Lost Contact
Gu Yilan had been silent, but the moment he opened his mouth, Su Zesui saw it—fresh blood pouring out of his mouth, flowing faster and faster, impossible to stop, each drop falling onto the carpet.
It reminded him of the faint red threads he had once seen spreading through the man’s teacup.
Su Zesui’s eyes widened, his heart skipping a beat before he grabbed a wad of tissues from the coffee table and shoved them at him.
Gu Yilan took them and wiped at his mouth twice, saying casually, “It’s nothing. Just a bit of heat.”
The blood-soaked paper was glaringly bright. Su Zesui couldn’t help stepping forward to fuss over him, clumsily wiping away what remained.
Gu Yilan tossed the tissues into the trash and shot a look at the butler, who hurried off to fetch the first-aid kit.
He opened it, took out a cotton ball, and tucked it skillfully into his mouth. “It’s really nothing. Don’t cry,” he said to the boy.
At those words, Su Zesui froze, reaching up to touch his own cheek—and sure enough, found cold tear tracks. He hastily wiped them on his clothes, then glanced at the first-aid kit on the coffee table.
——It only held ointments for cuts, bandages, and cotton balls. Was Mr. Gu… really just suffering from internal heat?
“Su Mingyu misses you. Go stay at home for a few days,” Gu Yilan said, his earlier gentle tone gone, his voice now even a bit sharp.
But given the situation, Su Zesui had no mood to go anywhere. He shook his head. “Did you fight with Mom and Dad?”
“Just normal conversation. But I have things to take care of the next few days. I can’t look after you.”
“I don’t need anyone to look after me,” Su Zesui said. “I want to look after you.”
Gu Yilan spat the bloodied cotton ball into the trash, his dark eyes cold as he replied, “I don’t need care or company either.”
Su Zesui thought for a moment. “Then I’ll just stay in my room and not bother you.”
“But I’m going back to sleep in the master bedroom,” Gu Yilan said.
Su Zesui fiddled with his fingers, his voice barely more than a murmur. “Then I’ll sleep in the side bedroom.”
Even with this compromise, Gu Yilan didn’t relent. His tone stayed firm: “Go home and rest for a while.”
Su Zesui’s separation anxiety began to creep in.
Every time he dared to peek out from his own world and make a new friend, it took every ounce of courage he had. And when it came time to part, all the bravery he’d mustered turned into sharp blades, cutting him back in return.
Blood still lingered at the corners of Gu Yilan’s mouth, casting a suffocating air around him like some hellish Asura.
Lowering his gaze to the box of tissues in his arms, Su Zesui, as if wanting to prove he was useful, pulled one out to wipe the blood away.
But Gu Yilan tilted his head back, avoiding him.
“That’s too intimate a gesture,” Gu Yilan said.
Su Zesui didn’t understand, so he just murmured an “Mm” and awkwardly pulled his hand back.
After a moment of silence, Gu Yilan spoke again, as if reminding him, “Keep a distance—close enough, but not too close. Treat each other with courtesy. Come to me if you need something. And if you think I’m no use to you anymore, get a divorce.”
The only words that reached Su Zesui’s mind were “get a divorce.” His chest tightened painfully, and he crushed the box of tissues in his hands until it crackled.
His emotions broke through the thin wall of his reason.
Clutching at what felt like his last lifeline, he blurted out, “Brother… are you going to divorce me?”
A flicker of emotion crossed Gu Yilan’s eyes. His lips parted, Adam’s apple bobbing faintly, but no sound came. In that hesitation lay far too many tangled feelings, none of which he spoke aloud.
But it was precisely this silence—this refusal to confirm or deny—that deepened Su Zesui’s fear.
It was as if he stood on the edge of a cliff, teetering. The other person neither pulled him back nor pushed him away, but the stones beneath his feet were cracking, crumbling.
Su Zesui rarely initiated conversations, but panic made him speak again without thinking. “Do your parents… not like me?”
Gu Yilan deflected. “Just go back for a while. You can come back soon if you want.”
“Will I definitely be able to come back?”
——This wasn’t because… they didn’t like him anymore, and planned to send him away before divorcing him, right?
“Probably,” Gu Yilan said vaguely.
Su Zesui’s nose stung, and he felt tears threatening again. “Wh-why?”
——Just yesterday, they’d been so happy watching the musical. How could everything change in just one afternoon?
He felt helpless.
Gu Yilan never told him anything—never intended to tell him anything—so he didn’t even know what he could do to fix it.
Instead of answering, Gu Yilan only said, “Be good.”
Not wanting to cry in front of him, Su Zesui rubbed his reddened eyes, then turned and ran up the stairs.
The butler, watching the boy run off with choked sobs, asked his boss in puzzlement, “Young Master Gu, why send the little master home? If it’s really an issue, you could just adopt a child to send over—it’s not such a big deal.”
“Let them raise a child? Do you think they’ve done a good job raising me?” Gu Yilan’s gaze fell on the corner where the boy had disappeared, and he unconsciously ground his blood-stained teeth.
The butler didn’t dare respond directly and could only flatter him: “Sir, you’re already one of the most influential people in City A.”
“If I could choose, I’d rather not have been born,” Gu Yilan said, narrowing his eyes and letting out a humorless chuckle. “Lately… I’ve been thinking about that a lot.”
The butler shivered and quickly changed the topic: “Th-the little master… he seems to want to stay with you. Maybe you could let him?”
Gu Yilan paused. “And what do you think my relationship with him is?”
The butler broke out in cold sweat and stammered, “I… I don’t know.”
Gu Yilan’s voice softened. “Neither do I. I need to think…”
Based on Gu Yilan’s usual attitude toward others, the butler could safely say that the little master was probably the person Young Master Gu treated most kindly and favored most.
Yet, judging by the way Young Master Gu usually interacted with him, their relationship didn’t exactly look affectionate. It was somewhere in the ambiguous space between brothers and lovers.
Ever since Gu Yilan was a child, the butler had followed him everywhere. He knew that Young Master Gu’s parents’ marriage was merely a facade—an alliance of convenience with no real love. They had never taught Young Master Gu what “love” meant.
Gu Yilan had some emotional barriers and countless concerns.
Was it worth taking a chance for an uncertain, maybe nonexistent love? Or should he, as usual, stay in control—taking care of the boy while the risks were still manageable, then pushing him away once the risks became real? That was the question.
Still, the butler tried to save face: “Then… there’s no need to make the little master go home. He seems very upset.”
“Because I’ve had enough. I’m going to deal with them,” Gu Yilan said. Though he said he’d had enough, his face showed no emotion, only the faintest curl of a smile. “If I fail, so be it.”
The butler knew all too well the danger of confronting those two and asked, sweating, “I-if you fail… does that mean divorce?”
“No divorce,” Gu Yilan said.
The butler had just breathed a sigh of relief when he heard the boss—praised by everyone for being emotionally stable—say calmly: “If I fail, then I’ll simply cease to exist in this world.”
The butler froze.
While the butler nervously kept talking in his ear, Gu Yilan ignored him, pulling out his phone to check a WeChat message sent just a minute ago to his secondary account:
[(o^^o)：Uncle Period, can you help me calculate my marriage luck with my husband?]
Gu Yilan pressed his thin lips together, tapping his fingers on the sofa armrest in a chaotic, restless rhythm—nothing like the calm composure he’d shown confronting his parents.
After a long pause, he pinched the bridge of his nose and typed a single-handed reply:
[。：Not good.]
[(o^^o)：Why?]
[(o^^o)：I haven’t even told you our birth charts yet.]
[。：Divination.]
[(o^^o)：Are you lying to me?]
“Young Master, there’s always firewood for the mountains that remain green. I think there are still many beautiful things in this world…” the butler began.
Gu Yilan tossed the phone onto the coffee table. The sharp click made the butler immediately fall silent, cautiously watching his boss’ expression.
Leaning back on the sofa with his black eyes closed, his voice hoarse: “Keep talking to him.”
The butler blinked in disbelief. He stared at the chat screen on the table, even more shocked than when he’d heard Gu Yilan say, “If I fail, so be it.”
——The boss actually allowed someone to touch his phone and wanted the butler to reply on his behalf? Impossible.
Trembling, the butler picked up the phone. His vision darkened as he looked back and forth between the screen and Gu Yilan’s face, hoping the boss would change his mind. But Gu Yilan seemed genuinely to have handed over full control of the phone, not intending to open his eyes at all.
The butler took a shuddering breath and, following the intent of Gu Yilan’s words, typed a reply with his shaky hands:
[。：I’m not lying.]
[(o^^o)：How did you calculate it?]
Wiping the sweat from his brow, the butler glanced at the relaxed boss beside him and frantically searched on his own phone for an answer, replying in a panic.
[。：Zi Wei Divination1]
[(o^^o)：What exactly does that mean?]
[(o^^o)：How can things turn around?]
The butler, completely ignorant of metaphysics, was utterly confused and could only make up answers based on random searches.
As the inconsistencies piled up and the responses strayed further from Gu Yilan’s personality, the little master on the other side kept asking questions relentlessly.
For a moment, the butler froze.
——What had happened? What could make Gu Yilan no longer the controlling man he always was, and the little master no longer the shy, timid Su Zesui?
. . . . .
The next day, no matter how reluctant he was, Su Zesui was sent to the villa entrance to be picked up by Su Mingyu.
The butler wanted to help him pack, but the little master said his things were already at home; moving them back and forth was inconvenient. “I’ll be back soon~”
Noticing how the boy kept glancing toward the stairs, the butler realized he was waiting for Gu Yilan to see him off, to exchange a few last words.
But Gu Yilan never appeared. Even as Su Zesui got into the car and closed the passenger door, there was no sign of him.
A little downcast, Su Zesui took a photo of the villa’s gate and sent it:
[(o^^o)：[picture] Brother, I’m leaving~ I’ll be back in a couple of days~]
. . . . .
At the second-floor study window, Gu Yilan watched the black SUV fade into the distance. His expression was calm to the point of coldness, yet the hand hanging at his side trembled slightly, his sharp fingertips digging into his skin, leaving crescent-shaped red marks.
He lowered his eyes to the WeChat message on his phone. His thin lips pressed into a straight line, fingers twitching, yet he didn’t reply.
But the young man was persistent. Once home, he sent another message:
[(o^^o)：[picture] Brother, I’m home now. Don’t worry. I’ll stay with Dad, Mom, and Big Brother for a few days, then come back to find you.]
Gu Yilan’s gaze lingered on the message for a long time. By the time he put the phone down, it was well past the official work hours.
He was a madman at his core, but not reckless. He never fought unprepared battles and never allowed himself to suffer losses. This time, his actions had been planned for years.
Years ago, he had begun circling the Gu Corporation like a venomous snake, laying the groundwork for the parts of the company he cared little about.
From cultivating executives and building networks, to accumulating capital and gathering intelligence, he had left nothing undone to gain complete control over the company.
This time, he used third-party capital to buy shares. Through strategic financial operations, he delivered a seemingly harmless transaction to Father Gu, sacrificing a trusted executive to sign it, successfully diluting their shares.
Despite being harshly betrayed, Father Gu laughed it off: “This company will be yours eventually. Consider this a little gift from Dad.”
Gu Yilan didn’t even bother with appearances—he didn’t reply a word.
But this indifferent facade only confused people more, making Father Gu believe it was just a minor childish protest. Exactly the effect Gu Yilan intended.
Knowing Gu Yilan well, his parents understood he would never be controlled. This seemingly harmless retaliation was merely a smokescreen.
Next, Gu Yilan struck at the business sector his father relied on most, which was already secretly vulnerable. He manipulated the supply chain, disrupted company deliveries, causing production issues, and shamelessly colluded with competitors to undercut profits through vicious price wars.
Meanwhile, he secretly arranged deals with long-term partners while spreading rumors of market setbacks, throwing the company’s finances and reputation into crisis.
His methods were ruthless and underhanded—detested by proper businesspeople—and he was targeting a multi-generational family corporation. Every blow was like cutting himself, ultimately risking mutual destruction.
Even seeing the inventory backlog, falling market share, and lost clients in his father’s sector didn’t bring Gu Yilan satisfaction.
He was used to a life scheduled down to the minute, but these past few nights he had barely slept, feeling a cold pressure in his chest.
The bed beside him was empty. The boy who never slept peacefully was gone. Moonlight spilled over the gray sheets, casting a cold silver glow, as if the angel descending to earth had been taken away.
Gu Yilan flipped through the messages Su Zesui had sent over the past few days.
Although he had never replied, Su Zesui always sent messages—from good mornings and good nights, to meals, to expressing how much he missed him.
Everything the boy did or thought, he reported to Gu Yilan.
Starting from the first message sent after he left, Gu Yilan scrolled through each one.
His reading speed was incredible, and his memory exceptional. After reading several times, almost memorizing them, he started from the very first message, long ago:
[(o^^o): Mr. Gu, it’s me [Rabbit peeking emoji.jpg]]
[11th Dimension: I noticed.]
[(o^^o): Still far from 11:30—I’m watching my online course. Thanks [photo]]
[11th Dimension: Mm.]
[11th Dimension: You mentioned wanting to hear a story before, right?]
[(o^^o): Can I hear it now?]
[(o^^o): I want to hear the story about helping an old lady cross the street!]
. . . . .
The long night dragged on, yet Gu Yilan felt no sleepiness at all. His gaze settled on the spot where the moonlight spilled in, as if, through a thin veil of mist, he could see something that didn’t exist—his mind both hazy and clear.
He withdrew his eyes, his fingers hovering over the keyboard in the chat box, lifting and lowering them repeatedly, but in the end, he typed nothing.
The next day, Father Gu found himself mired in a crisis. In a desperate attempt to temporarily safeguard the business, he made an irrational decision, sinking himself further into the mire.
Seeing this, the butler became excited, sensing a breakthrough in the plan, and suggested to Gu Yilan, “Shall we bring Little Master Su back now? He’s been asking me recently when you’ll come get him. He must be looking forward to it.”
At that moment, Gu Yilan happened to be looking at the WeChat messages Su Zesui had just sent him—
[(o^^o): Brother, why are you ignoring me? (crying bunny.jpg)]
[(o^^o): Will you still come to get me?]
Gu Yilan’s eyes narrowed slightly. He clenched his fingers and put his phone on silent.
The butler continued, “Or maybe just call him? If he hears from you directly, Little Master Su would be overjoyed.”
Gu Yilan remained silent for a long moment before replying, “Not decided yet. Wait a little longer.”
The butler scratched his head. “I suppose so… no rush.”
Two more days passed. With the plan progressing further, Father Gu and Mother Gu began losing prestige on the board. Today, Gu Yilan was prepared to use a carefully tailored strategy to push someone out of the center of power.
Whether from heartbreak or not, Su Zesui hadn’t sent him a single message in the past two days. Their chat screen still lingered on the question: [Will you still come to get me?]
Gu Yilan hesitated for a moment but ultimately sent a message before the board meeting—
[11th Dimension: How have you been lately?]
He then muted his phone, pushed open the doors to the conference room, and walked steadily to face the old foxes and his parents.
Thanks to prior secret agreements with competitors, Gu Yilan swiftly concluded negotiations, ended the price war, and stabilized the market. Moreover, he deployed backup suppliers and hidden funds to help the company rebuild its supply chain and inject capital.
Anyone with even a basic understanding of business could see he had long been prepared.
Who the target was—well, that was obvious.
Under the intense scrutiny of everyone in the room, Gu Yilan spoke coldly: “I’ve arranged for the media to release positive news, including upcoming product launches and collaborations with renowned companies…”
By the end of the meeting, Father Gu and Mother Gu had lost their standing among senior executives. Their son, Gu Yilan, had seized control with a complete solution, steering the shareholders’ inclinations and the company’s practical authority firmly in his hands.
After the meeting, he glanced at his parents’ ashen faces but didn’t leave immediately. Once everyone else had gone, he calmly declared, “The company now belongs to me.”
Father Gu scoffed. “Even if you hadn’t played tricks, the Gu family’s assets would’ve eventually been yours. Why bother?”
“It’s different,” Gu Yilan said, narrowing his eyes and letting his tongue touch the sharp teeth within his mouth.
Mother Gu froze, sensing something ominous. “Different how?”
Gu Yilan stood and said calmly, “You wouldn’t willingly pass the company to me. Because I intend to destroy it.”
With that, he strode out of the meeting room, ignoring his parents’ shocked attempts to stop him and demand an explanation.
Tall and long-legged, he walked swiftly, even having time to glance at his phone—
No notifications.
He frowned, unlocked the screen, and opened WeChat.
But after the loading circle spun to completion, it still showed that Su Zesui hadn’t replied.
The board meeting lasted a full three hours, and it wasn’t during his nap time. He should have seen a message.
——Perhaps he was attending online classes?
Gu Yilan sent another message.
[11th Dimension: What are you busy with?]
Unexpectedly, this message, too, disappeared into the void. The other party seemed completely cut off, vanished from the world.
By seven in the evening, Gu Yilan’s phone was bombarded alternately by board members and relatives, pleading and scolding in turn. Yet not a single message from Su Zesui arrived.
Gu Yilan stared at the phone for a moment, then simply opened the dialer and called Su Zesui’s number directly.
The two “beeps” of the dial tone struck him like hammers, awakening a long-forgotten sense of urgency deep within him, one he hadn’t felt since childhood.
Then, a cold, impersonal electronic voice cutting through the silence and clenching his heart—
“Sorry, the user you are trying to reach is temporarily unavailable. Please try again later.”
Gu Yilan’s eyes froze instantly. His fingers stiffened around the phone.
- Zi Wei Dou Shu is a traditional Chinese metaphysical system used to analyze an individual’s destiny, personality traits, and life trends. Based on ancient Chinese astronomy, the Yin-Yang Five Elements theory, and the stem-branch system, it calculates a personalized ” Natal Birth Chart”(命盤) by analyzing one’s birth time and location, which is then interpreted to provide insights. ↩︎
Merecido lo tienes mf 😭