“Who sent this?”
Fu Yechuan’s voice wasn’t loud.
The motion-sensor light in the fifth-floor hallway flickered slightly, and every word landed with crisp clarity.
Su Ran stared at the edge of the phone clutched between his fingers.
Her fingertips brushed against the seam of her pants.
The message contained only four words: “Miss Su Ran.”
There was no signature. No follow-up.
She still hadn’t figured out who the sender was herself, so how was she supposed to explain it?
“I don’t know.”
She was telling the truth.
Fu Yechuan’s brows lowered slightly.
Turning the phone over, he checked the timestamp and then opened the number details.
The origin showed as unknown.
“An unfamiliar number, no follow-up messages, and you still kept it instead of deleting it?”
“I kept it because I wanted to investigate it.”
Su Ran took the phone from his hand, locked the screen, and slipped it back into her pocket.
“Since when did you start managing the text messages on my phone?”
The moment the words left her mouth, both of them froze.
Fu Yechuan was the first to look away.
His gaze swept toward the buzzing fluorescent tube overhead. His Adam’s apple bobbed once, but he didn’t respond.
Something strange and sticky settled into the atmosphere.
Su Ran turned around and unlocked the door, leaving it half open.
An unspoken invitation for him to follow her inside.
Fu Yechuan stepped in.
He sat down in the room’s only chair, one arm draped over the backrest in what appeared to be a relaxed posture.
One glance was enough for Su Ran to see through it.
His back wasn’t actually resting against the chair.
The injuries from the fight made it too painful.
His left cheekbone was swollen and shiny. A cut split the corner of his mouth, dried blood forming a thin dark red scab across it.
After rummaging through her bag, Su Ran found a packet of tissues.
Her fingers paused briefly before she tossed it to him.
Fu Yechuan caught it. He didn’t use it to wipe his face.
Instead, he crumpled the packet in his hand, the tissue fibers sticking to the scrape across the web of his thumb.
“What did Bai Jingshan say before he left?” he asked.
Su Ran repeated his exact words.
“After I verify it, I’ll go find Weiwei.”
No visible reaction crossed Fu Yechuan’s face.
But she could tell he was processing the information.
“Do you think he’ll verify it?” he asked.
“He will, the bad check is too easy to confirm. One phone call is enough.”
Su Ran paused briefly. “Bai Jingshan isn’t stupid. He’s just been kept in the dark.”
“By his own sister.”
“Exactly.” The corner of Fu Yechuan’s mouth twitched.
It wasn’t a smile, it was bitterness.
The kind that came from having experienced the same thing himself.
No one understood the feeling of being deceived by those closest to you better than he did.
Neither of them spoke again.
From the neighboring room came the sound effects of Huang Mao’s mobile game. The constant chimes and explosions were occasionally interrupted by a shouted curse, creating a rhythm that sounded almost like drums and gongs.
Sitting on the edge of the bed, Su Ran pulled out her phone and lit up the screen.
She opened the message once more.
“Miss Su Ran.”
She searched through the original owner’s memories for clues.
Nothing!
The original Su Ran’s social circle had been pitifully small. There were very few people who would address her as Miss Su Ran.
The title was far too formal.
Not the tone of a friend. Nor the style of the Bai family.
Bai Jingshan called her Miss Su.
Bai Weiwei would never voluntarily contact her.
Then who was it? Did such a person even exist in the novel?
Su Ran searched through the latter half of the original story.
After Fu Yechuan’s descent into darkness and eventual comeback, several key figures gradually appeared around him.
Besides Zhou Zhe, the hidden chess piece, there was another person.
Shen Zhixing.
The moment the name surfaced, the hairs on the back of her neck stood up.
In the novel, Shen Zhixing was a lawyer.
More specifically, he had been the chief lawyer representing the opposing side during the liquidation of the Fu family’s assets after their bankruptcy.
He worked for the Bai family.
With ruthless efficiency, he dismantled the Fu family’s holdings piece by piece, leaving no evidence behind.
But later, he switched sides.
In the latter part of the story, for reasons never fully explained, Shen Zhixing sought out the already-darkened Fu Yechuan and handed over a complete chain of evidence detailing the Bai family’s illegal operations.
Using that evidence, Fu Yechuan staged his comeback.
The cost was Shen Zhixing’s life.
The Bai family hunted him down, and he died miserably, little more than a disposable plot device.
Su Ran’s fingertip slowly slid across the screen.
The original novel never mentioned Shen Zhixing contacting the original Su Ran.
At this point in the original timeline, Su Ran had already taken the money and fled, only to have her legs broken by Fu Yechuan later. There was no possibility of her receiving such a message.
She had changed the story.
And that change had triggered a new variable.
A variable completely outside the range of her foreknowledge.
“Did you think of something?”
Fu Yechuan’s voice interrupted her thoughts.
Su Ran looked up and met his bloodshot eyes.
“Not yet.” She wasn’t lying.
But she wasn’t telling him everything either.
“I’ll tell you once I’ve confirmed it.”
Fu Yechuan stared at her for three seconds.
“You’re keeping more and more secrets.”
“And you’re still covered in injuries.”
Su Ran stood up and went to the communal washroom at the end of the hallway, returning with a basin of cold water.
Digging through the bottom of her bag, she found a small medicine kit.
It contained iodine swabs and adhesive bandages she had picked up from a convenience store.
She had tossed them into her bag that morning without thinking.
Even now, she couldn’t explain why.
She simply had. “Come here.”
She unscrewed the iodine bottle. Fu Yechuan didn’t move.
“The cut on your mouth is covered in dirt. If you don’t treat it, it’ll get infected.”
Holding up a cotton swab, Su Ran waved it in front of him.
“Or would you rather go to the hospital? Because hospitals require registration, and registration means showing your ID.”
“Enough.”
He turned the chair to face her directly.
Dipping the cotton swab into the iodine, Su Ran leaned closer.
Very close! Close enough to see the faint network of blood vessels beneath the swollen skin of his cheekbone.
Close enough to catch the scent of sweat mixed with iron.
The iron smell was blood.
She gently dabbed the iodine onto the split at the corner of his mouth.
Fu Yechuan hissed. “Does it hurt?”
“What do you think?”
The corner of Su Ran’s mouth twitched.
She nearly laughed.
The great future villain who could single-handedly take down three former soldiers was now flinching from a little iodine.
Who would believe it?
“Don’t move.”
Pressing a hand against his jaw when he instinctively turned away, she guided the swab back to the wound.
This time, he didn’t make a sound.
His entire face tightened. His jaw clenched while his eyes stared fixedly at the ceiling.
After finishing with the cut, Su Ran examined the scrape on his cheekbone.
It was swollen but hadn’t broken the skin.
Iodine wouldn’t help. It needed ice.
She soaked several tissues in the basin, folded them into a square, and pressed them against his cheekbone.
“Hold this.”
Fu Yechuan raised a hand and took the cold compress.
Water trickled between his fingers, running along his jaw and soaking into the collar of his T-shirt, leaving behind a dark patch.
“You’ve got an injury near your collarbone too.”
“Leave it alone.”
Su Ran glanced at the torn section of his collar.
The skin was scraped raw but not bleeding.
“Suit yourself.”
She closed the iodine bottle, packed everything away, and carried the basin out to dump the water.
When she returned, Fu Yechuan had already removed the damp tissues from his face and folded them into a neat square on the corner of the table.
Even used tissues. Obsessive-compulsive habits.
“I need to tell you something.” Su Ran sat back down on the edge of the bed, lowering her voice. “Qiming Technology has been suspended. The earliest it can resume trading is in ten trading days. Until then, our money is locked up, and there’s nothing we need to do.”
“Mm.”
“The problem is…”
She hesitated. “My prediction about what happens after trading resumes might not be as accurate anymore.”
Fu Yechuan’s fingertips brushed against the neatly folded tissue before withdrawing.
“You said it would rise above thirty.”
“That was based on the information available at the time.”
She almost revealed too much and quickly corrected herself.
“But now the Bai family knows about our position. If they interfere through Tianhuan Group, lower the acquisition price, or delay the restructuring process, the stock might not reach thirty.”
“What’s your floor estimate?”
After calculating briefly in her head, Su Ran answered.
“Twenty. Conservatively speaking, twenty yuan. At that price, two hundred and fifty thousand shares become five million. Subtracting our original investment of four hundred and sixty thousand, we’d still clear more than four and a half million in profit.”
Fu Yechuan didn’t comment on the number.
Six months ago, four and a half million wouldn’t have earned so much as a glance from him.
But now, it meant something entirely different.
“What would that be enough for?” he asked.
“It would be enough for the first step of your comeback.”
Su Ran looked at him. “As for how to use it, you understand that better than I do.”
Fu Yechuan leaned back into the chair.
The moment his back touched the backrest, a muffled groan escaped him.
His back was injured too. He simply hadn’t mentioned it.
Pretending not to hear, Su Ran said, “You should go get some rest.”
Fu Yechuan rose from the chair and walked to the door.
His hand rested on the doorknob without turning it.
“Su Ran.”
“What?”
“When you figure out who sent that text message, tell me.”
“Okay.”
“That wasn’t a suggestion. It was a requirement.”
Su Ran was speechless. “Are you my boss or something?”
Fu Yechuan opened the door and stepped outside.
The buzzing fluorescent lights from the hallway poured in, accompanied by another anguished cry from Huang Mao after yet another gaming defeat.
Just before the door closed, his voice slipped through the narrowing gap.
“Lock the door.”
Su Ran rolled her eyes.
Even so, she followed his instructions and clicked the lock into place.
Pulling out her phone, she opened the message and pressed the sender’s number.
Call back, busy signal.
She tried three times. Every call returned the same busy tone.
On the fourth attempt, just before the automated recording played, she heard the faint sound of a fountain pen tapping against a wooden desk.
Half a second. Then the cold voice announced that the number was no longer in service.
The number had been canceled.
Setting the phone aside, Su Ran sat cross-legged on the bed and thought for a long time.
If it really was Shen Zhixing…
Why would he contact her at this point?
In the original novel, he only betrayed the Bai family after Fu Yechuan had already rebuilt himself.
The current Fu Yechuan was still at rock bottom.
What reason would Shen Zhixing have to act early?
Unless the Bai family was already pressuring him.
Closing her eyes, Su Ran began piecing together the web in her mind.
The Bai family’s scheme resembled an airtight net.
The bad check was the first thread.
Zhou Zhe was the second.
The Nanan Project was the third. Bai Jingshan was the one pulling the net closed.
And Shen Zhixing? Where did he stand within that web?
The pieces wouldn’t fit. There wasn’t enough information.
Sliding the phone beneath her pillow, Su Ran switched off the light.
In the darkness, she could hear water running through the pipes in Room 517 down the hallway.
Fu Yechuan was taking a shower. She rolled onto her side, facing the wall.
The wallpaper’s pattern dissolved into a vague shadow in the darkness.
The four words—
“Miss Su Ran.” circled through her mind all night long.