If you weren't born in Rome, you earn every step of the road on your own.
The man currently reviewing sales figures with him was one of the lucky ones: born in Rome.
Jiang Tianming. Second generation, old money. A little over a year ago he'd shown up at Yu Hao's door wanting to "prove himself." The company was in a rough patch at the time; the terms he offered were reasonable; Yu Hao let him in as a minority shareholder. What could he do—the man had money to spare and wasn't asking for much equity. With his family's holdings, this little operation and its paltry returns probably didn't even register. He stayed out of the day-to-day anyway—turned up mid-year and year-end to sign things, put in a few appearances, work a room at company dinners.
Deep pockets, minimal interference. Honestly, ideal.
Then last night, out of nowhere: a message. Shareholder meeting at nine. Review the numbers. Yu Hao's first instinct—was the Jiang family going under? He'd stayed up scrolling through news on their conglomerate, checking the stock price. Solid as ever.
"Heard you've been… taking some time off lately?"
Yu Hao's brows drew together. A quiet "Mm." He kept his eyes on the screen, hands moving, pulling up sales data and preparing to screen-share for his one and only shareholder.
When he finally looked up, he found Jiang Tianming watching him with what appeared to be genuine concern.
"These days, medicine can handle almost anything. I know a few doctors, professors—top people. Want me to—"
"No. I'm not ill."
Jiang Tianming exhaled and sank back into his chair, visibly relieved. Then something flickered across his face—he tilted his head, stroked his chin, and let a grin spread.
"Though I also heard you've been having a bit of a… lucky streak? Some girl from a club? Must have some serious skills?"
…What on earth.
Before Yu Hao could get a word in, Jiang Tianming had wheeled his chair over and adopted the tone of a man about to deliver brotherly wisdom.
"Look, I get it. Can't say there's nothing to be sore about. What man doesn't prefer someone younger, no kids, right? But… These things happen. No judgement."
How many versions of this story were floating around out there?
Jiang Tianming kept talking, one hand patting Yu Hao's shoulder. But Yu Hao's attention had already drifted elsewhere—back to that night two years ago.
Pieces of the remote control scattered across the living room floor.
He'd sat on the cold tiles, not knowing how long. The shriek of a phone alarm had finally cut through the silence.
The dinner was still on the table—her cooking, all his favourites. She had been looking forward to it, just one meal together, after so long apart. And he had come through the door like a wild thing that had lost control of itself.
Hungry. Genuinely, hollowly hungry, the kind that comes from somewhere deeper than hunger, the kind that hollows a person out. He went straight for the food, eating cold rice and meat standing over the table, as if anything made by her hands could fill the hollow that had opened in his chest.
He had stayed in that flat for two days. Curled in a corner, going nowhere.
Then he'd dragged himself back to Shanghai and threw himself into work. Only work, relentless and all-consuming, gave the shell of him any trace of a reason to exist.
Not long after, her message arrived: she'd been offered a secondment to the European headquarters. Approved.
Yuan had said she needed time to herself. Maybe that was better for everyone.
Every time Yu Hao came back to A City and pushed open the door, the hunger rose like a tide—reflexive now, almost a physical response. No home-cooked meals, but there was still the wine. She had always known he needed a drink to take the edge off; the flat was always stocked with fruit wines and medicinal liquors she had made herself. Each visit he'd open one, pour a small glass, and let that faint trace of fragrance help him endure the loneliness of the small hours.
Then the bottles ran dry. Even the last few plums at the bottom of the jar were gone.
She still wasn't home.
"I'm not trying to stick my nose in your private life," Jiang Tianming said, the teasing still there but with something steadier underneath. "I just don't want it spilling into the business."
Yu Hao was not, by nature, someone who could do two things at once. But years in the game had taught him certain skills—chief among them, how to look like he was paying attention. What did strike him as odd, though: Jiang Tianming, the polished heir, sitting here gossiping? Then again, rumours had their uses. They deflected other kinds of attention. Not worth the energy to correct.
He knew this play. The moment Jiang Tianming paused, Yu Hao stepped in and steered everything back to solid ground.
"This year's Double Twelve: overall e-commerce revenue was down seven percent year-on-year. Short-video commerce, though, grew a hundred and seventy-three percent. Net result—revenue and profit are both up thirteen percent on last year."
Business on the table. Jiang Tianming straightened up and did what shareholders are supposed to do.
"And offline?"
Something she used to say came back to him: Don't just listen to what people say. Watch what they choose not to say.
Jiang Tianming and Si Chen had been trained in that particular kind of thinking from an early age. No point trying to be clever with people who were already two moves ahead.
"Hypermarket channel is down forty-two percent," Yu Hao said straight, no hedging.
One eyebrow up. Arms crossed. Go on, then.
"With current consumer habits and market conditions, brick-and-mortar is a position to hold, not to double down on. More investment won't move the needle."
Jiang Tianming took the laptop and skimmed through the data quickly, cross-checking as he went. Yu Hao had always had a quiet respect for people born in Rome—everyone else was clawing to get in, and you don't survive there without something real behind you.
"Who says rich kids are useless? They just let you think they are." Her words. And by her own logic, with everything Si Chen had going for her, she should have gone so much further.
He'd spent a long time wondering how she always cut straight to the heart of things—whether he had been genuinely slow, or had simply never thought to ask—until Si Yuan started Year Five at Yinghua. He saw the timetable: a subject called Logic. So that's where they teach it, perhaps.
"Alright. I'm satisfied."
Sign-off from Shareholder Number Two. Yu Hao moved to wrap up the meeting, but Jiang Tianming put out a hand.
"I heard your—not the old one—your wife is back?"
"Mm."
Yu Hao already knew who'd told him. The boy, obviously. He could picture the exchange—Jiang Tianming and Si Yuan on the phone, going in circles:
"Kid, you and Old Yu—"
"Not biological."
"Your mum—"
"In Germany."
Half a sentence at a time, then nothing. Yu Hao shook his head at the memory. The child could smuggle an entire meaning into three words. Clearly Logic class had left zero impression.
Even Jiang Tianming knew where the line was. Family was family. You didn't push past a certain point.
Though Jiang Tianming, naturally, had his own calculations. When he'd first come looking to invest, it was because he'd seen what Yu Hao was capable of. His thinking at the time: if the company failed, chalk it up as a bad bet, then bring Yu Hao into the family conglomerate as a professional manager. Theirs was a sprawling empire, complicated from within, with countless eyes fixed hungrily on the prize. Yu Hao would deliver results and block arrows. That had been the plan.
Then the plan became obsolete. The man hadn't just pulled the company out of the mud—he'd multiplied revenue several times over. Plans change when the numbers do. Money earned here was still money. Better, perhaps, to stay a shareholder, sit back, and watch the returns compound. For entertainment, he could show up and make things deliberately difficult in meetings—always more fun to be the one asking questions than answering them.
He changed the subject.
"School holidays—your boy back?"
"Yes."
"Still doing the Germany exchange?"
"He's back now."
"God, I've missed that kid."
Yu Hao had already dropped his head back into the numbers. Full focus. Jiang Tianming, reading the room, let the conversation go. No point interrupting a machine when it's printing money.
Oh right—the actual business of the day: the people.
Their division of labour had always been clean. Strategy, execution, market development—Yu Hao's. Culture, morale, welfare—Jiang Tianming's. Translation: food, fun, and payday.
The company lived by wolf culture: aggressive, quick to move, quick to strike. But even wolves need to be fed. Keep the pay competitive, keep the benefits real.
Yesterday, the first day back: the stick. He'd transferred the marketing manager everyone called "the Abbess" back to the Shanghai office—no ceremony, just done. Today: the sugar. Lunch on the company, afternoon off.
The click of the door latch pulled Yu Hao back to the surface.
"Want someone gone? Look busy enough and even the gods won't dare interrupt." She'd used that line on him early in their marriage—picked up a pile of exam papers the moment dinner was done, just to get out of the washing up.
She'd been back nearly two weeks. The frost hadn't shifted. He didn't know what move to make.
In this particular standoff, only their peacemaker—their good son—had any chance of getting between them.
He was genuinely afraid that one day she'd reach her limit and disappear again, without a word.
Outside, Jiang Tianming's voice rose over the office: lunch on the company, relaxed afternoon for everyone. A cheer went up. Yu Hao never joined those. He knew perfectly well that with his face—stern as a temple guardian—nobody could loosen up with him in the room.
They'd eaten out nearly every night lately. The first few days back she'd gone at it with a kind of determination—working through cuisines like she had a list. The last two days, though, her appetite had dropped off. He checked his watch. Not even ten.
He stood up. Time to go and collect the boy.
With Si Yuan home, she would cook.