Chapter 90: Three Calls Hung Up

Even as Qin Feng's name shone like a star across the sky, sparking countless praises and controversies, a corner of Nanzhou City he regarded as dust was undergoing a desperate and futile struggle.

Inside the Qin Construction office, the atmosphere was no longer merely dull—it was utterly silent. Slumped in the leather boss chair that once symbolized status and prestige, Qin Zhigang looked as if all his vitality had been drained overnight. His hair was disheveled, his eyes sunken, his expensive suit wrinkled and hanging loosely on him, his tie crooked, long since abandoned the dignity he once meticulously maintained.

Piled high on the desk were not documents, but one after another court summonses, bank collection notices, and termination letters from business partners. The company's accounts had long been frozen; every day, suppliers and workers blocked the entrance demanding payment. What was once a bustling enterprise now retained only a handful of core employees, their faces etched with confusion and dread.

"Dad! What do we do now?! My cards are all frozen! The car's about to be repossessed by the bank!" Qin Hao burst into the office, screaming in desperation, his usual arrogance vanished, replaced only by the panic of a man with no way out. His flashy shirt had lost its luster, stained with smudges he couldn't tell were wine or tears.

"What do we do? What do we do?! You ask me—who do I ask?!" Qin Zhigang snapped his head up, bloodshot eyes locked on his son, voice hoarse as a broken gong. "It's all because of you, you wastrel! If you hadn't acted recklessly outside and offended people you shouldn't have, how could we have ended up like this?!"

He still stubbornly believed Qin Hao had brought this ruin upon them by provoking enemies outside, refusing to seriously consider—or dare admit—who the true force behind it all really was.

"I… I didn't know it would turn out like this!" Qin Hao retorted, neck stiff, but his conviction was clearly weak. The cold gaze Qin Feng had fixed on him that night at the Di Hao Hotel, and the words "I told him to do it," haunted him like a nightmare. He had guessed something, but dared not speak it aloud.

"Get out! Get out of here!" Qin Zhigang snatched a file folder and hurled it at Qin Hao.

Qin Hao dodged, cursed under his breath, and slammed the door as he left.

The office was left alone again with only Qin Zhigang—and the suffocating despair. He buried his hands in his hair and let out a guttural whimper like a trapped beast. He couldn't accept it! How could the foundation he'd built over half a lifetime be destroyed like this?

Suddenly, he seized upon what felt like his last straw, jerking his head up, eyes blazing with near-madness.

Qin Feng! Yes! There was still Qin Feng! He was his own flesh and blood! Blood was thicker than water! He couldn't just abandon him! He was so rich now—even a drop leaking from his fingers would be enough to see them through this crisis!

The humiliation of being coldly rejected and blocked on previous calls now seemed trivial against the terror of bankruptcy.

Like a madman, he rummaged through drawers and cabinets until he found another backup phone, fingers trembling as he redialed the number etched into his memory—this was the only public contact for Qin Feng, usually answered by his assistant.

The phone rang for a long time before finally being answered.

"Hello, Qin Feng's office," came a young, professional female voice.

Qin Zhigang clung to the lifeline, nearly sobbing as he shouted: "I need Qin Feng! I'm his father! His real father! Tell him to pick up! I have an emergency! A life-or-death emergency!"

The assistant, clearly given instructions, replied with polite but formulaic detachment: "I'm sorry, sir. General Qin is in a meeting and cannot take calls. If you have business to discuss, please make an official appointment."

"An appointment?! I'm his father! His real father! Do I need to make an appointment to see him?!" Qin Zhigang screamed, losing control. "Tell him! He can't treat me like this! This is filial impiety! He'll be struck down by thunder and lightning!"

"Sorry," the assistant's voice grew colder, and she hung up.

Listening to the dial tone, Qin Zhigang froze, then erupted in greater fury and panic. He refused to give up and redialed.

This time, the phone rang only twice before being answered—the same female voice, but now clearly impatient: "Sir, please stop calling this number, or we will treat it as harassment…"

"Let my son answer the phone!!" Qin Zhigang screamed over her.

"Doo… doo… doo…"

The call was disconnected again.

Qin Zhigang, wild-eyed and frenzied, redialed the number for the third time without hesitation.

This time, the phone was answered instantly.

But what came through was no longer the assistant's voice—it was a low, cold, emotionless male tone, like a Siberian blizzard, instantly freezing Qin Zhigang's shouts:

"Mr. Qin Zhigang."

It was Lei Zhan. Qin Zhigang recognized the voice—the bodyguard from Di Hao Hotel, a demon incarnate!

"General Qin has asked me to convey this to you," Lei Zhan's voice remained flat, yet carried a crushing weight. "The name 'Qin Construction' is no longer worthy of your use. Accept your fate quietly, and you may retain a shred of dignity. If you persist…"

A one-second silence followed—but that silence carried more threat than any words.

"…you will bear the consequences."

Without waiting for any response, the call was disconnected a third time—and the number was permanently blacklisted.

Qin Zhigang stood frozen, clutching the phone emitting a dial tone, as if all his bones had been pulled out. Slowly, helplessly, he slid down onto the cold floor.

The phone slipped from his hand, hitting the ground, the battery cover popping open.

Three calls hung up.

Each colder than the last. Each more final than the one before.

In the end, it wasn't even Qin Feng himself—only his dog, delivering that cold, final ultimatum!

At this moment, Qin Zhigang finally understood completely—and fell into utter despair.

The son he had once scorned and discarded had grown into a towering tree he could no longer even look up to—let alone have the right to gaze upon. Between them, that pitiful thread of blood, in his eyes, wasn't even a ripple.

He was finished. Qin Construction was finished. Their branch… was finished.

In the office, only the muffled, bestial sob of a middle-aged man, desperate and suppressed, lingered in the empty silence—slowly fading, leaving no trace.

And far away, Qin Feng didn't even need to ask a single question.

To crush a buzzing fly, why would he lift a finger? Even a glance would be too much.

His world and that patch of dust had long since become heaven and earth apart.