Ling Yao's Father Extra
They told me that the child had passed away. My son, Ling Yao.
The news was reported calmly by my assistant, nestled among several documents related to a merger that needed urgent attention. I gave a "hmm" to indicate I understood, without even lifting my fingers from the keyboard.
The only sounds in the office were the clacking of keyboards and the ever-changing roar of the city outside the window. After a long moment, I slowly leaned back in my chair and looked out the window at the gray sky.
Ling Yao. This was the name Manyun had insisted on. Yao, meaning "bright and shining." She had always been so unwilling to be ordinary that even her son's name carried an urgent desire to burn everything.
Manyun. Zhou Manyun. A beautiful but troubled woman. A love affair that spiraled out of control, the details blurred by time. She mistook a casual fling for real, even trying to use the child to bind me. Ridiculous.
The Ling family's doorpost is not something a woman like her could easily enter. My wife has a complex network of family power behind her; that's a solid alliance. Manyun? She was just a temporary novelty, but she didn't know the limits and became an inescapable problem.
I believe I've fulfilled my most basic "responsibility" to Ling Yao, this unexpected child. I've given them enough money for a comfortable life, and provided them with the best material conditions. Isn't that enough? Do you still want me to invest my emotions? My attention? I don't have the time or energy for that. The Ling Group needs to expand, and the true family and heirs need to be cultivated. Those are the real things.
I knew Manyun had poured all her resentment and resentment into the child, using him as a tool to prove herself to me and the Ling family. I knew the child's life wasn't easy. But so what? Everyone is born with a different fate. Since he enjoyed the material things I provided, it was only natural that he should bear the corresponding pressures.
I'd heard a bit about his entrance into the entertainment industry, creating quite a stir. Sure enough, he was a child raised by Manyun, choosing the same path of publicity and attention-seeking. I remained noncommittal. As long as he didn't use the Ling family's name to cause irreparable trouble, I didn't bother to ask any further questions.
It wasn't until that scandal broke out, when the words "illegitimate child" and "mistress" were blatantly hurled before the public, implicating the Ling family's reputation, that I truly crossed the line.
I asked my legitimate son to handle this matter. I was very satisfied with his approach—calm, detached, and quick to resolve. He expressed the Ling family's stance in the simplest way, minimizing any negative impact. This is exactly how the heir I'm training should behave.
As for what will happen to that child named Ling Yao and his mother... that's not within my consideration. Since they have chosen that path, they should bear the consequences themselves.
But I didn't expect that the consequences would be so decisive.
After the assistant left, the office fell completely silent.
I tried to recall Ling Yao's appearance, but my memory was fuzzy. I only remembered him as a thin, quiet young man with delicate features. His gaze carried a complex emotion I didn't bother to fathom—perhaps resentment, perhaps longing, I didn't care.
To me, he has never been a concrete "son". He is more like a bill that I have to pay for a long time due to past mistakes, a potential risk that needs to be strictly kept out of sight.
Now the bill is settled and the risk is permanently eliminated.
I should feel relieved.
But why was there this extremely subtle, unfamiliar feeling of emptiness in my heart? As if something insignificant had been lost, so slight that it was almost imperceptible, yet it was definitely there.
I frowned, attributing the discomfort to fatigue from continuous work.
It was just the death of an insignificant person, a troublesome creature whom I had long since discarded.
I refocused my attention on the financial statements in front of me. The numbers on them were clear, cold, and more important.
Outside the window, the city is still bustling with traffic, and nothing will change because of the falling of a meteor.
The same is true in my world.
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