Shang Xinglu had no idea that speaking her mind so candidly would have consequences.

Anyway, since Lin Heng wasn’t in front of her, he couldn’t do anything about it even if he wanted to.

Hahaha!

But what she never expected was that the seemingly mature and magnanimous Lin Heng had already made a mental note—no, two mental notes—to settle the score once he returned.

After chatting for a while, they ended the call.

Shang Xinglu’s thoughts drifted between Lin Heng and spicy boiled fish, and before long, she fell asleep.

The next morning, they got up early and headed to C University.

There were too many visitors that day, and only two people could enter.

Shang Xinglu and Yin Yao registered their names and went inside.

The reception room was already packed. As soon as they entered, they saw that more than half the people there were familiar faces—mostly from their industry.

After greeting each other, they quietly waited.

Everyone knew why they were there, even without saying it out loud.

Before long, Dr. Zhang entered the room.

He had a kind and gentle face, with graying hair.

His outfit was casual—underneath his white lab coat was a faded T-shirt tucked into a pair of slightly worn-out dress pants.

On his feet, he wore a pair of comfortable sandals, the kind suitable for standing long hours.

From a distance, he looked just like an ordinary old man taking a stroll in the park with a birdcage in hand.

Despite being the center of attention, Dr. Zhang didn’t put on airs. Instead, he greeted everyone warmly, and the company representatives responded with enthusiasm.

However, Dr. Zhang quickly brought the small talk to an end.

For an elderly man nearing the twilight of his years, time was his most precious asset.

After clearing his throat, the room fell silent.

Dr. Zhang said, “I’m pleased that so many people are interested in this patent. But to be honest, I haven’t decided whether to sell it or not. Why don’t you all leave your contact information? Once I’ve made a decision, I’ll reach out to you. That will be all for now.”

The crowd exchanged glances.

They had anticipated the patent would come with a hefty price tag and had spent the previous night figuring out how to pool their funds.

What they hadn’t expected was that the real issue wasn’t the price—it was whether the patent would even be sold at all.

That left them even more confused.

This was a highly practical patent—what was the point of keeping it? It wasn’t something you could eat or drink.

Dr. Zhang was an elderly man who surely had no need for flawless skin, so he wouldn’t be using it himself.

Had he given up on recovering his research funding?

No one could figure it out.

So, they all assumed that Dr. Zhang was simply playing hard to get, trying to drive up the price.

It made sense. With so many competitors eyeing the patent, it was only natural to sell it at the best possible price.

Since Dr. Zhang had asked them to leave their contact details, the company representatives complied.

Not only did they leave their business cards, but they also pretended to leave.

In reality, they were discreetly calculating an enticing offer before reaching out to Dr. Zhang in secret.

They believed that Dr. Zhang wasn’t against selling—he just wanted the highest possible price.

The real challenge was figuring out a bid high enough to outmatch competitors without going overboard.

One by one, the representatives handed over their business cards, left the room, and immediately made calls to their headquarters, reporting the situation.

Clearly, none of them were planning to give up.

Shang Xinglu, on the other hand, felt that Dr. Zhang genuinely had no intention of selling. She didn’t think he was playing hard to get—he simply didn’t care about the money.

But if she had to guess why he wouldn’t sell…

She had no clue.

To be honest, as a mere small-time player, she couldn’t understand the mindset of a true expert.

Research required an enormous amount of funding, so refusing to sell the results meant one of two things: either Dr. Zhang was so wealthy that he only pursued intellectual fulfillment, or there was some deeper reason preventing him from selling.

After all, some things transcend money, don’t they?

For example, if she had been given a choice a year ago between billions of dollars and Lin Heng, she would have chosen the billions without hesitation.

Back then, she had no feelings for Lin Heng, so her mindset was different.

Money was great. Being rich and single? Even better!

But now, she was 99% sure she would choose Lin Heng.

Billions of dollars?

She could earn that herself.

As for the remaining 0.1% hesitation, that was just for the sake of being precise.

Lost in thought, Shang Xinglu wasn’t in a hurry to leave, and Yin Yao didn’t rush her either.

They were among the last to hand over their business cards.

Dr. Zhang had already left, and in his place, a young assistant was handling the remaining matters.

The assistant took their business cards, nodded, and was about to leave.

As Shang Xinglu was lost in thought, her gaze fell to the floor beneath the chair.

She noticed something.

Picking it up, she saw that it was a pendant.

An old one—its design and quality were outdated, clearly from a time when metallurgy was less advanced, and the gold wasn’t very pure.

It looked like something from the 1960s or 70s.

Despite its age, the gold had a warm, lustrous shine.

The frequent touch of its owner had left the edges slightly worn, especially around the clasp, where the color had faded a little.

As she picked it up, the clasp—worn from time—suddenly popped open.

Inside was an old photograph of a young girl with slightly curly hair, bearing a strong resemblance to Dr. Zhang.

On the other side of the locket was another photo—Dr. Zhang and his late wife.

The lid had opened too suddenly, and Shang Xinglu only caught a glimpse before quickly closing it.

She called out to the assistant, saying, “Someone dropped something.”

The assistant turned around, took a look, and quickly took the locket from her.

“Oh, this is Dr. Zhang’s thing. He always carries it with him. Thank you!” The student thanked sincerely.

Shang Xinglu smiled, “You’re welcome, it’s nothing.”

They stayed in C City for two days.

During that time, they did try to contact Dr. Zhang, but he was either too busy to answer or rejected their calls when he did.

The situation they learned from other companies was pretty much the same.

Not only did they offer a high price for purchasing the patent, but they also provided various benefits—housing, cars, even experimental equipment—but Dr. Zhang’s response was still that he needed time to think about it.

For a while, everyone was troubled.

Maybe he really wasn’t going to sell.

After all, it was just a rumor that he might sell.

People had already learned that he was still considering the matter.

Persisting too much might even cause annoyance.

But on the third afternoon, an unexpected event occurred.

Dr. Zhang was taken to the hospital by an ambulance, which indicated that his condition was critical.

What the exact illness was remained private, and they couldn’t find out.

Most companies sent fruit baskets and expressed concern, showing more care than even Dr. Zhang’s family did.

Shang Xinglu and her team didn’t want to be left out, so they also visited.

However, their visit didn’t make much of a difference.

The hospital ward couldn’t accommodate so many people, and they were all sent away.

By this point, most of the companies had given up and started heading back.

Shang Xinglu toured around C City and returned, feeling like she didn’t even know what she was doing.

Yao Yao, on the other hand, said during the flight back that she had made a lot of progress.

Shang Xinglu was confused. “???”

Yao Yao, did you go to the same place as me?

Yao Yao squinted and smiled. “We bumped into each other frequently these past few days. Yesterday, we talked outside the hospital, and I got a rough idea of these companies’ psychological price points.”

Saying this, Yao Yao checked off a few names on a list, including Yi Zhuang, one of Bi Chen’s strongest competitors.

Shang Xinglu couldn’t help but feel a bit self-deprecating.

What was the point of her visit then? Perhaps it was just for show.

When Shang Xinglu returned home, Lin Heng was already there.

Perhaps due to his busy schedule before he resigned, after his devilish work routine, Lin Heng had gone through yet another transformation. Now, his efficiency was extremely high, and his overtime frequency had drastically decreased.

Shang Xinglu came back but wasn’t in the mood to chat. She just greeted him and went to take a shower.

Lin Heng raised an eyebrow, sensing that something was off.

So when Shang Xinglu came out of the bathroom, absentmindedly drying her hair, she bumped straight into Lin Heng’s arms.

She was a little spoiled and casually wrapped her arms around his waist, burying her face in his chest, and started recharging.

Lin Heng didn’t ask anything but just held her.

After a while, Shang Xinglu spoke up first.

She told Lin Heng about everything that had happened in C City and mentioned what Yao Yao had done. Then she sighed in frustration, saying, “How come Yao Yao is so smooth in everything? I stood there like an idiot. Am I holding her back?”

Lin Heng replied, “No, because even if you had asked, you wouldn’t have been able to piece together the useful information like Yao Yao did.”

Shang Xinglu was speechless. “…”

Why did that make her even more frustrated?

Lin Heng continued, “You think too directly, act too directly, and speak too directly. Yao Yao is better at weaving through conversations. But your directness isn’t a bad thing. You and Yao Yao are on the same team. In this acquisition case, what she knows is the same as what you know, so why worry about who knows what first?”

Shang Xinglu suddenly looked up.

Oh, right!

Lin Heng smiled and flicked her forehead.

Partners are indeed in a cooperative relationship, but sometimes they can also be in a competitive one. It’s normal to feel frustrated when there’s a big difference in strength.

But with just a few words, he had already cleared things up.

Shang Xinglu’s thoughts were quite clear as well.

Lin Heng said, “Dry your hair, and then I’ll talk to you more about this.”

Shang Xinglu hurriedly dried her hair, quickly returning to him. Lin Heng still hadn’t finished his tea.

He set the cup down and carefully asked about the situation.

Shang Xinglu answered in detail.

Then Lin Heng said, “When he says he’s considering it, it means he’s thought about selling. Right now, he doesn’t want to sell because the meaning or value of keeping it is greater than selling it.”

“By selling the patent to you, what would he gain?”

Shang Xinglu said, “Money, right now, all I can think of is giving him money. But Dr. Zhang doesn’t seem to be lacking money…”

Lin Heng then said, “You can make him feel like he’s lacking. Or, you can make him realize that he’s lacking money. If he wants to make more money, he’ll naturally sell. This motive could be his health, his family, or even his hobbies or pets.”

“Of course, there are people who really aren’t lacking money and don’t have any interest in earning more. But do these people really have nothing they ‘want’?”

Shang Xinglu pondered.

She thought about Dr. Zhang’s background and that old pendant necklace he wore.

Lin Heng pulled her closer, resting his chin on her head.

He chuckled softly, his tone relaxed and comfortable.

“In business, besides speculation, you can also attack the heart.”

Shang Xinglu glanced up at him.

At that moment, a sudden clarity washed over her, and she finally understood why Lin Heng loved his work so much.

… Because it was his playground.