LMMY chapter 123

“Li Xuan, Boyuan. What the hell is going on? Isn’t the update for Void Island our content?”

Chu Tianheng had just received a call and rushed back in a hurry.

“What’s going on? I should be the one asking that!” Qi Boyuan was overwhelmed with frustration, his chest rising and falling heavily. “Where the hell is Wang Tian? He actually dared to do this?”

“He’s gone. Sent me his resignation letter just now…”

“He can quit and go straight to jail!” Qi Boyuan cursed furiously. “Leaking trade secrets—I’ll make sure he’s sued into the ground! That ungrateful bastard!”

Wang Tian had been working under Chu Tianheng’s team. Chu Tianheng had always been tolerant and valued his talent, believing that although Wang Tian was somewhat eager for quick success, he did have some talent—he was just too impulsive. He also knew that Wang Tian harbored resentment toward Li Xuan due to several past disciplinary actions. But deep down, he never wanted to believe that Wang Tian would do something like this—it was all too sudden.

“The update issue might have something to do with him—maybe it was just a momentary lapse in judgment. But as for leaking trade secrets, there’s no concrete evidence yet…”

“Say that again?” Qi Boyuan finally lost his patience. “The facts are right in front of us, and you’re still defending him?! Senior, have you been a good person for so long that you can’t even tell right from wrong anymore?”

Chu Tianheng said anxiously, “I’m not defending him! I’m just saying we need to get to the bottom of this. I never gave him the latest update files—how could Wang Tian have leaked them?”

“Then that’s strange. According to you, the only three people in the company who had the complete update files were us. So are you saying I leaked them? Or that Li Xuan had a brain lapse and just gave them away himself?”

“No.” Chu Tianheng was flustered by his aggressive questioning. “Boyuan, don’t be so hasty…”

“My dear senior! How could I not be hasty over something this huge? If I don’t panic now, then when should I?! Clients are already demanding refunds in the backend! Like hell I’m giving them back their money!”

“Enough, you two.” Li Xuan’s expression was still composed, but it was clear he was suppressing his frustration. “Is this a marketplace? Senior, you never gave Wang Tian the update files?”

“Absolutely not.” Chu Tianheng nearly swore an oath. “I know how important those files are. When we need a version update, I only hand out the relevant program and planning documents to the project team for refinement. I wouldn’t just give away the entire thing.”

“Where are the files?”

“They’re encrypted on my computer. I carry my laptop with me at all times—Wang Tian has never touched it.” Chu Tianheng answered immediately, then added, “And there’s also the solid-state drive (SSD) you gave me for backup.”

“I have that one too,” Qi Boyuan said, turning to fetch it from his office. Chu Tianheng followed.

The employees in the hall were all watching the office. As they passed, everyone turned to look.

“Get back to work.” Qi Boyuan snapped irritably, then closed the door and handed the external hard drive to Li Xuan.

“And mine,” Chu Tianheng returned with his.

“This is the one I originally gave you?” Li Xuan took it from him.

“It’s… not?”

Both were the same model. Qi Boyuan compared his with the other one but couldn’t spot any obvious differences.

Li Xuan plugged it into the computer. Read error.

“Is it broken?” Chu Tianheng grew anxious. He didn’t have time to hesitate and immediately grabbed the laptop to attempt data recovery.

“No need.” Li Xuan pulled it out. “The data was deliberately wiped. This isn’t the original one I gave you.”

“It’s not?!”

“No. It’s too new.”

Li Xuan pressed both hands against the desk. His mind was buzzing, yet his thoughts had never been clearer.

Someone had taken Chu Tianheng’s backup drive. He had installed a microcontroller inside it to log copy activity, so after making a duplicate, the culprit never returned the original. Instead, they replaced it with a new, identical model and deliberately corrupted the data. There was even a chance that the replacement had never contained any data at all.

Since it was just a backup, Chu Tianheng wouldn’t check it for weeks. If not for today’s situation, even if he eventually discovered the lost data, it would have been hard to suspect foul play.

“Wang Tian took it?” Qi Boyuan’s eyes widened.

For a moment, Chu Tianheng still couldn’t believe it. But then he recalled small details—like how the original SSD from Li Xuan had a tiny paint chip from being dropped. This one… was pristine.

“Senior,” Qi Boyuan called out, “Did Wang Tian know about this backup?”

Chu Tianheng hesitated. Maybe he had seen it before… but he couldn’t remember. “I always kept it in the bottom drawer of my desk. That drawer is locked.”

Not just the drawer—there was also the office security. If someone tried this during the day, with people coming and going, it would be difficult. At night, the company doors were locked, and without a keycard, Chu Tianheng’s office was inaccessible.

“Contact property management and check the entrance surveillance footage. They must have needed at least a month to modify the art assets like this. Roll back to 20 days ago and start from there.”

Li Xuan instructed, and Qi Boyuan nodded, leaving immediately. Chu Tianheng knew this mess was on him and was nearly drowning in guilt. “Li Xuan…”

Li Xuan raised a hand. “Let me think for a moment.”

An ant on a hot pan could at least still scurry around. Right now, Chu Tianheng felt even lower than an ant.

Fortunately, Qi Boyuan returned quickly, his face flushed with anger—probably from arguing with someone. “Camera footage from the 1st and 2nd—supposedly lost due to maintenance! What kind of bullshit is that? We were definitely robbed. Guarding against external threats is easy, but an inside job? That’s the hardest to prevent! Senior, I don’t mean you…”

Chu Tianheng forced a bitter smile. “You might as well just say it.”

“So what now? I’ll put together the evidence and file a police report,” Qi Boyuan said sarcastically. “Might as well combine it with the last incident—save us a second trip to the station. Wang Tian is really something…”

Chu Tianheng muttered, “But how did he even get past all those locks…?”

“Maybe it wasn’t at night. He could’ve stolen it in broad daylight when no one was paying attention,” Qi Boyuan suggested.

“Senior,” Li Xuan suddenly recalled something. His gaze flicked to the potted plant by the window. “Last time, I had Qi Boyuan remind you not to give the office keycard to the cleaning lady when we weren’t around… Did you still lend it to her afterward?”

Chu Tianheng’s face went pale in an instant. “I never gave her access to your and Qi Boyuan’s offices… But I did lend her my backup keycard. She comes in early to clean, so it was convenient… She also has a key to the main entrance…”

“I’ll go call her in,” Qi Boyuan said immediately.

Watching him rush off, Chu Tianheng murmured, “But my drawer…”

“That’s easy. Even I could open it with a thin piece of wire.”

The moment he said it, something clicked in his mind.

Of course, he could open it.

But could Wang Tian? He might have known where the backup was, but did he have the skills to break into the drawer?

And how had he even gotten involved with Li Mingge in the first place?

“Xiao Qi, what’s going on?”

The cleaning lady walked in holding a rag in her hand. She was already quite old and barely literate, so she had no idea what had happened—she just sensed the heavy tension in the air. She was more familiar with Chu Tianheng and unconsciously moved a little closer to him. “Tianheng…?”

“Auntie, it’s nothing serious. Just a quick question.” Chu Tianheng felt a heavy weight in his heart but spoke gently. “Do you still have the keycard to my office?”

“I do.” The cleaning lady quickly responded, pulling it out from the pocket of her apron. “I carry it with me. I even went in to clean this morning. Why? Did I miss a spot?”

“Have you ever given it to anyone else?” Li Xuan asked.

“No, never.” The cleaning lady shrank back a little, afraid of him.

“Think carefully.” Li Xuan leaned forward slightly. “Has anyone borrowed it? Have you ever lost it? Or did someone else keep it for you at some point?”

“Lost…” The cleaning lady hesitated for a moment, then suddenly seemed to remember something. She hesitated and stammered, “I…”

“Say whatever you remember. If it’s not your fault, I won’t hold you responsible.”

“It was a while ago… Not exactly lost. Xiao Zhao came to see me and treated me to a meal, and I left the keycard at the restaurant. Xiao Zhao brought it back to me early the next morning…”

“Xiao Zhao?!” The name hit Qi Boyuan like a bolt of lightning. Before Li Xuan could say anything, Qi Boyuan suddenly stood up from the couch. “Which Zhao? Zhao Jizhe?!”

The cleaning lady was startled by his reaction. “Yes, that’s right. Other than that, I really don’t remember losing it…”

“When was this?” Li Xuan asked.

“A while ago… At the end of last month—yes, at the end of the month, on payday…”

Li Xuan rubbed the calluses on his fingertips. Ten days ago, he had visited the psychiatric hospital. He hadn’t seen Zhao Jizhe that day—the doctors had said he was undergoing treatment. Li Xuan had a meeting, so he left.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, really. I can call Xiao Zhao. If you don’t believe me, you can ask him…” The cleaning lady nervously pulled out her phone and dialed. The moment the call connected, Li Xuan took the phone from her.

“Hello, Auntie…”

“Where are you?” Li Xuan asked coldly upon hearing the familiar voice.

On the other end, Zhao Jizhe seemed to suck in a sharp breath. A moment later, the call was disconnected.

At that moment, the busy signal was louder than any spoken word.

All the clues suddenly clicked into place.

Zhao Jizhe and Li Mingge.

Li Xuan suddenly found it funny. So he actually laughed.

It was like some absurd silent movie—the clumsy foreshadowing from seven years ago had finally come true today.

“Li Xuan…” Chu Tianheng thought he had lost his mind from anger.

“Auntie, leave the keycard here and go.” Li Xuan waved his hand, and the cleaning lady hurriedly left.

“I told you he was trouble!” Qi Boyuan’s face was flushed red with anger. His hands were shaking, and his glasses kept slipping down as he pushed them back up. “I’m going to the police right now…”

He spoke as he rushed to the door, but suddenly, he heard Li Xuan call him back. After a brief silence, Li Xuan’s voice came, calm and distant: “Just report Wang Tian for plagiarism. That’s enough.”

“What do you mean?” Qi Boyuan froze in place and turned around. “Zhao Jizhe stole the company’s trade secrets!”

“Do you have proof?”

“Do I have proof?! We’ve already pieced everything together, and you’re asking if I have proof?!”

“That’s not enough,” Li Xuan said flatly.

That was both true and false.

With Wang Tian, they at least had chat records proving he had stolen artwork. With Zhao Jizhe, however… they had only deduced his involvement. That wasn’t real evidence.

“The police will find the evidence!” Qi Boyuan took a step forward, staring at Li Xuan in disbelief. “Whether they find it or not, whether it takes ten days, half a month, or even longer, whether we can recover our losses or not—he needs to pay for what he’s done! What are you saying right now? You’re letting him get away with it?”

Li Xuan lowered his eyes. The calmer his expression, the angrier Qi Boyuan became.

“Say something!”

“Boyuan…” Chu Tianheng awkwardly tried to mediate, but he himself bore some responsibility in all this, so he wasn’t in a position to say much. “Maybe Li Xuan has his reasons…”

“What reasons?!” Qi Boyuan turned on him. “Do you know? Tell me!”

Li Xuan looked at his furious expression and said calmly, “Just do as I say. Let this be the end of it.”

Qi Boyuan laughed coldly. “Oh, so your reasoning is to cover for that lunatic?”

Li Xuan’s voice was like ice shards in the cold wind: “To me, he’s already dead. Why would I care what happens to him?”

The two stood very close. Qi Boyuan saw that as Li Xuan spoke, his dark eyes reflected the same dreary snow falling outside the window. But there was no anger—only something that looked like relief.

A chill crept up Qi Boyuan’s spine. A possibility he had never considered before suddenly surfaced in his mind.

“Boyuan, calm down…” The strange silence made Chu Tianheng uneasy.

“Senior, leave the room,” Qi Boyuan swallowed hard, still staring at Li Xuan. “I need to talk to him alone.”

Sensing the tension, Chu Tianheng hesitated. “I…”

“It’s fine, Senior,” Li Xuan spoke up. “Go check if the revisions are done. If they are, get them online quickly.”

The snow outside was getting heavier, and even the heating didn’t seem to help. The silence felt like something tangible, pressing down on Qi Boyuan until he couldn’t breathe.

He finally broke the silence. “What exactly do you mean?”

“Li Xuan, have you always thought I was an idiot?” Qi Boyuan pointed to himself and nodded. “Yeah, maybe I am…. But tell me, why the hell did you agree to let that lunatic into the company? Couldn’t you see he was a disaster waiting to happen? So many things didn’t make sense, yet I never once doubted you. Never!”

His finger, pointing at Li Xuan, trembled uncontrollably. “I was your shadow when you were lonely as a ghost, and now you’re still treating me like a fool? Well, I’ve finally figured it out today. You did it on purpose, Li Xuan. You planned all of this from the very start! You knew he would cause trouble, so you let him in! Let him ruin things for you to see, for him to see!”

“Why? Tell me why?!” Qi Boyuan erupted, his voice hoarse from shouting as he grabbed Li Xuan by the collar, demanding answers. “What, do you owe him some kind of debt? Are you trying to atone, to settle things once and for all? Do you think that if he ruins your plans, then everything will be even, and you can finally wash your hands of him? Is that what you mean by ‘the end’? Bullshit! If you really don’t care about him anymore, then you should let me report him right now!”

Li Xuan’s palm pressed too hard against the edge of the desk, and even its rounded corner dug into his skin with a dull pain. Qi Boyuan’s furious breaths brushed against his face. Li Xuan lifted his eyes and smirked indifferently. “Is that all? Keep going.”

After three years of knowing him, Qi Boyuan finally understood just how ruthless Li Xuan could be. When he had voiced that absurd suspicion, deep down, he had wanted Li Xuan to refute it. But Li Xuan didn’t even bother to lie to him. He had his own rules, and right or wrong—he wouldn’t let anyone else be the judge of that.

“Are you insane?” Qi Boyuan let go and stared at Li Xuan. “Does this even make sense?”

“Whether it does or not, that’s for me to decide.”

“Oh, right, right.” Qi Boyuan let out a bitter laugh. “You get to decide. And your decision is that the company is something you can just throw away, huh? When he messed with Sheng Min, you finally felt the pain, so you kicked him out—because that was your precious darling that couldn’t be touched! But now, after all this, the damage still ended up at the company’s doorstep. Are you proud of yourself? Does this make you feel good?”

His eyes were bloodshot with rage, and he was barely holding himself together just to keep confronting Li Xuan.

This wasn’t entirely Li Xuan’s original intention, but at this moment, he couldn’t deny it either.

What was a dead end?

He had pondered this question ever since agreeing to let Zhao Jizhe in.

There was no answer.

It was himself. It was the company. It was everything he never cared about—everything except Sheng Min.

It was meaningless. Of course, it was. Li Xuan knew that better than anyone. But Zhao Jizhe was a madman, and he had been mad for so long that the entire situation had spiraled into obsession.

That day in the hospital, Li Xuan had truly felt the urge to kill him for a brief moment. But he couldn’t. He couldn’t kill him, and he couldn’t drive him away either. Zhao Jizhe was the lingering shadow of the orphanage’s filthy past—always there, never disappearing.

The seeds of this disaster had been sown long ago. Li Xuan hadn’t toppled the first domino, so he had no way of stopping the chain reaction. All he could do was watch everything collapse.

Collapse until Zhao Jizhe had nowhere to hide, no more excuses to exist.

Of course, this was never the best solution. It was merely the one that disgusted him the least—so much so that he’d rather burn everything down with himself than endure it any longer.

Li Xuan’s lips moved slightly, but Qi Boyuan was in no mood to listen, cutting him off immediately.

Not that Li Xuan had anything to say.

How would he explain?

How would he argue that he wasn’t truly this heartless?

A bomb, no matter where it was placed, was bound to explode. It had to. He had been waiting for it to go off. Keeping it within sight was one of the few viable options among a series of bad choices.

He had prepared for the company to take a hit, but he had also intended to control the damage. Yet once things started, it was impossible to control every single turn.

Undeniably, this outcome had been one of the worst-case scenarios he had foreseen.

And from any rational perspective, this sacrifice had never been necessary.

At the end of the day, it was all about the sickness in their hearts—Zhao Jizhe’s sickness, and, whether or not Li Xuan admitted it, his own.

And who could he even talk to about that?

Now that the dead end had been hit and everything was crumbling, was this really the end? There was no way to tell. There was no standard.

The answer could go either way—it was just a matter of perspective.

So Qi Boyuan wasn’t wrong. His anger was justified. Even calling Li Xuan out for getting exactly what he wanted wasn’t wrong. Because in the end, Li Xuan had chosen to let the company be something he could sacrifice.

“Don’t explain. I don’t need to know your reasons. I don’t deserve to know, and I don’t even want to.” Qi Boyuan, exhausted from venting, shook his head in weary disdain. “I don’t care what kind of sickness you have in your heart. But if you want to use my hard work to fill the void, I won’t accept it. Even if you wiped out his entire family and had to pay with your life, then go ahead—pay for it! But don’t drag me into your mess!”

Li Xuan’s expression finally shifted slightly. “Are you serious?”

“Yes.” Qi Boyuan fell silent for a moment, then suddenly raised his hands in a mock gesture of surrender. “You’re a genius. I still admit that. But I don’t want to live every day in constant fear anymore. Today it’s taking the game offline. Tomorrow, will it be shutting down the company? The day after, are we all just supposed to die together? You’re too stubborn, Li Xuan. Does everyone have to keep putting up with you? Well, I’m done.”

Li Xuan stared at him for a few seconds. This time, it was Qi Boyuan who fell silent.

In truth, Qi Boyuan knew that the company’s current crisis wasn’t fundamentally because of Zhao Jizhe. He was just a disposable pawn, a catalyst that could be replaced at any time. The real issue was that Li Mingge was forcing Li Xuan’s hand. If not through this, he would have found another way. If not today, it would have been tomorrow.

Zhao Jizhe was merely a manifestation of all the troubles surrounding Li Xuan, but Qi Boyuan couldn’t swallow this.

Li Xuan understood. He knew Qi Boyuan well—just as Qi Boyuan knew him. So there was no need for excessive persuasion. He simply pulled out a cigarette, smoked it to the end, and finally asked, “You want to split?”

“Yes.” Qi Boyuan turned his head away.

Li Xuan pressed the cigarette butt into an empty soda can and, after a long pause, said, “Alright.”

“You have shares in the company. Since we’re parting ways, I’ll transfer your—”

“No need. You’ve never shortchanged me on money. Every loan I took from you, you never made me pay back. There’s no boss more generous than you. That’s enough.” After a moment, Qi Boyuan chuckled mockingly. “If you still think there’s extra, just consider it my farewell gift to you. Buy some funeral wreaths and paper money. Fold a couple of gold ingots and bury the company tomorrow. After all, you stayed up night after night, coding every single line. If you don’t care, at least give it a proper burial.”

He opened the door and walked out. He was probably heading to his office to pack his things because, soon after, the employees outside began asking in shock. No one dared to address him casually as they usually did; instead, they all spoke with great respect:

“Boss Qi, what are you…”

From the sounds of it, Chu Tianheng had also gone in to persuade him. But even through two doors, it was clear that his efforts were unsuccessful because he soon rushed in to find Li Xuan.

“How did it come to this? Li Xuan—”

Li Xuan stared at the ceiling without responding.

On the other side, Qi Boyuan had already packed up his belongings into a box and placed his office keycard on the table in the reception area.

The employees in the room, who had just experienced the game’s removal and a major data leak in a single day, were now witnessing the departure of the company’s second-in-command. The rapid succession of events left them completely stunned. One by one, they looked at Qi Boyuan like withered cabbage after a frost.

But he offered no explanation. He simply glanced at the company logo on the wall for a few seconds before leaving without saying a single word.

Those left behind exchanged looks of confusion, the only sound in the room being the humming of computer towers.

No one knew what to do. Their screens still displayed documents and lines of code, but after what had happened with Void Island, the planned updates could no longer proceed.

Some turned to the artists who had been in the office earlier for answers, while others repeatedly peeked toward Li Xuan’s office.

But soon, the door was closed again. It was Chu Tianheng who shut it—just like Pandora’s box, every time that door opened and closed that day, it seemed to unleash yet another disaster.

“Will Boyuan come back?”

“What did he say to you?” Li Xuan asked softly.

“He just said it’s meaningless, and he doesn’t want to do this anymore.” Chu Tianheng had spent a long time trying to persuade him, but every argument had been dismissed. In the end, he didn’t know what to tell Li Xuan. “I asked him what he planned to do next, and he said he hadn’t decided yet. Maybe, since application season isn’t over, he might go back to school.”

That did sound like something Qi Boyuan would do. Li Xuan let out a noncommittal hum, picked up a bottle of soda, took a sip, then suddenly remembered that Qi Boyuan was the one who bought that case. He set it back down.

“Has the revised version been put back online?”

Chu Tianheng had originally wanted to say that if Li Xuan softened up and tried persuading Qi Boyuan again, there might still be a chance to change his mind. But before he could bring it up, Li Xuan had already moved on. Caught off guard, he hesitated before replying, “It’s all taken care of.”

“Good. Senior, you should go out now.”

Li Xuan’s tone and expression were so unnervingly calm that it made Chu Tianheng uneasy.

“Is there something else?” Li Xuan asked.

Chu Tianheng hesitated before saying, “Li Xuan, I…”

“You want to leave too?” Li Xuan lifted his gaze slightly.

Chu Tianheng pressed his lips together. “It was my team that caused this mess. The leaked plans and code were from my department—I can’t shirk responsibility. If I had listened to you earlier and fired Wang Tian, or if I had been more careful when Boyuan warned me, this wouldn’t have happened… I’ve worked for years and saved up some money. Consider this my compensation…”

He pulled out a card, but Li Xuan raised a hand to stop him.

“Senior, if you want to leave because of the company’s current situation and are looking for a better opportunity, I won’t stop you.”

“Of course not!” Chu Tianheng denied it firmly, then let out a bitter laugh. “Honestly, considering all that’s happened, if someone accused me of being the mole, I could almost believe it myself.”

“Trust is all or nothing. I know your character,” Li Xuan said calmly. “You have nothing to be responsible for. If it wasn’t Wang Tian, it would have been someone else. If the data hadn’t leaked through your team, they would have found another way.”

He looked up and even smiled slightly. “This was aimed at me. Everyone else, including you, is just collateral damage. Don’t dwell on it. I’m not blaming you—just don’t let it happen again. If you’re not leaving for any other reason, then keep working. With Qi Boyuan gone, I don’t have anyone to take over his role for now. I’ll handle part of it myself, but I’ll need your help with the rest.”

“Of course. I’ll take care of it.”

Li Xuan lowered his eyes again, thinking for a moment. “This is a bit of a mess. If any employees want to resign, don’t try to stop them. Just settle their wages and provide a resignation letter. For those who stay, salaries will be paid as usual this month.”

“Understood.”

“That’s all.” Li Xuan glanced at the time—it was almost two o’clock. “Given how things are today, I doubt anyone can focus on work.”

“At this point, there’s not much—”

“I know.” Li Xuan remained composed. “Let’s call it a day. There’s no point dragging this out. Everyone can leave early. Tomorrow, we’ll resume as usual. I’ll sort out the update plan for Nook tonight, and we’ll have a short meeting about it tomorrow.”

“As for Wang Tian, I’ll be heading to the police station later,” Chu Tianheng added cautiously. “Just about him, right?”

Li Xuan nodded. “Yes. Senior, I’d like some time alone. When you’re done, just head home—no need to check in with me.”

After a brief commotion outside, the office gradually fell into silence.

The room was dark, the snow outside growing heavier, making daytime feel like night. Light from the lobby seeped in through the door crack, but eventually, even that dim glow faded as everyone left.

Li Xuan stretched his numb legs, sat back down at his desk, and finished writing that section of code.

A fatigue he hadn’t felt in a long time crept over him, like being wrapped in soaked cotton—heavy and suffocating. His stomach had been hurting for so long that he was almost numb to it. He drank half a cup of warm water, leaned back in his chair, and unexpectedly drifted into sleep.

In his dreams, he saw the fire again.

The flames roared as if they would consume the sky, spreading across the dry grass. Just as the fire was about to reach his ankles and drag him into the ashes, a cloud passed by. Then, rain began to fall.

Li Xuan opened his eyes and saw Sheng Min’s clear gaze.

He didn’t ask why he was here. He simply reached out and clasped Sheng Min’s hand tightly, fingers interlocking, as if confirming this wasn’t another dream.

“How long have you been here?”

“Just got here,” Sheng Min said softly.

Li Xuan hummed in response, wrapped an arm around Sheng Min’s waist, and leaned in, burying his head against his stomach. It was a rare moment of dependence, and an even rarer display of vulnerability.

Sheng Min looked at the crown of his head, gently touching his temple, letting Li Xuan hold him for a long time. “Do you want to go home?”

Li Xuan’s voice was a little hoarse. “You drive. I want to sleep for a while.”

“Okay.”

“I want fish congee.”

“I’ll cook it for you when we get home.”

“Sheng Min,” he called his name again.

“Mm?”

Li Xuan looked at him, smiled faintly, and said softly and slowly, “Before you came, I missed you so much.”

“I missed you too.” Sheng Min responded gently, cupping his face with one hand, slightly bending down, and kissed him.