Chapter 44

The light in the room was cold and white, casting a long shadow on her.

She opened the closet and began packing. Her movements were quick, but she paused for a moment. In her hand was a piece of clothing. The tag hadn't been cut off yet. She suddenly remembered that Tang Yuchuan had bought it for her when they went to the mall together.

In fact, most of the things she used were bought by him.

Clothes, desk, and even the easel placed beside the bed.

What belonged to her was very little.

Ironically, these small details were part of the reason she fell in love with him in the first place. She thought they showed he cared. But looking back now, it seemed like a reminder: she was just a visitor here.

She gritted her teeth and stuffed her things into the suitcase one by one without giving it a second thought. A few minutes later, she zipped it up and walked out carrying the suitcase.

She slapped a card on the coffee table and said calmly, "This is back to you."

Tang Yuchuan lowered his eyes for a moment, but did not reach out to take it. The card just lay quietly on the glass, reflecting the cold light.

He whispered, "Let me book a hotel for you."

"No need." Zou Ping pushed the box toward the door and said decisively, "I'll just leave."

Tang Yuchuan stretched out his hand again, blocking her path. His eyes were not at all hard, but rather held a heavy persistence.

"I can help you get a residency program in Italy." His voice was low, but he couldn't contain his eagerness. "It's a foundation that collaborates with the Venice Biennale. They only accept a dozen young artists from around the world every year. They'll give you a studio, a mentor, and a solo exhibition at the end of your residency. I think this opportunity will be helpful for your future development."

Zou Ping was stunned for a moment, then sneered: "Is this compensation? Compensation for breaking up?"

Tang Yuchuan did not refute, but just looked at her quietly.

After a moment, he said, "I hope you can go abroad for a while."

It had no beginning or end, but it made Zou Ping very angry.

Why can he be so calm and composed?!

Is there really no love between them? ! !

Zou Ping almost cried out in her heart, she clearly felt that he was not that good anymore, but why did her heart still hurt so much!

"I don't need it." She refused flatly, her tone sharp. "Why, you rich people are in love, but you have to banish your ex-girlfriend? Out of sight, out of mind? Why don't you banish Tan Jing?"

Tang Yuchuan's brows tightened, and he said in a deep voice, "That's not what I meant."

Zou Ping smiled, but her eyes were filled with bitterness: "Don't worry, if you want me to leave, I don't want to stay. I will leave. But I don't need to rely on you. I won't go to Italy either."

She paused, her voice slow but clear. "I'm going to France. I'm going to accept the job offer from Maison Clairvoix."

Tang Yuchuan raised his eyes and looked at her for a moment.

At that moment, he realized that she had grown up faster than he had imagined. She could have more choices on her own.

Founded in the 1930s, Maison Clairvoix originated as a haute couture atelier in Lyon, France. Originally led by founder Elie Clairvoix, the brand is renowned for its handmade lace and minimalist tailoring. Her philosophy is: "Clothes are the echo of the body; textures should be heard."

Clairvoix's designs always carry a calm, poetic sense of modernity. Their collections, often described as "wearable abstract paintings," are characterized by minimalist lines, premium fabrics, and artistic silhouettes, often seen on the runways of Paris and Milan.

They are keen on cross-border collaborations with contemporary artists: in the past they have invited photographers, sculptors, and dancers to collaborate on limited series or show choreography.

Tang Yuchuan was somewhat surprised to be recognized by this brand, but he was also sincerely happy for Zou Ping.

He knew her future held endless possibilities, but at that moment, he still felt he'd underestimated her. The offer certainly hadn't come today; he'd never heard her mention it before. Tang Yuchuan speculated that if he hadn't broken up with her today, Zou Ping might have passed on the opportunity.

Perhaps, she did stop because of herself, when he didn't know.

That's fine.

He didn't say anything more, nor did he stop it.

Zou Ping picked up the box and pushed the door open.

The sound of high heels gradually faded away in the corridor until the elevator door closed.

The room returned to silence, a silence that was almost suffocating.

Tang Yuchuan didn't turn on the light. The incandescent light in the living room was too cold, and he was too lazy to endure it.

In the darkness, only the scattered light from the city outside the window fell on the coffee table, making the card particularly dazzling.

He sat on the edge of the sofa, his back slightly hunched, as if he was pressing himself into an invisible stone.

His father's affairs flowed up from his feet like a dark river, damp, cold, and disgusting, making his breathing tight. It was the truth he most hated to touch, yet it became the only reality he could face directly.

Tan Jing's eyes, her questions, her despair with death in it - all of them were etched in his heart.

Guilt nearly tore him apart.

He even considered taking it all on himself. His father was dead, a man without any guilt. If the world needed someone to bear its wrath, he could spend the rest of his life making amends.

It's just that—he stopped thinking about the company.

Jingchuan... and Hongsheng... those aren't the Tang family's private property. Shareholders, investors, hundreds of employees—they have nothing to do with my father's evil deeds. If I waver because of the Tang family scandal, I'll be dragged into this mess innocently.

Tang Yuchuan laughed softly, his voice so hoarse that it almost broke.

It's ridiculous. He clearly hates his father, but he still wants to stand up for that person...

His fingers tightened, knuckles turning white. He could feel his rationality reasserting itself, pushing back his emotions. The pain didn't go away, it just pushed deeper.

Yes, he will apologize, take responsibility, be scolded, suspected, and held accountable.

But at the same time, he also had to find a way to make Hongsheng and Jingchuan stand firm.

Not only for his own hard work, but also for those who, like him, know nothing but will be affected by this storm.

In the darkness, his shadow blended into the night, and his expression could not be seen clearly.

Only the rise and fall of his chest proved that he was still trying to maintain a steady breath.

He knew full well that he and his father had long since fallen out; even their final funeral seemed shrouded in mist. But the outside world didn't care. Blood was an ironclad bond, and he couldn't escape it.

The stain left by his father will not only fall on his shoulders, but will also spread to the company.

Thinking of this, his back stiffened.

Hongsheng is an old brand with deep roots, but it is as fragile as a piece of brittle porcelain. Any slight disturbance may be associated by shareholders as "the legacy of a family business."

Jingchuan, young and carrying the label of new energy, should not be dragged into the quagmire.

His Adam's apple rolled, as if he was trying to push something back.

Guilt weighed on him, but at the same time, calmness became clear.

No matter how turbulent the emotions are, they cannot stop the movement of reason.

He had to separate himself from the company, even if it seemed cruel.

Hongsheng, he thought of the eyes of those old-school shareholders on the board of directors, conservative, suspicious, and greedy.

He had to give them a respectable enough explanation to convince them that this scandal was "Tang's business" and not "Hongsheng's business." Perhaps he should introduce a new person who could stand before them and help him stabilize the situation.

And he himself can only retreat.

As for Jingchuan, he built it up step by step with his own hands. He was reluctant to let it go, but he also understood that if the situation escalated, public opinion would first tear his identity apart. He needed to convince the outside world that Jingchuan had nothing to do with him, but was driven by technology, team, and investment.

In this way, it can survive.

His breathing hitched, and he felt a dull pain in his chest.

At that moment, he suddenly felt like he was cutting his body, cutting off pieces of flesh and bones and leaving them to others.

But this is the only way.

After a long silence, he reached out and flipped open his notebook. He wrote quickly and densely, his lines so hard they were almost like engravings. It wasn't a plan, just some jumping thoughts: names, candidates, risk points...

It was like a rope he built for himself in the dark.

When the pen stopped, it was already late at night.

There was a tired red in his eyes, but he was not panicked.

Suddenly, the phone vibrated slightly on the table.

Tang Yuchuan pressed the answer button, and the light from the screen shone on his face, reflecting a faint blood color in his eyes.

"Mr. Tang," Chen Zui said in a crisp, clear voice, with a hint of the nighttime hoarseness. "I've just checked Tang Junrui's funded project and found no abnormalities. The funding and procedures are proceeding normally. Although I haven't seen the child yet, I've learned indirectly that there are no abnormalities in the child's performance at present."

Tang Yuchuan responded in a low voice: "Yeah."

"Also, Secretary Miao's mother is recovering well, and the doctor says she'll be discharged next week. He'll also be back to work. He was the one who originally handled this matter, so should we hand it back to him?"

He was silent for a moment, as if weighing the pros and cons, and finally said, "You go ahead."

"Okay." Chen Zui answered straightforwardly.

Tang Yuchuan paused before speaking: "Thank you for your hard work. I'll approve the overtime pay for you."

A cheerful laugh came from the other end of the line: "Of course that's fine. Mr. Tang, you know, people like me can work hard all night long as long as there's overtime pay."

Tang Yuchuan paused slightly at her tone, his lips almost moving, but he still said lightly: "Don't stay up all night. Go to bed early."

"Okay," Chen Zui responded with a smile, "Then I'll accept your concern."

The phone was hung up and the room fell silent again.

Tang Yuchuan let out a long breath, and his knuckles turned white as he held the phone.

He leaned back on the sofa, his whole body sinking into the shadows, as if part of him was swallowed by the darkness.

Ever since he saw that USB flash drive, the images and text have tortured him over and over again.

He knew that Tan Jing, and the other girls, were all children "sponsored" by their father. The cold list of beneficiaries seemed to automatically transform into faces of crying and despair.

When he saw these contents, the first thing he thought of was the child who said he wanted to find his mother, the child who Zou Ping had wanted to help him find his mother but was stopped by him.

Tang Junrui.

He said at the time that there were other ways to help him.

He had simply wanted to lend a hand, utilizing the resources of his father's former team. At the time, he hadn't considered the potential for problems. Fortunately, everything now appears to be operating normally, with no anomalies.

But is it really “no problem”?

Tang Yuchuan's eyes slowly froze.

How could my father have managed this for so many years all by himself? How could so many projects, so many victims, and so many people involved in the operation have been completely unaware of it?

Were there no helpers? No accomplices?

His breathing stagnated, and the coldness in his chest felt like someone was strangling him.

Did my father's death really mean the end of everything, or did it just mask a deeper sore?

He stared at the night outside the window, more and more questions in his mind.

Want to investigate? Where do I start?

If someone really continues on this dirty road, can he stop them? How should he stop them?

Thoughts rushed in like a torrential rain, instantly drowning him completely. Yet, on the surface, he remained still in the darkness, like a stone. Only the cold light in his eyes betrayed his lucidity.