When Li Xuan arrived at the company, Qi Boyuan was nowhere to be seen—someone mentioned he had stepped out after taking a call. It was afternoon tea time, and Li Xuan had no interest in cakes or sweets, so he went straight back to his office. But he couldn’t escape unwanted attention; two minutes later, the door opened.
“I’m not eating that.” Li Xuan barely glanced up before returning his focus to his computer.
“This one’s actually pretty good…” Zhao Jizhe said nervously, placing a delicately packaged cake box on his desk.
“If you have something to say, just say it.”
“There’s… nothing in particular…”
“Then leave. I have work to do.”
Li Xuan’s tone was indifferent but not unkind—he wasn’t angry, just uninterested. Still, Zhao Jizhe seemed oddly nervous. He stood in place for a long moment before hesitantly asking, “Nineteen… Was that man yesterday your adoptive father? What were you two arguing about? He…”
“Whatever he is, it’s none of your concern.” Li Xuan remained unmoving. “I don’t think excessive curiosity is a good habit.”
With two computer monitors between them, Zhao Jizhe couldn’t see his expression clearly. But he pressed on. “I looked him up—he seems to be some company’s chairman. How did you two—”
At those words, Li Xuan’s eyelids flickered slightly. “You looked him up? Or were you looking me up?”
“I—I just searched casually. It wasn’t hard to find… I heard you two arguing about something, and I was worried about you… You packed up your things—did you move back to your adoptive parents’ house—”
He didn’t get to finish. Li Xuan abruptly stood, walked around the desk, and stopped in front of him. His expression darkened slightly. “You entered my office while I wasn’t here?”
Zhao Jizhe immediately clamped his mouth shut, but under Li Xuan’s unrelenting gaze, he had no choice but to explain. “I didn’t… I didn’t mean to. The cleaning lady was in here, and I just came in to hand her a broom. That’s when I saw—”
“Spare me the tricks. Just looking at you gives me a headache.”
Li Xuan cut him off bluntly. He instinctively reached for a cigarette but came up empty—he had given them all to Sheng Min. Instead, he picked up a pen and twirled it between his fingers, his smile cold and unreadable. “I won’t bother saying anything harsh. You’re not someone who forgets things easily, so I don’t need to set rules for every little thing. You can keep testing my patience—step over the line a few more times if you like. Maybe when you finally fall, you’ll feel like it was worth it.”
He lowered his eyes, pressing the tip of the pen against an old burn scar on Zhao Jizhe’s hand—a mark from a cigarette burn.
“Get out.”
The wound had long since healed, but the skin there remained thinner. With the pen pressing down, it seemed like the flesh beneath might split open again.
Ever since that incident in the hospital—when Li Xuan had nearly pushed him out of a window—Zhao Jizhe had developed a physical fear of him. But at this moment, his attention seemed to be drawn elsewhere. He stood rigidly in place, eyes flickering. Li Xuan frowned impatiently, but then Zhao Jizhe suddenly lifted his gaze and murmured something under his breath.
His voice was so faint it was barely audible. Li Xuan didn’t catch the words at first, but Zhao Jizhe’s expression made him realize what he had asked.
~What’s that on your neck?
Li Xuan’s eyelid twitched slightly before he steadied himself. He countered coolly, “What?”
That response seemed to reassure Zhao Jizhe. He studied Li Xuan for a moment before forcing a smile. “Nothing, I just—”
“Li Xuan.”
The door opened, and Qi Boyuan walked in. Noticing Zhao Jizhe inside, he hesitated. “I can come back later.”
“No need. We’re done talking.” Li Xuan returned to his seat, making it clear the conversation was over. Zhao Jizhe pressed his lips together but eventually left, shooting Qi Boyuan a cold glance as he passed.
“You never get tired of this, do you?” Qi Boyuan closed the door with a scoff. “He’s been nosing around all morning.”
Li Xuan noticed Qi Boyuan’s unusual expression but didn’t comment. Instead, he glanced at his reflection on the monitor, catching a faint mark on his neck. It wasn’t particularly obvious—Sheng Min was soft-hearted, unwilling to bite too hard. It could pass for a minor scratch or a simple irritation.
Qi Boyuan’s face tightened slightly, as if realizing something, but he quickly adjusted his expression and pushed up his glasses. “Anyway, did you go over the documents? They’re on your desk.”
“I’m looking at them now.” Li Xuan lifted the files in his hand, multitasking with ease. Then he asked, “By the way, this morning—who opened the door for the cleaning lady to get into my office?”
“Probably Senior. I don’t know. He’s the only one with a key card… Why?” Qi Boyuan looked at him with mild concern. “Something missing?”
Li Xuan shook his head. “No. Just from now on, don’t let the cleaning lady in if I’m not here. She can clean when I’m around. Tell Senior the same thing—for both your offices as well.”
“Got it. I’ll let him know.” Qi Boyuan picked up the documents Li Xuan had finished reviewing. “No issues?”
“None, let’s use this version.”
“I’ll push the PR company to proceed with this, then.” Qi Boyuan responded with a hum and was about to leave when Li Xuan gestured for him to wait. After a brief pause, he asked, “Among the investors we’ve met recently, are any of them reliable?”
“What do you mean?” Qi Boyuan’s brows furrowed instantly, his expression tensing up in a split second. “Don’t tell me there’s another problem. What exactly was your dad here for yesterday?”
“It has nothing to do with him.”
“How could it be unrelated?” Qi Boyuan turned around, placing both hands on the desk, unwilling to let a single expression slip past him. “Aren’t you the one most opposed to taking investments? He visits once, and suddenly you’ve changed your mind? If it’s not because of him, then give me an explanation.”
“It’s just a coincidence.” Li Xuan opened the latest issue of ‘IEEE Communications Surveys and Tutorials’ on his desktop, skimming through it rapidly. His casual tone made it seem like an afterthought. “It’s not that I have to secure funding immediately—it’s just a consideration. I did oppose it before, but haven’t you and Senior always voted in favor? Now that you’re getting what you wanted, why does it feel wrong?”
“Getting what I wanted? Whether we raise one million or add a few more zeros, what do I get out of it? Nothing but a zero.”
“That’s not entirely true. You do hold some original shares, don’t you?” Li Xuan lazily tilted his neck.
“Don’t try to placate me with stock options.” Having known him for years, Qi Boyuan understood that Li Xuan’s way of handling things was either effortlessly smooth or deliberately evasive. The more tense the situation, the clearer his thoughts became. “Just tell me—where did the money go?”
“Aren’t you the one managing the accounts?”
“I’m asking about the part I don’t manage.” Qi Boyuan felt a vein throbbing in his forehead as he laid things out clearly. “You refused external investment, always telling me you could invest yourself, that you had enough funds. But now you’re open to investment—so where’s the reserved capital? …Did your dad cut off your credit card? No, seriously, what kind of cliché family drama is this?”
“There’s no family drama. You’re overthinking it.” Li Xuan tapped his keyboard, highlighting a section of text in red.
“Then explain it to me so I don’t overthink it. I need a reason.” Qi Boyuan took a deep breath. “Am I working for you, or am I here to be constantly shocked by you?”
He wasn’t someone who liked prying, but the company had been facing nonstop issues lately. While nothing catastrophic had happened, things had been far from peaceful. Any small disturbance was enough to put him on edge.
Frustration was bubbling up inside him. “You’re the smartest person in the world, you can handle everything, but could you at least consider the feelings of us normal people? I’ve been involved in every major and minor company matter, but when there’s a problem, you only tell me half the story.”
“This isn’t about the company.”
Qi Boyuan’s face was flushed with frustration. “Who are you trying to fool—”
Li Xuan closed the document and said calmly, “Sheng Min’s contract is about to expire.”
“…Ah? …Oh.”
Qi Boyuan’s anger hadn’t even fully subsided before it was abruptly cut off, making him look a bit ridiculous.
“I think I heard about that somewhere.”
He scratched his head awkwardly.
It wasn’t surprising. Sheng Min’s fans had long harbored resentment toward his agency, practically counting down the days until he could terminate his contract. Right now, if you checked his fan forums, at least one or two out of ten posts would be about his contract situation. With someone as dedicated as Zhou Jia around, it would have been stranger if Qi Boyuan hadn’t heard about it.
“Wait—so when you said you had something to do yesterday, you meant it was about Sheng Min? And when you didn’t come in this morning, I thought your dad did something to you…”
Now that he realized this was about Li Xuan’s personal affairs, Qi Boyuan became visibly uncomfortable. But since they’d already started discussing it, and the issue wasn’t fully resolved, he had no choice but to push forward. “Is there a problem with him terminating the contract? Is the agency demanding a penalty? What kind of modern-day loan shark nonsense is this?”
“I’m not sure,” Li Xuan replied. “But it’s best to be prepared. I can’t allocate all my funds to cover company expenses anymore… So, I’ll find investors to make up the gap. We were going to raise funds sooner or later—doing it a bit earlier won’t be a problem.”
Qi Boyuan had always been in favor of raising capital, though he understood why Li Xuan had been against it. He had expected a long debate on the matter, but Li Xuan had unexpectedly changed his mind so easily—and for this reason…
“But does it have to be your money? Look, I’m not trying to drive a wedge between you two, but seriously—” Qi Boyuan struggled to find the right words. “I have no objections, this isn’t my business. I just mean, Sheng Min is really popular, right? Over the years, he must’ve—”
“It doesn’t matter.” Li Xuan cut him off. “Even if he’s in trouble, he wouldn’t tell me. Whether he needs it or not, it’s my responsibility to have it ready for him.”
“I never took you for such a love-struck fool…” Qi Boyuan clicked his tongue.
“Not as much as you. You barely hit legal age before deciding to get married.” Li Xuan said nonchalantly. “Didn’t you say you were planning to propose? How long has it been? Still waiting for the right moment?”
Like a cat whose tail had been stepped on, Qi Boyuan’s expression stiffened. “I’m just waiting a bit longer, okay?”
“Having trouble?” Li Xuan raised a brow.
“No,” he denied firmly.
Li Xuan let it go. “Now that you know, you can stop worrying and getting distracted from real work… So, any good investor candidates?”
Qi Boyuan had spaced out for a moment, but Li Xuan called his name again, snapping him back to attention.
“Huh? Oh, right—yeah, there are.”
Talking about work made Qi Boyuan refocus. “I’ve met with over ten investors so far—both professional firms and angel investors. Excluding the ones just fishing for deals, there are at least seven or eight solid options. Our requirements are pretty simple: strong financial backing, minimal interference in company operations… Anything else you want to add?”
“What about that Song Wen guy? Are we still in touch?”
“Yeah, but he’s abroad. The time difference makes it tricky. Lately, I’ve mostly been in contact with his team, but they don’t have final say. There are other options, though… I’ll put together a comparison report for you ASAP.”
He opened his phone and glanced at his schedule in the memo app. “I still have a meeting today. Tomorrow then, I’ll give it to you tomorrow.”
“Alright.” Li Xuan nodded lazily. “No rush.”
“I’m in a rush. Now that you’re planning on spending a fortune on your handsome boyfriend, I still have to hurry and help fill the hole you’re digging?”
After chatting for a while, Qi Boyuan’s mood had eased somewhat. He no longer looked as disgruntled as when he first walked in—though it was unclear what had put him in a bad mood in the first place. “Anyway, when it comes to company matters, we should be upfront about everything. As long as your reasoning makes sense, I can accept it. But there are some things you can’t be too stubborn about. Take Zhao Jizhe, for example—there’s really something off about him…”
“We’ve talked about this plenty of times. I know what I’m doing.”
“Yeah, yeah, you know what you’re doing. Meanwhile, I’m the one worrying myself to death…” Qi Boyuan grumbled, seeing that Li Xuan was clearly unwilling to discuss the matter further. “Fine, we’ll talk about this another day. But there’s one more thing I have to remind you about.” He adopted a “harsh words first” attitude. “Even though I’ve always supported bringing in investors, I have to admit that autonomy could be affected. That’s an unpredictable variable, and you need to be mentally prepared for that.”
“I know.”
“Are you sure? Have you thought it through?”
Li Xuan didn’t hesitate. “No need to think about it. It’s a minor issue. It’s a compromise I can accept.”
“Well, this is a first—hearing the word ‘compromise’ come out of your mouth.” Qi Boyuan let out a long breath. “Alright, I’ll get back to work.”
“Mm.” Li Xuan had already opened the compiler and started testing code. “Go ahead.”
