’s standpoint, he was just an intern—any changes wouldn’t affect him. From Pei Yusheng’s standpoint, the man’s abilities spoke for themselves. It wasn’t Qi Ji’s place to worry.
Not long ago, Qi Ji had listened to rumors and negative evaluations about Pei Yusheng as if they were about a stranger. This time, though, he couldn’t remain unmoved.
He didn’t understand why.
The afternoon was still slow. Qi Ji couldn’t even bury himself in work to stop thinking. His senses were sharp; any related conversation nearby drew his attention.
Before he could steady himself, he overheard colleagues talking.
“Isn’t the announcement supposed to come out this afternoon? I think it was three.”
“It’s already 2:55. Hurry, check the official site.”
Someone else asked, confused, “What announcement?”
Others chimed in.
“The Qingpu Lake land auction results—did you forget?”
“Tch… what’s the point of looking? Isn’t it just depressing?”
“Still gotta see who snatched our dream lake.”
Since no one was too busy, someone opened the site to wait for the update.
As they chatted, someone pulled up photos of Qingpu Lake.
“I’m telling you, this lake is gorgeous. Shanhai Manor hogged it for years—you couldn’t even get close. After it collapsed, I drove there with my family and stayed a night by the lake. The scenery—my god, it was like paradise. Clear water, beautiful trees. Look at these photos—no filters. If it were developed for tourism, it’d rival West Lake.”
The photos circulated, and someone said, “Yeah. When we were drafting the proposal, didn’t we fantasize about it? If we’d gotten the land and built the R&D center, there’d be a shuttle from Yuntu. We could ride it straight there, tour the whole lake—it’d all be ours. How perfect would that be?”
Someone sighed. “Too bad. Such a beautiful lake, and now it belongs to someone else.”
“Shanhai Manor only took up one corner and still managed to monopolize the lake by blocking access. This time the buyer got the whole lake and thousands of mu around it. If they develop it, won’t Qingpu Lake be completely off-limits?”
“Definitely. If a single manor could do that, imagine someone with this much money.”
“Ugh, who took my lake? I really want to know.”
“Your lake? Keep dreaming.”
As they talked, someone at the screen suddenly exclaimed, “Hey! It’s out! The announcement’s up!”
“Quick, open it!”
People gathered around. The announcement titled “Public Notice of Land Transfer Transaction Results” was opened. Even the usually praised company internet felt painfully slow.
After an agonizing wait, the result finally appeared. The colleague scrolled straight to the bidder’s name. Everyone leaned in and saw—
“Jianghai Investment Co., Ltd.”
“Jianghai? Who’s that? I don’t remember seeing them in our competitor analysis.”
“Jianghai Investment? Isn’t that a pretty famous financial firm?”
The result clearly surprised everyone.
“A finance company buying that much land—what for?”
“Too much cash, nowhere to spend it? Buying land to stash gold bars?”
“Don’t talk nonsense…”
People were baffled. Qi Ji, standing to the side, froze.
Jianghai?
Wasn’t that the company whose seal had been used when President Pei signed his part-time contract?
Before he could think further, someone suggested, “Hey, check who the legal representative is. I don’t think Jianghai is even based in S City—why would they buy such a huge plot here?”
That information was easy to look up. Someone quickly did.
“I found it!”
“Who? Who?” everyone asked.
The person was fast at searching, but after seeing the result, he suddenly fumbled, unable to speak properly. “P—p—!”
“You idiot, who are you cursing at?” others laughed.
“No, no!” he hurried to explain, then simply turned the screen around. “It’s Pei!”
Everyone finally saw the name under “Legal Representative.”
—Pei Yusheng.
The room fell silent.
After a beat, someone asked softly, “This… this name sounds awfully familiar…”
“How could it not be?!” someone finally realized. “It’s President Pei! Pei Yusheng!”