After Wu Dayong left with his secretary, Jiang Luo was alone in the hospital room. Leaning back against the headboard, he let out a quiet sigh.
Ever since he’d realized around the Lunar New Year that someone in his previous life had truly been helping him behind the scenes, Jiang Luo had carefully sorted through the network of connections he’d had back then.
This man surnamed Yu—Yu Dong—was precisely someone who had helped him, yet whom he had never met, and didn’t know in real life at all. When Jiang Luo had fallen ill years ago, it was Yu Dong who had found a hospital for him.
At the time, it had been another man—someone Jiang Luo didn’t know—who showed up in person and took him to Peking Union Medical College Hospital.
After everything was settled, Jiang Luo wanted to know who had helped him. The man hesitated for a moment, then said, “My boss’s surname is Yu. His name is Yu Dong.”
Back then, the name Yu Dong meant nothing to Jiang Luo.
Now, though, Jiang Luo wondered—was it Yu Dong? The person who had always been quietly helping him from behind the scenes?
Was it Yu Dong who had pulled strings for him when he’d been arrested over tax issues?
Was it Yu Dong who, after his factory burned down, had routed money to him through Juxiang Town and then through a private Hong Kong account?
Yu Dong.
Jiang Luo thought to himself: this life has only just begun. Maybe someday, he’ll get the chance to meet this man named Yu Dong.
The Li family finally sent someone.
It was Li Fengrui’s second older brother, Li Zhaozhen—about the same age as Huo Zongzhuo.
The moment Li Fengrui was kidnapped, Li Zhaozhen learned what had happened in Haicheng through intermediaries. But he didn’t rush over right away, nor did he tell anyone else in the Li family.
In fact, several days passed before he finally boarded a plane, arriving unhurriedly.
Even after landing in Haicheng, he didn’t go straight to the rural warehouse to retrieve Li Fengrui, who was barely clinging to life. Instead, he invited Huo Zongzhuo to meet him at the Li family’s own restaurant on the Bund.
That was when Huo Zongzhuo briefly left the hospital and came to the Bund.
As soon as they met, Li Zhaozhen rose from the sofa, walked over, and extended his hand. “Mr. Huo. Long time no see.”
Huo Zongzhuo shook his hand, exchanging calm pleasantries. “Indeed. Last time we met was in Taiwan—two years ago.”
“Please, sit.”
Li Zhaozhen was exceedingly polite, showing not the slightest hint of worry or urgency about Li Fengrui.
Worried? What was there to worry about?
They weren’t even born of the same mother.
Li Hui, the current head of the Li family, had had four wives over the years, not to mention countless mistresses. Li Zhaozhen’s mother was Li Hui’s third wife; Li Fengrui’s mother was the fourth.
With so many women and so many children, the fight over the family business had long since come out into the open. There was no way Li Zhaozhen would be concerned about Li Fengrui, who had only just begun to show a bit of promise.
When Li Fengrui got into trouble in Haicheng—and through Huo Zongzhuo’s hand, no less—Li Zhaozhen had learned about it back home in Taiwan and had nearly burst out laughing, ready to stand up and applaud.
Now, face to face, he naturally ignored whatever state Li Fengrui was in and focused entirely on catching up with Huo Zongzhuo.
After some conversation, Huo Zongzhuo leaned back against the sofa and said steadily, “About your family’s young master this time…”
Li Zhaozhen quickly waved his hand, stopping him before he could finish, as if to avoid making things sound too formal or distant between them.
“He’s young and doesn’t know better. Don’t take it to heart,” Li Zhaozhen said. “As for the rest, you don’t need to say anything, Mr. Huo. I’ll take him back later and have my father discipline him properly.”
“He won’t be allowed to come to Haicheng again either, so he doesn’t offend your eyes.”
Huo Zongzhuo nodded slightly. “He offended me, so I gave him a small lesson…”
“Ah—!”
Li Zhaozhen cut in. “What lesson? Just kids fooling around. Mr. Huo giving him a bit of discipline doesn’t matter at all.”
And just like that, after a brief exchange of pleasantries, Huo Zongzhuo left. Li Zhaozhen followed the people Huo had arranged to the rural warehouse to collect Li Fengrui.
“This…”
Seeing Li Fengrui lying motionless on the ground, covered in his own filth, clothes filthy and reeking, Li Zhaozhen’s secretary couldn’t help but feel shaken. Young Master Li had truly suffered—what kind of ruthless hands had done this?
Li Zhaozhen, however, was utterly indifferent. He merely waved a hand in front of his nose in disgust. “The fact that he’s still alive is only because his surname is Li.”
“If he weren’t a Li, if he weren’t one of Dad’s precious sons, do you think he’d still be lying here with a breath left?”
“Take him away.”
“And we should thank Mr. Huo for showing mercy.”
The secretary instructed the others to carry Li Fengrui away, then followed Li Zhaozhen out of the warehouse, puzzled. “Boss, does this Mr. Huo really have such a powerful background?”
Li Zhaozhen snorted. “What were you doing when you were eighteen?”
The secretary stayed silent, listening.
“School, probably. Dating? Rebelling and fighting with your parents?”
Li Zhaozhen said quietly, “That Mr. Huo you just met—when he was eighteen, he triggered the biggest corruption case in mainland China in the 1980s. From top to bottom, over a hundred officials of all ranks were taken down. Two were even sentenced to death.”
“And yet he walked away completely untouched.”
“You think just because he looks about my age, he’s from the same generation of businessmen as me?”
“You’re wrong. He came out ten years earlier than I did.”
“When I was still in school, his first pot of gold was already safely in his pocket.”
“In front of him, all I can do is be polite—shake his hand, call him President Huo or Mr. Huo.”
“The one who can truly sit at the same table and eat with him is my father—your President Li.”
Li Zhaozhen curled his lips into a cold smile. “That idiot Li Fengrui actually dared to offend Huo Zongzhuo on the mainland. If he wasn’t unlucky, who would be?”
The secretary was shaken. “That powerful? I thought the mainland had already cracked down on organized crime.”
“He’s not from the underworld,” Li Zhaozhen said.
“He climbed his way up step by step during the most chaotic period of business in the mainland after Liberation.”
“People like that are far more dangerous than any gangster.”
The secretary asked again, “So that’s it for Li Fengrui? What if President Li asks about it…”
Li Zhaozhen shot him a sideways glance. “Are you stupid? You think we tell him the truth?”
“If you tell him exactly what happened, do you think President Li will stand up for his precious son? Or rush from Taiwan to the mainland to demand justice or revenge?”
“You really think President Li cares about one son?”
“What he wants is someone to cover this up—ideally so that he truly knows nothing at all, and doesn’t have to bear any responsibility as a father.”
“Yes, yes.”
The secretary finally understood.
When the city gate catches fire, the moat fish suffer. Whether the fish live or die means nothing to those in power when利益 are at stake.
In the end, if blame were truly pinned on Mr. Huo over Li Fengrui’s case, how would the Li family ever do business on the mainland again?
Li Fengrui didn’t matter.
What mattered was business—the Li family’s business.
Jiang Luo stayed in the hospital for a full week, and to his own surprise, he actually enjoyed it—Huo Zongzhuo was with him every day, buying him candy, stuffing his pockets with snacks, sitting by his bed chatting with him.
At night, Huo Zongzhuo would even read poetry to him, coax him to sleep, and stay with him as he rested.
On the eighth day, Jiang Luo was discharged, lively as ever. Huo Zongzhuo personally drove him back to his old home in Su City.
“Mom—!”
The moment he entered the courtyard, Jiang Luo spread his uninjured arm wide.
His mother rushed over, full of worry. “Weren’t you in the hospital? Why are you back already? How’s your arm? How did you even get hit by a car?”
Being home felt just like during the New Year—everyone eating together, laughing and chatting. Jiang Luo even sat at the table playing mahjong, his arm still in a sling.
On a clear day, Huo Zongzhuo took Jiang Luo strolling along Pingjiang Road. Willow branches by the river were sprouting green buds, ripples shimmered on the water, and the stone paths, white walls, and gray-tiled houses melted into the warm sunlight. Jiang Luo found it beautiful—the kind of small-bridge, flowing-water charm unique to Su City. His heart settled, and he couldn’t help exclaiming at the view, “Wow—!”
“Damn,” Jiang Luo said, turning to look at Huo Zongzhuo. “What do you call this?”
Huo Zongzhuo gazed at him gently. “Clear waters flowing softly, drooping willows brushing the mist, pale walls and dark tiles.”
It was nice. They were seeing another spring in Su City together.
“By May, when the flowers bloom, it’ll be even prettier,” Huo Zongzhuo said as they walked.
Jiang Luo, one arm hanging in front of him and the other swinging as he walked, replied, “Then let’s come back in May or June.”
“Beautiful scenery is meant to be seen.”
As he spoke, Jiang Luo bumped his shoulder lightly against Huo Zongzhuo, just fooling around.
Huo Zongzhuo didn’t dodge, letting him撞 into him. He only said, “Careful with your arm.”
Jiang Luo quickened his pace, then turned around and walked backward, facing Huo Zongzhuo with a grin. “Come on—let’s go drink tea and listen to storytelling.”
“When I learn it, I’ll sing for you myself. Won’t even cost you a cent.”
Huo Zongzhuo smiled.
Spring in Su City—once something ordinary, the same every year—now felt almost unbearably beautiful, filling the heart with quiet joy.
In the hospital, Zhang Ningfu sat on the edge of the bed in his patient gown, holding a silver aluminum lunchbox and eating the lunch Xiao Lu had just brought him.
He ate quietly—silently, really. Beside him, his wife peeled an imported banana for herself, chattering nonstop. First she complained about how expensive bananas were—just bananas, not made of gold, how could they cost so much?
Then she griped that the food Xiao Lu brought today was too bland, barely any meat, asking who they thought they were fooling.
Then she muttered again, “Anyway, no matter what, once you’re back at the factory, once that dead boss of yours is discharged too, you have to talk to him about compensation!”
The old woman kept droning on. Suddenly, Zhang Ningfu hurled the lunchbox from his hands and roared hoarsely, “Stop it! Stop it! Stop it! I told you to stop!!!”
The car was on the road from Su City back to Haicheng. One stretch was unpaved, full of potholes. The car bounced, and the passengers swayed with it.
As they swayed, the conversation turned to the car accident. Jiang Luo finally grew serious and said, “The more I think about it, the less it seems like Li Fengrui was trying to kill me.”