Chapter Seventy-One: Afraid That Happiness Has Nothing to Do With Me
In the spacious and brightly lit office, Lin Shuo sat upright in his chair, holding a delicate signing pen in his hand. His gaze was fixed on a certain spot in the newspaper, unmoving for a long while.
Yesterday, when the servant was cleaning out old items, they found these old newspapers in the cabinet—dated four years ago, precisely a few days before he left the country. Issue after issue featured follow-up reports on Xiao Xiao’s deliberate harm; it was the first time he saw her so panic-stricken and helpless. Those days were agonizing for more than just her. He had locked himself in his room, waiting for her to come and explain. From dawn to dusk, he waited. When the night wind stirred the leaves in the courtyard, he rushed outside, hoping it was her. But each time, only disappointment awaited him. Not a word from her before he left. It wasn’t that he didn’t care; he was simply afraid to hear news of her happiness that had nothing to do with him.
Knock, knock, knock.
The sound of someone rapping at the door interrupted his reverie. He rubbed his brow and called out, “Come in!”
Cheng Feng, the deputy general manager, came in with some documents for his approval. Lin Shuo glanced them over and asked, “Any movements from Shenghua Group, the new entrants?”
“Nothing major so far, just increasing their stakes—a minor threat.”
“Oh?” Lin Shuo raised an eyebrow, a smile playing at his lips, making Cheng Feng uneasy. Lin Shuo spoke slowly, “I heard they just sent a new manager over from their Shanghai headquarters. A phoenix doesn’t land without treasure—if they weren’t determined to win, they wouldn’t go to such lengths. Don’t take them lightly.”
“You mean the one named Xi?”
Lin Shuo got up and walked to the floor-to-ceiling window. Kunming was not a big city, but if outsiders managed to carve out a bigger share, it would be a laughingstock among their peers. Without turning, he ordered, “Look into Xi Mintang’s background.”
Cheng Feng wanted to urge Lin Shuo to relax; they had come through so many cases before with ease, and this time it was just a small contract—there was no need to be so tense. Yet the atmosphere around Lin Shuo was distinctly off today, so Cheng Feng decided it was best to retreat and left the office.
The sky outside was weighed down by thick clouds, as if ready to unleash a torrential rain. Even though there was no wind, Lin Shuo felt a headache coming on. Why had she never explained? Was it guilt, indifference, or had his own display of hatred been so intense that it drove her farther away, step by step?
He pulled out the chair and sat down. Page after page of the newspaper was filled with news about her, making him feel unsettled from head to toe. He pressed the intercom and called his assistant, Zhao Jun, into the office, pushing the newspaper toward him with frustration. “Find out what really happened, but don’t alarm that woman.”
Zhao Jun asked, “Should I inquire indirectly?”
Crash!
Suddenly, Lin Shuo swept everything off the desk onto the floor, his chest rising and falling as he raised his voice, “I don’t care what method you use—just get me the truth!”
Zhao Jun dared not ask further. He took the newspaper and left the office. The scene he had just witnessed was unlike anything he’d ever seen. No matter what happened before, even when company secrets were stolen by industrial spies during previous acquisitions, Lin Shuo had only laughed it off. What could possibly drive the always-calm Lin Shuo to such anger? Zhao Jun couldn’t fathom it.
“Is Mr. Lin still inside?” Cheng Feng, not noticing Zhao Jun’s expression, was about to push the door open when Zhao Jun quickly pulled him back. “Don’t go in now—he’s furious.”
Sure enough, before Zhao Jun finished speaking, another crash came from Lin Shuo’s office. Cheng Feng frowned, puzzled. “All the current company projects are going smoothly. What is going on?”
Zhao Jun didn’t mention what had just happened to Cheng Feng, merely shrugging to indicate he didn’t know.