Starting a business is extremely difficult

6:15 AM, overcast and rainy.

The sound of rain.

The fine, continuous sound of rain, like a dull knife, slowly cuts through Xu Ying's chaotic dream.

She opened her eyes, her vision blurry as she focused on the gray windowpane. Rainwater trickled down the window frame, leaving winding streaks on the glass like someone's silent tears.

The other side of the bed is empty.

Xu Ying reached out and touched the sheets; they were ice-cold, devoid of any warmth. Clearly, Zong Heng had been gone for a long time.

She sighed, propped herself up on her arms, and sat up, her long hair hanging loosely over her shoulders. The room was dark, with only a sliver of light filtering through the curtains, casting a pale glow on the floor.

—This is the seventeenth day since they moved into this small apartment.

Seventeen days ago, all of Zong Heng's assets were frozen, and he was forced to leave the Zong Group with nothing. Seventeen days ago, they moved from a luxury apartment in the city center into this old house of less than 60 square meters, where the wallpaper was yellowed and the water pipes occasionally made strange whistling sounds.

Seventeen days ago, Zong Heng held her tightly in the rainy night and said in a hoarse voice, "Xu Ying, I have nothing left."

She simply hugged him back and whispered, "You still have me."

Xu Ying, barefoot on the cold floor, silently pushed open the study door.

Zong Heng sat in front of the computer with his back to her, the cold light from the screen reflecting on his sharply defined profile. He was wearing the dark gray shirt she had bought him, the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, revealing his muscular forearms. The desk was piled high with documents, the coffee cup was empty, and several cigarette butts lay scattered in the ashtray.

She frowned.

—He stayed up all night again.

And he smoked again.

I promised her I would quit.

Xu Ying walked over quietly and put her hand on his shoulder. Zong Heng was jolted and almost reflexively closed his notebook.

"Did I wake you up?" He turned to look at her, his voice low and hoarse from staying up all night.

Xu Ying didn't answer; her gaze remained fixed on his face.

His eyes were dark and bluish, and there was a small, scabbed wound at the corner of his mouth, but it was still glaring.

“You’re hurt.” She reached out and touched the corner of his lips.

Zong Heng turned his head away and said casually, "I accidentally bumped into the door last night."

Xu Ying stared at him without saying a word.

--lie.

She knew him too well. Zong Heng had been fighting since he was a child, and she could tell at a glance where he was injured and how. These weren't from a collision; they were marks left by a fist.

But she didn't call him out on it. She simply withdrew her hand and asked softly, "What time did you go to sleep last night?"

"Around two o'clock." He rubbed his temples, his tone relaxed, but the muscles in his shoulders were tense.

Xu Ying's gaze swept across the financial statements on the table. Although he had closed the computer, she still caught a glimpse of a corner of the screen—a glaring deficit, shocking to the eye.

Her heart sank.

Xu Ying stood in front of the stove frying eggs, the oil in the pan sizzling.

Zong Heng hugged her from behind, resting his chin on her shoulder, his warm breath brushing against her ear.

"Are you angry?" he asked in a low voice, with a hint of ingratiation in his tone.

Xu Ying ignored him, simply flipped the fried egg over, and deliberately slammed the plate down.

Zong Heng chuckled softly, tightened his arms, and pulled her completely into his embrace.

"Are you really angry?" His lips brushed against the back of her ear, and his warm breath made her involuntarily shrink back.

Xu Ying finally turned around and looked him straight in the eye: "You got into a fight."

Zong Heng raised an eyebrow: "Hmm?"

"Don't play dumb." She reached out and poked the wound on the corner of his mouth. "Did you get this from a collision?"

Zong Heng grabbed her fingers, kissed them, and said casually, "It was just a little friction."

With whom?

"Liu Cheng."

Xu Ying's pupils contracted slightly.

—Liu Cheng, Zongfu's capable assistant, was also the mastermind behind the collective resignation of the technical team.

"You went to see him?" Her voice turned cold.

Zong Heng shrugged: "We ran into each other by chance and chatted for a bit."

"Talking about taking action?"

"He has a sharp tongue."

Xu Ying took a deep breath, her chest rising and falling slightly. She knew Zong Heng's temper and Liu Cheng's character. But right now, they couldn't withstand any more trouble.

Just as she was about to speak, Zong Heng's phone suddenly vibrated.

He released her, took out his phone and glanced at it; his face instantly darkened.

Xu Ying leaned closer; a bank text message was displayed on the screen—

Loan application rejected

The air froze instantly.

Zong Heng locked the screen expressionlessly and put the phone back in his pocket.

“It’s alright,” he said casually. “I have a backup plan.”

Xu Ying didn't say anything, turned around and walked to the entrance, pulled a crumpled contract out of her bag and slammed it on the table.

"Is this your backup plan?" Her voice trembled slightly.

Zong Heng glanced down—it was a used car transaction contract; his black Land Rover was being sold urgently at a price far below market value.

His eyes darkened.

“Xu Ying.” He reached for the contract, but she stopped him.

“Zong Heng,” she stared at him, her eyes reddening, “do you think I’m blind?”

Zong Heng's breathing suddenly became heavy.

He suddenly grabbed her wrist, slammed her against the wall, his voice low and husky, almost dangerous—

"Then what do you want me to do?"

His chest heaved violently, and a familiar, suppressed rage surged in his eyes.

"You want me to eat meager meals?" he gritted his teeth. "To watch you squeeze onto the subway, wear clothes from Taobao, and use inexpensive cosmetics?"

Xu Ying looked up at him and suddenly smiled.

“Zongheng,” she said softly, “I would rather eat coarse food than have you carry this burden alone.”

Outside the window, a clap of thunder boomed, and the sound of rain suddenly intensified, pounding against the glass.

Zong Heng's breath hitched.

The next second, he lowered his head and kissed her.

When Xu Ying pushed open the glass door, Zong Heng was standing in front of the floor-to-ceiling window, his back taut like a fully drawn bow. Outside the window, the leaden-gray clouds hung low, as if they might crash down at any moment.

There were only the two of them in the office—the original team of six was now reduced to two empty workstations, and even the coffee machine had been moved away.

She took a deep breath, her high heels clicking crisply on the floor.

"Zong Heng".

He didn't turn around, his fingers tapping unconsciously on the windowpane, the rhythm erratic.

Xu Ying walked straight behind him and slammed the USB drive onto the table.

"Take a look at this."

Zong Heng then turned around, his gaze falling on the small silver USB drive, his brows furrowing slightly. He reached out and picked it up, his fingertips tracing the edge, as if to confirm that this was not an illusion.

"What is that?"

"Something that can save you."

He looked up at her, his eyes bloodshot from staying up all night, yet still sharp. Xu Ying met his gaze without flinching.

Zong Heng finally plugged the USB drive into the computer. The screen lit up, displaying a complete brand visual scheme—a minimalist black and white logo with a striking red accent at the bottom, like a wildfire or undried blood.

He stared at the red color, his finger hovering over the touchpad, hesitant to move it.

Xu Ying walked around the table, stood beside him, and reached out to open the proposal.

“The tech team left, so we used design to carve out a path.” Her voice was calm, as if she were discussing the weather. “I got a booth at the Shanghai Design Show next week.”

Zong Heng suddenly looked up: "When did you contact Zhan Fang?"

“When you pretend to be asleep every night,” she mimicked his usual roguish smile, though her eyes were slightly red, “Designer Xu’s connections are wider than you think.”

The air froze for a second.

Zong Heng suddenly reached out and pulled her close, the force so strong that she stumbled. His palm was pressed against the back of her neck, burning hot.

“Xu Ying…”

His voice was so hoarse, it sounded like it was being squeezed out from deep within his chest.

Xu Ying looked up at him and noticed that his eyelashes were trembling slightly. She suddenly remembered when he was in high school, after a fight, he would hide in the equipment room and she would apply medicine to him. He would do the same thing, even though he was in excruciating pain, he would stubbornly endure it without making a sound.

"Don't look at me like that," she said softly, "as if I'm some great person."

Zong Heng's Adam's apple bobbed, and he suddenly lowered his head to kiss her.

The kiss, tinged with the bitterness of coffee and the burning of tobacco, was haphazard, almost a biting. Xu Ying clutched at the front of his shirt, her fingertips trembling.

Just then, the office door was suddenly pushed open—

"Boss!" Assistant Xiao Chen stood at the door, his face ashen. "Liu Cheng has brought his men to cause trouble!"

When Xu Ying rushed out of the office with Zong Heng, a crowd had already gathered in the corridor.

Liu Cheng was dressed in a sharp suit, with five burly bodyguards standing behind him and several cardboard boxes piled at his feet. When he saw Zong Heng, he immediately put on a fake smile.

"Young Master Zong, your father asked me to deliver some 'startup supplies'."

He kicked the cardboard box, and the top one tipped over, spilling its contents—all newspaper clippings.

"A纨绔子弟 (spoiled brat) dabbling in entrepreneurship: How long can the heir of the Zong family last?"

Zong Heng: Without his father's halo, he is nothing.

Genius or Joke? Unveiling Zong Heng's History of Failure

Xu Ying's nails dug deeply into her palm.

Zong Heng stood still, but a cold smile curled at the corner of his mouth.

"Uncle Liu," he spoke slowly and deliberately, his voice as soft as if it were casual conversation, "Does my father know that you're using him as a pawn?"

Liu Cheng's smile froze.

Zong Heng suddenly bent down, grabbed a cardboard box, and smashed it hard at the other person's feet. The box shattered, and newspaper clippings scattered like snowflakes.

"Do you want me to talk about your embezzlement of public funds last month in public?"

Liu Cheng's face instantly turned ashen.

Xu Ying immediately seized the opportunity, took out her phone and turned on the live stream: "Dear netizens, this is a scene of commercial bullying!" She pointed the camera at the scattered newspaper clippings, her voice clear and calm, "Mr. Liu, is suppressing competitors part of the Zong Group's corporate culture?"

The crowd began to stir. Some people raised their phones to take pictures, while others whispered, "Isn't that Mr. Zong, the self-made man who's been trending on social media?"

Cold sweat beaded on Liu Cheng's forehead, and he took two steps back in a panic: "You, you all—"

Zong Heng put his arm around Xu Ying's waist and raised his voice eight octaves: "Thank my dad for me—I'll take this free publicity."

The bodyguards exchanged bewildered glances, unsure what to do. Liu Cheng glared at them fiercely, then turned and left.

The crowd burst into laughter.

After the door closed, Zong Heng felt as if all his strength had been suddenly drained away. He leaned against the wall and raised his hand to shield his eyes.

Xu Ying walked up to him and gently took his hand.

"Does it hurt?" she asked.

He paused for a moment before realizing she was referring to the injury on the corner of his mouth.

"It doesn't hurt."

"fraud."

She tiptoed and gently brushed her thumb against the corner of his lips. Zong Heng grabbed her wrist and suddenly asked, "Why are you helping me?"

Xu Ying looked at him and suddenly smiled.

“Because I am Xu Ying,” she said. “I am not a burden to you, but your partner.”

Zong Heng's pupils contracted slightly.

Outside the window, a gap opened in the clouds, and sunlight poured down like molten gold.

——

Zong Heng didn't return to the apartment until 10 p.m. As soon as he got back, Xu Ying pulled him into the bathroom.

The bathroom lights were a warm yellow, the air was thick with steam, and the mirror was covered with a thin layer of fog. Xu Ying sat on the edge of the sink, her legs dangling in the air, her fingertips pinching a cotton swab soaked in iodine, carefully touching the bruise on Zong Heng's lip.

"Hiss—" He frowned, but did not flinch. He just looked down at her, his eyes dark and deep, like a bottomless pool of water.

"Serves you right." Xu Ying glared at him, but her voice softened. "Who told you to fight without telling me?"

Zong Heng twitched the corner of his mouth, wanting to laugh, but the movement aggravated his wound, causing his expression to twist slightly: "Why would I tell you? To make you feel sorry for me?"

"I'm angry!" She increased the pressure on her hand and deliberately pressed down.

"Damn..." He gasped, but then grabbed her wrist and pulled her into his arms. "Xu Ying, did you murder your husband?"

She struggled for a moment, but couldn't break free, so she simply let him hold her, her fingertips gently tracing another scratch on his brow bone. Each of these scars seemed etched into her heart.

"Where else are you hurt?" she asked in a low voice.

"That's all," he answered quickly.

She didn't believe it, and pointed downwards, tearing open his shirt collar—there was a bruise on his collarbone, clearly from being hit by a heavy object.

The air froze for a second.

Zong Heng noticed her breathing had become heavier, so he pinched her chin and forced her to look up: "It's a minor injury, it doesn't hurt."

Xu Ying didn't speak, but simply pushed his hand away, took out some blood-activating and stasis-removing ointment from the medicine box, and silently applied it to him. Her fingertips were very light, like a feather brushing against him, but he felt it was even more burning than the iodine from before.

The only sounds in the bathroom were the dripping of the faucet and the intermittent breathing of the two people.

“Liu Cheng brought more than five people,” Zong Heng suddenly spoke, his voice low and hoarse. “They’re blocking the garage, trying to smash the cars.”

Xu Ying's hand paused.

“There were your design drafts that you left behind in the car.” He spoke calmly, as if he were talking about something insignificant. “So, I beat them up.”

She looked up abruptly, her eyes red-rimmed: "Are you crazy? I can redraw those drafts!"

"Redraw?" He sneered, his thumb brushing against her eyelid. "Why should they ruin the result of your three sleepless nights?"

Xu Ying felt a tightness in her chest and wanted to curse him, but her throat felt like it was blocked by something. She should have known that Zong Heng's stubbornness hadn't changed at all—once he decided to protect something, he would never let go, no matter what.

Just like back then, he kicked open the toilet stall door and dragged out all the people who bullied her.

Like now, he's fighting with six people over a stack of papers.

"Zong Heng..." her voice trembled, "Can we call the police? Please don't do it again next time."

He stared at her for a few seconds, then suddenly laughed, though the laugh didn't reach his eyes: "Call the police? And then let my dad laugh at us? 'Look, my son has left the main family and has to ask the police for help to protect himself'?"

Xu Ying clenched the ointment tightly, her nails almost digging into her palm.

She knew Zong Heng's pride, and she knew the humiliation he had suffered from the suppression of his family over the years, but she was even more afraid—afraid that one day he would really be beaten into the hospital, afraid that he would hurt himself all over for the sake of so-called "dignity".

"And what about me?" she asked softly. "What will I do if something happens to you?"

Zong Heng's breath hitched.

The next second, he suddenly pulled her into his arms and kissed her fiercely and urgently.

Xu Ying was pinned against the cold tiles, her back chilled, yet her body was burning hot against him. His lips tasted of blood, his tongue prying open her teeth, greedily seizing her breath, as if trying to make up for the five years that had passed.

She was out of breath, her fingers clutching his shirt, the fabric crumpling in her palm.

“Xu Ying…” He pressed his forehead against hers, his breathing heavy, “I will be fine.”

"You promise?"

"I promise." He bit her earlobe, his voice low and husky, "I haven't married you yet, I can't bear to die."

Her nose stung with tears, and she suddenly bit his shoulder hard: "You bastard!"

Zong Heng grunted, then chuckled softly, his chest heaving: "Feeling better now?"

"No!" She tried to bite again, but he grabbed the back of her neck and pulled her away like a kitten.

"How about another bite?" He raised an eyebrow, deliberately pulling his collar open even wider. "Take as much as you want, don't be shy."

Xu Ying glared at him, but was burned by the indulgence in his eyes, and in the end, she just punched him in frustration.

“Turn around,” she commanded.

Zong Heng raised an eyebrow: "What? Trying to ambush me?"

"Stop talking nonsense." She pushed him. "Let me see your back."

He froze for a moment, then smiled nonchalantly: "Really, that's all."

Xu Ying didn't believe him and directly pulled at his shirt. Zong Heng had no choice but to turn his back to her and take off his shirt.

Then she froze.

His back muscles were clearly defined, but several light-colored scars ran across it, the longest of which extended from his shoulder blade to his waist, as if he had been cut by some sharp weapon.

"When... was this?" Her fingertips trembled, and she dared not touch it.

Zong Heng paused for a few seconds, then said in a relaxed tone, "Three years ago, in Germany. A car accident."

"A car accident?" Her voice suddenly rose. "You never mentioned it!"

"It's just a minor injury, it's healed already." He turned around to hug her, but she dodged him.

Xu Ying's eyes were red and she stared intently at him: "How many more things are you hiding from me?"

He opened his mouth, but in the end he just sighed and pulled the person into his arms: "It's gone, really gone."

She pressed her forehead against his chest, listening to his strong heartbeat, and suddenly felt incredibly exhausted. In these past five years, they had each endured too much, and every wound after their reunion felt like a continuation of the past.

"Zong Heng," she said in a muffled voice, "from now on... let's not hide things from each other anymore, okay?"

He tightened his grip on her arm and rested his chin on the top of her head: "Okay."

As the steam in the bathroom gradually dissipated, the mirror returned to its clear state, reflecting the intertwined figures of the two.

Xu Ying leaned against Zong Heng's chest, her fingers unconsciously playing with his buttons: "I'm going to meet a client tomorrow. If we can reach an agreement, it will at least solve our funding problem for three months."

Which customer?

"Lin Group".

Zong Heng frowned: "Lin Shicheng? He has a bad reputation."

“But he offered the highest price.” She looked up at him. “We don’t have the right to choose our clients right now.”

His jawline tightened, clearly suppressing his emotions, but in the end he simply ruffled her hair and said, "I'll go with you."

Xu Ying wanted to say no, but seeing his tense expression, she nodded anyway.

Outside the window, the rain had stopped sometime earlier, and moonlight streamed in through the gauze curtains, casting dappled patterns of light on the floor.

Zong Heng suddenly picked her up and carried her horizontally: "Go to sleep."

"I haven't washed up yet!"

"I'll help you."

"Zong Heng! Put me down—"

Her protests were ignored, and she was tossed onto the soft bed, whereupon he pulled her into his arms. His body was warm, like a human heater, dispelling the chill of the rainy night.

"Xu Ying." He suddenly called her name in the darkness.

"Um?"

"We will win."

She smiled silently, her fingertips entwining with his: "I know."