At the time, Li Xuan had planned to go out and buy some glucose. His irregular schedule meant he often skipped meals, and after too many sleepless nights, he was feeling the effects of low blood sugar. The admin team had offered to run the errand, but after staring at the computer screen for too long, his neck was stiff. He figured he’d go himself—treat it as a break.
On his way out, he called Sheng Min. Lately, he had been pulling all-nighters, and on particularly busy days, he barely had time to go home.
Sheng Min, feeling sorry for him, didn’t say much. Before hanging up, he only asked, “Do you need money? I can…”
“We’re not at that point yet.”
It was both true and not.
They were short on money, but revenue was still coming in—recently even showing a slight recovery—though their expenses had only increased.
Qi Boyuan, always careful with calculations, had estimated that they had one more month. Even without new investment, they might find another way. But Reverse Track’s progress was inevitably affected—not just because of funding, but because Li Xuan, despite working around the clock, was struggling to keep up.
“If you do get to that point, you’ll tell me, right?”
“Why? Are you looking forward to taking care of me?”
“Yeah.”
“Such a generous sponsor.” Li Xuan chuckled. “But sorry, I won’t be home to warm your bed tonight.”
Sheng Min sighed softly. “Li Xuan, you need rest too…”
“Even if I came home, us both wouldn’t be able to sleep.”
“Still talking nonsense—seems like you’re doing just fine.” Sheng Min wasn’t swayed.
“So don’t worry.” Li Xuan’s smile hadn’t faded when he reached the building’s entrance—just in time to see a black Maybach pull up and stop.
The license plate was painfully familiar. Li Xuan barely glanced at it before looking away, casually saying into the phone, “Going into the elevator now. Talk later.”
As he hung up, he turned around—only to find Li Mingge standing a few meters away, watching him.
He suddenly remembered Qi Boyuan’s words and thought: Too bad he’s not here to diagnose whatever’s wrong with Li Mingge.
The idea made him smirk.
That little smile, however, only deepened the displeasure on Li Mingge’s already darkened face.
Li Xuan acted as if he hadn’t noticed and turned to head inside, but Li Mingge stepped forward and called out, “What’s this? See me and just walk away? Not even going to invite me up for a chat?”
“No need.” Li Xuan twirled his phone in one hand. “I’m very busy.”
“Busy?” Li Mingge sneered. His graying hair had multiplied dramatically over the past month. “Busy with what? Trying to raise funds?”
The sarcasm was heavy. Li Xuan, unbothered, simply said, “What, Is the rich President Li here to personally hand me money today?” He paused, then added casually, “Too bad. I don’t want it.”
“You don’t want it? Have you seen how much your little company’s revenue has plummeted? You think you don’t need it?” Li Mingge was furious, his glare sharp. The argument attracted some glances from passersby, so he toned it down slightly. “Li Xuan, things have been rough for you, haven’t they?”
“Rough or not, I’m still here. Not dead today, won’t be dead tomorrow.” Li Xuan’s expression remained indifferent as he glanced at him. “But looking at you, President Li, you don’t seem to be doing so well.”
Li Mingge had nothing new to say, and Li Xuan wondered why he kept coming back again and again—was he never tired of it?
Li Mingge was so angry that he could barely maintain his usual composure. Just then, another car screeched to a stop.
“Son!”
A housekeeper helped Shu Xin stumble out of the car. Li Mingge’s expression changed instantly as he rushed forward to shield his wife. “Why did you bring her here?”
“You left, and madam kept crying at home. She insisted on coming out… I…” The housekeeper hesitated, her face showing fresh scratch marks, unable to give a clear explanation. But Shu Xin ignored everything else, her hollow eyes locked onto Li Xuan, though she couldn’t break free from Li Mingge’s grip.
More and more people were gathering around to watch. Li Xuan had no patience for this public spectacle. He shoved one hand into his pocket and turned to leave. Behind him, Shu Xin’s cries became even more pitiful.
A blurred face flashed through his mind, accompanied by her sobs. Li Xuan stopped, clenched his teeth, then turned back to support her.
Immediately, Shu Xin calmed down. “Son.”
The arm he held in his palm was so thin it felt like a bundle of dry twigs. The sensation stirred a strange yet familiar feeling in Li Xuan. “You should go home first.”
As he spoke, he examined her face closely. The last time she visited, he had already noticed her pale complexion—now it was even worse. At first glance, she seemed to have gained weight, but on closer look, it was just swelling. Was this a physical symptom of her mental illness? Li Xuan frowned.
“Mom won’t go home… What have you been doing every day?” Shu Xin sobbed as if she had completely forgotten about their last meeting. Meanwhile, Li Mingge’s gaze toward Li Xuan grew even more hateful.
“Writing my thesis. I sent my graduation thesis to your email.” Li Mingge was getting on his nerves. Since he insisted Shu Xin wasn’t ill, Li Xuan didn’t bother arguing. He casually wiped her face and said, “Didn’t you say you wanted to guide me? Have you read it yet?”
“…Graduation thesis?”
“Yeah, I’ve finished it.” Li Xuan’s voice was gentle. “I’m not too sure about some things. Can you take a look? I want to revise a smaller paper for publication.”
“Okay, okay. Mom will go back and check it right away… I knew it, my son will inherit my career…” Shu Xin’s murky eyes suddenly brightened at his words. Her mood shifted quickly, and she immediately grabbed Li Mingge’s hand. “Mingge, take me home.”
“Alright, I’ll take you back,” Li Mingge said quickly. But Shu Xin also clutched Li Xuan’s wrist. “Son…”
“I won’t go back yet,” Li Xuan said steadily. “I have to go to the lab. Didn’t my professor tell you?”
“He did?”
“He did.”
“Yes… he probably did. Mom forgot.”
Shu Xin’s mental state had clearly worsened—she hadn’t been this easy to fool before. No wonder Li Mingge resented him so much. Even after losing all pretense, he still kept coming back.
She nodded absentmindedly, then stumbled toward the car. Li Mingge carefully shielded her head as he helped her into the backseat. He whispered a few words before closing the door, then straightened his suit and shot Li Xuan a vicious glare.
“Shouldn’t you take her to the hospital for a check-up?” Li Xuan frowned, speaking before Li Mingge could.
“Stop talking nonsense!” Li Mingge, like a lion defending its territory, jabbed a finger at Li Xuan. “She’s like this because of you!”
“Haven’t you noticed—”
“Don’t give me that crocodile tears crap!”
Li Xuan closed his eyes for a moment, then let out a sarcastic laugh. “Whatever… Watch your tone. Your wife is listening.”
Sure enough, Shu Xin anxiously rolled down the car window. “Mingge.”
“It’s fine. I’m just talking to our son.” His voice softened instantly before lowering again as he spoke to Li Xuan. “Come home with me today, and I’ll let bygones be bygones. Whether you continue studying physics is negotiable. Everything that should be yours, I’ll give you. Otherwise—”
“There’s nothing I need from your family. So let’s skip the ‘otherwise.’”
Li Mingge believed he had already made a huge concession, but Li Xuan remained defiant. “You’d better not force my hand—”
“You think I haven’t already suffered enough? How much more do you want to throw at me? Bring it on.”
Li Xuan was already lightheaded from low blood sugar. Talking to Li Mingge for too long made his vision blur. He grabbed a tube of glucose, smashed the thin glass against the wall, poured the contents into his mouth, and wiped his lips casually. Meeting Li Mingge’s disgusted gaze, he said wearily, “Don’t bother coming again. Whether you come ten times or a hundred, my answer will always be the same. Do whatever you want to me, but I don’t want anything to do with your family anymore.”
Li Xuan headed back inside the company, while Li Mingge personally escorted Shu Xin home.
The entire way, his face was so dark it seemed ready to drip water. In the backseat, the housekeeper supported the sleeping Shu Xin, too afraid to speak.
“President Li,” she finally murmured after settling Shu Xin in bed and giving her a sedative injection. Li Mingge was about to leave when she hesitantly asked, “From what I heard earlier, should madam… see a doctor?”
“What does that bastard know? Why would you believe anything he says? My wife is perfectly fine!” Li Mingge snapped.
Whenever it came to Shu Xin, he refused to listen to reason. The housekeeper shrank back in fear and quickly muttered that she understood.
“Close the curtains. It’ll be too bright when she wakes up.” Li Mingge turned back and tucked the blanket around Shu Xin again. “…I’ll say this one more time—She is not sick. Zhang Jie, you’ve worked in this house for years. Don’t listen to nonsense. She’s just been stressed by that ungrateful brat. Make sure she gets more nutrition.”
He had originally planned to return to the company, but after this exchange, he lost his motivation for work. Instead, he called his secretary to come over.
Zhou Qi always felt uneasy when visiting the Li household. The mansion, grand yet perpetually dark, filled with the lingering scent of medicine, felt more like a haunted house than a home.
“President Li?” He knocked lightly on the second-floor study door.
“Come in.”
Li Mingge sat behind a large huanghuali wood desk. Under the dim lighting, the wrinkles on his face looked even deeper.
“Have you contacted all those investors? Not a single one is allowed to fund that ungrateful kid!”
As soon as he stepped through the door, Li Mingge fired off a barrage of questions.
“I’ve contacted everyone who had prior dealings with Yuan Yi,” Zhou Qi replied, inwardly sighing. This was far from an easy task. Their company specialized in optics, while venture capital was a completely different field. Many of the investors had never been in touch with them before, so suddenly approaching them to pressure them into not investing had been exhausting.
Xinge Optics had a decent reputation in N City, but some of the investors interested in Yuan Yi were well-established names. Many simply didn’t respond to their tactics. Zhou Qi suspected that those who did back off did so only because Li Mingge’s relentless harassment made dealing with him too much trouble.
As a competent secretary, Zhou Qi naturally kept these thoughts to himself. Instead, he respectfully reported on his progress. Then, he added, “President Li, Yuanxin is requesting more funding again.”
“Approve it,” Li Mingge said with a wave of his hand.
Zhou Qi hesitated. “Some of the other board members are a bit—”
“What objections could they possibly have?! I haven’t touched company funds.”
“Of course, of course,” Zhou Qi quickly agreed.
“Tell Yuanxin to hurry up with the updates. It’s just a lousy game—how hard can it be to copy? What did they say before? As soon as it launched, it was supposed to crush Yuan Yi. And what happened? How long has it been? Money isn’t the issue—I want results. I won’t tolerate taking my money and not delivering,” Li Mingge said coldly.
There was a thinly veiled rebuke in his words. Zhou Qi swallowed and listened as Li Mingge continued, “And make sure the online discussions are being stirred up. Didn’t you say someone was managing Yuan Yi’s public image online? I’ve spent so much money, and we still can’t outmaneuver them? Zhou Qi, you’re really doing an outstanding job.”
Cold sweat broke out on Zhou Qi’s back. “President Li, I investigated that too. There’s a professional PR team behind it. It’s this KOL company.”
He handed over a file. “They usually handle celebrity promotions. I’m not sure why they took this job. I haven’t been able to contact their boss yet—”
Li Mingge looked impatiently at the documents. “Why bother with their boss? Do you think he’s the only one taking their business? This isn’t investment; the logic is entirely different. Use your brain… Wait—”
Suddenly, he looked up. “You said this company mainly does celebrity promotions?”
“Yes.” Zhou Qi pointed to the first page of the file. “Their business introduction includes case studies of their previous work—”
But Li Mingge wasn’t reading. “Celebrity promotions… celebrity…”
He repeated the words a few times, then asked, “Zhou Qi, when their game first launched, didn’t it go viral because a minor celebrity played it?”
“Yes!” Finally, a question Zhou Qi could answer easily. “I reported this to you before. On the day Nook launched, an artist named Sheng Min happened to stream the game—”
“Sheng Min? ‘Happened to’?” Li Mingge frowned, trying to recall. “When Li Xuan had that car accident, wasn’t the artist in the same car also named Sheng Min?”
Zhou Qi was stunned for a moment. He thought back. “Yes, yes, I think so. Right! Now that you mention it, I remember. I was at the hospital at the time. As soon as Li Xuan woke up, he asked about him. It’s the same person! Do you mean this wasn’t a coincidence—it was actually a paid promotion? I can arrange for this to be exposed immediately.”
“Whether it was an ad or not doesn’t really matter.” Li Mingge raised his hand. “We need to focus on the real targets. I don’t have time for petty games. If we make a move, we do it properly. First, investigate Sheng Min. This isn’t just a coincidence—he keeps showing up. Why is Li Xuan suddenly involved with the entertainment industry?”
Investigate… what? This is how we’re prioritizing tasks? Zhou Qi cursed inwardly but responded quickly, “Understood, President Li. I’ll take care of it immediately.”
“And another thing,” Li Mingge added. “Get me a full profile on everyone in that company. If we can’t handle it from the outside, we’ll work from the inside.”
Where was he supposed to get that information? Zhou Qi internally rolled his eyes. Why was Li Mingge so obsessed with fighting his own son? He was neglecting company affairs entirely. Outwardly, though, he just nodded. “Yes, sir.”
“Make it quick.”
“Understood.”
