Chapter 52 - 2#
“Okay.”
The elevator stopped at the top floor.
On this floor, aside from the largest office belonging to the chairman, the remaining workspace was occupied by junior secretaries and department executives.
There were fewer than twenty people in total, an elite team personally assembled by Chi Gui.
The usually dead-quiet office floor was now buzzing with a rare murmur of chatter.
The moment Chi Gui stepped out of the elevator, everyone immediately fell silent. Yet, without exception, their gazes turned toward him, barely concealing their nosy curiosity.
“…”
Sensing something amiss, Chi Gui halted mid-step.
Chen Yiming was the first to greet him, suppressing a smile that he dared not show too obviously. “Sir, you’re back from the meeting?”
Chi Gui frowned slightly. “What’s going on?”
Chen Yiming lowered his voice. “Mr. Jing just sent something over. It’s on your desk now. Maybe you should… go take a look yourself?”
The moment that key name was mentioned, Chi Gui quickened his pace without a second thought.
Before he even entered the office, a rich fragrance seeped through the gap of the glass door—
On Chi Gui’s usually pristine desk sat a massive bouquet of jasmine. Wrapped in black-and-gold paper, it held over a hundred white jasmine blooms, with a single red rose embedded in the center.
An expanse of flawless white, colliding with the only touch of red.
It delivered the most direct visual impact.
Chen Yiming recalled the scene when the flowers were delivered earlier and reported truthfully. “Mr. Jing contacted me in advance, so the front desk granted access. But the moment the courier stepped out of the elevator, he shouted—”
Chi Gui was curious. “What did he shout?”
Chen Yiming coughed softly and repeated word for word:
“Which one of you is Mr. Chi Gui? Your lover sent you these flowers.”
“…”
Chi Gui stared at that single red rose, laughter practically spilling from his eyes.
He pulled out the card tucked beside the floral paper. The handwriting was delicate—he recognized at once that it was Jing Shun’s.
A restaurant name, along with a meeting time of six-thirty in the evening.
Chi Gui traced the edge of the card. It was still early, but he could no longer contain his eagerness. He grabbed his personal car keys from the drawer and headed straight out.
Chen Yiming and Wei Di both called out, “Sir?”
Without looking back, Chi Gui said, “If anything comes up, we’ll handle it tomorrow. Don’t touch the bouquet on my desk!”
The office door swung wide open and shut.
Chen Yiming and Wei Di exchanged a glance, sharing the unspoken understanding of long-time colleagues—
It seemed the days ahead were going to be good for a long while.
…
Jin’an District, Haishi.
Jing Shun surveyed the restaurant’s interior. Before he could feel satisfied, footsteps sounded behind him.
The owner’s wife led Chi Gui in. “Sir, right this way.”
Jing Shun looked at him in surprise. “How are you already here?”
Wasn’t he supposed to be busy? He had purposely written six-thirty, but it was not even six yet—how had this man already arrived?
Chi Gui glanced at the empty seat across from Jing Shun and feigned ignorance. “Did you invite someone else for your birthday? Am I the second guest?”
“No, only you.”
Jing Shun quickly turned to the owner’s wife. “Sister Ling, please serve the dishes as soon as possible, according to the menu I ordered earlier.”
The owner’s wife smiled and agreed, then asked, “Sir, would you like some wine?”
Chi Gui shook his head. “No, I drove here.”
Hearing this, Jing Shun’s mind began to stir with a faint suspicion.
Only after the owner’s wife had left did he deliberately press further. “Aren’t you busy today? How come you had time to drive yourself?”
“Mm, I finished work.” Chi Gui looked around the restaurant and changed the subject. “Where did you find this private dining place?”
Jing Shun didn’t hide it. “Brother Yu recommended it. I’ve booked the whole place tonight. He said the couple who run it are great cooks. Want to give it a try?”
Chi Gui nodded. “Sure, whatever you arrange.”
While waiting for the food, Jing Shun asked, “Did you get the flowers I sent? I asked several florists before finding one that had fresh jasmine. Consider it a return gift for the wrap-up bouquet.”
Chi Gui remembered how those flowers had stirred up a commotion in the entire office building, but it was that single red rose that lingered in his mind. “Mm, but why did you add a rose?”
Jing Shun avoided his gaze. “I just… thought the plain white was too dull, so I threw it in casually.”
These days, who didn’t know the meaning of a rose?
Jing Shun didn’t dare to be too obvious, afraid it might cause trouble for Chi Gui. So he secretly added that single bloom, hiding his little secret feelings.
Soon, the appetizers and soup arrived.
Jing Shun took a spoonful of soup and still found it strange that they shared the same birthday. “Chi Gui, you know what? You’re the first person I’ve ever met who shares my birthday.”
“Ever since I can remember, most of my birthdays were spent on set.”
Because August was summer break, and that meant it was the perfect time to join productions and make money.
Jing Guanhai and Xu Jia would never let that opportunity slip—they always packed Jing Shun’s schedule with filming work.
At the most extreme point, Jing Shun was in three different productions in one summer.
Lost in memory, Jing Shun continued, “Hengdian in summer was unbearably hot. Sometimes the costumes were really thick. I had a weak constitution and would often get heatstroke easily, but I still looked forward to my birthday every year.”
“Because I could eat cake, and on that day I was allowed to indulge without restraint. In front of the whole crew, my mom had no reason to stop me.”
Sweets made you gain weight.
Xu Jia never let him eat much, except on that one day.
That was probably one of the few happy memories he could hold onto from childhood. As he grew older, even when his parents forgot his birthday, Jing Shun would still buy himself a small cake to celebrate.
Of course, that habit ended after the accident on set.
Breaking free from his memories, Jing Shun looked at the handsome face illuminated by candlelight on the opposite side and asked cautiously, “Chi Gui, before you returned to Chi Corporation, did you celebrate your birthday?”
He had secretly asked the butler, Uncle Lin, who said Chi Gui had never once initiated a birthday celebration since returning to the company.
But what about before his return?
He knew that Chi Gui’s birth had been followed the very next day by his biological mother’s death. Not everyone could accept such a cruel twist of fate.
Chi Gui met Jing Shun’s curious eyes and answered honestly, “I did.”
Jing Shun pressed further. “How?”
Chi Gui was silent for a few seconds before giving an unexpected answer. “My grandfather would boil two eggs for me.”
“…”
A birthday, and just two boiled eggs?
It took Jing Shun a few seconds to grasp the weight behind those words, and his heart grew heavy. “Can you tell me more about your past? I really want to know.”
Chi Gui read the look in his eyes and sighed helplessly. “You’re very curious about my past?”
Jing Shun said bluntly, “Because I want to understand you better.”
“…”
Chi Gui’s eyes flickered. In the end, he spoke of his former life. “My grandparents were tea farmers. They barely made any money. After my mother died, half the family’s pillar crumbled.”
Chi Gui’s nominal uncle—the abandoned infant his grandparents had picked up in their youth—only finished high school before being forced to leave home for work.
But year after year, he hardly sent any money back.
“To raise me, my grandparents had to keep working despite their advanced age.”
“They picked tea for local merchants, and stayed up late doing all kinds of manual handicrafts.”
Chi Gui had known since he was young that there was never any extra money at home.
The only way to fight for a future was through his studies. He earned full scholarships for middle school and high school. During winter and summer breaks, he took every odd job he could find to cover his daily expenses and help out at home.
Fortunately, Chi Gui inherited his mother’s talent for learning.
His grades were consistently excellent. With a top-three ranking in the city, he was admitted tuition-free to the best high school in Hangzhou.
By all logic, he should have gone on to a prestigious university through the college entrance exam. But fate had a way of delivering unexpected gifts at different stages of life.
“In my sophomore year of high school, during a free club activity organized by the school, I developed an interest in film direction for the first time.”
The guest teacher, who was a dean from the Haishi Film Academy, recognized Chi Gui’s talent and passion for film art. Seeing a promising seedling worth cultivating, he told Chi Gui—
“Every year, each major at the Haishi Film Academy has one experimental admissions slot.”
In simple terms, the school specifically admitted students like Chi Gui—those with high academic scores and artistic talent, and it was even an internal recommendation.
Jing Shun, as a graduate of the Haishi Film Academy, had heard of this.
“I never considered that path from the start. A poor kid can’t afford to have hobbies or dreams.”
Because even with the internal recommendation, the tuition at the film academy was no joke. Rather than studying an expensive major, it was better to aim for a name-brand university.
With luck, he could even get a full tuition waiver.
“But when my grandfather found out, the old man insisted I should do what I loved. Around that time, my so-called uncle had some success in his business and, for once, brought a sum of money back to the elders.”
So, with the support of his family, Chi Gui entered the Haishi Film Academy.
From the day he enrolled, he gave it his all—
Not only did he voraciously absorb theoretical knowledge in class, but he also maxed out his practical coursework and even participated in various short film competitions outside school.
Partly because he truly loved the major, and partly because he needed the prize money to fund his tuition.
Jing Shun finally understood. “Director Zheng said you won a lot of awards in college. So that’s why.”
Chi Gui smiled faintly without denying it.
Those two years of college felt like a distant memory now.
“And then?”
“At the end of my sophomore year’s summer break, my grandfather was suddenly diagnosed with bone cancer. The scholarship money I had saved wasn’t nearly enough for treatment, and we had already borrowed from every relative we could.”
That was the first time in Chi Gui’s life he truly understood what it meant to be powerless.
When it rains, it pours. Chi Gui’s uncle failed in his business again, not only losing everything but also borrowing from loan sharks and disappearing without a trace!
The vicious debt collectors came knocking, smashing and wrecking everything in sight. Chi Gui’s grandmother, over seventy years old, couldn’t take it.
She fainted from sheer terror and, upon waking, could do nothing but weep.
And so, all the pressure fell onto Chi Gui’s shoulders.
“…”
At that time, Chi Gui was only twenty, wasn’t he?
Hearing this, Jing Shun felt his heart ache even more. A guess began to form in his mind. “Did the Chi family approach you around that time?”
“Mm.”
Chi Gui’s eyes flickered. He omitted certain truths.
In reality, Old Master Chi had long confirmed Chi Gui’s DNA and thoroughly investigated his upbringing.
He had guessed that, given Chi Gui’s temperament, he would likely despise Chi Renpin’s actions and would refuse to be acknowledged by the Chi family.
The shrewd Old Master Chi never did anything without certainty.
Instead of approaching Chi Gui directly, he had used the failure of Chi Gui’s uncle’s business as an opportunity, luring him into signing a high-interest loan—one that the Song family (the uncle’s side) could never repay.
Only by completely cutting off Chi Gui’s escape route would the man resign himself to returning to the Chi family and publicly acknowledge his identity.
Chi Gui took a sip of water, swallowing down the bitterness of those scheming calculations he hadn’t touched upon in years.
“After I dropped out of the film academy, I wasn’t immediately brought back to the Chi family. Instead, the old man sent me abroad for two intense years of systematic training.”
Of course, the cost of his grandfather’s treatment and the Song family’s massive debts were all taken care of.
Chi Gui was the successor Old Master Chi had bet everything on. So Chi Gui had to learn everything—and he had to master it all.
What others cultivated over twenty or thirty years had to be compressed into two years for Chi Gui.
No one knew how Chi Gui had endured those dark days overseas. Until, two years later, he finally passed Old Master Chi’s tests and earned his recognition.
On the day Chi Gui returned to Haishi, he faced the long-arranged, spectacular welcoming banquet the Chi family had prepared.
Coincidentally, it was August 24th again.