Chapter 63

The ringtone exploded like a thunderclap in the silent room.

Jin Yizhu’s breathing grew lighter. She buried her face in Wei Shuyu’s embrace, letting the warm, soft skin envelop her. Her heart beat against that softness, with vigorous blood surging through her veins. Wei Shuyu reached out, stroking her neck. Her slender fingertips exerted no force, but Jin Yizhu felt as if she was being integrated into her very bones and blood.

“Aren’t you going to answer?”

The ringtone had rung halfway when Wei Shuyu finally spoke.

“It’s an important call, right?”

When Jin Yizhu was with her, she always turned on silent mode for protection.

She had asked about it once. Aren’t you very busy? Jin Yizhu had said her phone was silent because of do-not-disturb mode; she didn’t want anyone interrupting.

But if it was truly important, it could still get through, Jin Yizhu had added.

She hadn’t asked what counted as important, but now it clearly was.

“Mm.”

After the ringtone sounded two more times, Jin Yizhu responded. She lifted her head from Wei Shuyu’s embrace and reached for the phone on the bedside table.

“This is Jin Yizhu.”

Her expression turned grave when she spoke—a look Wei Shuyu had never seen before.

When they were together, Jin Yizhu smiled most of the time, in all sorts of ways: bright and flamboyant, meaningful, teasing and playful. Even when she wasn’t smiling, her eyes and brows carried a hint of amusement.

“. . . Is that so? When did it happen?”

After Jin Yizhu said a few words, her expression grew even graver, almost carrying a hint of murderous intent.

She clutched the blanket and sat up from the bed. Her back didn’t lean against the headboard; instead, it was ramrod straight. Wei Shuyu hesitated for a moment before placing her hand over Jin Yizhu’s. She found that Jin Yizhu’s hand was cold and clammy with sweat.

“I understand,” Jin Yizhu said. “I’ll head over now.”

She hung up the phone and regulated her breathing, trying to appear calm. “Something urgent came up. I need to go back to Hong Kong.”

In the flickering lamplight, Jin Yizhu’s eyes were indistinct, but the aura around her made Wei Shuyu clearly realize that something had happened.

Beyond Jin Yizhu’s control, beyond her expectations—like a derailed train rushing toward an uncontrolled cliff.

Wei Shuyu gripped her hand tightly and said, “Okay.”

Jin Yizhu nodded, got up, and headed to the dressing room.

The light stretched her shadow into a long strip. Wei Shuyu didn’t follow; she just watched her back.

There were still kiss marks on her waist and back from Wei Shuyu, but her spine was tense, bearing the weight of an impending storm.

Her long, straight legs stepped onto the carpet, making her skin appear startlingly pale.

When Jin Yizhu emerged from the dressing room again, she wore a deep gray suit with straight shoulder lines—not her usual casual style. Her shirt was pure white, made of a stiffer material rather than silk, with buttons fastened meticulously all the way to the top one.

She tied her hair into a ponytail, applied light makeup, and chose lipstick in an oppressively dark red shade.

The vulnerability she had shown while lying in Wei Shuyu’s arms had vanished completely.

Wei Shuyu’s heart jolted. Jin Yizhu was dressed too formally, as if ready for any occasion.

Her fingers curled up. Her heart raced as if squeezed tight, and a faint, indescribable metallic taste rose in her throat.

She wanted to ask what she was going to do, but felt like she shouldn’t. As Jin Yizhu’s girlfriend, did she have the right to know everything? Especially at a moment like this, when Jin Yizhu’s expression was so grave—it might not be something she could share.

Jin Yizhu made an internal call, instructing He Ping’an to prepare the car and head to Haneda Airport now, booking her the next flight to Hong Kong.

Turning her head, she saw that Wei Shuyu had gotten up and was sitting on the sofa, dressed casually in a loose cotton dress that made her look somewhat forlorn.

“My grandfather is ill.”

Jin Yizhu walked around and squatted in front of the sofa, taking her hand and pressing it to her own face.

“He just got sent to the ICU. I need to go over there.”

A chill spread from Wei Shuyu’s palm, like an icy sculpture, leaving a blessing on her face.

Jin Yizhu kissed her palm lightly, reining in her breathing and her emotions.

“You rest here for a few more days. Come back to Tokyo after a while,” Jin Yizhu said. “I probably won’t be able to come over for some time.”

“Okay,” Wei Shuyu replied. “Tell me whenever you need me.”

Jin Yizhu kissed her palm again, this time with much more force.

Her eyes stung, her throat stung, as if something was lodged in her chest. She couldn’t voice it or dispel it. The world before her eyes was losing its color, turning into clouds, into mist, into the soft white dress on Wei Shuyu’s body.

“I’ll walk you downstairs,” Wei Shuyu said. “Jin Yizhu.”

She closed her fingers, clasping Jin Yizhu’s hand in her own with a bit more force than usual, as if offering comfort.

Warmth transferred from her skin, melting the chill in Jin Yizhu’s palm.

“Don’t be afraid.”

Wei Shuyu hugged her, fingers pressing against her back. Even her voice lowered, the usual coquettishness masked, leaving only calm steadiness.

“Jin Yizhu, don’t be afraid.”

Jin Yizhu was pulled to her feet by her wrist. Wei Shuyu straightened her collar, and they went downstairs together.

A Bugatti Veyron was parked at the door—the world’s fastest production sports car. Some said it couldn’t outrun time, but Jin Yizhu didn’t believe it.

“I’ll wait for you to come back,” Wei Shuyu said as she saw her into the car. “Don’t worry.”

Don’t worry. You will have a place to come back to.

The Bugatti Veyron carried Jin Yizhu away, vanishing down the highway toward an unpredictable future.

Wei Shuyu returned to the room and began packing her things. With Jin Yizhu gone, she had no mood left for vacation.

“Tang Su, it’s Wei Shuyu.”

She called Tang Su first and asked her:

“Can I come back to Tokyo now?”

“Now?”

Tang Su lowered her voice. Her high heels clicked sharply against the floor.

A moment later, her surroundings quieted. Tang Su let out a long breath, her tone relaxing a bit:

“A bunch of people from Hong Kong showed up at the company. Did something happen to Jin Yizhu?”

“She just went back to Hong Kong,” Wei Shuyu said gravely. “Wait for her call.”

Jin Yizhu’s grandfather had entered the ICU. What was framed as family business was also Jin Yizhu’s personal affair.

Until Jin Yizhu told others herself, even to Tang Su, this was as much as Wei Shuyu could reveal.

But it would probably hit the news soon enough.

The power struggle in Lionheart Group had long since reached a fever pitch.

He Tianhe was growing old and finding it hard to manage everything, especially after several major illnesses, when he began delegating power.

His daughter had no interest in the family business and only had eyes for Jin Shenghua, who harbored wolfish ambitions to turn Lionheart Group into his personal possession. Unfortunately, the Lionheart Board of Directors was solid as iron, so he hadn’t succeeded yet.

By the time Jin Yizhu caught on and joined the fray, the situation had grown even more chaotic.

Compared to Jin Shenghua, Jin Yizhu—bearing He Wanruo’s blood—was clearly more legitimate. But she had entered the game too late and lacked sufficient bargaining chips. The board watched and waited, their stance ambiguous.

Now, with He Tianhe suddenly hospitalized—and in the ICU—no one could say what would happen next.

In just a few sentences, Wei Shuyu’s mind raced through a thousand thoughts.

Tang Su picked up on something in her tone and took a deep breath. “Then I’ll hold them off for now. We can discuss when you get back?”

“Mm. He Ping’an will bring Jin Yizhu back later—no, wait, she’ll send me back to Tokyo by car.”

The Shinkansen had schedules, and getting to the station took time. It was better to drive straight back. There was no point in rushing at this moment.

After Wei Shuyu hung up, she felt somewhat unsettled.

She checked her phone from time to time. Only when Jin Yizhu messaged that she was on the plane did she relax a little.

He Ping’an returned from the airport and drove her back to Tokyo in the same Bugatti Veyron.

In the speeding sports car, Wei Shuyu stared silently out the window.

Like Jin Yizhu, she had her own considerations.

Emotions were one thing; reality was another.

When she had agreed to Jin Yizhu and signed the contract, she still had a way out.

It was just one project—not like she was betting everything on Jin Yizhu. Instead, Jin Yizhu had seen her talent, invested in her work to bolster her own position.

But attending the banquet with Jin Yizhu had tied them to the same boat.

Now everyone knew: she was Jin Yizhu’s person.

From then on, their fates were linked—one prospered together, one fell together.

From her girlfriend’s standpoint, Wei Shuyu wanted to comfort Jin Yizhu, to be her safe harbor, so she wouldn’t suffer so much, could slow down, avoid doing things she didn’t want, disregard her status and identity, and simply love and support her as a person.

But from her business partner’s standpoint, she couldn’t think that way.

She needed Jin Yizhu to push forward, to fight for what was rightfully hers, to set aside emotions and become a blade aimed solely at profit.

Wei Shuyu thought, I can’t do that.

Her mind was in turmoil. She buried her face in her palms.

She didn’t know how much time passed before Tang Su yanked open the car door and pulled her out, her voice cold as ice:

“Wei Shuyu, we’re in trouble.”

“What do you mean?”

Wei Shuyu lifted her face, her voice laced with drowsiness.

“That group claims they’re from headquarters. They say our project is being scrapped and the company shut down?”

“How do you know?” A flicker of surprise crossed Tang Su’s face.

“I guessed,” Wei Shuyu said as she followed her upstairs and sat in the conference room. “Has Jin Yizhu called you?”

“She has. She said something came up at home that might affect us. She won’t be able to come over for a while,” Tang Su said rapidly, her words carrying a resolute edge. “She said she’ll figure something out. We keep progressing as planned; the company must stay operational.”

Wei Shuyu sighed. “Then trust her. Why panic?”

Jin Yizhu hadn’t mentioned her grandfather entering the ICU, only that something had come up at home. Whether due to emotions or holding back, that was it.

But telling Tang Su the company must stay operational meant she was prepared and not planning to retreat.

“I’m a bit worried.”

Unlike Wei Shuyu, Tang Su was extremely professional.

Professional to the point of never letting emotions interfere—work was all she saw. She locked the office door, sat before Wei Shuyu with hands folded on her knees, and asked:

“Do you really trust Jin Yizhu that much?”

“Tang Su, what are you getting at?”

Wei Shuyu gave a cold laugh, lifting her chin. She looked pure as a jasmine flower, but her tone was full of pressure.

“Are you thinking of cutting Jin Yizhu out and going independent?”