After waiting a while without seeing a reply from Sheng Min, Li Xuan assumed he had already entered the makeup room. Grabbing his cup, he returned to the conference room.
The biweekly summary meeting for ‘Nook’ was underway. Since the formal planning for ‘Reverse Track’ had started, most of Li Xuan’s focus had shifted to that project. After all, the major aspects of ‘Nook’ were already settled, and with Chu Tianheng and Qi Boyuan overseeing it, there wasn’t much for him to worry about. He only occasionally sat in on these meetings. Throughout the session, Li Xuan barely lifted his head. When Chu Tianheng finished speaking, he finally closed his laptop screen and said, “Nothing major seems off.”
“Then tell us about the minor issues,” Chu Tianheng replied, setting down the laser pointer.
“The NPC random visit feature—I think I’ve mentioned it before. It’s ready for activation now.”
“We’ve considered it, but the timeline’s a bit tight. We’re planning to roll it out in the next update.”
Li Xuan gave a soft “hmm” and said nothing more. “That’s all. Meeting adjourned.”
As he was leaving with his laptop, Qi Boyuan, who had just returned from coordinating the game’s promotional materials, stopped him at the doorway. He hadn’t even set his bag down yet.
“Got a minute?”
Li Xuan stopped. After the other employees had left, Qi Boyuan lowered his voice and asked, “Did the ‘Nook’ servers have issues again yesterday?”
“What kind of issues?” Li Xuan’s expression remained neutral.
“Don’t play dumb with me,” Qi Boyuan grumbled. “I’ve been swamped and barely had time to ask. But why is this becoming so frequent? It’s as predictable as an 8 PM drama slot these days.” He trailed off, noticing something, then frowned with slight irritation. “It’s like being surrounded by wolves and tigers.”
Following Qi Boyuan’s gaze, Li Xuan turned to see Zhao Jizhe standing in the hallway, holding what looked like the latest promotional materials. Li Xuan calmly looked away. “Which one bit you?”
“God forbid one actually does!” Qi Boyuan snapped, pushing up his glasses in frustration. “You just keep soldiering on. Let your stubbornness kill you, for all I care.”
“What’s with the death talk in broad daylight?” Chu Tianheng interjected, having just finished delegating tasks to the art team. Sensing the tension between the two, he quickly stepped in. “Don’t be like two roosters in a cockfight. If there’s an issue, talk it out.”
“Sure, I’ll say it: our boss is so capable that he doesn’t care about anything else,” Qi Boyuan said through gritted teeth. “And I’m left flailing around like a headless chicken.”
“Come on, don’t say that. Your concerns aren’t unwarranted,” Chu Tianheng tried to mediate. But with the underlying reasons for Qi Boyuan’s stress clear to all, there wasn’t much more he could say. “Alright, enough. Let’s grab some food.”
“I’m not eating. You guys go ahead.” Li Xuan finally spoke, breaking his silence. “I have plans tomorrow afternoon. If there’s anything that requires my approval, bring it to me in the morning.”
“I’m skipping, too,” Qi Boyuan muttered.
“What, are you two allergic to paying for meals?” Chu Tianheng joked, putting on a mock stern face. “Fine, I’ll treat. Just call me ‘senior’ and listen to me this once. If you don’t eat, you’ll have to watch me eat.”
With some coaxing, they all went.
The restaurant wasn’t far since they needed to return to work afterward. They picked a Yunnan-style place downstairs, finishing their meal in under 30 minutes. Li Xuan had intended to pay the bill, but Chu Tianheng insisted on covering it.
“If I’d known you were really treating, I would’ve ordered two more big dishes.”
“You save Li Xuan money but not me, huh?” Chu Tianheng retorted. Qi Boyuan didn’t reply, still sulking. Then Chu Tianheng added, “You can still order more now and pack it for a midnight snack.”
As they exited the private dining room to settle the bill, it took Chu Tianheng noticeably longer than expected to return.
“Where’d he go?” Qi Boyuan asked while picking the pineapple chunks out of his rice. “He didn’t dine and dash, did he?”
Li Xuan was about to call him when Chu Tianheng finally came back.
“I thought you’d run off,” Qi Boyuan remarked, noticing Chu Tianheng’s uneasy expression. “What happened?”
“Nothing much,” Chu Tianheng replied, scratching his head. “While paying, I overheard a woman asking around for Yuan Yi. It seemed odd, so I listened in a bit.”
“A woman?” Li Xuan paused mid-motion, his cigarette lighter in hand. “What kind of woman?”
“Tall, slim, probably in her forties or fifties…” Chu Tianheng trailed off as Li Xuan suddenly stood up and walked to the window.
“Yes, that’s her—the lady near the fountain. That’s who I was talking about.” Chu Tianheng hesitated before asking, “Li Xuan, do you know her?”
“Yeah.” Li Xuan took a drag from his cigarette, his voice calm. “I know her.”
“And she’s…?”
Li Xuan finished his cigarette in two quick puffs, extinguished it, and said, “You two head back upstairs.”
“What about you…” Qi Boyuan started but didn’t press further when Li Xuan ignored him. Instead, Li Xuan sent a message, grabbed his jacket, and walked toward the woman.
…..
The weather had turned chilly, but Shu Xin was dressed in a light summer dress. Her wrist was bare, missing her usual bracelet, and she carried a thermal container. She looked as dazed as ever. Li Xuan followed her casually for about ten meters before she noticed him after he deliberately coughed.
Startled, she turned to see him. Her eyes lit up immediately. “Son!”
It had been months since they last saw each other. If anything, Shu Xin seemed to have gained a little weight. Her complexion, however, appeared pale—whether from the cold or something else, Li Xuan couldn’t tell.
Rushing over to him, her eyes reddened before she even spoke. “Mom hasn’t seen you in months…”
Her cold hands clung to Li Xuan’s arm. Seeing her frostbitten arms, Li Xuan coldly handed her the trench coat in his hand. “Put it on.”
“I’m not cold. You’ve been frail since childhood. How could you stand the cold…”
“Put it on. Do you think I’m being polite?”
Shu Xin was somewhat afraid of him, so she reluctantly accepted the coat. Unsure of what to do with the thermos in her hand, she froze. Li Xuan reached out and took it from her, watching as Shu Xin wrapped the coat around her shoulders. “Let’s not stay here. Let’s find somewhere else first.”
They went to a nearby café. On the second floor, they were the only customers. When Shu Xin wasn’t having an episode, her outward demeanor gave no indication of her condition. To strangers, she appeared perfectly normal. When the waiter brought their lattes, she even thanked them politely.
But as soon as the waiter left, she turned to Li Xuan, her face immediately transforming into one of teary distress.
Her demeanor resembled that of a loving mother, but Li Xuan was utterly unmoved. He asked coldly, “Why are you here? With how nervous Li Mingge is about you, there’s no way he’d let you leave the house on your own. Who told you I was here?”
“It’s been so long since you’ve come home. You’re still so young, yet you’re never home. Even if you’re angry with your father, you can’t just avoid home.”
“Angry?” Li Xuan raised an eyebrow. “Who told you that?”
Shu Xin replied bitterly, “Who told me? No one told me… Your father doesn’t tell me anything. He even lied and said you were writing your thesis at school… If I hadn’t overheard Zhou Qi talking to him today, I’d still be in the dark…”
Li Xuan absentmindedly thought about how unfortunate it would be for Li Mingge’s secretary if Li Mingge discovered who had leaked the information. Propping his head on one hand, he listened indifferently as Shu Xin went on a chaotic tirade about Li Mingge. Then, growing increasingly anxious, she asked, “If you’re not at school and you’re not home, what are you doing here? I asked around; there’s no lab here. You’re not here to do experiments. Don’t try to fool me.”
“Why would I need to lie to you? There’s no need for that.” Li Xuan shook his head calmly, his expression unchanging. “Of course I’m not here to do experiments.”
“Not doing experiments… Then what about your thesis? Has the result for your guaranteed grad school admission come out yet? Is it still at N University? Will your department head be your advisor? My junior’s research isn’t great, but he’s a decent person. It’d be fine if he supervised you… Actually, it’d be better for you to study abroad, but with your health, I can’t stop worrying…”
She immersed herself in her fantasies, and Li Xuan paid her no mind. Without his laptop, he used his phone’s notepad to draft a proposal. When Shu Xin finally wore herself out talking, he put down his phone and calmly said, “I’m not going to grad school, and I’m not studying physics anymore.”
The abrupt statement pierced through her illusions like a needle. Shu Xin stared at him, wide-eyed, stunned for a long moment before trembling all over. She stood up abruptly, like a trapped animal. “What nonsense are you talking about? You’re going to be a physicist! You’ve told me that since you were little. You’re going to carry on my legacy… Is it too exhausting? It must be because you’re too tired.”
Her hands shook as she reached for the thermos beside her. “Mom brought you some soup…”
Her hands trembled uncontrollably, struggling to open the lid. Finally, with a clatter, the soup spilled all over the floor. Shu Xin seemed to lose all her strength. She crouched down, covering her face, and broke down sobbing.
“You’re going to be a physicist.” She cried, repeating it over and over. “Your dad lied to me, and you’re lying to me too. You haven’t forgiven me, have you? It wasn’t intentional. If I had known it would hurt you, I would never have insisted on going to the base… I’d trade my life for yours if I could. I’ve already given up my career. I’m willing to stay home every day to take care of you, to make it up to you. Why can’t you forgive me? You’re so talented, born to excel in physics. There are unexplored fields, unfinished research…”
Her sobs grew so loud that the waiter downstairs was alarmed and hurried up to check. The sound of footsteps echoed on the stairs. Li Xuan glanced up, silently stopping them from approaching.
“I don’t like physics. I don’t want to be a scientist, and I have no interest in contributing to any research. I’m an ordinary person, not as noble as you.”
His words nearly made Shu Xin faint. She lost all composure. “What nonsense are you saying? You’re the one who promised me. You have the talent…”
“The one who made that promise was never me.” He grabbed Shu Xin’s arm and forcibly pulled her up, stepping on the spilled soup, which reeked of a sickly-sweet scent. “I don’t even like the soups you make, Aunt Shu…” Li Xuan lowered his gaze, hiding any trace of pity in his eyes. “I can’t believe you’re this delusional. Do you really not understand, or do you just refuse to? I don’t care. I’ve wasted enough time on you two. Li Mingge can coddle you, but I won’t play along.”
He paused slightly, his lips moving as if uttering words he’d suppressed for a long time. Suddenly, without warning, he said, “I’m not your son.”
Shu Xin, trembling like a wound-up doll at its limit, suddenly froze. She lowered her head, the vertebrae on the back of her neck protruding sharply. “Son…” she called to him in a sticky, clinging voice. “Why are you still like when you were little? Every time you’re angry, you say you don’t want to be my son or your dad’s anymore. You threaten to run away from home. How old are you now? You can’t act like a child anymore…”
Her tone and expression were almost eerie. Li Xuan was completely unmoved. “How old was he? Did he even reach sixteen when he died? I don’t remember your son’s birthday, but you should know.”
He grabbed Shu Xin by the shoulders, forcing her to lift her face. “You claim to love him so much, poured all your heart into him, and you still can’t tell? Your son was frail and sickly. How do I resemble him at all?” He pressed her relentlessly, his tone sharp and accusing. “You must wish it was me who died back then and him who survived. Too bad—I’m the one with the stronger life. Accept it.”
“You’re lying!” In just a few sentences, Shu Xin’s entire body seemed soaked as if drenched in water. After her explosive shout, her complexion turned deathly pale. She broke free from Li Xuan’s grip, avoiding his gaze. “That’s not true. That’s not true. You’re just too tired, too tired to think straight…”
As she spoke, she backed away repeatedly. One step missed the edge of the raised floor, and Li Xuan caught her swiftly. But Shu Xin pushed him away without hesitation, her movements unnaturally agile, completely unlike someone chronically ill.
“It’s not like that…” She was still muttering, twisting her ankle in her high heels, but seeming unaware of the pain as she turned and ran toward the café’s exit. Before she could reach the stairs, she collided with someone.
“All lies… It’s all lies…” Shu Xin murmured, her head down, blindly charging forward. The person she had run into grabbed her firmly. “Shu Xin! Shu Xin!”
Li Xuan had taken a few steps to follow but stopped when he saw Li Mingge. Meeting the other man’s venomous glare, Li Xuan simply shrugged indifferently.
Li Mingge called out to Shu Xin several times, but it was as though she didn’t recognize even him. She kicked and bit, leaving scratches and bloodied marks on his face and hands. She didn’t stop until she suddenly slapped him across the face. The crisp sound rang out, and it was as if she suddenly regained her senses.
“Mingge…” Shu Xin stared at him, her face a mess from crying. “Our son… our son doesn’t recognize me anymore. He hates me. He still hates me…”
“That’s not true. How could he?” Li Mingge’s face was tilted from the slap, but he swallowed the blood in his mouth and continued gently, “It’s nothing. You know our son. He’s always been so obedient. He’s just been too tired from his research lately and is in a bad mood. He’s just saying things out of anger, just like when we were students. Didn’t we do the same back then?”
“But he’s not at school. He told me he doesn’t want to study physics anymore…” She spoke helplessly.
“Just angry words. He’s been working so hard these past few months. Before I came here, I spoke to your junior at school. If you don’t believe me, you can ask him yourself later…”
His tone was soothing, but his arm subtly moved to Shu Xin’s back. Li Xuan frowned, his instincts making him stand up just as the needle plunged into Shu Xin’s shoulder joint.
Like a young animal caught by a hunter, Shu Xin struggled briefly before collapsing weakly.
Li Mingge caught her steadily, glaring at Li Xuan with a fury that burned away his usual gentlemanly demeanor. “This is your doing! What nonsense did you say to her?”
“I told her the truths you didn’t dare to say.” The needle was still embedded in Shu Xin, the barrel trembling as if it could break at any moment. Every time Li Mingge showed up, he somehow managed to lower Li Xuan’s already abysmal opinion of him. Li Xuan said disdainfully, “Do you really think this is for the best?”
“What I do is none of your business.”
“You’re overestimating yourself. I have no interest in meddling. As they say, ‘if words don’t resonate, there’s no point in continuing.’ This is what it is.”
Li Mingge stared at him, his jaw tight, veins bulging. Li Xuan met his gaze without flinching and walked past him. When he was near, he paused briefly.
Thinking Li Xuan was about to do something drastic, Li Mingge instinctively tightened his hold on Shu Xin and took a step back. Li Xuan twisted his wrist and yanked out the needle.
“If you don’t pull it out now, it might backflow.” He casually placed the needle on a nearby table, not sparing another glance at either of them. Then, raising his voice, he called for the waiter, “Check, please.”
….
Back at the company, Chu Tianheng and Qi Boyuan were obviously waiting for him. As soon as he entered, two pairs of eyes turned to him.
“Why are you staring at me?” Li Xuan yawned behind his hand. “If there’s work, then let’s work overtime. If not, go home. No need to hang around here.”
He, of course, was in the “work overtime” camp. Entering his office, he shut the door, lit a cigarette, and smoked while staring at the editor on his screen, his mind uncharacteristically blank. Pinching the bridge of his nose, he pulled up a drama starring Sheng Min as background noise.
Sheng Min’s gentle voice flowed through the room, covering over the unpleasantness in his mind. Finally, Li Xuan got back to coding.
He worked until morning. The lights in the hall outside turned off and on again. After finishing the playback system, he still felt energetic and began refining the main storyline’s background. By the time lunch break ended, he finally called for takeout and had a meal that blurred the line between breakfast and lunch. Checking the time, Sheng Min’s flight was about to land. Planning to nap for 15 minutes before heading to the airport, he leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes. But just as he did, there was a knock on the door.
“Li Xuan.”
“Hmm?” He opened his eyes slightly and saw Qi Boyuan. “Now what?”
“Someone’s here to see you.” Qi Boyuan’s expression was a bit odd. After a pause, he added, “Said it’s your dad.”
Li Xuan pressed his fingers to his brow. He had anticipated that Li Mingge would show up but not so quickly. Blocking his eyes with one hand, he rested for another minute before getting up. “Let him in.”
“Really?” Qi Boyuan, who knew nothing about Li Xuan’s family, had pieced together bits over the years. He had assumed Li Xuan’s parents were controlling and oppressive, dismissive of their son’s wishes. Thinking about the way that man had stormed in earlier, he added, “He’s…”
Li Xuan sneered. “Plenty of people want to claim to be related to me.”
“Can you be serious for once?” Qi Boyuan rolled his eyes and made to leave.
“Wait.” Li Xuan pointed at the takeout box. “Take out the trash for me.”
After washing his face, Li Xuan returned to find Li Mingge already seated on the sofa. The slap from Shu Xin the previous night had left half of his face swollen. He was wearing the same wrinkled clothes as before, with traces of blood around the collar. From the day they first met in Qingshui Alley, this was the most disheveled Li Xuan had ever seen him.
“Thanks to you, your mother didn’t sleep a wink last night. She kept waking up and crying.” Li Mingge looked exhausted. “Good job.”
“You’re giving me too much credit. I don’t deserve it.”
“You don’t deserve it? After the way you provoked her, you want to wash your hands of this?” Li Mingge’s expression darkened. “She’s a woman! A patient!”
“Oh, so you finally admit she’s sick?” Li Xuan raised an eyebrow. “If she’s sick and you don’t let her see a doctor, do you think your years of coddling her have done any good?”
“This is none of your concern!” Li Mingge snapped, evading the question and issuing a stern warning. “She insists on seeing you. You’re coming home today.”
Li Xuan shook his head, a faint smile playing on his lips. “She’s not asking to see me. If she wants to see him, take her to the cemetery. Or you could dig up the ashes and bring them home.”
That clearly struck a nerve with Li Mingge. “She sees you as her son. That makes you her son,” he said through gritted teeth, his patience at its limit. “Listen, I’ve been more than tolerant with you. You were just lucky to have some talent in physics, enough to pass as the real thing for so long…”
The repeated words offered no fresh perspective. Li Xuan’s limited patience rapidly wore thin under Li Mingge’s persistent speech. He glanced at his watch again, a gesture that now felt like throwing fuel on the fire.
“What’s with your attitude?” Li Mingge snapped.
“It’s the kind that says I have other matters to attend to and would like you to leave,” Li Xuan replied nonchalantly.
“I’ve been more than courteous to you,” Li Mingge growled, slamming the table as he stood, casting aside any pretense of intellectual decorum. He pointed a finger at Li Xuan’s face. “Three strikes. This is the third time I’ve come to speak to you. If you don’t come home with me today…”
“It’s broad daylight—spare me your dreams. I’ve got enough on my plate as it is.”
Li Mingge took a sharp breath, his face darkening like a storm-clouded sky. His labored breathing sounded like a broken bellows, his expression teetering on the brink of madness. “Didn’t learn your lesson last time, huh?”
“Let’s not exaggerate.” Li Xuan shrugged lightly, nodding. “Thank you for your generosity, but I hope you don’t expect me to reimburse you for it.”
“I can afford it. You don’t have that luxury.”
Li Xuan pretended to think seriously for a moment. “Why don’t we give it a try? You never know unless you try.”
“You’ll regret this. Just wait and see.”
Before leaving, Li Mingge threw out a parting remark, his eyes clouded, heavy with malice like the sky before a torrential storm. Li Xuan only gestured for him to leave, indifferent. But there was one thing he did regret: Li Mingge had wasted too much of his time, making him late to pick up Sheng Min.
[‘I’m heading off to my interview first. See you later.’]
That was the message waiting on WeChat. Li Xuan sent a brief [“Okay”] in reply. There was no point rushing now. After lingering on Sheng Min’s profile picture for a moment, he turned back to his computer.
He continued coding for another hour before deciding it was time to head out. Grabbing his jacket, he noticed the sudden hush that fell over the once-bustling office as soon as he moved toward the elevator. Unfazed, he pressed the down button, ignoring the curious stares.
Chu Tianheng caught up to him just before the doors closed.
“What happened?” Chu Tianheng asked. “Boyuan was vague but worried, so he sent me to ask you.”
“Too much unnecessary concern,” Li Xuan said, glancing toward the office entrance. He caught sight of Zhao Jizhe hiding behind the door, eavesdropping. The moment their eyes met, Zhao Jizhe ducked his head and shrank back.
“He’s just looking out for you,” Chu continued, unaware. Seeing no response from Li Xuan, his expression grew more serious. “Is everything okay?”
Li Xuan remained as unbothered as ever, brushing off the concern with a brief “It’s nothing.”
Not convinced but left with no choice, Chu Tianheng let it go. Just before the elevator doors fully closed, Li Xuan stopped them and said, “By the way, I sent something to your email.”
“What is it?”
“The code for the random visitation feature. You said it was urgent, so I finished it. Add it to the system.”
