Huo Zongzhuo leaned back, eyes closed, utterly relaxed, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he savored the moment.
The next morning, Jiang Luo, still in his deep red pajamas, sat in the living room, fidgeting with a blue floral-embroidered velvet box. Lifting the lid, he found a set of Yixing clay teaware inside.
Not knowing much about Yixing clay, he asked Huo Zongzhuo, “Who sent this?”
“Mm.”
Huo Zongzhuo emerged from the room, walking over to the sofa. He bent down, kissed Jiang Luo on the cheek, and explained, “It came from Beijing, congratulating us on our wedding.”
Jiang Luo recalled the man Huo Zongzhuo had previously taken him to meet at a siheyuan in the alley by Pudu Temple—a man in his late fifties, dignified and commanding. Huo Zongzhuo hadn’t said outright, but Jiang Luo guessed he must be a high-ranking official in Beijing. Unable to attend the wedding personally, he had sent the teaware instead.
Jiang Luo closed the lid of the box. “Keep it safe. Who knows, maybe someday I’ll need to ask for a favor using this.”
Huo Zongzhuo kissed him again. “No need. With me around, you won’t have to use this to ask anyone for anything.”
“Can’t be sure,” Jiang Luo teased, reaching up to touch Huo Zongzhuo’s face and sniffing his scent. “Did you shave? Smells nice.”
A few days later, Jiang Luo returned to the company, looking so vibrant that anyone who saw him would have doubted he hadn’t eaten some kind of miraculous tonic. Everyone at the company knew that he and Huo Zongzhuo had recently held their wedding in Su City. They were surprised, impressed, and in private conversations, they said that the two men were true bosses—daring to break societal prejudices and obviously deeply in love.
Everyone noticed the ring on Jiang Luo’s finger. After talking with employees downstairs, it turned out Huo Zongzhuo wore the same style. Clearly, the two bosses were treating each other as genuine spouses.
When the wedding chocolates and red envelopes were distributed throughout both companies, all employees had only one thought: this marriage was perfect! Truly wonderful!
In the Haicheng business circle, the story of Jiang Luo and Huo Zongzhuo holding a wedding under the guise of a birthday celebration became a widely praised tale—both families happily witnessing it, guests filling the hall, breaking societal prejudice—a joyous event and a beautiful story.
Gifts in the name of Jiang Luo and Huo Zongzhuo as a couple were also sent to the Zhao family. This was the first time in years Jiang Luo had acknowledged them. Zhao Guangyuan and Su Lan were very pleased.
Huang Bingbing added, “We should also thank President Huo. If he hadn’t reminded us to attend the wedding, Jiang Luo’s attitude wouldn’t have changed.” She analyzed further, “Jiang Luo is naturally gentle. He knows exactly who treats him well or badly. Parents, just accept him from your hearts; he’ll come home eventually. Only a real brother, like Zhao Shuo, could set aside past grievances to send gifts.”
She continued, “Jiang Luo always prepares gifts for Yan Yan every year—never missing a single one. Yan Yan had an uncle before, now he has two, both capable. When Jiang Luo returns home, there will be two uncles caring for Yan Yan. How wonderful.”
The Zhao family found her words comforting.
Meanwhile, Zhao Mingshi had been drowning in alcohol for two days. He realized something: no matter how hard he tried, no matter how successful he became, he could never catch up to Jiang Luo.
When had this “unreachability” started? Using his sharp mind for programming, Zhao Mingshi deduced that he had never truly caught up—not even from birth.
He felt stifled, frustrated. He couldn’t help comparing himself to Jiang Luo. He wanted to surpass, compete, conquer—but he couldn’t. That rare, bitter sense of inadequacy resurfaced.
Why should he? Why!?
He was eighteen years older than Jiang Luo, still a college student, while Jiang Luo had been just a misfit.
Why could Jiang Luo now live so well?
Why!?
Because he was handsome?
Because he got lucky with someone capable?!
Why!!!
That day, Zhao Mingshi finally sobered up. Collecting himself, he received a call from Jiang Luo.
Jiang Luo’s voice: “Do you want to know the truth about the baby swap back then?”
What?
Zhao Mingshi was stunned.
The truth? What truth?
When he arrived at the private room, he was shocked to see Su Lan and Zhao Guangyuan there as well. The room was divided by a screen; the other side clearly held someone.
He nodded to Su Lan and Zhao Guangyuan, recalling how cheerful they had been at Jiang Luo’s wedding, and feeling uneasy, he sat at the other side of the round table.
Checking his watch, he wondered what Jiang Luo had called them here for. What did the “baby swap truth” mean?
On the other side of the screen, Jiang Luo sat quietly before a cup of tea, sipping and waiting.
Soon, the door opened, and in walked none other than Zhang Xiangping—without Jiang Jianmin.
Jiang Luo gestured for her to sit. She plopped down, annoyed. “Why did you call me? You’re not paying me, nor letting me be a manager in your factory—what’s there to meet about?”
Behind the screen, Su Lan, Zhao Guangyuan, and Zhao Mingshi could hear everything clearly.
“Why did you call me?!” Zhang Xiangping snapped.
Jiang Luo spoke calmly: “I’ve been thinking about one thing all these years. Eighteen years—why, as your son, was I treated differently than a real child? I’ve thought about it for a long time.”
In his previous life…
Zhang Xiangping’s eyes widened. “Oh? I raised you, and now you say this?”
She said harshly, “Do you think I didn’t treat you well? Were you eating crap? I didn’t treat you badly?”
Jiang Luo remained patient. “Okay? When I was three or four in winter, I had no warm clothes, my hands froze. If Wang Chuang’s mother hadn’t taken pity and given me his outgrown clothes, I probably would have frozen to death.”
“Yes, froze to death,” Zhang Xiangping rolled her eyes. “If you were frozen to death, how could you be here talking to me, running a company?”
“Heartless!”
Jiang Luo ignored her. “Whenever you and Jiang Jianmin went to work, leaving the house, you’d just give me a key. No meals, not even rice, were left for me. I had to eat at Wang Chuang’s house.”
“Yes, yes,” Zhang Xiangping said. “I give you crap, others give you gold—so now you’re a big boss.”
Jiang Luo continued: “At least when I was sick, Jiang Jianmin still worried for me, taking me to the hospital secretly, saying I was his precious son. But you…”
His tone shifted: “One day I realized… maybe you knew from the start that I wasn’t your biological son. That’s why you treated me with such utter disregard.”
Zhao Guangyuan, Su Lan, and Zhao Mingshi on the other side of the screen were stunned.
What?
What did he mean?
Zhang Xiangping exploded. “What nonsense! Knew from the start? I knew what?”
“Not your biological parents bringing you here—how could I know anything?” She was almost shrill, “Do you think I’m a god? How could I possibly know?”
“I raised you for eighteen years, and now you say this? And slander me?”
Jiang Luo looked at her, expression calm. In his childhood, he had truly loved Zhang Xiangping, the woman he called mother. Like all children, he naturally relied on his parents and wanted a mother’s love.
But Zhang Xiangping’s coldness and neglect severed his love and dependence.
By eighteen, he knew he could no longer love her. When Su Lan and the others came to find him, he foolishly sought their affection instead—but Su Lan did not love him either.
When Jiang Luo fell ill, with no cure, he was transferred from Haicheng to Peking Union Medical College Hospital. Lying in the bed there, he replayed his past over and over, even his childhood, repeatedly questioning why Zhang Xiangping, who raised him for eighteen years, never loved him.
Eventually, realizing his illness was terminal, he returned to Haicheng alone to confront Zhang Xiangping. She saw his ghostly, pale face and recoiled in both fear and disgust.
Annoyed by his persistence, she finally revealed the truth impatiently: “I don’t love you? Why would I? You aren’t my son! You’re not my biological child! Why should I love you?!”