Zhao Mingshi’s expression remained indifferent, a faint smile on his lips. “I’ve explained before—when I was young, I didn’t understand. Emotional debts, that’s all.”
“Forget it. A few hits from a woman are nothing.”
Then he tested the waters: “Are you talking about that Jiang Luo we ran into at the golf course last time? What happened to him? You keep talking about him.”
One of the young heirs leaned in, whispering: “He’s gay.”
…
Zhao Guangyuan arranged to meet Huo Zongzuo at a coffee shop.
As a leader, the fact that he didn’t call Huo Zongzuo to his office but instead chose a casual public spot spoke volumes—he was deliberately showing humility, not flaunting authority.
At this moment, Zhao Guangyuan’s expression was solemn, tinged with visible anxiety, clearly concerned about the recent banquet—the words that had played out over the speakers, every phrase he had heard clearly.
Shocking? Naturally.
Unexpected? Not really.
Years ago, after a heart attack, he had had a dream during recovery—one part of which involved Jiang Luo’s homosexuality being exposed.
Over the years, Zhao Guangyuan never forgot that dream, its details, or the phone call in the dream informing him that Jiang Luo had died alone in Beijing.
Thinking of it now filled him with deep sadness—the dream had felt less like a dream and more like an actual event.
Now, remembering that dream, Zhao Guangyuan felt a heaviness in his chest. He took a sip of coffee; the bitterness spread on his tongue, but it couldn’t compare to the anxiety and unease in his heart.
When Huo Zongzuo arrived and sat across from him, Zhao Guangyuan’s thoughts were drawn back to reality, and the inner unrest and blockage seemed to ebb away.
“I wanted to ask you…”
He paused, originally intending to be direct, but thinking of Jiang Luo, he softened: “I mean no other intent. I just want to know—does Jiang Luo feel happy being with you?”
He wasn’t concerned with gay or straight, nor was he particularly progressive. He simply lacked the energy to care.
“He does.”
Huo Zongzuo didn’t waste words. When asked, he replied straightforwardly: “In these past few years with me, Jiang Luo has been very happy. I am, too.”
Huo Zongzuo met Zhao Guangyuan’s gaze, calm, unashamed.
For him, the word “homosexual” was not a crime.
He and Jiang Luo weren’t having a secret affair; there was nothing he couldn’t face Zhao Guangyuan with.
It was Zhao Guangyuan who looked away, lowering his eyes, silent for a while before nodding: “That’s good.”
Then he raised his gaze and met Huo Zongzuo’s eyes: “How long have you been together?”
Huo Zongzuo: “Since 1991.”
So long.
Zhao Guangyuan: “Does he like you?”
Huo Zongzuo: “Of course. I love him too.”
Zhao Guangyuan nodded and said no more, only: “Your relationship has been exposed. In the future…”
Huo Zongzuo interrupted, calmly and confidently: “Rest assured. Jiang Luo has absolute priority with me. I value him above all else—above anyone, anything.”
Hearing this, Zhao Guangyuan remained silent for a moment, then nodded: “That’s good. I’ve always trusted you.”
“I have no further matters—go on with your work.”
His expression carried a faint, almost imperceptible melancholy. “If possible, please tell Jiang Luo that the family’s door will always be open for him. Whenever he wishes, whatever he experiences, he can always come home.”
This was as much for Huo Zongzuo to hear.
“Understood,” Huo Zongzuo nodded. “I will pass it on.”
Before leaving, Huo Zongzuo added: “Soon, it will be my mother’s birthday. I will host a banquet in Su City. Invitations will be sent to your home; if you are available, Zhao Bu, you may come with your wife.”
These days, the business circles in Haicheng were abuzz over Huo Zongzuo and Jiang Luo’s relationship being publicly exposed. Most discussions inevitably involved them and the Wang family.
It turned out that Wang Chaohai had arranged for the secret to leak. That night at the banquet, Jiang Luo had caught him, and Huo Zongzuo had summoned Wang Chaohai’s parents to take their precious son home.
Wang Chaohai was then urgently sent to Japan, as his family feared he might be retaliated against by Jiang Luo and Huo Zongzuo.
But as it happened: the moment Wang Chaohai set foot in Japan, he was abducted by a local gang.
The Wang family scrambled—preparing ransom money, negotiating in Japan, and pleading with Huo Zongzuo. Mrs. Wang even ran to Zhikun International, falling to her knees in his office.
Eventually, Chairman Qiu mediated, Huo Zongzuo gave face, and shook hands with Wang Chaohai’s father. The Wang family paid a hefty ransom, and Wang Chaohai, half-dead, was retrieved. They didn’t dare keep him in Haicheng, sending him instead to the UK, across the ocean. Finally, the matter reached a conclusion.
Meanwhile, Jiang Luo traced who had egged Wang Chaohai on and discovered a payphone on a street in Minhang—but the trail went cold. Coincidence or misfortune? There were no nearby cameras; no one had recorded who had made the call to Wang Chaohai.
So cautious? Using a public phone?
Jiang Luo had a hunch: it was Zhao Mingshi.
Was it him?
Jiang Luo and Huo Zongzuo returned to Su City.
Su City remained the same, especially Pingjiang Road—barely changed over the years, except for occasional river cleanings that made the water clearer.
In these years, Jiang Luo had taken care of his grandmother’s every need—renovating the house, replacing furniture with senior-friendly designs, even using anti-slip tiles.
He had arranged for doctors and nutritionists to check her health daily, adjust her diet, and had someone visit each day to keep her company and enrich her life.
Regardless of their schedules, Jiang Luo and Huo Zongzuo often returned to visit her, eat with her, chat, and make her laugh.
Over these two years, her health had improved, her vitality stronger.
This return to the old home followed their usual routine—visiting his mother. She was well enough to personally cook, preparing squirrel mandarin fish for Jiang Luo and Huo Zongzuo.
In the afternoon, after chatting with his grandmother, Jiang Luo sat on the front porch playing with the white cat. Huo Zongzuo said to his mother: “Mom, could you do me a favor?”
Huh?
After all these years, this was the first time Huo Zongzuo had said something like this.
“What is it?”
His mother was slightly concerned, wondering if Huo Zongzuo or Jiang Luo had run into some unresolved trouble.
Huo Zongzuo: “Mom, your birthday is coming. I want to host a birthday banquet for you.”
Jiang Luo, holding the cat at the door, looked at Huo Zongzuo and his mother.
His mother took Huo Zongzuo’s hand, gently patted it, and said softly: “Do as you wish. As long as you can help me, help me and Xiao Luo, you can do whatever you want.”
When Jiang Luo and Huo Zongzuo returned to Haicheng, invitations for the birthday banquet were promptly sent—either from Zhikun or Shengfei companies, or in their personal names—to Haicheng and nationwide.
When Zhao Guangyuan received his invitation via his secretary at work, Huang Bingbing also received hers, delivered by Secretary Lu.
Zhao Mingshi, puzzled, called Zhao Shuo: “Brother, Dad knows? Did he say anything?”
Zhao Shuo: “No, he didn’t.”
“He said as long as Jiang Luo is happy, that’s enough.”
“Since Dad said that, Mom naturally wouldn’t say anything.”
“And you…”
Zhao Shuo sighed: “Your sister-in-law is right—whether someone likes men or women is personal. Nothing to criticize. He likes Huo Zongzuo—at least he likes someone respectable, hasn’t been running around.”
Zhao Mingshi: “…”
After hanging up, Zhao Mingshi suddenly found it amusing: back in school, he had secretly dated—ignoring An Qiao’s suicide—and Zhao Guangyuan had slapped him, saying he was misbehaving.
Now Jiang Luo is gay, and Zhao Guangyuan’s response is just “he’s happy”?
Zhao Guangyuan is biased! Favoring his own biological son!
Zhao Mingshi kept a neutral expression, but inside he was fuming.
Zheng Bin also received an invitation, which he tossed on the dining table casually, ignoring it.
Since that banquet, he hadn’t contacted Jiang Luo at all.
He felt awkward and somewhat annoyed—what the heck, gay? His best friend is gay?
He called Wang Chuang. Wang Chuang said: “I knew. I noticed years ago he was hesitating about being with Mr. Huo.”
Zheng Bin: “…”
Then he called You Junyu. Junyu was swamped: “Young master, you’re free, but I’m busy! I’ve got work to do.”
“Yeah, Jiang Luo is with Huo Zongzuo. I noticed years ago—otherwise, why would they live together in a villa at Yinhu, Shenzhen?”
“And I’m close with you too. Did I ever share a hotel room with you?”