"You're clearly not a good person to entrust with this," Bill said.
Yi Zhengwei did not give a perfunctory answer, but lowered his head and pondered for a moment before replying cautiously but objectively: "At least, I will not hurt her."
Bill grinned, gave him a friendly shove, and leaned in to whisper, "I believe you don't yet have the ability to hurt her."
Everyone is so aware of their place.
Yan Xunan is like this, Yi Zhengwei is like this, and Bill is like this too.
Linchuan is like a vast net, with sharp iron nails at every knot, making it impossible for people to escape and forcing them to accept reality.
This is Song Qing's root. Although they have known each other for ten years, for Song Qing, this is just a beautiful experience on her way out of the maze. She will eventually return.
He lacked Yan Xunan's innate advantages and Yi Zhengwei's acquired skills.
Bill shook his head regretfully, a thousand sorrows welling up in his eyes. Ten years of pursuit had come to an end.
Song Qingchao bowed slightly from below the stage, turned around and saw that Bill was also there, so she waved to the two of them. She smiled apologetically and then walked towards Song Jingmo.
Bill and Yi Zhengwei retreated in unison, disappearing without a trace in the blink of an eye. Their purposes were different, but they used the same method.
That night, while Fuhua was shining brightly, the two of them were already in a bar, completely drunk.
When they wake up tomorrow, it will be a completely different world for the three of them.
Chapter Twenty-Nine: The Final Touch of Warmth
In her father's eyes and heart, there was only Song Qing. He never considered her. No matter what, Song Qing was the first person he thought of. So what did she have to worry about?
-Song Ning
Bill had been spending the last few days with Yi Zhengwei, assisting the team in monitoring stock market trends. While the rest of the team was excited, Bill and Yi Zhengwei were not optimistic. Yan Xunan had a backup plan, but what that plan would be and what consequences it would have were unknown to everyone.
Xu Zhihan was uneasy and stayed in the research institute every day. Like Song Qing, he was far less optimistic about this marriage arranged by his teacher than before.
"Zhihan, is work at the research institute free today?" Song Qing took a break from her busy schedule to call him. Since the wedding was arranged, it seemed like the two of them hadn't had a proper get-together for half a month, and she felt very apologetic.
"Well, I'm not entirely sure yet. I'll call you again before I leave work," Xu Zhihan said thoughtfully.
"Okay, don't work too hard. Mom prepared a big dinner today, saying she wants to give us a good rest." She clearly sensed the heaviness and oppression in the phone call, though she wasn't entirely sure when she had felt this way.
Xu Zhihan smiled, nodding in agreement, and then hung up the phone, looking guilty. He closed the documents, lit a cigarette, got up and walked to the window, looking at the endless mountain range outside, which reflected a bluish-green light in the bleak autumn sunlight.
The windows and doors were tightly shut, and in a short while, he was surrounded by swirling smoke. He had always been exceptionally intelligent and astute. Over the years, many powerful groups had tried to poach him, some even offering several times the salary he received at Zhenhua. However, he had always been grateful. His mentor had single-handedly promoted him, and now, childless in his old age, such a large company relied solely on his mentor's hard work. He couldn't bear to leave, so for over a decade, he had diligently secluded himself in the remote Zhenhua research lab, providing Fuhua with a continuous stream of technical support, ensuring Fuhua remained at the forefront of the industry.
Song Jingmo married Song Qing to him not only because he was a reliable person, but more importantly, because their division of labor and cooperation would surely enable Fuhua to go further and become stronger.
He was well aware of this. Over the years, due to work and research, he had had several scattered romances, all of which ended in heartbreak. The hustle and bustle of modern urban love always seemed out of place for him.
To be honest, he couldn't quite articulate how much he loved Song Qing. Admiration was fundamental, and liking her was inevitable. The serene aura she always exuded was what pleased him. Rationally speaking, Song Qing was the perfect partner he envisioned. She was like a lotus in a clear pond; though separated by a pond, though somewhat distant, though sometimes near and sometimes far, she brought him peace of mind. Now, perhaps it had become a habit. For the first time in many years, he wanted to walk hand in hand with a woman for a long, long time, forever.
He closed his eyes tightly and stubbed out the cigarette on the windowsill. Through his glasses, he raised a hand and rubbed his temples. His face was filled with despair. He looked up at the sky and sighed deeply, exhaling the last puff of smoke, before leaning limply against the window. The once refined and proper man now resembled a wandering poet.
It wasn't that he was overthinking things; after so many years of research, he knew all too well the terrifying implications of classified technical information. Even though it hadn't come to light yet, as long as the information remained untapped, his heart wouldn't be at peace, and he was afraid to face Song Qing.
In the end, you can't blame him for this. Song Ning had planned it all along. From the day Song Qing came back, she was planning how to stab her in the back.
He, the teacher, and Song Qing were all too clear-headed and rational. Things were too perfect, and trouble would always arise for no reason.
He later had two phone calls with Song Ning, intentionally or unintentionally. The situation had already turned around, and there was a hint of fear and pleading in his words. The calmer Song Ning was, the more worried people became.
There was a reason why Song Jingmo didn't let Song Ning take over Fuhua during the ten years Song Qing was abroad. He couldn't entrust such a large enterprise and the future of many employees who had worked hard with him to a daughter who disregarded the big picture and only had selfish motives.
He could only pray that his marriage to Song Qing would at least put her at ease.
But now, Weisheng's dire situation needs a turning point to turn things around. With Fuhua's new project progressing smoothly, the company united as one, and the stock market outlook bright, Yan Xunan cannot sit idly by and wait for his doom.
He touched his hair in frustration, then looked up and saw that his palm was full of broken hair roots, lying haphazardly.
※
"Hi, Lianxin, the stock market is doing well today, and it's expected to continue rising tomorrow. How about we go celebrate tonight?" Bill said, holding his coat, his tall frame leaning against the doorframe, a broad smile on his face.
Song Qing looked up and smiled, already starting to tidy up the messy desk.
"Oh, Bill, I'm afraid I can't today. I have to pick up Zhihan." She glanced at her wrist, gave Bill an apologetic smile, picked up her long coat, draped it over her wrist, and stood up.
Bill shrugged, stepped aside to let her pass, but still followed closely behind.
"Lianxin, are you really going to marry that bookworm?"
Song Qing tossed her head and smiled lightly, "Bill, you should go back to Haotian."
"No, the stock market is ever-changing, how can I be at ease?" Bill pulled her into the elevator, his expression suddenly becoming serious. For some time now, Weisheng has been eerily quiet, doing nothing, but that doesn't mean there won't be some storms brewing.
But all he could do was wait.
"No, Bill, you've neglected too much of your work at Fuhua lately, and that makes me very uneasy. You know, Auntie's health isn't good, and I don't want her to keep working like this. Bill, besides me, you're the person she trusts the most. Haotian needs you, and so does she."
Bill looked down at Song Qing, whose eyes were slightly red, and shook his head helplessly. In his heart, he sighed, thinking that the Chinese people always carried too much burden, one thing after another. And Song Qing was a prime example of this.
Seeing her busy every day, yet so fragile inside, he frowned, beginning to hesitate and waver over his own selfish desires.
Driven by a strange sense of resentment, he wanted Song Qing, who had been unable to forget the past for ten years, to forget that bygone era. But was it too cruel to do nothing and watch her suffer? He couldn't help but put his arm around her thin shoulders. She had become thinner, so thin it was heartbreaking; even her thick autumn clothes couldn't hide her frailty.
"Lianxin, although everything is going smoothly, I suggest you always be prepared. Things may not always go as we plan. The business world can change in an instant, and no one knows what we will encounter next."