Despite their conversation, Li Xuan still didn’t sleep well that night.
He worked on programming until seven in the morning, then changed into running clothes and jogged around the software park. On his way back, he found himself lingering at the main entrance, looking across at the LED screen displaying birthday tributes. He stayed until the sun broke through the clouds before heading back to the office.
Over the following days, this turned into an odd habit. Running countless laps, always ending at the same place.
It became a symbol of sorts, marking the start of each new day.
And because of this, the passage of time felt all the more tangible. Each second seemed to urge him to act, though he wasn’t sure what he was supposed to do.
He did accomplish a few things but couldn’t shake the doubt about their significance—whether they truly mattered or were just acts of self-consolation.
His insomnia worsened. But since he’d always been a light sleeper, no one noticed any obvious changes except for the increased amount of coffee he drank. He didn’t want anyone expressing concern or offering advice, so he maintained an outward appearance of calmness.
One morning, as he returned from his run and was preparing coffee in the break room, his phone buzzed with a message.
Li Xuan didn’t think much of it at first but frowned slightly when he saw the sender’s name—a name he hadn’t seen in a long time.
“Xuan Ge, let me help you.” The new administrative assistant, a sharp young woman, quickly stepped forward and took the coffee grounds from his hands.
Li Xuan picked up his phone and moved aside to read the message. It was short, just two lines. He chuckled faintly, the meaning behind his smile indiscernible, and turned off the screen.
“Xuan Ge, your coffee is ready.”
“Thanks.” He accepted the cup, glanced toward the main hall, and then at the open door of the office across the way. “Where’s Qi Boyuan?”
“He went to meet with the new promotional team.”
Right, there was such a task. Li Xuan massaged his temples. “When he gets back, ask him to come to my office.”
“Okay.”
After finishing some adjustments to the new player guide, the door opened.
“Xiao Ding said you were looking for me?” Qi Boyuan had just returned, a bag slung over one shoulder. Before Li Xuan could respond, he remembered something and added, “Oh, right, this is for you. I brought it this morning but got too busy and forgot.”
He pulled an envelope out of his bag and placed it in front of Li Xuan.
“What’s this?”
“A bribe, of course.” Qi Boyuan grabbed a tissue and wiped the sweat off his forehead.
Li Xuan opened it, immediately understanding. “…Thank Zhou Jia for me.”
“What’s wrong?” Qi Boyuan noticed his expression. “This isn’t it? You don’t look too pleased.”
“No, it’s fine. You’re overthinking it.” Li Xuan waved the envelope slightly. “It’s exactly what I wanted. Thanks.”
“No need to be so formal.” Qi Boyuan relaxed a bit. “But what’s going on with you? Suddenly interested in theater? I thought you’d consider even tech expos a waste of time.”
“Why? Do you have an issue with that?”
“Nope.” Qi Boyuan leaned on the desk, dragging out his words with a teasing grin. “But there are two tickets—who are you planning to take?”
“You, if you’re interested.”
“Pass. Neither of us has even half an artistic bone in our bodies. I’m not suffering through that.” Qi Boyuan studied him with growing curiosity. “What’s this? Has the iron tree finally bloomed?”
“Stop.” Li Xuan placed the envelope, embossed with gold lettering, into a drawer, his expression calm. “Close the door. I need to discuss something serious.”
“Changing the subject, huh?” Though Qi Boyuan quipped, he didn’t press further and obediently shut the door. “What’s up?”
Li Xuan glanced at him. “Have the backend metrics been stable recently?”
“Stable,” Qi Boyuan confirmed. He walked over to the air conditioner, adjusting the vents to blow directly at himself. “Download growth is steady, revenue streams are consistent. We saw a small spike after the latest update. Senior mentioned the new dungeon map should be ready next week—he probably told you too, right? If so, we can launch a new side quest by mid-July to coincide with a summer promotion event. As for the milk tea brand collaboration, I’m still negotiating. It’s hard to say if it’ll make it in time.”
“Forget about the collaboration for now. They’re not serious. We have our bottom line, and they keep pushing it. Let them cool off for a while.” Li Xuan rested his head on one hand, spinning his phone in the other. “The dungeon framework is done. I’ll send you the update later. Coordinate with the art team to wrap it up. Meanwhile, I’m reworking the server security. You don’t need to worry about that—I’ll handle it with the platform.”
“Did something happen?” Qi Boyuan froze, halting mid-motion.
“Not yet.”
“So, something’s about to happen?”
Li Xuan shrugged. “Not sure yet.”
“But it definitely will happen? … No, what’s with that expression? Don’t laugh.”
“Eighty to ninety percent sure.” Li Xuan lazily yawned.
“No way.” Qi Boyuan frowned. “We’re already being targeted? Did a hacker send you a ransom letter?”
“Is that how you made your pocket money back in school?”
“I never did, don’t slander me.” Qi Boyuan clicked his tongue. “What exactly happened?”
“It’s a bit of a personal grudge.” Li Xuan pressed his lips together and casually bit into an apple. “Anyway, for now, just pay attention to everything you’re handling—whether it’s software or third-party deals. Someone’s bound to cause trouble sooner or later. I just don’t know when or what it’ll be. Better safe than sorry.”
Qi Boyuan paused. “You’re not joking, are you?”
“Does this sound funny to you?”
Qi Boyuan studied him. “You were just laughing earlier… Is this how you talk about serious matters? Why do I feel like you’re kind of excited?”
“Excited? Not quite. It’s just that it was bound to happen eventually, and I’d rather get it over with sooner.” Li Xuan smirked faintly. “No need to worry too much. I’m just giving you a heads-up.”
“I’m not worried.” Qi Boyuan, now cooled off from the summer heat, moved to sit by the sofa. “If the sky falls, you’re taller—you’ll take the hit first. No way it’ll land on me.”
“It won’t fall.” Li Xuan’s tone was calm and measured.
“Should we inform Senior about this?”
“No need for now. Just keep it in mind.” Li Xuan tilted his head slightly, his joints cracking faintly. “The other day, he told me not to feel pressured even if something happened. Said it so earnestly, and look, now something’s come up. Really tempting fate here… Anyway, don’t tell him yet. No need to burden him unnecessarily—he’s already busy enough with art direction.”
“Fine. I’ve got fewer responsibilities, so you just work me harder, huh?” Qi Boyuan laughed.
“Cut it out. Who’s more dedicated than you?” Li Xuan tossed the apple core into the trash, then paused to think. “Also, if the company needs to hire anyone in the near future, I need all resumes to pass through me first.”
“Got it,” Qi Boyuan agreed. “Speaking of which, since you brought up hiring, yesterday another venture capitalist approached us about investing…”
Before he could finish, Li Xuan’s phone rang again. Glancing at the caller ID, he immediately hung up. “Go on.”
But before Qi Boyuan could speak, the phone rang persistently once more.
“You take it first. I’ll talk to you later.” Qi Boyuan noticed Li Xuan’s annoyed expression and quietly closed the door on his way out.
“Hello.” Li Xuan swiped to answer.
“Nineteen.” Zhao Jizhe’s voice, as always, carried a hint of nervousness. “Where are you?”
“At the office.” Li Xuan put the call on speaker and set the phone aside, opening an email from the planning team.
“You’re working? Isn’t it the weekend? Does your company work weekends too?”
“What’s the matter? Just get to the point.”
“It’s not much,” Zhao Jizhe hesitated. “You told me to rent a place, right?”
“How much do you need?” Li Xuan asked.
“No, it’s not about money. The money you gave me is enough.” Zhao Jizhe quickly clarified. “I was just wondering if you could come with me to take a look…”
Li Xuan’s typing paused for a moment. “Can’t Zhu Zhou go with you? And besides, you’re a grown man. Can’t you check out a place on your own?”
There was a moment of silence before Zhao Jizhe stammered, “Zhu Zhou has to mind the internet café… And I think he probably doesn’t like me much, considering, well, that I… I’ve been in prison…”
“What do you mean he doesn’t like you? Did he say something to you, or did you say something to him?” Li Xuan frowned, jotting down notes on the document. “I never mentioned your past to him, so how would he even know? He’s not going to give you attitude.”
“It’s not that…”
“Then what is it? Zhu Zhou is a straightforward guy, but the café keeps him busy. If he can’t pay attention to you sometimes, it’s not because he doesn’t like you. You’re his boss; why would he have an issue with you?” Li Xuan rubbed his temples with one hand. “And even if he does know, so what? What happened is in the past. Stop dwelling on it or imagining people see you differently. Why does their attitude matter so much?”
There was silence on the other end, and Li Xuan, not wanting to be too harsh, sent the revised proposal back. “Or did you two argue?”
“No,” Zhao Jizhe said quietly. After a moment, he tentatively added, “If you’re too busy, then never mind. It’s just that… I haven’t seen you in a while… Or, Nineteen, where’s your office? Can I come by to see you? I promise I won’t disturb your work.”
Li Xuan frowned but said nothing. Then Zhao Jizhe added, “Since I left Qingshui Alley, you’re the only person I know in N City… I know you’re busy, and you’ve moved on to a new life, but in my heart, you’re still the only family I have…”
“I’ve told you before—stop with this.” Li Xuan suppressed the urge to snap, pressing his brow in frustration. His voice was tense. “Address.”
“What?”
“Didn’t you arrange to see some places with the agent? At least two options, right?”
“Yes, I did…”
Li Xuan glanced at his schedule. “Send the address to my phone. I should be able to make it by seven.”
About half an hour later, Zhao Jizhe sent the location, adding that it was fine if he was late. Li Xuan didn’t respond and merely glanced at the message. Just below it, in the same thread, was the text from Li Mingge that morning. Seeing those two names together felt like a cage tightening around him for the past seven or eight years.
Li Xuan hesitated before opening the message again.
“The buzz around Nook is impressive. Congratulations. After nearly a decade of being like father and son, I have nothing else to offer you but these four words: High climbs, hard falls.”
This warning had come sooner than Li Xuan expected, likely spurred by the rapid growth of the company under Sheng Min’s involvement. It seemed Li Mingge could no longer sit still.
However, this was inevitable; what’s meant to come will come, unrelated to any external factors. When he first saw it in the morning, besides the sense of closure, there was a faint trace of anger. But now, he found it more absurd than anything. Li Xuan’s fingers moved slightly. “Thanks for the reminder, but no need to concern yourself.”
He deleted the message.
