It turned out Kang Shuai wasn’t just fooling around in the class group chat—the information he compiled was surprisingly well-organized.
Gu Siqiao opened his lunchbox, flipping through the pages as he ate.
【Name: Xue Lou
Age: 27
Education: 20XX–20XX Jiangcheng No. 1 High School; 20XX–20XX Huaidong University of Technology, Undergraduate (Dropped Out)
Family Relations: …】
Undergraduate dropped out?
Gu Siqiao placed a call to Kang Shuai on speakerphone. Kang Shuai answered, sounding a bit out of breath. “What’s up, Fourth Brother?”
“Is this info on Xue Lou correct?” Gu Siqiao asked. “Wasn’t he the gaokao top scorer? How did he end up dropping out of university?”
“It’s correct,” Kang Shuai said. “I’m not sure about the exact details, but the source is reliable. Someone went to the same university as Xue Lou… seems like they were in the Computer Science department.”
“The number one student from our school went to Huaidong Tech? Don’t the top three go to Yanda every single year?”
“I asked a friend in the academic affairs office at Huaidong Tech. Apparently, back then, the School of Computer Science had a targeted recruitment program that waived tuition and fees, plus offered an annual scholarship of 35,000 yuan. It was canceled after three years,” Kang Shuai said. “My guess is he applied solely for that program.”
Gu Siqiao kept reading down the page, letting out a chuckle. “Family relations: Parents—None? Did he pop out of a rock?”
“I actually know about this,” Kang Shuai answered directly. “Both of Xue Lou’s parents passed away—said to have died in a construction accident. He received several hundred thousand yuan in compensation and went to live with his eldest aunt’s family.”
Gu Siqiao fell silent, shoveling food into his mouth.
“And what’s even crazier,” Kang Shuai continued, “is that remember the Second Hospital we collaborated with before, Fourth Brother? Dr. Jiang, the chief orthopedic surgeon at the Second Hospital, treated Xue Lou’s eldest aunt. He explained a whole bunch to me, but I didn’t really get it—anyway, it’s a condition that’s really tough to treat.”
“Dr. Jiang said that a lot of the imported medications used for this condition aren’t covered by medical insurance. Neither his aunt nor uncle has the capacity to work, so he’s shouldering all the medical expenses himself.”
“Then why didn’t the aunt’s own kids step up to… whatever.”
Gu Siqiao swallowed his food. “The home address is blank too?”
“That, I don’t know—unless you go ask the police station.”
Gu Siqiao: “Alright, wrap it up.”
The call disconnected. Gu Siqiao looked at the two-inch color headshot on the resume. The photo had clearly been retrieved from high school archives—showing a seventeen- or eighteen-year-old youth with regular features, lips slightly pressed together, and a touch of youthfulness between his brows.
Just as Kang Shuai had said, he really did have bushy eyebrows and big eyes.
Gu Siqiao took a sip of tea, walked back into his office, and dialed an internal extension on the landline.
“Is this HR?” After the call connected, Gu Siqiao picked up the receiver. “Check the system and see what the salary and benefits package looked like when Secretary Liu was hired.”
*
At four-thirty in the afternoon, Gu Siqiao received a WeChat message from the nanny at the old estate: President Gu, you haven’t come home for dinner in a long time. The Chairman misses you very much.
The nanny was the only person in the Gu family who expressed genuine warmth and concern toward Gu Siqiao.
It wasn’t out of anything special; Gu Siqiao was the one who signed her employment contract, and she was simply afraid of losing a good job.
At least the nanny knew how to handle people and knew how to tactfully rephrase things.
Even if the sun rose from the west, Gu Chaoyang would never miss his son. Gu Siqiao knew full well what the original words had actually been.
So he replied: Arriving at six.
An hour and a half later, a Ferrari SF90 pulled up among a cluster of luxury cars in the courtyard of the old estate.
Judging from the sheer number and models of the luxury cars, Gu Siqiao already had a good idea of the scale of tonight’s family dinner.
Sure enough, as soon as he stepped inside, both his father and his Eldest Aunt Gu Mingyue were present, and even his unreliable older brother, Gu Sicheng, was there, sitting in the tea room drinking tea with his own mother.
“Second Young Master is here.” The nanny brought slippers for Gu Siqiao. “I made your favorite pineapple cakes today, just waiting for you to taste them.”
Coming out after washing his hands in the guest restroom near the entrance, Gu Sicheng and his mother, Cheng Wan, also walked out. Gu Siqiao passed by the two of them without batting an eye, nodding at the two elders in the living room. “Dad. Eldest Aunt.”
Gu Mingyue wore gold-rimmed glasses and wore a white suit jacket even outside of working hours, resembling a highly educated career woman straight out of a TV drama that stacked audience stereotypes on top of each other.
Gu Chaoyang, on the other hand, looked noticeably older, with a square jawline and graying temples.
Gu Mingyue blew gently on the Maojian tea in her bowl. “Siqiao, work must have been exhausting lately.”
“It’s fine,” Gu Siqiao took off his suit jacket and rolled up his shirt sleeves. “The technology sector has been fluctuating recently. I asked development, and the experts said it will be fine once it passes testing. Big data models need time to be validated.”
“Which experts, and where did they serve?” Gu Mingyue asked. “A bunch of laymen making up complete nonsense just to turn in their work. Siqiao, you don’t understand these technical details—don’t let them fool you.”
Gu Siqiao lowered his head to fasten his buttons, letting out a soft, amused hum.
For all these years, Gu Mingyue had always harbored doubts about handing Window Group over to a younger family member who hadn’t attended a top university. Every time they met, she adopted a condescending, instructive stance.
“When I get back, I’ll have my executive assistant send you their information.” Gu Siqiao walked up behind the opposite sofa, leaning against the backrest without sitting down. “They’re all your alumni.”
Gu Mingyue pursed her lips and took a sip of tea.
A little figure came running over with loud footsteps—it was Xiao Yu, holding something in his hand as he threw himself into Gu Chaoyang’s arms:
“Grandpa!”
After Gu Siqiao’s remarks just now, Gu Chaoyang had initially maintained a stern face, but upon seeing his grandson, he smiled, picked Xiao Yu up, and sat him on his lap.
“What are you eating?” Gu Chaoyang asked. “It’s almost dinnertime, why are you eating so many snacks?”
“Pineapple cake.” Xiao Yu opened his hands. “It’s super yummy! I couldn’t help myself and ate all of it.”
“Oh my, Xiao Yu, those pineapple cakes were meant for President Gu,” the nanny said.
Xiao Yu waved the last remaining half-eaten pineapple cake toward Gu Siqiao, giggling mischievously. “Little Uncle, this one’s for you.”
Several pairs of eyes turned toward Gu Siqiao simultaneously, as if waiting in unspoken unison to see how he would react.
“If he eats it, he eats it. Once it’s gone, just have the chef make more,” Gu Sicheng spoke up first. “What’s the big deal? Why get petty with a kid?”
“Don’t be like that, Xiao Yu. That was meant for your Little Uncle—how could you just take it without asking?” Cheng Wan immediately stepped forward, lifting Xiao Yu down and taking the half-eaten pineapple cake from his hand. “Apologize to your Little Uncle right now.”
Xiao Yu grunted and whined for a long time, clinging to his grandmother like a boneless sack, refusing to utter a word.
Cheng Wan offered Gu Siqiao an apologetic smile. “Siqiao, the boy is young and doesn’t know any better. I’ll have Aunt Zhou go outside and buy a box right away, okay?”
Looking at these three generations, Gu Siqiao felt a genuine urge to laugh out loud.
“It’s fine,” Gu Siqiao said. “I don’t like sweets anyway.”
During dinner, the family gathered around the round table to eat. Sure enough, Xiao Yu put down his chopsticks after barely two bites, clutching his phone as he scampered off to hide somewhere.
The meal was entirely flavorless.
Gu Siqiao knew in his heart like a clear mirror that this ambush of a dinner was bound to target him eventually—he just didn’t know when the guillotine would drop.
Surprisingly, Eldest Aunt Gu Mingyue had plenty to say, continuously dragging Gu Siqiao into conversations about the newly developed big data model.
It was obvious that Gu Mingyue was still dwelling on how Gu Siqiao had checkmated her before dinner. Unwilling to back down, the stubborn career woman didn’t discuss the return on investment or the cash flow for R&D this time; instead, she fixated on technical questions, probing relentlessly.
When it came to hyper-specific technical details, Gu Siqiao wasn’t entirely knowledgeable, and after a few rounds, he candidly stated that he would need to check back with the R&D team for those details.
Gu Mingyue finally felt satisfied. With her mood lifted, her appetite opened up, and she had Aunt Zhou ladle two extra bowls of soup for her.
“Siqiao.” During this brief pause, Gu Chaoyang suddenly called his name.
Here it comes, Gu Siqiao thought to himself, setting down his chopsticks. “Dad.”
Elder Gu: “I heard you transferred that executive secretary named Liu to logistics.”
Gu Siqiao hadn’t expected the guillotine to be over such a minor chore rather than the public welfare project. “Yes.”
Elder Gu: “Was Miss Liu not doing a good job?”
Gu Siqiao: “No, she was fine. She’s pregnant, and until the child grows up a bit, it’s going to take at least two or three years. I arranged another position for her.”
“How do you know she couldn’t keep working? Is it that she needed to leave, or that you didn’t want to keep her?”
“Does that matter?” Gu Siqiao asked, puzzled. “She’s my secretary, so it shouldn’t matter how I handle it. Besides, she was originally planning to resign anyway.”
“Gu Siqiao!” Gu Chaoyang slammed his chopsticks down heavily. “In front of your father, you don’t have the right to talk about ‘yours’ or ‘mine’!”
The atmosphere plummeted to freezing point. Gu Sicheng sat nearby cracking crayfish, watching Gu Siqiao with gloating amusement.
Elder Gu: “Don’t think that just because you’re assigned to handle this and that now, you’ve grown above your old man! You think your wings are fully grown? Just because such a massive business was placed in your hands, you think you’re so incredible? Without your father, you’re absolute nothing!”
Having been berated so harshly out of nowhere, Gu Siqiao instinctively wanted to ask, Is this really necessary? Did you call me over just to put on a show of authority?
But he kept his mouth shut.
There was no particular reason.
Even if there were, before he could spend time figuring out the cause, he had experienced plenty of these bizarre scoldings over the past twenty-plus years. He had argued back and explained himself before, but it always ended up unresolved.
For domestic affairs behind closed doors, ending up unresolved was already considered a decent outcome.
“I’m set on transferring Liu’s position, no negotiation,” Gu Siqiao wiped his mouth and stood up. “Enjoy your meal, I still have a video conference to attend.”
“Don’t be like that, Siqiao,” Cheng Wan also set down her bowl and chopsticks. “Talk to your dad properly.”
Gu Siqiao didn’t want to spend another second looking at that face that permanently wore a victimized, aggrieved expression; he turned and walked away.
“Let him go!” Gu Chaoyang’s voice boomed from behind. “Little bastard! Out of sight, out of mind!”
Gu Siqiao walked through the hallway and casually grabbed his jacket off the rack. Xiao Yu was curled up on the sofa, texting someone on his phone. The nanny, Aunt Zhou, rushed over: “Second Young Master, it was my fault today. You always request to eat those pineapple cakes every time you come back, but today I was so flustered with work, I…”
Aunt Zhou glanced at Xiao Yu, not daring to utter the words failed to keep an eye on him.
Gu Siqiao waved his hand. “I really don’t eat sweets.”
He paused for a moment. “My mother loved pineapple cakes when she was alive—they all know that. Seeing a plate of pineapple cakes sit there—the more disgusted it makes them feel, the happier I am.”
Aunt Zhou was left utterly stunned.
Gu Siqiao curled his lips into a smile. “Keep doing it just like this in the future, Aunt Zhou. Take a picture and send it to me every time you make them, and there’ll be a red packet for you.”
He closed the door and left.
Gu Siqiao wasn’t used to hiring external drivers; whenever Kang Shuai wasn’t around, he drove himself.
Starting the car, Gu Siqiao pulled out his phone, intending to place it on the dashboard tray.
The phone screen accidentally triggered facial recognition, and the penguin icon on the desktop caught Gu Siqiao’s eye.
Gu Siqiao’s movements paused.
Night had fallen. The interior of the car was illuminated only by the faint glow of the dashboard. Gu Siqiao lowered his eyelashes, his thoughts unknown.
After a full half-minute, he picked up the phone, tapped open the chat window with Lou, hesitated for one last moment, and hit the voice call button.
The default QQ ringtone began to chime. Gu Siqiao fastened his seatbelt, but the call didn’t go through. He adjusted his sitting posture, but the call still didn’t connect.
Just when he thought the voice call wouldn’t be answered, a beep sounded.
A faint static noise hummed through the speaker, followed by a rustling silence.
For about three seconds, no one spoke.
Gu Siqiao suddenly realized how foolish he was being—calling an unfamiliar high school classmate out of nowhere, and then remaining silent after it went through made him sound like he was looking for trouble.
Just as he was about to speak, the electromagnetic signal fluctuated, and a magnetic, deep young male voice echoed softly through the car’s speaker:
“Gu Siqiao,” he said, word by word, as if uncertain. “Are you looking for me?”