Chapter 283: Hospitalized with Sudden Illness

Su Mingcheng had originally thought Su Daqiang wouldn't be coming back, so he had rented a single-occupancy apartment. But once Su Daqiang arrived, things became difficult. After all, the contract was signed and the money was spent. Helpless, he could only add a small bed to the room for himself to sleep on, letting his father have the big bed. However, their schedules were different; he slept late, while Su Daqiang got up early, constantly going to the bathroom or getting water, which was incredibly annoying.

There was still quite a while before he had to leave for work. Su Mingcheng, feeling irritable, covered his head with the quilt, drifting in and out of sleep. Just then, the phone under his pillow began to buzz. Su Mingcheng let out a long breath, glanced at his father, who was fiddling with his phone on the big bed, then pulled out the phone from under his pillow. He struggled to open his eyes to check the caller ID before answering: "Hello? What's wrong?"

"Mingcheng, it's bad. Something happened."

Su Mingcheng was still groggy and somewhat dismissive: "What happened?"

"There's a problem with the factory we invested in. We might have been scammed."

The words from the other end of the line made his sleepy eyes widen instantly. He sat straight up: "What?"

"Oh, just hurry over and take a look. I'm hanging up now."

Hearing the busy signal from the phone, Su Mingcheng rolled out of bed and started getting dressed at lightning speed.

Su Daqiang, seeing him like this, asked: "What's the rush?"

"I have an urgent matter, Dad. I'll send you money for food on the way. I'm leaving." Su Mingcheng threw on his clothes in a few quick motions, not even washing his face or brushing his teeth. He shoved his feet into his shoes and hurried out; this was a major event concerning his livelihood, and he couldn't afford to delay.

His mind was a mess. The news was too shocking, the impact too great; he hadn't processed it yet. It was like facing a blow—people are often just stunned at first, as it exceeds their capacity to cope. The price he had paid was too high; not only all his money, but he had even divorced and left with nothing. He was truly destitute, and he really couldn't handle this.

He went downstairs, hailed a taxi, and headed straight for the factory. Seeing Manager Zhou and several other partners gathered together, with a few police officers maintaining order on the side, Su Mingcheng felt numb. He knew he was finished.

Wang Yan had guessed correctly: the reason he agreed to the divorce was because he was certain this investment would succeed 100%. He believed he could get back on his feet, and everything would improve. He was confident he could win Zhu Li back and remarry. Now that he had been scammed and the factory owner had fled, all his previous thoughts were just illusions, shattered completely. His dreams, his hopes, everything he had—it was all gone.

The subsequent events unfolded just as in the original story. After learning the details from the police and discovering that the "Boss Shen" was a repeat offender who had scammed people many times, Su Mingcheng, along with Manager Zhou and the other dejected victims, gathered at a restaurant to commiserate over the incident, expressing regret and cursing Boss Shen. Su Mingcheng, who had lost the least, had lost 400,000; others had lost at least 500,000. Naturally, no one had the appetite to eat.

Su Mingcheng was indeed brainless. Just as Zhu Li had said, he was the type of person who shirked responsibility when things went wrong and never looked at his own faults—though, of course, one could also say he had lost his mind due to the massive setback. Regardless, he remained convinced that Manager Zhou was a partner in the fraud.

It was impossible to say the others didn't have this thought. After all, one couldn't say everyone was purely selfish, but most people are usually not wrong. Having suffered a loss, suspecting everything was a given. However, perhaps the others had deeper pockets or some other reason, allowing them to keep their cool. Su Mingcheng was the one to voice this, becoming the "tall poppy" that got cut down. Most crucially, he was still a subordinate under Manager Zhou.

In the end, Manager Zhou gave an emotional explanation, revealing that he himself had lost 1.5 million, which settled the matter. Everyone waited for the police results and then dispersed.

Su Mingcheng didn't go to work. In such a state, how could he have the heart to work? And to work under the person who had made him lose his money and left him with nothing?

He needed comfort, warmth, and someone to accompany him. But his understanding wife had divorced him. His mother, who had given him tolerance and love, had died. Finally, he carried some liquor and returned to the old house, his home. Here, there were shadows of his late mother and the scent of her, his warm harbor where he could lick his wounds and soothe his soul.

Su Mingcheng skillfully squatted down, removed the floor tile at the entrance, took out the key, and opened the gate. He then put the key back and replaced the tile before walking into the courtyard with the liquor.

Because no one had lived in this old house for nearly two months, it had become overgrown, and the furniture was covered in thick dust. If his mother were still here, the house would never have become like this, Su Mingcheng thought.

Looking at the familiar bricks, tiles, grass, trees, dilapidated windowsills, and old furniture, and thinking of his dearest mother's voice and smile, Su Mingcheng didn't care about the dust or dirtying his clothes. He sat on the sofa and burst into loud sobs; he felt wronged. He had been full of ambition and hope for a beautiful future, but now it had ended in a scam. The gap between his beautiful imagination and the reality, the massive disappointment following the massive hope—he was powerless, and could only weep in his mother's embrace...

Su Mingcheng didn't go back that day. He didn't want to see his father. After sending a message to inform him, he got drunk and found a moldy quilt in the old house to make do for the night.

The next day, unsurprisingly, he caught a cold. He didn't go to work, and after eating breakfast outside, he bought some cold medicine and returned to his newly rented apartment.

Su Daqiang had also just gotten up. He had been quite exhausted these past few days because he had nowhere to live and had been looking at houses with an agent. But the frustrating part was that, according to the young agent, he was in a rush to sell, and the old house would fetch at most 1.6 million. Based on a one-third down payment ratio, he could only afford a house under 5 million.

This price range was only enough to buy a decent two-bedroom apartment. But the houses he had his eye on—with balconies for tea, studies, large living rooms, large bedrooms, etc. —were a million short. How could he bring himself to do it? He didn't want to compromise; now that he was old, he should be enjoying life and being comfortable. He was debating whether to wait two months to see the investment dividends, or to research how to get some dollars from Su Mingzhe, or to do both. What troubled him, however, was that he had already spoken to Su Mingzhe; asking for money now would be too embarrassing, and his old face couldn't take it.

Hearing the door open, Su Daqiang, who was deep in thought, saw Su Mingcheng walk in weakly and asked: "Did you catch a cold?"

"Yeah, a little." Su Mingcheng replied, took off his shoes, and lay directly on his small bed, feeling miserable.

Thinking of the house, Su Daqiang couldn't help but ask: "Hey, Mingcheng, it's been several days now, how is our investment doing?"

Su Mingcheng, eyes closed and hazy, suffering from the cold, opened his eyes. After a long silence, he said: "It's lost." He had been debating whether to tell Su Daqiang the truth, but thinking that he'd have to say it sooner or later, he stopped hesitating and told the truth directly.

"What did you say? Lost?" Su Daqiang sat up, eyes wide: "How could it be lost? It's only been a few days! What exactly happened?"

Su Mingcheng responded lazily: "The factory owner is a scammer. He's scammed people many times; he's a repeat offender. Including Manager Zhou, everyone else who invested has lost everything."

The shock was too great; Su Daqiang couldn't accept it for a moment. He clutched his chest and muttered: "How could it be lost? How could it be lost?"

After a while, having calmed down slightly, he asked: "Then what about my money?"

"Didn't we agree? I'll pay you back with interest." Su Mingcheng was miserable and very impatient.

"Pay me back?" Su Daqiang felt dizzy, his blood pressure spiking: "How will you pay me back? Before I die, including the previous 400,000, will I even live to see the day you pay it off?"

He couldn't have failed to think of this question before, but at the time, "money begetting money" had clouded his mind, and he had ignored this small detail. Now that it was truly lost, he was clear-headed, knowing Su Mingcheng couldn't pay it back and that the money had gone down the drain. If he counted this money, wasn't he one step further from the house he wanted?

"Even if I don't eat or drink, I will definitely pay you back, Dad." Su Mingcheng lay there impatiently: "I have a cold, I'm very miserable right now. Can you let me rest quietly?"

Hearing no response, and with it being very quiet beside him, Su Mingcheng looked up and suddenly his eyes widened: "Dad!" Having said that, he gathered all his strength, rolled off the bed, and hurried to the big bed. He looked at the unconscious, dying Su Daqiang in a panic, then turned to grab his phone and dial 120 to call an ambulance...

In the hospital, after emergency treatment, Su Daqiang lay weakly on the hospital bed. An exhausted Su Mingcheng looked at his father: "Dad, don't worry, I will definitely pay back the money I owe you as soon as possible. Please don't scare me like that again."

Su Daqiang said powerlessly: "That was money for my house. It was already hundreds of thousands short of the house I had my eye on, and now it's even worse."

"Dad, what kind of house do you want to buy? The money from selling the old house is enough for a down payment on a two-bedroom."

"I don't want a two-bedroom, I want to buy a big one, a three-bedroom. I don't expect you to pay, just don't lose my money... Sooner or later you'll be the death of me, sigh..." Su Daqiang groaned: "Call your big brother and let him know I'm hospitalized."

"Dad, Big Brother is already having a hard enough time over there. Let's not trouble him, okay?" Su Mingcheng gritted his teeth: "How about this: when the old house is sold and you want to buy a house, I'll borrow money to pay you back a portion first, so you can buy the house you like, okay?"

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He was truly afraid that if his father wasn't satisfied, he might have another fit of anger, blood pressure spiking, and just kick the bucket. He would never be able to live with that; the investment failure was bad enough, but to have taken care of his father only to send him off—that would be truly...

"This is what you said."

Su Mingcheng nodded helplessly: "I said it."

"Help me up, change my position. Lying like this is uncomfortable." Su Daqiang instantly regained his spirit and sat leaning against the headboard, leaving Su Mingcheng dumbfounded.

"Dad, were you faking it just now?"

"Am I sick?" Su Daqiang rolled his eyes at his second son. His voice was still quite weak, just much better than before: "Isn't it because you're paying me back, so my heart is at ease, and I feel much better. Alright, stop worrying about me, just think about how to borrow the money."

Su Mingcheng was indignant and just about to speak when the phone Su Daqiang had just picked up rang. Glancing at the caller ID, Su Daqiang answered: "Hello? Little Li?"

"What? Someone has their eye on the house and wants to buy it? How much are they offering?"

"1.5 million? What do you think of this price?"

"Hmm, I see. I'll have my son go over right now."

Hanging up the phone, Su Daqiang said: "Mingcheng, you heard it too. Speak of the devil, someone wants to buy the old house. You go over and take a look. 1.5 million—I think this price is acceptable, but you should try to negotiate for more."

"Then I'm leaving. Will you be okay here by yourself?"

"Aren't there nurses here? Hurry up and go." Su Daqiang urged; if he missed the sale of the house, he would truly want to die.

Su Mingcheng wasn't feeling great either; after all, he had just caught a cold and was feeling miserable. But there was no choice—who told him to be the son? He could only grit his teeth and go to the agent to negotiate.

After much haggling, they finally settled on 1.56 million. They brought the buyer to the hospital to have Su Daqiang sign the contract on his sickbed. The actual process, changing property information, etc., would take about a week. Su Daqiang's observation period in the hospital would also be about a week, so he could look at houses right after being discharged. Su Daqiang began to torment Su Mingcheng relentlessly, telling him to get money quickly so he could buy a house and be at ease.

This made Su Mingcheng incredibly annoyed. After all, he had already borrowed from everyone he knew for his investment, and hadn't borrowed a single cent, while also paying for several meals. Now, asking him to borrow money was no different from before; he was at his wit's end.

As for why Su Daqiang didn't call Su Mingyu this time, it was of course because Su Mingyu had previously questioned whether he had intentionally killed Zhao Meilan, and he didn't want to deal with her...

In the blink of an eye, it was Saturday. Su Mingyu was on a business trip, and Teacher Wang was taking care of the child. Gu

In the morning, at the Long Teng headquarters, on the top floor of the "Yang Zhong Yin," in front of a massive 360-degree floor-to-ceiling window, looking at the misty Taihu Lake in the distance, Wang Yan lay on a rocking chair, swaying.

Wang Lin was doing somersaults on the carpeted floor by herself—perhaps that term was unrefined; accurately speaking, she was doing her morning dance lesson. Accompanied by the music in the air, she practiced earnestly.

After a long while, the little girl let out a long breath, wiped her forehead, and with rare ladylike grace, tucked her sweat-dampened hair behind her ears. She called out to the air: "Long Long!"

Just as she finished speaking, a resonant, articulate male voice replied: "What is it, little Miss Linlin?" Listening carefully, the sound was coming from the ceiling speakers.

The little girl was very unhappy to hear this and put her hands on her small waist: "I am Linlin, not little Miss Linlin."

"Understood, little Miss Linlin." The voice in the air sounded again: "I am Long, not Long Long."

"You are Long Long."

"You are little Miss Linlin." When this was said, a screen descended from the air, and the projection opposite turned on. A majestic, imposing five-clawed golden dragon stared at the little girl with large eyes.

"I'm angry!"

"I'm angry too!" The five-clawed golden dragon added special effects to itself—clouds, rain, sea, thunder, and lightning. Simultaneously, the sound of thunder and lightning came from the speakers above.

Wang Lin pouted and ran into Wang Yan's arms: "Dad, look at it, it's bullying me."

Hearing this, the solar panels outside the floor-to-ceiling window in front of Wang Yan slowly retracted, and a white screen descended above. The rear projection automatically rotated, and the golden dragon flashed on it, with tears the size of buckets falling from its dragon eyes like two waterfalls: "Boss, I didn't say anything."

Wang Yan's faint voice sounded: "Withdraw."

"Did you hear that? It told you to withdraw." In her father's arms, the little girl made faces at the surveillance camera; she knew that was where she could be seen.

The five-clawed golden dragon was very angry and spat a mouthful of water, covering the entire screen, with droplets falling—the details were handled quite well.

Although it had spat, Wang Yan was still very satisfied. This was the latest achievement in artificial intelligence, and the effect was quite good. At the very least, the dialogue was no longer that of a fool, and it could play with special effects on its own.

In terms of performance alone, it had reached the level of strong artificial intelligence—that is, the level of truly replacing humans in tasks. But strictly speaking, it was still a weak artificial intelligence. Although it looked very clever, Wang Yan knew that what supported it was still the learning ability derived from massive data. It lacked autonomous imagination and creative ability, still couldn't leave humans behind, and required human wisdom. Fundamentally, it was still stacked line by line of code and could not self-iterate or upgrade.

Of course, having said that, if this artificial intelligence could truly self-iterate and upgrade, then talking about controlling it would be a joke. After all, it could modify itself; why couldn't it modify the pre-designed safety code? It's possible that the various scenarios in those sci-fi movies could truly happen—a war between humans and machines.

Ultimately, it still required constant exploration. The significance of artificial intelligence was to replace humans in repetitive and high-risk work, not to create an intelligent life to cause trouble. There were countless theories about whether artificial intelligence could be controlled, but Wang Yan had never thought of creating one to see if it could be controlled. If he really poked a hole in reality, that would be truly disastrous. After all, he even had the "System Living Father"; he certainly couldn't take that risk.

If it could only converse, then Wang Yan spending so much money would be meaningless. Besides the aforementioned dialogue and special effects, in other aspects like data collection, analysis, prediction, and vision, it was far more advanced than the previous binary technology. Most crucially, although this artificial intelligence couldn't modify itself, it could work and write code according to the operator's requirements—this was a leap forward. After researching for more than thirty years, Wang Yan had finally broken through the cage of binary.

It was just that many tasks, due to the different nature of the computers, couldn't be implemented on a large scale. Otherwise, if he were to develop it, improve the hardware, and build various supporting infrastructure, a true primary smart city could absolutely be achieved.

Of course, there are two sides to everything. The improvement of hardware and the construction of various public facilities require massive resources. A small Long Teng certainly couldn't handle it, as it involved too many technologies. For him to produce finished ternary computers and mobile phones in the real world and promote their popularization—who knows when that would be.

Even if they were promoted, what would happen to those six or seven million programmers? After all, the "Chaos" system was based on traditional Chinese culture, so to understand these things, one would inevitably need a foundation, and the threshold was quite high.

Of course, one could do basic labor; the entry difficulty wasn't high, as those were superficial things. But for that level, his current artificial intelligence was sufficient. Besides burning some electricity and hardware wear and tear, there were no other costs, not to mention that he would continue to conduct in-depth research on artificial intelligence and iterate and upgrade it in the future—wouldn't that be more cost-effective than raising people?

Therefore, after he successfully promoted the computer software related to "Chaos," besides true high-end talent, what was most needed was creativity. But this ability, while simple to say, was the most difficult.

Moreover, with the success of the above promotion, the inevitable application of artificial intelligence robots in various industries—where would the tens of millions of logistics and food delivery workers, as well as the two or three hundred million migrant workers engaged in various hard and tiring labor, be arranged?

So, if he couldn't create a new industry that required a large number of people and could solve the employment problem for so many, even if he could popularize it, he wouldn't dare to move. This was truly a major event affecting the national destiny, not a joke.

Of course, these things were too far off. Ultimately, even if his level had reached that point, the time to truly reproduce and apply it in the real world would be very long. But it couldn't be ruled out that at some point he might enter a sci-fi world and bring out surreal technology.

Shaking his head, Wang Yan stopped thinking about it and looked at the little girl in his arms: "Aren't you a little kid?"

"No. I can dress myself, wash up, eat, walk, read, study..." Wang Lin muttered, holding up a finger for every thing she could do. She said so many that her hands weren't enough, and she even pulled on her father's fingers to count: "Those kids in kindergarten can't do so much. Only I can do so much. I just can't earn money, but I can do everything else, so I'm not a little kid, I'm an adult."

"Alright, alright, alright, you're an adult." Wang Yan didn't understand the little girl's oddities, but he was very tolerant: "Then say it again, those things you can do by yourself."

"I can dress myself, wash up, eat... I can, um..." Wang Lin scratched her head in distress, her two sparse eyebrows twisted together, her small face wrinkled into a ball. After humming for a long time: "I forgot..."

Wang Yan laughed: "Then don't think about it, go find your sister and play. Dad has to work. How about I let your sister accompany you to sing and dance this afternoon?"

The little girl nodded and ran off sensibly to find her father's female assistant to play.

This world was quite leisurely. Besides Su Mingyu, he basically didn't cross paths with other plot characters. As long as he was free, he would do his own research and occasionally pay attention to others.

But speaking of others, Wang Yan had previously video-chatted with Su Mingyu with the little girl and heard that Wu Fei would bring the child over to play next week. Since their last contact, the relationship between Wu Fei and Su Mingyu had improved. And Mimi also remembered Wang Lin's advice—just cry, and it's done—which left Wu Fei very helpless, and she could only arrange to come over next week. After all, coming over too often is annoying, isn't it?

Actually, this was understandable. After all, the conditions Wang Mouren gave the girl were there, and Mimi was just a child. She didn't know anything else, but she knew very well that Wang Lin's place was fun. And in Shanghai, Mimi had also just started kindergarten. Although it's easy for children to accept each other, it was difficult at first, and she had been raised abroad, so it was normal that she couldn't integrate for a while. So, wanting to go to Wang Lin's place, where she had the deepest impression, to play was the most normal thing in the world.

As for whether Wu Fei had the intention of letting things take their course, there was no need to think about it—it was inevitable. After all, if she didn't say it, no one would know, but the idea of hugging a big thigh was obvious. Su Mingyu certainly knew, but she didn't care. After all, she was deeply influenced by Wang Yan and valued following her heart. If they got along naturally and she didn't feel repulsed, then it was fine.

Su Mingyu's work was basically no different from the original story. Previously, Meng Zhiyuan had let her handle his wife's family members. In the end, she had still been used as a gun, grasping the fact that Meng Zhiyuan's wife had indulged her younger brother in seeking personal gain, helping Meng Zhiyuan divorce without injury and kicking those people out. In the imperial society of ancient times, this was no different from a minister dealing with the empress and her clan.

However, Su Mingyu's status was very transcendent. After all, her man was standing behind her. If she dealt with them, she dealt with them. Anyway, no matter what, Meng Zhiyuan couldn't kick her out. And this time, taking a month's leave, she didn't participate in Meng Zhiyuan's activity of faking illness to kick people out, and didn't form any "middle management alliance" as in the original story, which also saved her from suspicion. Overall, her work was quite smooth.

However, after kicking away Meng Zhiyuan's wife and her family, Meng Zhiyuan still, as in the original story, stuffed his son to Su Mingyu for training.

This was on Tuesday. Su Mingyu had discovered a restaurant with good taste, and it was discovered when she had Wang Mouren bring the little girl over to wait for her to get off work and eat together.

The little girl was still carrying her little yellow duck backpack, holding her father's big hand with her small one, following behind Su Mingyu's assistant, Xiao Xin, to the office. Su Mingyu was in a meeting again.

Speaking of which, the front desk changed frequently. How long had it been since he last came? And it had changed again...

Opening the office door, they saw a young man playing games in front of an extra desk. Xiao Xin quickly introduced: "President Wang, this is President Meng's son, whom President Ming is training."

Wang Yan nodded and pointed to Su Mingyu's large desk: "Go do your homework. The sooner you finish, the sooner we can play."

Wang Lin had improved. Although she was still reluctant to do homework, she no longer cried. It was just that the habit of playing while writing couldn't be changed. Wang Yan didn't correct it either; children are all lively, and it's normal not to be able to restrain themselves. As long as she finished it slowly, it was fine.

Xiao Meng, who was fully immersed in the game, also noticed the few people who entered. He stopped his hand movements and looked at Wang Yan: "Are you Su Mingyu's husband? Is that your child?"

Wang Yan was quite surprised and asked a redundant question: "You don't know me? Or, your dad didn't mention it?"

Xiao Meng was somewhat disdainful: "Heard of you, Su Mingyu's rich husband, right?"

"Alright, you play your game. Keep the volume down, don't affect my girl doing her homework." Wang Yan couldn't be bothered to deal with him, waved his hand casually, found a magazine, and sat on the sofa.

Seeing that Wang Yan ignored him, Xiao Meng deliberately turned the music up very loud, looking at Wang Yan with a "what can you do to me" expression.

The little girl couldn't stand the noise and looked at her father for help.

Wang Yan didn't want to deal with a child; it was meaningless. He put down the magazine, walked to the computer, and turned it off directly. Then he pinched the back of his neck and exerted force: "Can you be quiet and behave?"

"Ah, it hurts, it hurts, it hurts, let go."

"I'm asking you if you can."

"I can, I can, I can, it hurts..."

After all, he wasn't this Xiao Meng's father, so why lecture him on principles? Physical attack was the most effective means to deal with an unruly child. Hearing the answer, Wang Yan picked him up like a chicken, grabbed the back of his collar, and placed him by the window: "Stand there honestly. I don't let you move, so don't move, understand?"

"Under... understand." Xiao Meng answered tremblingly. He was still thinking about the terrifying look he had just felt, as well as the brief moment his feet had left the ground. He couldn't afford to provoke him.

Wang Yan turned around and signaled the little girl, who was clapping and cheering, to hurry up and do her homework, then sat back on the sofa and continued flipping through the magazine.

Bullying a child and showing off in front of a child was truly meaningless. He was just doing it in passing. On one hand, it made the little girl happy and let her feel her father's sense of security; on the other hand, it helped Su Mingyu establish her authority, saving her from having to lecture him with principles, fun teaching, or boringly coaxing a child in the future... ===== CHAPTER 284 =====