“From today onward, move in with me…”
Chi Gui had just stepped out of the elevator when a waiting figure came forward to greet him.
“Sir.”
The newcomer was his personal life assistant, Chen Yiming. The phone call earlier upstairs had also been from him.
Chen Yiming held a black umbrella against the snow, tilting it toward Chi Gui.
“The private airport didn’t see you arrive, so I called Old Zhang to ask—only then did I find out you were here.”
Since they were nearby, he had rushed over immediately.
Only then did Chi Gui remember the meeting scheduled in Zhushi for the next morning.
“Notify Weidi. He’ll attend tomorrow’s project meeting in my place. I’ll join remotely online.”
Weidi was one of his administrative assistants.
“Understood,” Chen Yiming replied.
Chi Gui didn’t leave immediately. He tilted his head slightly, looking up at the sixth floor where the lights were still on.
“Send two people to keep watch in secret. Don’t disturb him. Report anything to me immediately.”
Chen Yiming followed his gaze toward the sixth floor and understood instantly.
“Got it.”
He glanced at the coat draped over Chi Gui’s arm.
“Sir, would you like to put your coat on?”
“No need.”
“Then should I hold it for you?”
“It’s fine.”
Chi Gui unconsciously tightened his grip on the coat, his fingers brushing over the fabric.
“Yiming, fly to Hong Kong tomorrow morning. Arrange it quickly and invite—”
He continued giving instructions while walking out of the residential complex.
Chen Yiming followed him into the car.
“Yes, sir, I’ve noted it.”
Old Zhang, the driver, glanced at the back seat. After confirming there were no further instructions, he started the car and left the neighborhood.
The black Rolls-Royce Phantom sped out of the narrow residential road onto the main street.
Chi Gui rubbed his slightly swollen temples, asking casually, “Did the banquet hosted by Chi Sheng tonight have a guest list?”
“Yes. The hotel manager just sent it over.”
Chen Yiming had worked beside Chi Gui for four years and could already guess his intentions fairly well.
After learning of Chi Gui’s sudden change of plans from Old Zhang, he had anticipated this question.
Soon, the complete guest list appeared on the tablet in Chi Gui’s hand. The cold light made his features look sharper and more intimidating.
His gaze locked immediately.
“Fang family?”
Chen Yiming carefully assessed his tone.
“I recall the Fang family’s young master, Fang Yu, is on good terms with Chi Sheng. I also heard from Weidi that the Fang family used the Chi family branch’s connections to get a share of the Jisheng project.”
Chi Gui raised a brow, his silent scrutiny even more oppressive.
Chen Yiming cautiously added, “A company at the Fang family’s level isn’t the best choice for that project.”
Chi Gui closed the tablet.
Calm and indifferent.
“Then replace them.”
Those four words meant severing a revenue chain worth tens of millions annually for the Fang family.
“…”
Looks like the Fang young master really stepped on a landmine tonight.
Chen Yiming quickly understood the order.
“Yes. I’ll contact Weidi right away.”
…
Snow had already begun accumulating on the windowsill, but the room was warm with heating.
After washing up, Jing Shun took out his medicine bag, carefully following instructions and swallowing a large handful of pills with cold water.
The bitter taste spread through his throat, but he didn’t even frown.
He used to hate taking medicine. But after nearly five years in his previous life, it had become routine.
After all, no bitterness in medicine could compare to the despair of failed rehabilitation.
Exhausted, Jing Shun collapsed onto the bed.
That night had been filled with too many events—
He had finally seen through Chi Sheng’s true nature, cut off that entanglement, and unexpectedly formed a cooperation with Chi Gui.
“…”
Chi Gui.
He silently repeated the name.
Before tonight, they had actually met once.
It was at a grand banquet hosted by Old Master Chi for his long-lost grandson, Chi Gui. The guest list had included over a hundred elites from Haishi and even across the country.
Jing Shun had originally not been qualified to attend. It was Chi Sheng who slipped him an invitation, saying it would be “just for fun.”
Back then, Jing Shun had just learned his parents had already divorced and was emotionally shaken. He went hoping to distract himself—but quickly realized he didn’t belong in that world of wealth and status.
So he wandered outside with a bottle of liquor and ended up meeting Chi Gui, who had also stepped out for air.
It was Jing Shun’s first time drinking as an adult. Overwhelmed by emotions, he couldn’t help but speak.
About his parents divorcing long ago.
About how he would be living alone from now on.
About how no one had truly spent his eighteenth birthday with him.
He expected the stranger to ignore him or feel annoyed.
Instead, Chi Gui brought him a small cake—and said:
“Happy birthday.”
Such a simple blessing, yet it stayed with him until now.
“…”
Jing Shun pulled himself out of the memory and wrapped the blanket tighter.
Tonight, when he mentioned his parents and living alone, it wasn’t just answering questions—it was also an attempt to test Chi Gui’s reaction.
Unfortunately, Chi Gui’s expression had been too calm. He probably didn’t remember that meeting.
Jing Shun didn’t think further. Exhausted physically and mentally, he fell asleep soon after.
His dreams came in fragments.
He saw himself as a child on set.
A sudden wire accident.
Countless falls after becoming paralyzed.
Late nights writing scripts and editing to earn money.
And then—strangely—the video call he made before dying.
The figure on the screen was blurred, but it kept calling him urgently.
“Jing Shun?”
“Jing Shun!”
Until finally, Chi Gui stood in front of him.
“Mr. Jing.”
“—Ah!”
Jing Shun jolted awake, gasping after several seconds. Cold sweat soaked his forehead, his body aching as if from a fever.
He sat up with effort, drank the remaining half glass of water on the nightstand, and slowly calmed down.
It was already 3 p.m.
He was surprised. Even with a fever, he hadn’t slept this long in a while.
His body, not yet tormented by complications, even felt unusually light.
That was good.
Jing Shun thought Chi Gui’s promise would take at least one or two weeks to materialize—but to his surprise, on the afternoon of the third day, his assistant arrived.
“Hello, Mr. Jing. This is our first meeting. I’m Mr. Chi’s assistant, Chen Yiming.”
He handed over a business card politely.
“Since we didn’t have your contact information, I came directly. I hope you don’t mind.”
Jing Shun accepted it and moved his wheelchair back slightly.
“Assistant Chen, please come in. Did Mr. Chi send you?”
Chen Yiming nodded.
“Mr. Jing, Professor Song Chunhui’s medical team has arrived in Haishi. If you’re available this afternoon, I can take you for a check-up.”
Jing Shun was stunned.
“Professor Song?”
Song Chunhui was a legendary figure in China’s orthopedic and spinal surgery field—universally known and respected.
His team only handled highly complex cases. Every surgery he performed was extremely difficult, many involving patients with paralysis or severe disability who regained mobility afterward.
However, he had long reached retirement age and now focused mostly on research. Most patients had no way of seeing him.
Jing Shun had once asked Chi Sheng for help with this very thing—but nothing ever came of it.
“Yes, Professor Song Chunhui,” Chen Yiming confirmed.
“If it’s inconvenient today, we can reschedule for tomorrow or the day after.”
“No need—I’m available!”
Jing Shun’s earlier gloom was quickly replaced by excitement.
“Now. We can go now.”
Opportunity couldn’t be missed.
For a patient, there was no reason to keep a famous doctor waiting.
A black van was already waiting at the entrance.
Jing Shun expected difficulty getting in—but the back of the vehicle had been modified with a lift system and wheelchair space.
He only needed minimal effort to board.
Clearly arranged by Chi Gui.
Half an hour later, the car stopped at a standalone building.
Inside, the space was large, with a faint smell of recent renovation.
The first floor was divided into six rooms—like a small private clinic.
Medical equipment was neatly arranged, all brand new, some still wrapped in protective film.
Squeak.
The door to the innermost room opened.
Professor Song Chunhui walked out wearing a white lab coat. He looked down at Jing Shun sitting in the wheelchair and smiled warmly, not at all stern.
“So this is the patient, I assume?”
Jing Shun straightened his back nervously.
“Professor Song, hello.”
“Chairman Chi has already had someone relay your condition to me. Don’t worry. First, let my assistant take you for some examinations and scans. We’ll discuss things once all the data comes in.”
“Alright.”
The equipment here was state-of-the-art—far more advanced than what many public hospitals had. Jing Shun didn’t fully understand it, but he cooperated with the medical staff and completed all the examinations.
When he approached the consultation room again, voices could be heard inside.
Through the slightly open door, he unexpectedly saw the figure of Chi Gui—
Today he wore a deep brown coat, and a pair of dark gold-rimmed glasses rested on his nose bridge. It looked like a carefully chosen outfit, making him appear steady and restrained, while softening his usual cold and sharp aura.
The next second, Chi Gui looked over—his gaze as precise and sharp as an eagle locking onto its target.
“……”
Jing Shun suddenly felt a strange sense of embarrassment at being “caught.”
Before he could even think of how to greet him, a nurse beside him had already pushed the door open.
“Professor Song, the patient has finished the examination. All data has been synced to your computer.”
“Mm, come in.”
Jing Shun was pushed inside and could only nod politely toward Chi Gui.
“Mr. Chi.”
Chi Gui gave a slight nod in response.
Jing Shun took a quiet breath and focused on the professor.
“Professor Song… my legs… is there still a chance they can be cured?”
This was the question he cared about most—and also the one he was most nervous about.
Professor Song glanced at Chi Gui sitting across from him, then turned back to Jing Shun.
“Your case is spinal nerve injury caused by a fall from height. However, based on your scans and current indicators, your condition is much better than I initially expected.”
A faint spark of hope appeared in Jing Shun’s eyes.
“So… my condition isn’t that bad?”
The professor answered honestly.
“With surgical decompression, repair of some damaged nerves, and restoring spinal stability, the chance of recovery is at least 80%.” (*)
“……”
Jing Shun repeated in disbelief.
“Eighty percent?”
Seeing his reaction, the professor smiled.
“What? You don’t trust my judgment?”
“N-no, it’s not that.”
Jing Shun felt the nearly extinguished flame in his heart suddenly reignite. He was excited—but also confused.
“Before this, I had other examinations and consulted different specialists. They all said my condition was very bad… even with surgery, at most a 20% chance.”
“And there’s also the risk of secondary damage. Surgery could even make things worse.”
“Twenty percent? Which incompetent quack told you that?”
Professor Song frowned, clearly surprised.
“The worst thing is patients like you who panic and seek random opinions. Your condition isn’t that hopeless—as long as it’s treated in time. Unless someone deliberately delayed your treatment.”
Those words, though casual, struck Jing Shun like a jolt.
He suddenly thought of something—
Back then, it had been Chi Sheng who personally arranged everything, even going through great trouble to secure an overseas specialist appointment.
Could it be… there had been something wrong from the beginning?
Had Chi Sheng, together with so-called “experts,” deceived him and deliberately delayed his treatment?
The mere thought made a chill run through Jing Shun’s entire body. The nausea of betrayal surged back up.
Professor Song continued.
“Since Mr. Chi invited me personally, my team and I will do everything we can to treat you. But I need to make one thing clear in advance—”
“Surgery and rehabilitation will be long, exhausting, and painful. It won’t show results quickly. Many patients also face a huge psychological test.”
Mind and body are one.
If the mentality collapses, recovery will not go smoothly.
Jing Shun came back to himself and firmly stated:
“Professor Song, I understand. As long as there’s even a slight chance of recovery, no matter how hard it is, I can endure it.”
“That’s good.”
The detailed surgical plan still needed further discussion.
After a few simple confirmations, Jing Shun finally let go of the weight in his heart.
After leaving the standalone building, the cold air rushed in again.
He took a deep breath and turned to the person beside him.
“Thank you, Mr. Chi. I didn’t expect you to arrange for Professor Song so quickly.”
Chi Gui gestured for Chen Yiming to contact the driver, then said calmly:
“The Chi family funds his medical research projects. In return, he agreed to personally handle your treatment.”
Jing Shun understood the weight behind those words and momentarily couldn’t respond.
With his current financial ability, he could never repay a favor of this magnitude.
Seeing his silence, Chi Gui took control of the conversation.
“Mr. Jing, I’ve already completed half of what I promised you. Shouldn’t you start fulfilling your part as well?”
Jing Shun looked confused.
“Start… how?”
Chi Gui adjusted his decorative glasses slightly.
“You made such a scene at the banquet three days ago. It’s inevitable people will investigate what followed. Since you agreed to act, you need to act convincingly.”
Jing Shun’s eyelashes flickered slightly, silently allowing him to continue.
Chi Gui looked at him without blinking. It wasn’t a suggestion—it was a demand.
“From today onward, move in with me.”