The next day was Sunday.
Even though he didn’t have to work, the little mute still got up on time to accompany Li Jichuan for rehabilitation.
And Li Jichuan noticed that after only two sessions, Su Pu had already grown familiar with the two rehab therapists.
The therapists instructed him on exercises while explaining to Su Pu what each movement was for.
“This move relaxes the muscles; this one stimulates the nerves…”
Su Pu nodded humbly, listening attentively as if he were in class.
The rehab process involved a lot of equipment, which got left scattered on the floor after use.
The two therapists had already rehearsed Li Jichuan’s routine hundreds of times—they knew the layout perfectly and could move smoothly despite the mess.
But Su Pu was different. During breaks, he would rush over to wipe Li Jichuan’s sweat, only to trip over the scattered equipment when stepping back.
His thin body wobbled like a kite in the wind, sometimes stumbling outright.
Whenever that happened, Su Pu would put on an apologetic expression, so innocent it made Li Jichuan reluctant to send him away.
Yet keeping him there meant he kept bumping into things like a little roly-poly.
What bothered Li Jichuan most was that whenever Su Pu wobbled, one of the therapists would reach out to steady him, as if he couldn’t stand on his own…
Li Jichuan felt a tightness in his chest. After holding back for a while, he finally issued a stern command:
“Put things back where they belong after using them. The mess is distracting.”
The two therapists exchanged a stunned glance, then nodded in unison.
Strange—haven’t they been trained this way all year? Why does it seem messy just today…?
Luckily, Li Jichuan’s sudden order kept Su Pu busy.
The therapists focused on assisting Li Jichuan, and Su Pu helped put the equipment away—no more trips or stumbles.
Li Jichuan watched him busying himself, wanting to say something, but the words caught in his throat.
Why did it feel so bittersweet?
His throat was dry, and his chest tight.
Before going to work, he had asked Uncle Wang to schedule next week’s medical check-up.
This unusual feeling—it was probably worth a check-up.
Sunday was a normal workday for Li Jichuan.
It wasn’t that he wanted to be this busy; aside from handling Lishi Group’s business, he was actively advancing his own ventures.
Li Jichuan had high energy, a sharp mind, and ambition.
Truly a child of destiny.
He came to the office today to deal with a crisis in his personal company.
Ever since university, he had quietly earned a double degree.
Aside from Li Peirong repeatedly emphasizing business management and acquisitions, he also studied something he was passionate about: game programming.
While abroad, taking advantage of Li Peirong’s loose supervision, he formed a game development team with like-minded classmates.
By the time he returned home as the heir to Lishi Group, he extended offers to his former teammates, sending shockwaves through his old social circles.
No one realized his background was so powerful—they only remembered his modest lifestyle, frugal spending, and constant part-time work alongside his studies.
He did everything, like a hard-working student from a humble family.
But the truth was, his team had been taken under Lishi’s wing, and Li Jichuan executed projects with such precision and speed, it was as if he conquered most of the commercial cloudscape beneath his feet.
Even today, that feat remains legendary in his professional field…
Equally surprising was the meticulous scrutiny and demanding nature hidden beneath his calm, poker-faced exterior.
On a weekend, his entire game team was summoned to the conference room for a scolding.
Li Jichuan slammed his laptop shut, scanning them coldly.
“Is this the solution you came up with?”
“Increasing data collection investment, hiring external information service companies?”
He asked sharply.
“What about upgrading servers, building models, or marketing? Are you all the top-tier paid staff in the industry just to give me this?”
The employee closest to him had striking blue eyes, now tinged with fear.
“Lee, your standards for data precision are too high. This task is difficult for anyone… I think the data we’ve collected is usable; no need to nitpick at this stage.”
Li Jichuan shot a sharp glance; the comment silenced him immediately.
“Who was the one swearing to me that they could accurately target the audience and create a game that fits their tastes?”
“Our target audience isn’t just them…”
A low voice came from the corner, clear enough for everyone to hear.
Li Jichuan let out a bitter laugh and countered,
“Oh? But I remember that college students were supposed to be the easiest group to collect data from, with the highest data quality… What, have you changed your mind?”
The employees stammered, feeling inwardly distressed.
The conference room fell completely silent.
Li Jichuan sat quietly, suddenly feeling dizzy.
The text on the projector screen blurred, transforming into squirming little worms.
Then, a tension gripped his scalp, and a migraine swept over him.
Li Jichuan: “……”
“Let’s adjourn for now. Everyone, think of some solutions. Even if the target group for detailed surveys changes, how will we collect data from the new group?”
The employees acknowledged and began to leave in small groups. The one with blue eyes cast a few lingering glances at Li Jichuan.
His old classmates were feeling increasingly unfamiliar.
He understood, yet he didn’t like it.
It was drifting further away from their original dreams.
The once highly cohesive group was gradually falling apart.
He wondered if Li Jichuan felt the same.
Li Jichuan returned to his office.
Today, the top floor was completely empty—silence everywhere.
He closed his eyes slowly. At some point, feeling powerless had become a constant in his life.
In the past, he attributed some of his dissatisfaction to that unfortunate car accident.
But deep down, he knew that ever since returning to take over Lishi Group, a force had been pushing him forward.
He couldn’t turn back, nor could he stop.
Every day, the moment he opened his eyes, he was running forward. Everything revolved around efficiency, results above all else.
This nightmare-like migraine was probably the result of that relentless pace…
How long had it been since he had a truly good night’s sleep?
How long had it been since he felt clarity of mind, and a deep, comfortable breath?
Li Jichuan sighed and tried to recall.
Yet… it didn’t seem like that long.
In fact, in the past few days, he had been sleeping quite well.
The best sleep he’d had was when the little mute massaged him in the car.
Those seemingly simple massage movements allowed him to completely let go, to briefly forget all worries and expectations, and just exist in the moment.
Only the present existed.
Little mute…
Li Jichuan opened his eyes, staring at the chandelier above him.
What was Su Pu doing right now?
If he hadn’t taken him to the Su family party, he must be struggling, right?
Had he gone home early to apologize, or was he too afraid to even leave, just staying at home going through the motions?
But how long could he hide?
Li Jichuan’s family could easily go to the café and make a scene, humiliating the little mute so he wouldn’t dare go to work again…
Li Jichuan recalled the times he had defied his grandfather—each time, the elder had used every possible method to oppress him until he was forced to yield.
To become an obedient, sensible puppet.
Would Su Pu be the same?
A bitter taste filled Li Jichuan’s mouth, his heart growing heavier.
Su Pu would be even easier to handle.
Li Jichuan picked up his phone and glanced at the time.
It was only a little past four—there was still time to change his mind.
Before calling Su Pu, almost instinctively, he opened the Moments feed, which had a red notification dot.
A few photos uploaded by Uncle Wang ten minutes ago immediately caught his attention:
The first photo was a group of three.
Li Peirong in the center, Uncle Wang on the left, and…
On the right, surprisingly, was Su Pu, making a peace sign and smiling obediently.
Hmm?
Swiping to the next photo, it showed his grandfather’s aged hands.
Below the hands was a warm water bag decorated with a cartoon duck.
The third photo had only Su Pu and his grandfather.
They were both laughing, as if sharing a happy moment, their eyes curved in delight.
The last photo was a profile of Su Pu.
Sunlight streaming through the window outlined his face in gold; his eyes were closed, leaning against the sofa, seemingly resting…
Four photos in total, which Li Jichuan viewed back and forth more than ten times.
What… does this mean?
Su Pu had gone to visit his grandfather with Uncle Wang?
Without him?
And his grandfather seemed so genuinely happy, something Li Jichuan hadn’t seen in a long time. They usually argued whenever they met.
What had Su Pu said to make his grandfather laugh like this?
And the warm water bag—Uncle Wang had visited many times and never seen him use it.
So Su Pu must have brought it over… to make his grandfather more comfortable.
He had already refused the little mute, yet Su Pu remained so attentive.
Exiting Moments, Li Jichuan opened his conversation with Su Pu.
The chat was still from yesterday—he had rejected Su Pu’s invitation.
Now that Su Pu had gone to visit his grandfather, why not invite him along too?
Li Jichuan’s headache suddenly vanished, replaced by a sharp, aching warmth in his chest. That indescribable feeling had long surpassed any pain in his head.
Taking a deep breath, he finally made up his mind and dialed Su Pu’s number…
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