Chapter 36

Cheng Li noticed the housekeeper’s barely concealed shock, and though she wanted to laugh, she realized she was the very person who had supposedly been thinking about him day and night. Somehow, the humor in the situation faded.

In this living room, the only one who could find amusement was probably the man standing beside her.

As she glanced at Rong Qi’s calm and lazy expression, Cheng Li couldn’t wrap her head around it.

How could someone with such an aloof and indifferent face say something so shameless?

The housekeeper, however, seemed unfazed, likely a veteran of all kinds of situations. She smiled warmly and said, “Madam is so beautiful. I always wondered what kind of woman could match someone like Rong Qi, and now I see—it really takes a goddess.”

Cheng Li silently thanked the housekeeper for steering the atmosphere back to normalcy.

She quickly said, “Auntie, my name is Cheng Li. There’s no need to call me ‘Madam.’ Just call me Cheng Li.”

“How about I call you Lili instead?” The housekeeper was aware that young people these days often disliked formal titles.

Since she wasn’t an employee of some corporation, using a closer, more casual form of address wasn’t inappropriate.

“Sure,” Cheng Li replied with a smile.

The housekeeper introduced herself, “My surname is Li. I handle the cleaning and daily essentials here. I’m also responsible for preparing three meals a day, though he rarely eats at home. If there’s anything you want to eat in the future, just let me know.”

Then she asked, “Have you had breakfast yet?”

“Not yet,” Cheng Li replied.

“Good thing I came early today,” the housekeeper said, about to head to the kitchen.

Rong Qi spoke up leisurely, “I already made it. You can go take care of other things.”

The housekeeper turned back to look at the two of them, a look of realization dawning on her face.

Newlyweds, of course—they probably didn’t want anyone interrupting their private time.

After the housekeeper left, Cheng Li finally asked, “You made breakfast?”

“Otherwise, what would you have eaten?” Rong Qi cast her a sideways glance, as if saying, What a silly question.

Cheng Li felt a pang of guilt.

On her first day moving in, not only had she inconvenienced him by having him personally come to wake her up, but he’d also already prepared breakfast.

“You even know how to make sandwiches,” Cheng Li said, looking at the exquisite sandwiches on the plate with some surprise.

Rong Qi casually poured her a glass of milk and handed it over, saying indifferently, “Perhaps you should ask what it is that I can’t do.”

“…”

Such confidence.

Still, Cheng Li found the words oddly familiar, though she chose not to dwell on it.

After a simple breakfast, they got ready for work.

Ever since Cheng Li started splitting her time between the car factory and the company, she had rarely clocked in at the office in the mornings. At her level, this flexibility was permissible.

As for Rong Qi, no one dared question when he arrived at the office.

That said, he was always disciplined.

As Cheng Li grabbed her bag and changed her shoes at the doorway, Rong Qi asked, “Are you heading to the office or the factory later?”

Recently, she’d been spending a lot of time at the factory, something Rong Qi was well aware of.

“The office first,” Cheng Li replied.

“Then I’ll drive you,” Rong Qi offered.

Cheng Li didn’t refuse. She had just moved in and hadn’t yet established a routine. Previously, she’d taken a cab to the company.

Luckily, the company wasn’t far from here—only a twenty-minute drive.

When they reached the underground parking lot and got into the car, Cheng Li suddenly realized, “The driver isn’t here today?”

“I don’t need a driver every day,” Rong Qi said as he buckled his seatbelt. Then he turned to her and added, “When I’m home, I’ll always be the one to take you.”

Cheng Li smiled lightly. “Alright.”

She was gradually settling into the reality of being married and no longer felt the need to be overly polite with him about such things.

In the morning, Cheng Li stopped by the office to collect some data before boarding the company’s business vehicle to head to the suburban car factory.

The moment she arrived at the factory, she dove into work for the entire morning.

Lunch was a quick bite on-site before she resumed test-driving in the afternoon.

Since she had to enter the lab, Cheng Li left her phone outside and didn’t check it for over an hour.

When she finally emerged to grab some water and checked her phone, she saw over a dozen missed calls and dozens of unread WeChat messages.

Startled, Cheng Li opened WeChat but didn’t have time to read much before another call came in.

It was Meng Yuange.

“Hello?” Cheng Li answered.

“Finally! You’re answering. Where have you been? I need to get some insider info from you,” Meng Yuange said.

“What insider info?” Cheng Li asked, puzzled.

“You can’t be serious—it’s all over the hot searches, and you don’t know? Doesn’t your company handle PR at all?”

Cheng Li was completely confused.

“I just came out of the lab. I haven’t had time to check my phone. What’s going on?”

Only then did Meng Yuange believe she genuinely didn’t know.

“Some paparazzi caught a rising young celebrity on a date. There’s a video of them kissing in a car, and fans are going crazy. Then someone exposed that the man is married.”

Cheng Li racked her brain but couldn’t see how this was related to her.

“Who is it?” she asked.

Thinking about Meng Yuange’s earlier remark about her company, Cheng Li hesitated and asked, “Does anyone in our company have ties to a celebrity?”

“Surprise! It’s your company’s founder, Gao Zhihe,” Meng Yuange replied.

“Danny?” Cheng Li was genuinely taken aback.

She remembered last year’s company annual dinner, where Gao Zhihe had brought his wife along.

At the time, Gao Zhihe had been openly affectionate, even reminiscing about their college days in the U.S. His wife, also a former international student, had chosen to become a homemaker after having two children, supporting Gao Zhihe’s entrepreneurial endeavors in China.

Cheng Li asked, “Are you sure it’s him?”

Meng Yuange sighed. “Positive. About half an hour ago, his wife posted on Weibo accusing Zhao Yihan of being a homewrecker.”

“Who is Zhao Yihan?” Cheng Li felt a headache coming on.

Meng Yuange replied, “Are you serious? She’s the actress having an affair with Gao Zhihe. Not a big star, but enough for a scandal. Normally, a small-time celebrity’s affair would blow over quickly, but Gao Zhihe’s wife went public with the details, so it’s blown up.”

As she listened, Cheng Li opened Weibo.

Sure enough, Zhao Yihan’s name was trending with a glaring “explosion” tag next to it.

#ZhaoYihanHomewrecker
#ZhaoYihanGaoZhihe

What truly shocked Cheng Li was seeing her company, Fanhai Zhixing, at the 26th spot on the trending list.

“How did our company end up on the hot topics?” Cheng Li groaned.

Meng Yuange laughed lightly, “You have your dear General Manager Gao to thank. When he was sweet-talking his mistress, he even bragged about your company’s recent fundraising efforts, promising her a house if the deal succeeded.”

“Who leaked this?” Cheng Li scrolled through her feed.

Meng Yuange guided her, “Click the top entry under the trending tag. Gao Zhihe’s wife’s post is right there. It’s gone viral with tens of thousands of shares. Fans are battling it out in the comments while bystanders feast on the drama.”

Apparently, a tabloid had teased a major celebrity dating scoop yesterday, promising to reveal it today.

When the news finally broke, it was about Zhao Yihan—a minor actress past her prime.

She had debuted through a talent show, gained some initial popularity, but her career stagnated. Now, at her age, she could only land lead roles in low-budget web dramas, barely making waves.

The lackluster gossip gained little traction until Gao’s wife publicly tagged Zhao Yihan on Weibo, demanding she stay away from her husband.

This was like pouring boiling water into hot oil—everything exploded.

Major gossip accounts jumped on the story instantly.

Before Zhao Yihan’s team could issue a denial, Gao Zhihe’s wife hammered the final nail by posting their private chat records.

The evidence was irrefutable.

Zhao Yihan: “Were you serious about what you told me?”
Zhao Yihan: “I’m not with you for your money, but I need some assurance about my future.”
Gao Zhihe: “Baby, trust me. Fanhai Zhixing’s current valuation is already at 460 million, so my shares are worth over 100 million. I’ll transfer some shares and buy you the house you’ve always wanted.”
Gao Zhihe: “Also, I believe our company’s valuation will exceed 5 billion within three years.”
Gao Zhihe: “By then, you can have whatever you desire.”

What stunned Cheng Li the most was that Fanhai’s fundraising plan was still confidential—absolutely not for public discussion.

Yet Gao Zhihe had spilled such sensitive details to impress a woman.

Now, it was all over the internet.

“Why are you so quiet?” Meng Yuange asked.

“That scumbag,” Cheng Li gritted her teeth. “I’m going to kill him.”

Sensing her anger, Meng Yuange consoled, “Don’t let him get to you. The real victim here is his wife—she supported him through thick and thin, raised his kids, and he turns around to share the rewards with a mistress.”

“He revealed confidential company information about the fundraising! We’re supposed to sign the deal with Zhuo Lian Capital tomorrow!” Cheng Li’s frustration mounted.

“Will this affect your collaboration?” Meng Yuange asked cautiously.

Cheng Li didn’t answer. She needed to act quickly.

She was about to call Zuo Qingqing when a call from Ren Kuang’s assistant, Han Xiaolin, came in.

“Director Cheng, are you still at the factory?” Han Xiaolin’s voice sounded urgent.

“Yes, I’m heading back now.”

But Han Xiaolin’s next words made Cheng Li feel like she had plunged into icy water.

“President He from Zhuo Lian Capital just called to say tomorrow’s signing has been canceled.”

“Because of Gao Zhihe?” Cheng Li pressed.

“Yes. President Ren is furious—he’s been shouting and throwing things in the office. He also told me to contact Gao, but both of his phones are off. I even tried calling his wife, but she’s not answering either.”

Cheng Li gripped her phone, her mind blank.

They had spent months negotiating with Zhuo Lian Capital, from summer into winter. To secure a higher valuation, their tech team had worked tirelessly, sacrificing personal time to refine their innovations.

Cheng Li herself had juggled her time between the factory and the company to prove Fanhai’s capabilities for mass production.

Now, all that hard work was about to go down the drain—because of one man’s selfish and reckless behavior.

Sensing Cheng Li’s silence, Han Xiaolin added cautiously, “President Ren wants you to speak with President He since you’re old classmates. See if you can salvage the deal. If needed, Fanhai is willing to delay announcing the fundraising success until this scandal dies down.”

“Alright,” Cheng Li spoke softly. “I’ll go talk to him.”

Cheng Li immediately left the automobile factory and returned to the city.

On the way back, she called He Yunze.

“Lili,” He Yunze answered the call, addressing her by name.

Just as Cheng Li was about to speak, he interrupted her, saying, “Let’s talk in person.”

“Alright,” Cheng Li agreed.

Shortly after, He Yunze sent her an address via WeChat. Cheng Li instructed her driver to head directly there.

About an hour later, Cheng Li arrived at a café near the headquarters of Zhu Lian Capital.

She sent a message to He Yunze upon arriving.

When they met, He Yunze looked at her face and calmly said, “I ordered you a hot cocoa. Sweet things can help lift your mood in times like these.”

Cheng Li didn’t want to waste time. She got straight to the point. “He Yunze, can your company reconsider its decision?”

He Yunze was equally forthright. “It’s almost impossible. Although I’ve been trying to persuade Director Gu, he believes the best course of action now is to postpone the signing. The sudden leak of your financing details is already considered a breach of our agreement. While this is my first project since returning to China, I personally also think that postponement is the rational decision.”

The only reason he had been advocating for the project with his boss, Director Gu, was because of Cheng Li.

Looking across at her, he noticed her today wearing an ivory-white coat, holding the hot cocoa in her hands. Though her expression remained composed and rational, anyone could see the fragility just beneath the surface.

If the partner weren’t Cheng Li, he wouldn’t even have tried to argue for the deal after the debacle with Gao Zhihe.

For startups, survival is already an uphill battle.

Cheng Li responded, “I understand, but…”

She trailed off.

At this moment, anything she said felt powerless.

The entire industry was buzzing about Gao Zhihe’s scandal, effectively exposing Fanhai’s vulnerabilities for the world to see.

Zhu Lian Capital would look foolish if they proceeded with the signing under such circumstances.

Soon, the server brought over the hot cocoa.

Cheng Li held it in her hands and took a sip.

Finally, He Yunze looked at her and said, “But you should be prepared for the possibility that this postponement isn’t temporary. It could…”

…become permanent.

In the world of venture capital, deals often fell apart even in the final stages.

Let alone now, when Fanhai was embroiled in a public relations disaster.

Although this scandal stemmed from Gao Zhihe’s personal behavior, the leaked messages implicated Fanhai and revealed confidential financing details.

“Alright,” Cheng Li nodded.

He Yunze continued, “At this point, seeking alternative investors will be extremely difficult. Your valuation is now public knowledge, and even if other firms are interested, they’ll do everything they can to push your valuation down.”

“I understand,” Cheng Li said. “But if we do nothing now, this could mean the end for Fanhai.”

He Yunze sipped his coffee.

After a long pause, he said, “Lili, I know you may not like what I’m about to say. But in my years on Wall Street, I’ve seen countless so-called unicorn companies collapse overnight. Especially startups—they rarely make it long-term. Most last three to five years at most.”

This was Fanhai’s fourth year.

Cheng Li fell silent.

Before He Yunze could continue, she raised her head and looked directly at him. “In my second year at Fanhai, we lost a group of core employees. Everyone said we wouldn’t survive that winter.”

Her usually calm, dark eyes now burned with an unwavering determination that seemed to pierce through him.

“But not only did we survive that winter, we survived the next one too. And we’ll survive this one as well.”

Winter was harsh.

But after winter came spring.

That day, everyone at Fanhai Zhixing felt the chill of a true winter.

They had just lost what seemed to be a secured Series A+ funding round.

*

When Cheng Li returned to the office, she went straight to Ren Kuang’s room.

The shattered items had been cleaned up by Han Xiaolin, but the remnants of the chaos were still evident.

“Did you talk to He Yunze?”

Cheng Li nodded. “I did. But there’s almost no hope.”

Ren Kuang’s face visibly darkened, his defeated expression startling Cheng Li. She asked softly, “Senior, are you alright?”

“I’m fine,” Ren Kuang shook his head.

But his frustration was evident as he growled, “That bastard Gao Zhihe—he’s dragging all of Fanhai down with him!”

Cheng Li tried to console him. “Things haven’t hit rock bottom yet. There are many investment firms out there. Zhulian isn’t our only option. Worst case, we lower our valuation for this round and make concessions.”

Ren Kuang remained silent.

Cheng Li continued, “And our partnership with Jiangchi Automobile is progressing smoothly. Once the E3 series launches, our autonomous parking system will hit the market in full force.”

In the face of crisis, Cheng Li was eerily composed.

Ren Kuang finally revealed a trace of relief. “At times like this, you’re calmer than I am. You’re right—we’re not at the end of the road. This is just a setback. Our Fanhai is still sailing forward.”

After discussing the current challenges, Cheng Li suggested that, since they couldn’t reach Gao Zhihe, the company should refrain from responding to the incident.

After all, the scandal was Gao Zhihe’s personal affair and had nothing to do with Fanhai.

There was no need for the company to issue a response on his behalf.

“Alright, you should take a break too,” Ren Kuang waved his hand, signaling Cheng Li to leave.

Cheng Li nodded but couldn’t help noticing his much paler complexion. Worried, she asked, “President Ren, do you want to rest for a bit too? You don’t look well.”

Ren Kuang shook his head. “At a time like this, I have to stay and oversee the company.”

Although the failure of Fanhai’s financing hadn’t been officially announced yet, there were already whispers circulating within the company.

Understanding his mindset, Cheng Li didn’t press further. She stood up and left.

As she reached the office door and was about to close it behind her, a thought crossed her mind. She reopened the door, intending to say something else to Ren Kuang, but what she saw froze her in place.

Ren Kuang, standing with his back to her, facing the floor-to-ceiling window he often liked to gaze through, suddenly collapsed.

“President Ren!”

With a loud thud, Cheng Li rushed over.

Moments later, alarmed voices and panicked shouts erupted outside the office.

Kneeling on the floor, Cheng Li looked at the motionless Ren Kuang, his breathing abruptly gone, and her entire body trembled.

*

At Qiyu Technology.

After finishing a meeting, Rong Qi was walking toward his office while discussing something with the executives by his side.

His phone started ringing.

Glancing at the screen, Rong Qi picked up without hesitation. The executives fell silent, careful not to disturb his call.

But in the quiet hallway, the voice on the other end of the line was clear enough to be heard.

“Rong Qi, I’m so scared.”

A trembling voice, laced with sobs, came through.

The next moment, everyone witnessed the usually composed and aloof man striding quickly toward the elevator.

He repeatedly pressed the elevator button.

Just before stepping inside, he spoke in a low, steady voice, “I’ll be right there.”

And then, as if to offer reassurance, he added softly, “Don’t hang up. I’ll stay on the line with you.”

What is love?

Perhaps it’s as simple as this: the moment you say you’re scared, he loses all composure.