When he returned home, Fu Congxiao stopped at the door, not stepping inside.
Fu Zhengjun sat beside the sofa, smiling obsequiously as he poured tea for his mother.
The mess he had caused was too big. Even though his son had no intention of helping shoulder the blame, it had ultimately alarmed the other directors and many relatives from the main family.
Old Madam Fu had practically exhausted all her reputation to clean up after this useless son.
At this moment, the elderly woman sat in the main seat, her expression numb as she watched TV, not uttering a single extra word.
“Mom, this is some fine tea specially sent by the deputy mayor. You should try some too?”
The old lady sneered: “I can’t accept it.”
Fu Zhengjun relaxed and said, “Don’t overthink it. I know I’m not cut out for business, so I’ll meddle less in company affairs going forward.”
“Ming Yao matured early and has a stellar reputation at the company—he’s highly regarded by the top brass,” Fu Zhengjun said. “I’m definitely willing to let him take over. I can entrust everything to him with complete peace of mind.”
The two noticed the movement at the door. Fu Zhengjun, discarding his usual iciness, said enthusiastically to Fu Congxiao, “You’re back? Did you have fun with your classmates?”
Fu Congxiao impassively observed his expression, merely greeting Grandma.
“I’ll head upstairs to do homework first.”
“Mm, go on.”
The instant Fu Congxiao stepped inside, Fu Zhengjun stood up simultaneously and followed right behind him.
“Dad hasn’t shown concern for you in ages. Come on, let’s go upstairs and chat.”
Fu Congxiao turned his head to look at him; both father and son clearly knew who was putting on the act.
Grandma spoke up: “What do you want with him? Say it here if you have something to discuss.”
“Mom, get some good rest. I’ll go up and check his final exam scores.”
Fu Congxiao had already guessed the gist and instead flashed a smile.
“Alright, let’s go.”
Like strangers, the father and son exchanged not a single word on the way upstairs.
After securely closing the study door again, Fu Congxiao sat down at the computer and said leisurely, “Something you need to ask of me?”
“Ask you?” Fu Zhengjun felt a surge of disgust. “I’m your dad—do you even know who’s in charge?”
“Can’t tell.” Fu Congxiao said, “What, planning to kick me to death again?”
“Cut the crap,” the middle-aged man loudly wiped his nose—his face glistening with oil—”Tell me, where did you put all the snake sheds and snake venom from these years?”
“And the snake scales and snake fangs—where are they?”
Fu Congxiao smiled faintly: “They’re controlled prohibited items. I handed them all over to the school.”
“I knew you’d spew that bullshit,” Fu Zhengjun sneered. “Fine, I won’t bother with the past ones. You have half a year left.”
“I’ve asked AI already. For your breed, juveniles shed every one or two months—even as an adult snake, it’s every three or four months.”
“All those things from you, by this time half a year from now, hand them over to me in perfect condition. Got it?”
Fu Congxiao said indifferently: “Or else what?”
“You really think with your grandma protecting you, you have no weak spots?”
The middle-aged man before him eyed him like a hyena, baring a greedily undisguised grin.
“Don’t think too highly of yourself. You’re just an accident I left behind back then.”
“If memory serves, after this summer break, you’ll be in senior year, right?”
Fu Congxiao’s brows furrowed slightly.
Without waiting for the youth to respond, Fu Zhengjun quickened his speech: “Your school has already contacted the People’s Public Security University of China and plans to focus-train you, hasn’t it?”
“Yeah, whether you become a SWAT officer or join the military, no one can stop you.”
“But if you don’t listen to your own dad, it’s simple,” the man laughed smugly. “The school’s pre-admission political review and internal investigation? I don’t need to cooperate with those, do I?”
The youth’s nails unconsciously dug into his palm as a bloodthirsty smile crept across his face.
“So you’ve been waiting for me here.”
“Fu Zhengjun, do you think I care about that?”
“You want to control me? I’m willing to flip the table outright.”
“You’ll have moments when you close your eyes to sleep—you might not even know how you die.”
Fu Zhengjun imperceptibly shrank back, forcing composure as he said, “You—you dare kill your own dad?! You’re insane!”
“What I’m asking for isn’t much, is it?” he pressed. “You were born from your mom, but without your dad picking you up and bringing you into this family, could you have been raised this far?”
“Those snake scales and venom—if you don’t need them, give them to me. Sell favors, cash them in, whatever—to make up for the family’s losses.”
“After raising you all these years, you still don’t know gratit—”
A cup flew straight at his face, shattering on impact.
Scalding hot water erupted like an explosion, making the man howl in agony.
The youth said expressionlessly: “Get out.”
Fu Zhengjun shuddered in terror, rearing back to hurl an insult—only for a jade pen holder to fly at him with deadly precision and force.
He didn’t have time to dodge. The blow caught him square on the forehead, blood trickling down as rage boiled up inside him. “You fucking bastard! You fucking bastard!!”
“I’ve given you three days to think it over. If you don’t agree, I’ve got a dozen ways to ruin you. Let’s see who’s really scared!”
With that, he turned tail and bolted, terrified he’d meet his end right there.
Fu Congxiao remained seated where he was, not moving a muscle for the longest time.
All the blood in his body seemed to turn to ice, his heartbeat slowing to a dull, aching throb.
In the heavy silence, the sharp click of high heels approached from down the hall.
Zhang Hong stood in the doorway of the study, her faint perfume drifting silently through the air.
“Want to make a deal?” she asked.
Fu Congxiao looked up.
“I’ll help you take care of some problems,” Zhang Hong said with a faint smile. “In return, you promise never to set foot in your brother’s company.”
She had clearly been mulling this over for ages, just waiting for the right moment to bring it up.
The study was a wreck, but she paid it no mind. She pulled up a chair and sat down.
Fu Congxiao’s gaze turned icy. “That’s all you want?”
“Your grandma will leave you a share of the equity—something to fall back on, so you won’t end up destitute,” Zhang Hong replied. “Your brother and I have no interest in that scrap of goodwill. But your father? He’s obsessed with it, dying to claim it all for himself.”
Her smile was shrewd and chilly, yet somehow it made her seem less threatening.
“You’re a smart kid. Even without me looking after you all these years, without anyone tutoring your homework, you’ve still carved out the best path for yourself.”
“So don’t do anything to threaten my assets or your brother’s business.”
“You have nothing to worry about,” Fu Congxiao said coolly. “I’ve never had any interest in those industries, not from the start.”
“Good,” Zhang Hong replied. “I heard every word of that threat he threw at you from outside the door.”
“He might not live long enough to follow through.”
The boy’s expression softened just a fraction. “Why are you helping me?”
“It’s not necessarily help for you,” she said. “Getting rid of some obstructive trash benefits everyone.”
Fu Congxiao stared at her for a long moment, then suddenly broke into a smile.
“Do you need venom?”
Zhang Hong’s eyes widened slightly, as if only in that instant did she truly register that he was still just a child.
“Then the police investigate, and they trace it right back to you?”
“Relax. Leave that sort of thing to the grown-ups.”
There had been many fleeting moments when she’d felt a pointless twinge of pity for the boy.
But everyone had their own inescapable fate. She wasn’t one to meddle.
Long after Zhang Hong had gone, a servant finally crept upstairs, trembling, to check on things and clean up the water stains and shattered debris in the study.
Fu Congxiao sat there like a lifeless statue, unmoving.
“Young master,” the servant said, “dinner’s ready. Shall I bring some up for you?”
“No need.”
“Please rest well. Call us if you need anything.”
“Turn off the lights.”
“Yes, sir.” The servants bowed and withdrew.
As the door clicked shut, the last sliver of light vanished.
Fu Congxiao let out a soft, barely audible laugh.
Should he count his blessings or break down in tears ahead of time?
He’d never even met his mother, and his father was probably destined for the urn.
Fu Mingyao could show his face at any social function, always the golden child of the family.
His name gleamed with promise. He lived freely and boldly, with his mother paving the way ahead and mapping out every step of his future.
Fu Congxiao thought in silence: And what about him?
What paths did he have left to take?
His phone buzzed a few times.
No reply came, so less than half a minute later, it buzzed again.
Finally, the WeChat ringtone chimed.
In the darkness, Fu Congxiao waited a long while before pulling out his phone and swiping to answer the video call.
“You home yet?” Shang Xi greeted him with a bright, cheerful grin. “Check out where I am!”
The boy was somewhere in a bustling night market.
He held up a massive skewer of battered squid, while behind him, a vendor waved a cluster of colorful balloons like a bouquet of flowers.
“Look, there’s even a stall selling snake-shaped pastries stuffed with red bean paste,” Shang Xi said. He took a huge bite of the squid, chewing as he strolled forward. “No need to thank me—I’m just taking you on a virtual tour of my hometown’s food street.”
“Hey, Senior Brother, why’s it so dark over there?”
“Just woke up.”
Shang Xi studied his face more closely.
“You’re upset. What’s wrong?”
Fu Congxiao didn’t explain. Instead, he peered past him. “What’s that stall with the orange sign selling?”
“Oh, here—take a look!” Shang Xi hurried over and aimed the camera at the sugar painting stand.
“Boss, paint me a cobra with a little nightingale perched on its head!”
“What’s a nightingale look like? Uh, just make it a sparrow instead.”
“You can’t paint a sparrow?? Fine, do a ball! Give the ball two little wings and a smiley face!”
The old man carefully crafted a long snake topped with a bird-shaped sugar sculpture for him.
“And wings! Little wings!!”
After paying, Shang Xi bit off the tail of the little golden snake.
“Pretty sweet, huh, Fu Congxiao.”
The other man couldn’t help laughing and cursing. “What’s with that bad habit of yours? Always chewing on my tail for fun.”
“Actually, I’m not in the best mood today either,” Shang Xi said as he ventured deeper inside, munching while he strolled. “Professor Rong’s group chat added two new juniors today.”
“I heard one’s a skylark, the other a little thrush.”
“I’ve always been a proud sort—you know how it is, even a small accomplishment leaves me smug for days.”
“But the moment they joined, it hit me: oh, so I’m not all that special after all.”
“Maybe compared to them, my singing’s just average. Not exactly a prodigy.”
Shang Xi spoke slowly, and Fu Congxiao listened quietly.
In the darkness, only the phone screen glowed, casting a faint light over the young man.
He took in every word, sometimes wondering how wonderful it would be if this call never ended.
“Am I rambling too much?” Shang Xi turned the camera toward a stall selling roast rabbit legs. “Look at this one—I get it all the time. Crispy on the outside, tender inside, bursting with juices.”
“Senior Brother, you’ve barely said a word all evening. I’m starting to worry.”
Fu Congxiao gazed at Little Nightingale, his eyes warming slightly as he explained in a low voice.
“It’s nothing. I’m just hungry.”
Hungry enough for his heart to ache.
