Rong Minghao's breath hitched.
He turned abruptly, only to see his younger sister, Rong Lihong, standing a short distance away. Her expression was unreadable—calm on the surface, yet heavy with unspoken meaning.
Their eyes met.
Rong Minghao's heartbeat quickened, an unease stirring within him. His gaze darted around the corridor, wary of wandering ears. In the next moment, he strode forward, seized her wrist, and drew her swiftly toward the balcony tucked away in the far right corner of the hallway.
When they were finally out of sight, his voice came in a rush—low, urgent, and tinged with a raw edge.
"Did you… really find out where Li Jianfang is?"
There was a faint tremor in his words, his eyes bloodshot with anticipation. His left hand twitched uncontrollably, a subtle betrayal of the storm raging inside him.
Rong Lihong looked at him for a long moment before speaking. "I don't know her exact whereabouts," she said slowly, "but I do know where she was last seen… fifteen years ago, in Shanghai. And, brother…" Her voice softened, growing heavier, "I'm not sure you'll want to hear the rest."
A chill slid down his spine. His grip on her hand tightened, almost painfully. "W… what do you mean?" he asked, barely above a whisper.
Rong Lihong hesitated, her lips pressing together before she finally spoke.
"She was last seen in the gynecology department of Shanghai City Hospital. And when I asked my investigator to dig into her old medical records… we discovered she was one month pregnant at the time. After that—nothing. She disappeared without a trace. No matter how much we searched, every trail went cold."
Her sigh was soft, but to Rong Minghao, it sounded like the tolling of a funeral bell.
His knees nearly gave way. "Pregnant…?" he breathed, his voice cracking under the weight of the word.
In an instant, memories flooded his mind—haunting, bittersweet, and unforgiving.
He remembered that night.
Their final night.
It had been desperate, almost feverish—two souls clinging to each other as if the world outside no longer existed. He had held her as though she was the only thing keeping him alive, kissed her as if it were the last breath he would ever take. She, in turn, had gazed up at him with eyes brimming with hope—dreaming of a shared future, of a small family they could call their own.
And yet, before dawn broke, he had left her.
Not a farewell. Not an explanation.
Only a hastily scribbled note of apology.
He could not—would not—allow himself to imagine the look on her face when she woke, reaching for him only to find an empty bed and a piece of paper where her heart had once rested.
For fifteen years, regret had carved itself into his bones. To say he had loved Li Jianfang would be an insult to the depth of his feelings—he had worshipped her, from the moment he first saw her in that small supermarket. He could still recall how he had lingered there for hours under the pretense of shopping, just to watch her work, just to see her smile. The day she accepted his proposal, it had felt as though the world had turned golden.
That year with her had been the most beautiful of his life.
Until the day his father called.
In that single moment, everything shattered like glass.
Faced with an impossible choice, he had chosen the coward's path—turning his back on the woman he loved most in the world.
He had wanted to find her, to watch over her even from afar. But his father's shadow loomed over every step, every move he tried to make. His father's eyes were everywhere, his control absolute. Any attempt to reach her was crushed before it could begin.
It was only recently he confided everything to Rong Lihong. She, leveraging her connections within the Han family, had begun the search in earnest.
Three months had passed since then. Three long months of nothing but silence.
Until today.
The revelation that Li Jianfang had been pregnant when she vanished struck him harder than any blow he had endured in his life. His chest constricted, his breath came in uneven gasps, and without realizing it, tears spilled down his cheeks.
His voice was hoarse when he finally spoke.
"Xiao Hong… how many lives… have I destroyed?"
Rong Lihong's gaze lingered on her brother for a long, heavy moment before she finally spoke, her voice low yet cutting,
"Brother… I'm a woman myself. If someone had done to me what you did to her, I would never want to see that man's face again in my life. I don't know why you're still so desperate to find her, but if you do… she will only hate you more."
Rong Minghao's expression froze. His eyes drifted toward the sprawling estate garden beyond the balcony, the winter wind rattling the bare branches as though echoing the hollowness in his chest. Her words sank into him like slow poison. He thought of Li Jianfang's stubborn, unyielding nature — how she never forgave easily, how every slight would burn in her heart until it turned to stone.
Silence stretched between them, long and suffocating, until he finally spoke, his voice hoarse and threaded with pain.
"No… we must find her. I have to see her… just once. I need to tell her I'm sorry — truly sorry — for what I did. If I don't, I'll never know peace."
His hands curled into fists, knuckles whitening as his gaze darkened with a desperate resolve.
"And now… knowing she was pregnant back then… I need to see for myself. I need to know… whether my child is a boy or a girl. I know I have no right to disturb their lives, but I just want to look from afar. One glance would be enough. I won't go near them. I swear."
Rong Lihong said nothing. She simply looked at him, her heart heavy with words she dared not speak aloud. She understood a truth her brother refused to see — Some doors are best left closed; reopen them, and you may unleash storms you are not ready to face.
But she kept that thought buried, because she saw the fire in his eyes, the fire of a man who had lived in regret for fifteen long years.
"Xiao Hong…" Rong Minghao's voice cracked, breaking the brittle air between them. "We must find Li Jianfang. Please."
In the shadows of the corridor, a faint silhouette lingered.
Fang Meiling stood frozen, her back pressed against the wall, straining to hear every word. Li Jianfang… pregnant… fourteen years ago…
Her nails dug so deep into her palms that tiny crescent moons of blood appeared. The sound of Rong Minghao's voice—low, determined—made her chest clench. When she saw him and Rong Lihong leave the balcony, their backs retreating into the distance, a wild panic surged inside her.
Without thinking, she bolted to her bedroom. The lock clicked shut.
Her legs gave out, and she collapsed onto the bed, her hair tumbling in disarray around her face. Her breaths came sharp and uneven, like someone drowning. Her pupils trembled as she whispered to herself, over and over—
"No… no… no… he can't find her… He can't!"
Her voice cracked into a shriek. She snatched a pillow, pressed it over her face, and screamed until her throat burned. When she pulled it away, her expression was no longer that of the elegant Mrs. Rong—
it was the face of a predator cornered and ready to kill.
Her hands shook as she grabbed her phone and dialed a number from memory.
The line clicked, and an elderly woman's voice answered, calm and cold.
Before the greeting could finish, Fang Meiling's voice lashed out like a whip:
"Didn't I tell you to find that bitch?! Now Rong Minghao and Rong Lihong already have her trail! Fourteen years of hiding—gone! What are you even good for?"
On the other end, Lu Qiu'e's tone dropped several degrees, the weight of authority in her voice.
"I am your mother, not your servant. Has marriage made you forget basic respect?"
Fang Meiling forced a shaky breath, pacing like a caged animal.
"Mom, you don't understand—if he finds her, everything will be exposed. Everything. All the work, all the years—it'll be for nothing. I can't let that happen. I won't! You know how much I love him—" Her voice rose, breaking into a sob. "I can't live without him. If I lose him, I'll die!"
There was a pause, then a soft, humorless chuckle.
"Calm yourself. If someone hears you, they'll smell your fear. I've been searching, but something is… wrong."
Fang Meiling's eyes narrowed. "Wrong?"
Lu Qiu'e's tone shifted into something darker. "When my people reached Shanghai, we started from the neighborhood she once lived in. Not a single soul remembers her, we couldn't even find her single picture. The few who did speak said she was extraordinarily beautiful… divine, even… but no one knew where she came from, or where she went.
"We found her old hospital records, which should've contained her household registration number. But the moment my men pulled the file, it caught fire.
"A few days later, one of my best trackers uncovered a lead. He called me, ready to report… but before he could say a word, a flowerpot 'accidentally' fell on his head. When he woke up, his memories were gone. Completely erased, he couldn't even remember himself."
Meiling's face twisted, but a thought jolted her.
"Mother, what about that woman—the one from that night fourteen years ago?"
Huifen's voice cooled several degrees.
"I found her last week and the day before yesterday I even went to her home. But…"
"But what?!" Meiling demanded, nearly shouting.
"She suffered a paralysis attack that very morning. Her body is now useless, her mouth unable to speak a word. Do you see the pattern, Meiling? It's as if some… force… is stopping us from finding Li Jianfang. We must tread carefully."
Fang Meiling's face twisted into a snarl.
"Unnatural? Supernatural? What nonsense. I don't care if the heavens themselves are trying to hide her—if you don't find Li Jianfang, we're both finished. All the things we did… everyone will know. She must die, Mom. Do you hear me? She must die."
Lu Qiu'e's voice dropped into a silken whisper that was somehow more dangerous than a shout.
"Oh, I hear you. And when I find her, it will be her last day on earth. That, my dear, you can count on."
The words wrapped around Fang Meiling like poison-coated silk, finally steadying her breath.
"But for now," Lu Qiu'e continued, "focus on Rong Ruxue. I've already invested heavily into tracking the Shen family heir's movements. Today, I confirmed his location."
A slow, dangerous smile curved Fang Meiling's lips.
"Shen Zeyan… perfect. Rong Lihong said he's transferring to Wuhan. Then Ruxue will go there too. So what if he's difficult? Didn't I take Minghao from that woman? My daughter will do the same. By hook or by crook—Shen Zeyan will belong to her."
The call ended, leaving Fang Meiling in the stillness of her locked room. Her reflection in the mirror stared back as she spoke, "Li Jianfang whoever you're, the day I find you will be your end. You cannot blame me for being ruthless. I'll resolve this matter as soon as possible." Her eyes gleaming, lips curved in something between a smile and a threat.
---
On the other side, in Wuhan, Li Ziqing had just signed the final agreement with Xu Jianrong, officially handing over the entire rental management of Huiheng Tower to his company. From now on, the skyscraper would bear the name of the corporation she had just created—Huiheng Tower—a gleaming testament to her sudden rise in the city's business circles.
When she had discreetly scanned Xu Jianrong with the Jinshi Coupon, the system's verdict flashed before her: skills – Good; education – above average; loyalty – extremely high. It puzzled her. Loyalty like that was rare, especially in a cutthroat market like Wuhan, and certainly not something she expected from someone she had only just met.
Perhaps that was why, in that moment, she made her decision—Xu Jianrong wasn't just going to be a business partner; he was going to be her person.
Now, sitting in the back seat of the sleek Black Rolls Royce Phantom VII as it cruised toward their restaurant on Jaingshen road, where today's interviews were scheduled, Li Ziqing leaned back, eyelids lowered. She had been running nonstop these past few days, and a dull ache settled in her temples.
Up front, her uncle Li Jianping gripped the steering wheel, but his mind was miles away. He was still reeling from the news.
Fifty-five floors. Entirely hers.
And with the rental contract in place, her quarterly income would be around 230 million yuan, a staggering 690 million yuan annually. That alone was enough to put her on par with the big corporate giants of Wuhan. The Empirical Green jade she sold for two hundred million a few days ago now seemed like a mere appetizer compared to this feast.
Without lifting a finger—if she so wished—she could sit in her home, drink tea, and watch the money pour in like a private river.
Li Jianping's hands tightened on the wheel. He had always known his niece was extraordinary, but this? This was beyond the bounds of anything he could imagine.
The car hummed softly as they passed through the bustling city streets, neon signs reflecting in the windows. Just as Li Ziqing's breathing began to slow, the crisp, mechanical chime of the system sliced through the quiet of the cabin.
[Ding… Daily Mission triggered]
Her eyes snapped open, a glint of sharp alertness instantly replacing the weariness in her gaze.