Chapter 79: The Matter Concluded

Ignoring her, Wang Yan said to the nearby Dean Yang: “Dean, let’s find a quiet place. Could you tell us in detail about this child’s situation?”

Dean Yang sighed and said: “Follow me.”

Wang Yan helped up Andy, who was sobbing uncontrollably, and half-hugged her as they followed behind Dean Yang.

He brought them into her office, glanced at Andy, slumped against Wang Yan’s shoulder and silently weeping, then poured two cups of water and placed them before them.

“Sigh, this child… back then…” Dean Yang sighed and began recounting the story of Andy’s younger brother.

As Dean Yang spoke, Andy imagined the years her brother had endured, overcome with grief. When she heard the dean’s final words—“By the way, this child has an exceptional sensitivity to numbers—he can recite pi to an extraordinary length…”

Andy was struck as if by lightning. Memories flashed in her mind: her holding her brother’s hand as he recited pi. She burst into loud sobs, burying her face in Wang Yan’s arms, repeating over and over: “It’s him.”

“Look at her now. We’ll take our leave. Tomorrow we’ll come back for detailed records and conduct further inquiries. Then we’ll collect a sample for DNA testing. Is that acceptable, Dean?”

“No problem. Then it’s settled for tomorrow. Do you have a place to stay? Would you like me to arrange a room for you tonight?”

Wang Yan glanced at Andy, still weeping silently, then nodded: “Alright, thank you, Dean. We’re sorry to have kept you up so late.”

Dean Yang waved her hand, said nothing, led them to an empty room with two beds, fetched two sets of bedding, gathered some toiletries, gave a nod, and left. She assumed the two were together and didn’t think further. Andy said nothing either—she was lost in tears, too drained to consider anything else.

Andy had cried herself out. She lay staring blankly at the ceiling, silent.

Wang Yan lay on the other side and said: “Andy, tell me about your childhood?”

Andy turned to look. Moonlight filtered through the window, casting a soft glow over Wang Yan. She felt an unexpected sense of peace. After a long silence, she whispered: “I remember nothing before the orphanage—I was already there with my brother. Back then…”

Wang Yan listened quietly. Long moments passed. Andy’s rambling voice gradually faded until there was no sound. He turned his head—Andy had fallen asleep, utterly exhausted.

The next day, Wang Yan woke precisely as his biological clock dictated. He glanced at Andy, still asleep beside him, and rose quietly, stepping outside to slowly practice his fists in the courtyard. He hadn’t brought spare clothes, so a full sweat would be inconvenient—he just needed to loosen his limbs.

Elderly residents watching the unfamiliar young man’s form nodded approvingly, gathering in small groups to observe.

As Wang Yan finished his routine, he caught sight of Andy standing at the doorway, yawning, staring fixedly at him as he turned. In her eyes: gratitude, tenderness, fear, hesitation…

Wang Yan stepped forward and said: “Let’s go. Wash up. Have breakfast.”

In the cafeteria, Dean Yang handed Wang Yan a sealed plastic bag and a file folder: “These are Xiao Ming’s records, and his hair sample.”

“Thank you, Dean. Whether or not…”

Sitting quietly beside them, Andy watched the distant figure of her brother, eating with a vacant, ravenous expression, and declared firmly: “It won’t fail. He is my brother.”

Wang Yan said: “Alright. Dean, is there anything your orphanage needs right now? Supplies, infrastructure? Speak up—we’ll do what we can. Not just to thank you, but to contribute our share to this cause.”

Dean Yang politely declined: “Let’s focus on the matter at hand first. Rest easy. We’ll discuss the rest later.” She could tell they weren’t short on money, but now wasn’t the right time.

“Then let’s leave it for now.” Wang Yan turned to Andy: “I’ll look into this. Can you control yourself? You know his condition—don’t upset him.”

Andy nodded: “Thank you.”

Wang Yan didn’t waste words: “For now, call Tan Zongming. We might not be back for two days.”

After finishing breakfast, Wang Yan left Andy to interact with her brother at the orphanage and drove off to investigate the origins of the case and arrange the DNA test. Having the answers made the process far easier—he handled it smoothly, quickly connecting the dots with what Old Yan had told him.

After Wang Yan left, Andy called Tan Zongming: “Hey, Lao Tan. I need two days off.”

In his villa, Tan Zongming stood and walked to the window, gazing at the view: “What’s wrong? Are you unwell?” He knew Andy well—she was a workaholic. He couldn’t fathom what had happened.

“I… I think I found my brother.”

Tan Zongming frowned: “What happened? Yesterday you said there was no news. Today you found him?”

Andy recounted everything from the night before to today.

After listening, Tan Zongming fell silent for a long while: “I understand. Andy, who is this Wang Yan?”

“He lives above me. Since I moved to Happy Song, we’ve been living together.” She paused, perhaps to reassure herself: “He’s… a very good friend.”

“Friend?”

“Friend!”

“Alright then. Take your time off—you’ve been worn out lately. Handle your affairs first.” Tan Zongming smiled: “I’ll send Lao Yan to help you. He has wide connections.”

“Alright, thanks, Lao Tan. I’ll call you later. Bye.”

“Bye.”

Standing before his floor-to-ceiling window, Tan Zongming thought for a moment, then called Lao Yan: “Lao Yan, Andy’s made a discovery. Go assist her. Also, monitor her condition closely—don’t let her uncover the truth.”

“Understood. That’s all.”

Immediately after, Tan Zongming called his secretary: “Find me a man named Wang Yan. He lives on the 23rd floor of Building 19, Happy Song. Do it quickly.”

He hung up, hands in his pockets, staring silently out at the scenery.

Andy patiently played games, drew pictures, and talked with her brother, but whenever he recited pi, she nearly lost control. Remembering Wang Yan’s warning, she forced herself to hold back. During this time, Qu Xiaoxiao called, inviting them out to relax. Andy politely hung up, not wanting to engage further.

On the other end, Qu Xiaoxiao sensed Andy’s impatience. After hanging up, she wondered if Andy held some grudge against her. She pondered briefly, found no clear answer, and dropped it—GI had replied: they’d arrive next week for negotiations, and she had plenty of preparations to make.

In the afternoon, Lao Yan arrived on his motorcycle at the orphanage. After observing Andy’s state, he said nothing. He asked for Wang Yan’s contact details, then met him at the hospital.

“Call me Lao Yan. How’s it going?”

Wang Yan shook his hand and handed him the test results: “Confirmed.”

Lao Yan examined the results: “Have you traced the full cause?” Seeing Wang Yan nod, he continued: “You moved fast. Looks like I’m redundant.”

“Lao Yan, you’re too modest. Without you narrowing the scope, we wouldn’t have found this so quickly.” Wang Yan said calmly: “Just luck.”

“There’s something I need to tell you.” Seeing Wang Yan nod, Lao Yan paused, then explained the possible psychological issues surrounding Andy—though he said nothing about her father: “That’s the situation. Lao Tan doesn’t want Andy affected. I think you should take her away as soon as possible. That’s Lao Tan’s wish. For her sake, avoid further contact with people from the orphanage—don’t let her notice anything suspicious.”

Wang Yan nodded at Lao Yan’s implication but said nothing.

“Alright then. Since everything’s clear and I’m not needed, I’ll head back to Shanghai. Tell Andy I won’t come by.”

Wang Yan watched Lao Yan ride off on his beloved black motorcycle until he vanished, then drove back to the orphanage.

Andy, sitting in the courtyard gazing at the stars, saw Wang Yan’s car arrive and quickly stood to greet him.

Nervously watching Wang Yan approach, Andy trembled: “Did… did you get results?” Seeing Wang Yan nod, she pressed: “Is… is it?”

She had imagined this moment countless times during the day. Though she firmly believed he was her brother, doubt lingered—anything was possible. She’d also imagined what she’d do if he truly was her brother. She’d spent the entire day in anxious suspense.

“Yes.”

Seeing Wang Yan nod, Andy exhaled deeply. Overwhelmed by joy and grief, her body went limp and she nearly collapsed.

Wang Yan moved swiftly, stepped forward two paces, caught her before she fell, and carried her back to the room they’d stayed in the night before.

In Wang Yan’s arms, Andy had no thoughts for anything else—her mind was filled only with the fact that she’d found her brother.

Wang Yan laid her on the bed, then told her everything Lao Yan had uncovered: “That’s the situation. Calm down and think.” He then stepped outside, sat down in the courtyard, and began replying to messages. He’d been busy all day and had a backlog.

Andy lay still, staring at the ceiling, thinking of her brother. The initial surge of emotion had passed—she’d spent the whole day mentally preparing herself.

She wondered how to arrange for her brother’s future, how to care for him, whether his illness was congenital or acquired, whether it was genetic, whether she might be affected, whether it could be reversed if acquired.

She thought of Wang Yan’s help, his decisiveness, the confusing feelings inside her—was it affection? Was it love? What did he think of her? Could they ever be together? If they were, would her brother’s illness be genetic? Would it affect her? How would she care for him?

She cycled through these thoughts repeatedly, realizing it was a dead-end loop—thinking too much was useless.

Wang Yan, sitting beside her, finished a message and looked up: “Have you decided?”

Andy shook her head, silent.

Wang Yan asked: “What will you do about your brother?”

“I want to take him with me. I’ll care for him myself.”

“To be honest, I don’t recommend that.” Seeing Andy’s puzzled expression, Wang Yan continued: “Your job is demanding—you won’t have time to care for him. Can he adapt? Also, he’s been living well here. The dean and other elderly residents love and care for him. Before you came, he’s lived like this for years—he’s more attached to them than to you. Why assume it’s better for him to go with you?”

Wang Yan paused, then added: “As for his condition, I suggest a hospital examination to determine the cause. That way, you’ll be prepared. The two things troubling you are these. What’s your thought?”

Andy fell silent for a moment, then said: “Let me think. Tomorrow.”

“Of course. Go inside. It’s cold out here.”

The next day, back in the cafeteria, Andy stared at her brother’s vacant, eating form, then said to Wang Yan across from her: “You’re right. He’ll be better here.” After a pause, she hesitated, then continued: “I want to take him to Shanghai today for a medical checkup—to see what’s wrong with him…”

Wang Yan wiped his mouth: “Alright. I’ll contact Dean Yang to accompany you.”

Aside from Andy’s distress, confusion, worry, and fear, the process went smoothly. Dean Yang, who had cared for Andy’s brother for years, understood him perfectly and cooperated fully. Andy also used Tan Zongming’s connections to arrange appointments with Shanghai’s top psychiatrists and psychologists for a comprehensive evaluation—the root of her emotional turmoil.

When Andy called Tan Zongming, he insisted she hand the phone to Wang Yan. Tan Zongming was blunt and forceful: “It seems you ignored my warning.” Then he hung up.

Andy wanted to take his brother to Happy Song for a visit, but it didn’t happen. He was exhausted from the day’s turmoil and insisted on returning to the orphanage—no one, not even Dean Yang, could change his mind.

When they returned to the orphanage again, it was already past eight on Monday night. Andy’s brother, worn out, was fast asleep. Wang Yan carried him to bed. Andy tucked him in, then sat quietly beside him, staring…

Wang Yan, already back in bed, was replying to messages from Guan Juer and Qiu Yingying. They’d noticed his and Andy’s absence that morning and asked if anything was wrong—of course, they were also curious.

Seeing Andy enter, Wang Yan comforted her: “You don’t need to feel so much pressure. The doctors said maintaining a good mood, avoiding stress, and keeping the mind active won’t cause major issues.”

Andy sighed deeply from her bed: “I know. I know. But I can’t stop thinking.” She turned to Wang Yan: “Wang Yan, I’m terrified. I’m afraid one day I’ll end up like him. If that happens, I can’t imagine what will become of me and Xiao Ming.”

“Perhaps you should throw yourself into something else—your work, for example—to distract yourself. Give it time. You’ll adjust.” Wang Yan said no more. He’d already spoken at length—he’d said all he needed to. The rest was up to her.

Andy thought for a moment: “Maybe you’re right. I should go back. Lao Tan has a lot on his plate—I owe him for his salary. Tomorrow morning, I’ll spend more time with my brother. In the afternoon, we’ll return.”

They chatted aimlessly for a while. Andy fell asleep without realizing it—even snoring. These two days had been too exhausting, her mind too chaotic, the blows too heavy…

Happy Song, 2202.

Around ten, Qiu Yingying dragged her tired body back to her small apartment.

She opened the door to find Guan Juer and Fan Shengmei staring at her. Unsettled, Qiu Yingying closed the door and placed her keys on the small cabinet: “Why are you two staring at me like that?”

Guan Juer said: “You came home this late again? Aside from yesterday, you’ve worked late for five straight days. Yingying, you’ve lost weight. If it’s too much, take a break. Wang Brother said it’s up to you.”

Fan Shengmei added: “Yeah, Little Earthworm, you’ve changed so much I barely recognize you.”

Qiu Yingying chuckled sheepishly: “It’s not as bad as you say. Wang Brother’s exact words were: ‘I’ve given you the chance—whether you seize it is up to you.’” She mimicked Wang Yan’s tone and expression, smiling: “Didn’t I tell you? I’m the only intern here. Everyone else has at least three years’ experience. Wang Brother’s been so kind—I have to work harder. Besides, everything I learn is mine. I still have a long way to go.”

“Fine, you’re stubborn. You’ve swallowed the bait.” Fan Shengmei waved her hand dismissively, then leaned forward with a gossiping grin: “Hey, Little Earthworm, did Wang Yan come to the office today?”

Guan Juer immediately leaned in too.

Qiu Yingying was confused: “No? Wang Brother’s been busy—he said he’s on a business trip. Why?”

Guan Juer said: “This morning, while jogging, we saw Wang Brother and Sister Andy. And Andy didn’t call me today. I texted her—no reply. Wang Brother’s answer was the same.”

“So we suspect…” Fan Shengmei paused to build suspense—but Qiu Yingying didn’t jump with excitement like before. She just looked curious. Fan Shengmei lost interest: “Never mind. I’ll tell you—we think they went out together. So…” She gave a knowing look.

“Really?” Qiu Yingying asked, then immediately added: “Actually, if they’re together, that’s fine. They’re pretty well matched.”

Seeing the two staring at her in disbelief, Qiu Yingying hurried: “Alright, alright, I’m done talking. I’m dead tired—I need to wash up and sleep.” She quickly slipped away to her room.

The two people at the table exchanged glances, shook their heads, and said nothing. The girl was probably mentally broken—worked herself stupid, beyond saving.

It wasn’t that Qiu Yingying had changed; she simply had no energy left to care about such things. She’d been treated like livestock all day, never a moment’s rest—how could she possibly have the stamina? Now, her days were nothing but work, work, work—her mind filled with documents, instructions from colleagues, and endless reminders.

The next day, Andi spent the morning drawing with her younger brother, because Wang Yan had been coaxing him into drawing a picture for Andi. Andi was both annoyed and delighted, her emotions complicated.

Wang Yan, meanwhile, spoke with Director Yang about what was missing and helped fill the gaps. In truth, over the years, in every world he’d been in—whether buying talismans for protection, paying protection money, or pursuing his own ideas—he’d always done these things, never stopping. In the real world, he was content just to take care of himself for now.

Of course, supporting the Daishan Elderly Home was entirely because of Andi—but even without her, he’d still fund other welfare institutions. It didn’t matter; it was an easy way to earn goodwill. Why not?

At six, the two finally returned to Shanghai. Throughout the journey, Andi kept staring at the painting, occasionally laughing softly. Wang Yan knew what it depicted: Andi, her younger brother, and himself playing house in the mud beneath blue skies and white clouds.

The boy was decent—he listened. It wasn’t that Wang Yan was manipulating someone with intellectual disabilities; rather, his own aura genuinely put Andi’s brother at ease. A little fondness was natural.

They grabbed a quick meal somewhere, then returned to Happy Song, each going home.

Back home, Andi went through a thorough wash—she hadn’t changed clothes or bathed in two days.

After a relaxing bath, she dried her body and hair, picked up her phone, and called Tan Zongming: “Hey, Lao Tan, I’ve got it sorted. I’ll be back at work tomorrow.”

“Are you okay? If not, take more time off.”

“I’m fine.”

“Then see you tomorrow.”

“Alright, bye.”

After hanging up, Andi poured herself a glass of wine, sipped slowly, and thought about the past few days. Her expression shifted—sometimes pained, sometimes conflicted, sometimes sweet—she didn’t know what she was thinking.

At that moment, her phone buzzed with a new message. Andi glanced—it was from Qidian.

Wei Wei had been sending her messages every day these past two days, testing the waters. But Andi had no energy to respond—she’d only replied with “Do not disturb,” and had ignored him for days without a word. He was beside himself with worry. He’d wanted to call a hundred times to ask what was wrong, but remembering the unpleasantness at dinner, he dared not intrude, afraid of making his already poor impression worse.

After thinking it over, Andi replied.

When Wei Wei saw Andi had replied, he sat bolt upright, immediately strategizing, exhausting every effort to craft a response—and under his guidance, arranged another meeting.

Wang Yan, upon returning home, also went through his routine: drinking tea, reading, writing calligraphy.

The next day, life returned to normal. Wang Yan rose early for morning exercise.

In the elevator, he met Andi, who looked reasonably well, and Guan Juer, still groggy.

“Big Brother Wang, good morning! Long time no see?”

Wang Yan nodded at Andi. “It’s only been a few days—how’s that ‘long time’?”

“Hmm… it just feels like much longer.”

“Illusion. Definitely because you didn’t sleep well this morning. Haven’t you been staying up late again? Your dark circles are worse.”

Guan Juer blinked. “Really?” She turned to Andi. “Andi-jie, check—have I got dark circles? I haven’t looked in the mirror yet.” Though she didn’t care much anymore, she was still a girl—beauty mattered.

Andi smiled. “He’s teasing you. Don’t listen. There’s just a little. But honestly, Xiao Guan, you really need to rest more.”

“Andi-jie, you’re talking about me?” Guan Juer studied Andi’s face closely. “You need rest too. Your complexion has gotten much worse—have you been working too hard on your trip?”

Andi didn’t mind. She shook her head. “True enough. Let’s go—we’re here.”

At breakfast, Guan Juer sensed something odd. She felt the two of them were hiding something from her. She kept glancing between them, but she wasn’t the type to pry. She said nothing—only thought to herself: Could Fan-jie be right? Are they together?

Wang Yan noticed her subtle thoughts instantly, but paid no mind. He effortlessly guided the conversation at breakfast, and the morning passed smoothly.

When work hours began, Wang Yan called up Qiu Yingying to go to the company together.

Qiu Yingying was pleased to see Wang Yan. “Big Brother Wang, did you go out with Andi-jie?”

Wang Yan kept his eyes on the road. “Why ask that?”

Qiu Yingying immediately betrayed Guan Juer and Fan Shengmei, recounting what had happened that night, then added, “Actually, you two would be perfect together. I think you’re well matched.”

Two years learning to speak, a lifetime learning to be quiet—she still had too much free time. Wang Yan thought silently, then said aloud: “Where did you get that idea? How’s work going? Are you getting used to it?”

At the mention of work, Qiu Yingying launched into detail: “It’s okay… lately…”

After a long while, they arrived at the company parking lot. Qiu Yingying had finished her report.

Wang Yan patted her shoulder. “From what you’ve said, you’re doing well. Good job—I’ll commend you. But keep pushing harder.”

“Don’t worry, Big Brother Wang. I won’t let you down…”

Wang Yan nodded. Seeing Qiu Yingying hesitate, he asked: “What’s wrong? Speak up.”

After thinking, Qiu Yingying stammered: “Big Brother Wang… my dad wants to see where I work… and… he wants to meet you. He’s afraid… afraid you…”

Wang Yan understood, cutting her off: “Alright, I get it. Let your dad come to the company. I’ll treat you both to lunch.”

Qiu Yingying beamed. “That’s wonderful! Thank you so much, Big Brother Wang—I’m truly grateful!”

Wang Yan shook his head. “Enough. Go on up.”

It was normal. Qiu Yingying had switched jobs, her salary rose, her conditions improved. Her father knew his daughter well enough. And especially since her neighbor upstairs was a man—of course he’d worry Wang Mou had ulterior motives. Understandable.

When Andi arrived at the company, she found Tan Zongming waiting in her office.

“Lao Tan? Why so early? That’s not your style.”

Tan Zongming smiled gently. “I was worried about you. Came to check on your condition.”

Andi smiled. “So, how do I look?”

Tan Zongming studied her smile carefully, then nodded. “Good. Very good. Andi, you’re a strong person. I never misjudged you.”

“I’m not,” Andi said. “It was Wang Yan. He helped me a lot.”

Hearing Wang Yan’s name, Tan Zongming’s temper flared. He forced down his rage, listened as Andi recounted the past two days, then arranged lunch with her before leaving with two burly bodyguards for the nearby software park.

Wang Yan, busy with office matters, heard shouts outside: “Sir, you can’t go in!” He rose to open the door—only to be met by Tan Zongming’s furious punch.

Wang Yan instinctively caught the fist, kicked out, tripped him, and sidestepped, using the momentum to throw him. Tan Zongming flew into the office, rolled twice, and came to a stop.

The two sunglasses-wearing bodyguards behind him, seeing their boss thrown, didn’t hesitate—they charged forward. After all, they had jobs to do, families to feed. Bosses as generous as Tan Zongming were rare.

In under five seconds, Wang Yan ended the fight. He left Tan Zongming and the two bodyguards groaning inside, stepped out, and dismissed the stunned employees who had gathered. Ignoring the chaos erupting outside, he closed the door and returned to the office.