She was indeed in a bad state, though her work kept her from a total breakdown. Hearing Ming Li’s thoughtful inquiry made her chest tighten with emotion.
Gu Xueqiang briefly explained why she had called the previous day and updated her on Gu Qingshuang’s condition.
It was worse than Ming Li had expected.
Recurrent fevers had led to inflammation, and she was still in the hospital.
Ming Li offered a few words of comfort before Gu Xueqiang hung up to stay on schedule. However, they made an appointment to meet.
Tonight.
After the call ended, Ming Li stood in a daze for a few seconds. She put her phone away and looked up, meeting Luo Chaoxue’s smiling eyes.
The eye contact lasted less than three seconds before Ming Li looked away. The admiration and affection in that gaze were too intense, making her feel self-conscious.
As they headed upstairs, Luo Chaoxue chatted about her newfound creative drive, mentioning that the Snowy Mountain Peak podcast would likely see more frequent updates.
Ming Li, still preoccupied with Gu Xueqiang’s words, gave a perfunctory reply. “I look forward to it.”
Luo Chaoxue noticed her low spirits. “Is there anything I can do to help ease your mind?”
“Not right now,” Ming Li said in a low voice as they reached her door. “Get some rest.”
“Alright.” Luo Chaoxue looked at her. “Goodnight, A-Li.”
Ming Li froze. she gave a vague hum of acknowledgement but said nothing else.
***
Ming Li wasn’t comfortable with Luo Chaoxue calling her that.
She didn’t know why.
Her mother called her A-Li, and Zhu Hanxing occasionally did too, but the name coming from Luo Chaoxue’s mouth felt different. It was sticky, like it was coated in honey.
It gave Ming Li a sense of looming crisis—the feeling of personal boundaries being breached.
She didn’t object to getting to know Luo Chaoxue better, but the pace was too fast.
Ming Li didn’t know if she was overthinking it, but it felt like Luo Chaoxue was playing a long game she intended to win. It made Ming Li increasingly unsure of how to act. After a full day together, Ming Li felt nothing but exhaustion.
Every time she saw the look in Luo Chaoxue’s eyes, she felt a flicker of fear.
She couldn’t return that level of emotion. On top of her work, she now had to manage another person, which meant managing another complex relationship.
Ming Li stared blankly into space in her room for a while before coming back to her senses. She hurried to the bathroom to wash her hair and take a shower, finally feeling like she had come back to life.
At 10:30 PM, she received another call from Gu Xueqiang, saying she was outside the complex.
Ming Li told her mother she was heading out and went to meet her. She got into Gu Xueqiang’s car, and they drove to a high-end private restaurant.
Having not seen her for a while, Ming Li noticed that Gu Xueqiang looked much older. Her makeup couldn’t hide the deep fatigue.
Ming Li offered some words of comfort, but Gu Xueqiang only responded with a bitter, helpless smile.
Ming Li thought they would discuss Gu Qingshuang’s hospitalization, but Gu Xueqiang instead talked about the recent changes within the Gu Group. Since Gu Zhengbo had become chairman, he had begun sweeping reforms, and Gu Mengdie’s status had skyrocketed along with him.
The originally planned engagement party had been postponed due to Grandmother’s passing. Now that Gu Zhengbo was chairman, he no longer saw the Qin family as a worthy ally; he had immediately broken off the engagement and was already looking for a more powerful son-in-law.
The Gu family’s affairs were numerous and messy. The turmoil in the group didn’t stop there. Gu Xueqiang had inherited a portion of shares after Gu Liufu’s death and was now working with Gu Fei. They were planning to call a new Shareholder Meeting to reclaim the chairmanship.
Ming Li could only listen; she couldn’t offer an opinion on matters so far removed from her life.
However, while mentioning Gu Fei, Gu Xueqiang suddenly remarked, “Gu Fei likes you, doesn’t she?”
Ming Li was taken aback. “Right now, she probably…”
“I meant before,” Gu Xueqiang said.
Ming Li felt awkward and took a sip of tea. Gu Xueqiang continued, “She’s a tenacious person.”
“But she has no ambition,” Ming Li countered. “If she wasn’t pushed to the brink, she never would have gotten involved in this struggle for power.”
Gu Xueqiang smiled. “I know. Are you still in touch?”
“No.” Ming Li didn’t mention Gu Fei’s confession. She only stated that they would only ever be friends and that she had no intention of being dragged back into the Gu family’s messes. She had extracted herself from that long ago.
Ming Li’s responses remained calm and gentle. Gu Xueqiang suddenly sighed, “Why couldn’t I have given birth to a daughter as sensible as you?”
Ming Li paused and gave an awkward laugh. “Gu Qingshuang isn’t bad. She’s very capable.”
She meant it.
“Then why did you divorce her?” Gu Xueqiang asked.
This was the real reason for the meeting.
Here it is, Ming Li thought.
Gu Qingshuang had stood outside her building all night, collapsed, and was now hospitalized with a recurring fever. Such a major event meant Gu Xueqiang was bound to demand an explanation.
Ming Li had been waiting for this topic since they sat down. She didn’t have a big reaction, only offering a soft, sad smile. “Feelings are hard to explain. Besides, you know how we started. Our foundation was never pure. It’s hard to just keep living in a muddle like that.”
“True.”
To Ming Li’s surprise, Gu Xueqiang didn’t interrogate her or jump to defend her daughter like she used to. She simply said, “She brought this on herself.”
“It’s not entirely her fault,” Ming Li said fairly. “Besides, she wasn’t troublesome. At least, she wasn’t during our marriage.”
Ming Li had never found Gu Qingshuang to be high-maintenance. She was decisive, cold, and detached—the opposite of someone who made scenes.
On the contrary, it was Ming Li who had been trapped in her own emotions, thinking she could be cool and indifferent while actually driving herself to the brink of a breakdown. If she hadn’t realized that she couldn’t keep living such a confused life, she probably would have stayed on that path of self-destruction.
She had performed one act of self-sacrifice after another, none of which mattered.
