Chapter 82: Biological Father and Son

As Qin Feng's new empire, the Cornerstone Project, surged forward, as Su Jin immersed herself in the secrets of gene technology beyond her era, and as Lei Zhan began screening the first core members of the Shield, a current intimately tied to Qin Feng—but long forgotten by him—was stirring in the shadows of another city.

Nanzhou City, a second-tier city known for light industry and commerce, stood in stark contrast to the bustling metropolis where Qin Feng resided.

In a slightly worn but well-located office building in the city center, the sign "Qin's Building Materials" hung above the entrance, bearing the marks of time. This was the company Qin Zhigang, Qin Feng's biological father, had run for over twenty years.

Inside the Chairman's office, the atmosphere was heavy.

Qin Zhigang, nearly fifty, slightly overweight, his hair neatly combed, bore deep wrinkles around his eyes and an unshakable gloom in his brow—signs of years of misfortune. He sat behind a large desk, his fingers idly tapping the surface as he listened to the CFO's report, his expression darkening with each word.

"... Chairman Qin, Hongyuan Group is pressing again for payment. If we can't settle the remaining eight million next week, they'll initiate legal proceedings to freeze our accounts and assets," the CFO said cautiously.

"What about the bank? Has the new loan been approved?" Qin Zhigang's voice was hoarse.

"Still no... They say our debt-to-asset ratio is too high, and... and there's been talk recently that we've made enemies—banks are all holding back."

"Made enemies?" Qin Zhigang snapped his head up, a flash of anger and helplessness in his eyes. "I've spent decades in Nanzhou, always trying to get along with people—who could I have angered?!"

The CFO lowered his head, refusing to answer.

At that moment, the office door burst open. A young man in a flashy shirt, his hair dyed chestnut, stormed in, his face impatient: "Dad! Transfer me fifty thousand! I've set my eyes on a brand-new motorcycle!"

The man was Qin Hao, Qin Zhigang's only son, Qin Feng's half-brother.

Seeing his son's worthless demeanor, Qin Zhigang's already frayed temper flared—he snatched a teacup from the desk and hurled it: "Get out! All you ever do is beg for money! Your old man's company is going bankrupt—and you still think about motorcycles?!"

Qin Hao dodged the flying cup with ease; tea splattered across the floor. Instead of fear, he squared his shoulders and retorted: "Bankrupt? Impossible! Our company's doing fine—it's just you being stingy and refusing to give me money!"

"You—!" Qin Zhigang trembled with rage, pointing at Qin Hao, speechless. His son had been spoiled rotten by his second wife—idle, wasteful, utterly ignorant of hardship.

The CFO, seeing this, quietly slipped out and closed the door behind him.

"How could I have given birth to such a worthless son!" Qin Zhigang cried out in anguish. "If you had even half the grit of your brother—"

The moment the words left his lips, Qin Zhigang froze. A complex, unreadable expression flickered across his face—regret, shame, and a faint, almost imperceptible... hope.

"My brother?" Qin Hao sneered, full of contempt. "You mean that Qin Feng you kicked out of the house? Forget it, Dad! He's probably hauling bricks on some construction site right now. Why bring him up? Bad luck!"

"Shut up!" Qin Zhigang barked, but his voice lacked conviction. Years ago, over family disputes and business disagreements, he'd believed his second wife's lies, divorced his first wife, and grown cold toward his eldest son, Qin Feng—until the rift became irreparable and Qin Feng left home, never to be heard from again. Over the years, he sometimes remembered that bright, stubborn boy, and regret gnawed at him. But he could never bring himself to reach out, convinced that Qin Feng, young and alone when he left, could never amount to anything.

Yet recently, the name "Qin Feng" had appeared with startling frequency in financial news and elite gossip—ways he could never have imagined.

The meteoric rise of Qin Feng Pharmaceuticals, the mysterious power of Yaofeng Capital, and—just weeks ago—the lightning acquisition of the Xuan Family, rumored to have happened because a Xuan clan member had offended Qin Feng's sister!

At first, Qin Zhigang thought it was a coincidence. But as more details emerged, matching perfectly, he was forced to confront a shocking truth—the Qin Feng stirring the heavens, wealthier than nations, was almost certainly the son he'd cast out.

This realization churned inside him like a storm of mixed emotions: disbelief, a secret pride, but mostly deep regret and an overwhelming, desperate longing to reconnect.

If... if Qin Feng would only recognize him as his father, wouldn't this financial crisis vanish with a single word? Couldn't his Qin's Building Materials soar to new heights because of it?

The thought took root in his heart like wild grass, spreading uncontrollably.

"Dad, what are you daydreaming about? Are you giving me the money or not?" Qin Hao impatiently prodded, snapping him out of his thoughts.

Qin Zhigang looked at this useless younger son, then thought of the elder son now standing atop the world—his frustration surged. He waved his hand like swatting flies: "No! Get out! Let me be alone!"

Qin Hao grumbled as he left.

Silence returned to the office, but Qin Zhigang could no longer calm himself. He rose, pacing back and forth, then took a deep breath—as if making a final decision—and picked up his phone, scrolling for a number he thought he'd never dial again—the old number Qin Feng had once used.

With a sliver of hope, his fingers trembling, he pressed the call button.

"Dial... dial..."

The phone rang for a long time. Just as Qin Zhigang began to believe no one would answer, his heart sinking, the call was suddenly connected.

No voice came from the other end—only silence. But that silence carried an invisible weight.

Qin Zhigang's throat tightened, his heart pounded. He licked his dry, cracked lips and spoke, as gently and pleadingly as he could:

"Is... is it Little Feng? I... I'm your father..."

In the top-floor office of Qin Feng Pharmaceuticals, far away.

Qin Feng stared at the unfamiliar yet vaguely familiar number on his phone, listening to the voice on the other end—both familiar and alien—and his eyes instantly froze, as if coated in ice.

He hadn't expected this so-called "father" to reach out now, in this way.

Biological father and son?

A cold smile curled at Qin Feng's lips.

Where was this man when Qin Feng needed family and support? Where was he when Qin Feng's mother needed help?

Now that he's achieved fame and fortune, he wants to reap the rewards?

The world doesn't work that way.

He didn't hang up. He didn't respond to the word "father." He simply held the silence—waiting to hear what else this "father" might say.

On the other end of the line, Qin Zhigang felt unprecedented pressure, beads of cold sweat forming on his forehead.