Chapter 987: Reckless Youth

"Over here!"

Peng Xiao stood like a spy making contact, waving at Gu Cheng from the first-floor duty room of the Security Building.

Gu Cheng’s lip twitched; he nearly cursed out loud.

Once inside, he snapped: "Why do you always pull this crap? Do you really think I’m a detective from the Confidentiality Office?"

"I think of you as a hardworking little bee!"

Peng Xiao still stood by the window, eyes fixed on the main office building, asking: "What did you find out?"

"I found out Bukharin’s a traitor~"

Gu Cheng sat down grumpily in the rattan chair, grabbed a cigarette from the desk, and lit it.

Peng Xiao turned back, glanced at him, and chuckled: "Do you think I don’t know Bukharin’s a traitor?"

Saying this, he snatched the cigarette from Gu Cheng’s hand and lit one for himself.

He flicked the matchstick, leaving a wisp of white smoke, then added: "I’m no longer responsible for Comrade Lenin’s security—I just want to know if your mission’s been completed, my little Ivan."

"Why the hell am I your little Ivan?"

Gu Cheng rolled his eyes. "I thought I was Rudolf Abel!"

"Dream on!"

Peng Xiao laughed. "Do you really think I’d send Abel to handle something this small?"

Gu Cheng flicked ash irritably. "Then why don’t you go do it yourself if it’s so small?"

He stopped joking, gestured toward the opposite building, and said: "I found out—it’s Hu Ding from the third division of the Confidentiality Department in Jingcheng."

"And then?"

Peng Xiao raised an eyebrow. "What’s he here for? Who did he meet? What did they talk about?"

"You really think I’m Abel!"

Gu Cheng sighed. "The guest room door was locked—leaders were talking. Am I supposed to press my ear to the door?"

"At least you must know the general gist."

Peng Xiao frowned. "I don’t believe no one heard anything."

"I don’t know!"

Gu Cheng said impatiently: "Deputy Director Ao received him personally and took him straight to the guest room."

"Did Director Li meet him?"

Peng Xiao turned back, staring toward the main office building, and asked: "Did you ask Li Haiyang?"

"Pfft~ That kid~"

Gu Cheng sneered, refusing to elaborate—the tone said everything.

He took a drag of his cigarette and added: "Director Li went in first. Later, Li Haiyang brought in Deputy Director Jing. That’s all."

Seeing Peng Xiao glare at him, he shrugged. "Go ahead and kill me—staring won’t help. I don’t have ears that pick up whispers."

He pointed at the opposite building. "Why not install a bug over there? Then you won’t need to ask me anything."

"Get lost!"

Peng Xiao wouldn’t buy his stupid idea—installing a bug? Even Deputy Director Li wouldn’t dare.

Government offices don’t fear you gathering information—they fear you bugging rooms. That’s the line.

Gu Cheng flicked ash. "No use getting anxious. If they don’t want you to hear, you won’t hear."

Peng Xiao knew that well—but since the visitor hadn’t left the main office building yet, he could wait.

First, he’d wait for word from the secretary service—watch for tea-serving, or any telltale moves from Deputy Director Jing.

Deputy Director Li didn’t care about the visitor’s motives—he might’ve already guessed them. But Peng Xiao couldn’t afford to ignore them.

He was the leader’s secretary—he had to keep pace with his leader’s movements, know every critical issue his leader needed to know.

"Is Deputy Cheng being watched?"

Peng Xiao turned to Gu Cheng. "Don’t tell me you didn’t even manage that."

"If I can’t watch him, I might as well quit."

Gu Cheng glared back. "All I can do is track his driver’s departure times—see if it’s the secretary or him in the car, and monitor fuel usage."

"Beyond that, I’m powerless. I’m not a real spy."

"Sigh~"

Peng Xiao sighed helplessly. "If only you were real."

"Are you insane?"

Gu Cheng sneered. "If I were a real spy, do you think I’d put up with your orders and spy on this nonsense for you?"

"I mean, if you were real."

Peng Xiao looked at Gu Cheng earnestly. "I’d get you promoted—then I’d rise three ranks myself and become a leader."

"F*** your grandpa!"

Gu Cheng nearly choked with rage—he’d been working his ass off for this guy, and now he wanted to betray him.

Even though he wasn’t real, and it was a joke, the thought still made him furious.

"Are you so desperate for advancement you’re turning on your own people?"

"I was just joking~"

Peng Xiao grinned sheepishly, then looked toward the opposite building. "I just remembered Deputy Li’s situation."

"I think you meant it!"

Gu Cheng stood up. "Enough. I can’t stay here—what if you lock me up and torture me into confessing? I hate pain."

He turned to leave, but heard no reply from Peng Xiao. He looked back—several people had just exited the main office building.

"That’s Deputy Ao."

Gu Cheng walked to the window, standing beside Peng Xiao. "She escorted him—that’s Hu Ding."

"Mm."

Peng Xiao had lost his urge to joke. He squinted as the visitor got into his car and drove off, then studied Deputy Ao’s demeanor—his eyelid twitched slightly.

"That’s it? He’s gone?"

Gu Cheng, confused, watched the Shanghai-brand sedan drive away. "He didn’t come to see Director Li."

"I don’t know."

Peng Xiao’s gaze followed Deputy Ao’s figure until it vanished from the first-floor lobby, then snapped to the third floor.

"Go over there again. If you get news, find me. If not, forget it."

"Got it."

Gu Cheng nodded seriously, turned to leave, then paused at the door. "I suggest you get a professional to watch Deputy Cheng—something’s off."

"I know."

Peng Xiao didn’t turn around, but he’d already agreed—understanding Gu Cheng’s earlier complaints.

Only when Gu Cheng appeared at the main office building’s entrance did Peng Xiao leave the duty room and head upstairs.

The Saturday dismissal bell rang; the broadcast station began playing music.

The office building suddenly came alive—chairs scraping floors, colleagues laughing and bidding farewell, noise filling the corridors.

The third floor was quieter—everyone knew leaders worked there, so people entering or leaving the large office kept their voices down.

Peng Xiao stepped out of his office, holding documents, face grim, and entered Li Xuewu’s office.

"Leader, it’s quitting time."

"Mm, good."

Li Xuewu didn’t look up, still flipping through documents.

After Peng Xiao tidied the office, Li Xuewu finally raised his head. "Have you prepared next week’s schedule?"

"Yes, Leader."

Peng Xiao replied, then asked: "Do you have any plans?"

"Hmm~"

Li Xuewu thought for a moment, then shook his head. "We’ll see. Don’t overbook the schedule—Team Wei Three might have something coming up."

"Understood."

Peng Xiao nodded, jotting down Li Xuewu’s instructions in his notebook.

As Li Xuewu stood to change shoes and put on his coat, Peng Xiao gathered the documents Li Xuewu had been reading and reported: "No word yet from the main office building."

Li Xuewu said nothing, but his eyes flicked toward the opposite building—he’d received no related calls all afternoon.

Still, he wasn’t bothered that the visitor ignored him and went straight to Li Huai.

There was no chance Li Huai would betray him or pressure him—worrying was pointless.

Besides, the visitor’s actions might have been meant to pressure him directly—depending on how you interpret it.

Whether Li Huai would share details of the meeting or pass on any information didn’t matter.

If Li Huai were a short-sighted petty man, he wouldn’t have reached his position today—he wasn’t some helpless child to be bullied.

He was a leader. If he wanted to talk, he’d talk. If not, you waited—or it was unimportant.

The lingering effects of last week’s snow remained. Though the factory grounds had been cleared, snow still clung to the roof, drifting down in the evening wind.

When Li Xuewu stepped out, the rush hour had passed. The driver was already waiting by the main office building with the car.

The Security Building had easy vehicle access, but only Li Xuewu and Yu De had official cars—a 212 and a GAZ-69.

As he came down, he saw Yu De’s driver, Xiao Liu, still waiting—clearly he hadn’t finished his work.

The Security Team’s work is not easy, and with a deputy team leader still missing, Yu De’s burden is heavy.

Especially since Li Xuewu holds multiple positions, he must shoulder the responsibility of daily management.

Peng Xiao is good at handling people; he got into the front passenger seat, noticed the leader’s gaze fixed on the GAZ jeep, and after asking Han Jiankun to drive, added softly: “Last night after work, I loaded the items into Deputy Director Yu’s car.”

“Mm.”

Li Xuewu responded absentmindedly, signaled the car to move, and turned his gaze away.

Winter days are short; leaving work at night always means darkness.

He didn’t read documents in the car, just closed his eyes to rest, listening as Han Jiankun recounted the day’s factory matters.

The items he mentioned earlier were local specialties brought back from Yingcheng—those things Xu Si had arranged.

Everyone else got theirs, so Yu Decai’s share wasn’t forgotten—only delivered last night.

This sort of thing didn’t need explaining; Yu Decai’s driver understood: the deputy team leader wouldn’t accept gifts from subordinates, but he dared not refuse anything from Deputy Director Li.

The factory office area wasn’t small, but not huge either—several hundred people worked here.

Peng Xiao had been working here for years; though everyone knew he was young and playful, they also knew he was reliable—otherwise he wouldn’t have been chosen as Li Xuewu’s secretary.

Now he was on the rise, always at Deputy Director Li’s side, growing more mature and confident, and admired by many young women in the factory.

A junior accountant from Finance even chased after him, but he reportedly rejected her for being too short—and still picked a fight.

For everything else, Peng Xiao thought others were blind, unable to see his ability.

But when it came to romance and talk of “liking” or “not liking,” it was surely Gu Cheng spreading rumors.

They were friends, yet mutual rivals—serious matters they never botched, but privately they each wished the other would suffer public humiliation.

After reporting the factory’s affairs to the leader, he carefully chose his words to relay Gu Cheng’s warning.

“You still have to judge for yourself.”

He added: “Though the kid spoke seriously, it’s still uncertain.”

Seeing Li Xuewu look over, he hesitated slightly, defending Gu Cheng: “He knows what I asked him to do, so he wouldn’t make things up.”

“Where’s Gu Cheng from?”

Li Xuewu glanced at him, then leaned back in his seat, eyes closed: “You two are about the same age—has your family pressured you to find a partner and get married?”

“Huh?”

Peng Xiao was stunned by Li Xuewu’s question—just talking about Deputy Cheng, and now it turned to marriage?

But it was after work anyway; talking about marriage wasn’t sudden.

“Um… we’re both not in a rush. His family lives behind Gulou—I’ve been there a few times.”

“You two are competing, huh?”

Li Xuewu’s eyelids flickered; his tone was casual: “Settle your personal matters quickly—it’s an advantage.”

“Yes.”

Peng Xiao replied, glanced back at his leader, unsure how to respond.

Li Xuewu sighed: “Establish a family before building a career—it’s wise.”

“Are you the eldest at home? No, right?”

Before Peng Xiao could answer, Li continued: “If you don’t have the pressure to support a family, you’ll feel the pressure to support yourself. Marriage is one hurdle; children are another; aging parents are yet another.”

“I never thought about it~”

Peng Xiao chuckled bitterly: “I still feel young—marriage doesn’t seem… urgent.”

“By the time you’re in a rush, it’ll be too late~”

Li Xuewu sat upright, pointed at him, eyes fixed on the window: “You and Gu Cheng both think twenty is young. Wait a few more years—you’ll find no suitable partners left.”

“Don’t believe me?”

Seeing Peng Xiao silent, Li turned and smiled: “You’re twenty now. Say you want to marry at twenty-four—that gives you four years to play around, right?”

“At twenty-four, which girl waits until then to find a partner? Most marry at sixteen or seventeen—eighteen or nineteen is already late.”

“You’d still date a sixteen- or seventeen-year-old?”

Li crossed his legs, paused: “Sixteen- or seventeen-year-olds might have jobs, or might not—those who do are just starting out.”

“Your economic conditions differ. No matter how much you earn later, you can’t solve housing, marriage, or age-gap issues. Don’t you need to think about your partner supporting you financially?”

“Hard, isn’t it?”

He glanced ahead, then added: “Find an eighteen- or nineteen-year-old—age gap isn’t as big, but your mindset is exactly theirs: they’ve just gotten used to society and aren’t done playing. Will they follow you?”

“Step back further: find someone in their twenties—same age, compatible thinking, matching environment. But!”

Li nodded slightly: “By then, what conditions will you demand in a partner? And what conditions will make someone want you?”

“Chasing a mountain until you drop dead~”

“...”

Peng Xiao’s face was now only a bitter smile—he’d heard parents pushing marriage, but never a leader worrying for him.

“I want to find a partner, but I need someone suitable.”

He sighed: “The ones I like don’t like me; the ones who like me—I feel like I’m getting the short end. Sigh~”

“You help me think—what kind should I look for?”

“I help you think? Hahaha~”

Li Xuewu smiled, looking at Peng Xiao: “I know your mind too well—you’re not looking for a good partner, you’re looking for a good father-in-law!”

“Hehehe~”

Peng Xiao, having his thoughts exposed, didn’t feel embarrassed—he grinned and teased Li: “It’s not unreasonable—I’m your secretary, after all.”

“Hehe~”

Li Xuewu laughed too. As the command car entered the alley, he called ahead: “Not unreasonable—but you’re not handsome, yet you dream big.”

When the car stopped, before Peng Xiao got out, Li added: “If you were as handsome as me, maybe some girl would chase you, beg to marry you.”

“You’re just teasing me!”

Peng Xiao got out, waved to Han Jiankun, watched the command car drive off.

Once the car vanished at the alley’s mouth, he muttered: “Who are you fooling? You look like a local warlord—face full of menace—who’d ever like me?”

He turned and walked into the courtyard, still thinking of the leader’s joke—he took it as mere banter.

He knew Li Xuewu’s father-in-law was powerful, but Peng Xiao refused to believe the girl had chased after him!

He understood Li Xuewu well: young, talented, mature, promising future.

For such a man, finding a well-connected partner wasn’t hard—he’d had opportunities in the military.

Love needs looks, but marriage doesn’t—no one marries because a man is handsome.

If they did, either the family was obscenely rich, or the girl was disowned.

Why?

Think for yourself—too much to say, might be too much to bear.

Li Xuewu’s military achievements and local accomplishments were enough to fuel his rise—he was undoubtedly a standout in this era.

Even if a girl found him unattractive, her family might still approve.

His scar was fine for private jokes, but on official documents, in formal settings—it was a medal of honor.

That’s why he’d just remarked Gu Cheng wasn’t a spy—if he were, Li would’ve risked it all, trading a bicycle for a motorcycle.

Maybe he’d even land a great father-in-law!

Even if not, a capable brother-in-law would do.

Thinking this, he couldn’t help glancing back at the alley’s mouth, his lips twitching.

Wanting a great father-in-law, wanting to leap to the top, wanting fame and fortune without thirty years of struggle—Peng Xiao wasn’t alone.

The world never lacks people waiting for a free pie—do you think lottery buyers are all different?

But hitting the jackpot is hard; stepping into a pit is easy.

Sunday, January 4th morning: Li Xuewu had just finished breakfast and sat in the living room reading the newspaper.

Qin Jingru dressed Li Shu in little shoes and let her play on the sofa.

The little girl was never still—always restless.

Qin Jingru was about to mop the floor, so she didn’t let her play with toys; instead, Li Shu reached for dried fruits on the coffee table.

Hands idle, feet idle—mouth couldn’t be idle!

But she was only one and a half—eating dried fruit wasn’t safe. Qin Jingru couldn’t watch her constantly, so she called Li Xuewu for help.

“Could… you watch her for a bit?”

Qin Jingru interrupted Li Xuewu apologetically, plucked all the nuts from Li Shu’s hands—making the girl furious.

“Yaa! Want to eat!!”

Li Shu, robbed, screamed at her aunt, then stomped her foot hard when her aunt kept taking more—showing she was furious, and consequences would follow!

“Eat? No eating!”

Qin Jingru scolded Li Shu, then told Li Xuewu: “Jiankun will be back soon—I’ll have him watch her.”

“I’ll do it.”

Li Xuewu put down the newspaper, took a breath, stood up, and picked her up.

“Daughter, when will you ever grow into a proper young lady?”

“Heh! Just wait~”

Qin Jingru chuckled, tapped Li Shu’s tiny hand: “With this temper, she’ll be trouble when she grows up!”

Li Shu, still angry about her snacks being taken, turned her head away—refusing to acknowledge her aunt, still fuming.

Li Xuewu chuckled as he carried her to the big radio, turned the dial, thinking that some noise from the living room would keep Li Shu from causing trouble.

This big radio had come with the house—it was an old relic, but its reception and sound quality were exceptional.

As he adjusted it, he caught the news station and stopped tuning; Li Shu stared wide-eyed, thinking that when her father wasn’t home, she could play with it herself.

As long as neither Dad nor Mom watched, this house was her kingdom—she could play with anything.

Li Xuewu listened to the news while holding his daughter near the door, letting her watch the little fish play.

The news reported that in the second half of last year—late July—144 scientists from 33 countries and regions across Asia, Africa, Latin America, and Oceania had visited Beijing for a conference.

The highest leaders had received them; the topic of exchange was atomic energy-related—Li Xuewu didn’t recall this news.

But he knew the top leader truly understood science and technology, placing greater emphasis on protecting and supporting high-tech and cutting-edge science.

Look at how complex the situation is now, yet those people in the great desert remained completely unaffected; even in heavy-hit areas like Huaqing, top technical talent was being protected.

Some individuals’ problems were more prominent—they were giants in scientific research but had expressed or supported outdated attitudes in other fields, so they’d been dragged into the turmoil.

Overall, humanities and arts had been hit harder; science and technology had faced relatively less interference, especially for talent the state needed.

Not only were scientific and technical personnel unaffected, even specialized technical personnel had escaped the fallout.

Li Xuewu knew that the three men originally borrowed from the Training Department had all defected over.

Fearing instability there, he’d kept close tabs—he’d heard nothing about any trouble on that side.

Most of these people were senior military talents who had returned from studying abroad; any hint of trouble, and they’d been sent away long ago.

Everyone knew clearly what the current situation and primary contradiction were—even if you dug up their ancestors’ graves, what would it change?

Technical talent couldn’t affect management at the top level, nor could it meaningfully impact the primary contradiction.

The response pattern was always the same: just like the Traditional Chinese Medicine Hospital, just like the Third Health Regiment, everyone did it the same way—when the wind turned, they’d haul these people into the mountains for three months of field drills or exercises, and time would slip away.

This was old news—why bring it up again today? Just to highlight scientific progress and research achievements, clearly trying to cool down the heated winter storm.

It had nothing to do with him; he just listened, killing time while entertaining the child.

Unexpectedly, right after this news ended, the next broadcast was about the Great Study campaign.

On January 4, the highest preparatory leadership group for the Great Study campaign received in Beijing a delegation from Quzhou called the “Delegation to Yangcheng for the Great Study...”

The news itself wasn’t unusual, but the content was—Li Xuewu’s brow immediately furrowed.

Subsequent news confirmed his suspicion: this delegation was no ordinary group; its target was clearly the Propaganda Department.

The broadcast’s wording was sharp, the content incisive, criticizing the man with phrases like “faithful executor of the bourgeois reform line” and “the greatest conservative.”

Li Shu was too young to understand what the news said; she still squatted carefree by the fish pond, watching the little fish.

When she looked up to tell her father how fun her fish were, she noticed he was frowning, not listening.

“Hey!”

Li Shu raised her eyebrows, shouted angrily, then sighed and turned back to the fish pond.

Dad was always unreliable—even when pretending to entertain a child, he got distracted.

Li Xuewu heard his daughter’s call, glanced down at her, then looked at the goldfish pond—he feared this year’s situation would be just as murky as this water, unlikely to settle.

The goldfish pond, after years of cultivation, had long achieved ecological stability.

Without Li Shu’s meddling, it might not be crystal clear, but it certainly wouldn’t be as chaotic as now.

The situation was the same—if no one deliberately stirred things up, it could never become so disordered.

Li Xuewu’s mood wasn’t good at the club; after arriving, he went straight into Yu Li’s office.

Yu Li saw his serious expression and assumed it was because of her brother’s incident last week—she dared not speak loudly.

She brought tea, helped him take off his coat, wash his hands, and wipe his face—only when he started reading documents did she finally relax.

Here, Li Xuewu had no secretary to assist him; Yu Li had no way to find out why he was upset.

All she could do was tread carefully, speaking softly even when reporting work, terrified of angering him.

As noon approached and she saw Li Xuewu had finished his work, she finally spoke up: “Zhou Yamei is coming next weekend—did you know?”

“Next week?”

Li Xuewu frowned slightly. “When did she say?”

“Yesterday.”

Yu Li handed him a warm towel to wipe his hands, saying: “She said Dongfeng Shipping still needs staff, and Gangcheng Trade needs hands too.”

Seeing Li Xuewu’s expression, she paused, then added: “After all, she handles personnel.”

“I understand.”

Li Xuewu nodded, pulled his hand from the towel, and stood to leave.

But before he took a step, Yu Li grabbed his arm.

“I’m sorry~”

Yu Li pursed her lips, sounding wounded: “Yu Zhe told me to chase him away—no more coming here. Don’t be mad at me.”

“Huh?”

Li Xuewu thought a moment, then realized what she meant.

“Su Qing’s matter?”

Before she could answer, seeing her eyes, he continued: “This is complicated—I don’t need to explain, you understand. Just know it’s fine.”

“Then you can’t be mad anymore~”

Yu Li gathered courage and hugged his arm, terrified he’d ignore her.

Even if this job was great, what was the point without Li Xuewu?

If she truly wanted to remarry, with her conditions, better matches weren’t hard to find.

But she was married before, and lived in that courtyard—where you couldn’t avoid seeing each other every day.

Besides, all her connections were tied to Li Xuewu—if he turned against her, her whole foundation would collapse.

Li Xuewu understood Yu Li’s meaning. He looked at her expression, amused: “Are you pouting at me?”

“Can’t I~”

Seeing his face soften, Yu Li shook his arm: “I’m a woman too—can’t I pout at you?”

“Not quite appropriate.”

Li Xuewu smirked, pinching her cheek: “You’re no longer a sixteen- or seventeen-year-old girl.”

“So you like ten~”

Yu Li, flustered by his words, clung tightly to him: “You can’t be annoyed with me!”

“I’m warning you!”

Li Xuewu raised a hand: “This room isn’t warm—if you rile me up and catch a cold, don’t blame me.”

“I’m not afraid!”

Yu Li looped her arms around his neck, puckered her lips softly: “Then let’s sweat a little~”

……

“I’m dead tired~”

Huang Gan wiped sweat from his face, waved off Wei Qing as he approached: “Take a break—I’m exhausted.”

“Your body’s gone soft~”

Wei Qing was also drenched in sweat, but thankfully the training room wasn’t cold—if it were, he’d have caught a cold.

The two were practicing grappling, with a touch of wrestling.

The instructors here were all from martial arts schools—they knew exactly which moves worked and which didn’t.

They clearly explained during training: which techniques to use daily, which to avoid.

In real action, of course, they’d strike hard without mercy.

But by now, at their level, opportunities to engage in frontline combat were rare.

So their training focused mainly on conditioning, with low aggression.

Li Xuewu turned in through the front door, heading for the bathhouse, but Huang Gan spotted him.

He called him over loudly, determined to tease him.

“Where you going? Haven’t seen you all morning.”

Huang Gan took a sip of warm water and said to Li Xuewu: “I saw your car parked there this morning—don’t tell me you’re working on a weekend?”

“Serving the people~”

Li Xuewu smiled, waved off Wei Qing’s cigarette, sat on a stool, and asked: “How long have you been training?”

“All morning—no rest.”

Wei Qing wouldn’t sit down, afraid he couldn’t stand up later; he wiped sweat as he explained to Li Xuewu: “I haven’t trained in a while—my muscles are stiff.”

“Pfft~”

Huang Gan had the sharpest tongue—he glanced at Wei Qing: “You’re useless. Muscles? You’ve lost all drive.”

“Hmph~”

Wei Qing didn’t let him off easy: “They say lust is a knife above the head—watch yourself. One day you might be even weaker than me.”

Huang Gan couldn’t win against this old veteran, so he turned to Li Xuewu: “You don’t train at all—why head to the bathhouse?”

He studied Li Xuewu, asking: “You’ve been secretly training?”

Seeing his face wasn’t amused and his tone was irreverent, Li Xuewu glanced at him: “Want to spar?”

“You’re trying to get revenge!”

Huang Gan joked, but still held back—he teased Li Xuewu about “secret training” in the office, but never said it outright.

Now that Li Xuewu was offering to “sparr,” he quickly backed down.

Wei Qing stood to the side, encouraging him, saying Huang Gan’s skills were also good, not to fear Li Xuewu, and to go ahead boldly.

Huang Gan wouldn’t fall for his trick—he knew Li Xuewu better than anyone else did.

Sure, the kid was young, but his skills were absolutely top-notch; all the coaches here said he could fight—he wasn’t about to be a punching bag.

“Hey! I heard something~”

He was the type who forgot pain after eating—he’d dodged Li Xuewu’s slap, and now his mouth was at it again: “Is there a twist in that case?”

“I don’t know.”

Li Xuewu glanced down at the dust on his pant leg and replied, “I haven’t been in Jingcheng lately—too busy, didn’t even have time to look into it.”

“I don’t believe you~”

Huang Gan pursed his lips, gestured toward other training rooms, and whispered, “Someone’s actually plotting for a transfer!”

He studied Li Xuewu seriously: “Don’t end up doing someone else’s work while you’re left with nothing.”

“What?”

Wei Qing glanced at Li Xuewu in surprise and frowned: “Something happened?”

“At least it’s significant~”

Huang Gan spoke with deep implication: “Even if you waste your effort, that’s fine—but I’m afraid you’ll chase a fox and end up covered in stink.”

“Thanks for your concern.”

Li Xuewu shot him an annoyed look, then tapped his watch: “It’s lunchtime—I’ll go wash up first, wait for you at the dining hall.”

“Why?”

Huang Gan raised an eyebrow and grinned: “Are you treating us to lunch?”

“No problem.”

As Li Xuewu walked out, he replied: “I’ll treat you—you pay.”

“On what grounds?!”

…

In the dining hall, the midday meal was genuinely good—only a hundred or so people were fed here, so the variety was greater and the dishes more refined.

More people came here on weekends; on weekdays, they mostly served only staff meals.

The club is still operating at a loss; without the Service Department, it would lose even more.

The main cost is personnel expenses—other construction costs are manageable.

As Li Xuewu sat down, Zhou Xiaobai appeared at the door.

She must have known he’d come—she waved with a smile, then hurried off to get her food.

Only after sitting beside Li Xuewu did she finally catch her breath.

Li Xuewu handed her his water cup, signaling her to drink warm water before picking up her chopsticks.

She didn’t thank him, just lifted his cup and took a big gulp.

After a hiccup from the water, she set the cup down and said: “I’ve been waiting for you—saw your car here this morning.”

“Busy with work.”

Li Xuewu explained: “I went back to check on the training rooms again.”

As he spoke, he studied Zhou Xiaobai and asked: “Where’s Luo Yun? Did you two tell your families after you came back that day?”

“No~”

Zhou Xiaobai shook her head, offering a sweet smile, then added: “Luo Yun and I have to take turns for meals—someone has to be on duty in the Service Department at noon.”

“And!”

She giggled, her eyes twinkling: “Luo Yun wants to come with Zuo Jie.”

“Is that so~”

Li Xuewu showed no particular surprise at the news, but still smiled.

“Mm~”

Zhou Xiaobai wrinkled her nose: “She kept denying it to me, but once she got back, she confessed—she’s in love.”

“Good thing.”

Li Xuewu nodded as he ate: “At this age, one should have a romantic, dreamy love affair.”

Zhou Xiaobai nodded in agreement, then glanced around and leaned close to whisper: “Do you remember how Luo Yun treated you when we went out?”

“Huh? What about it?”

Li Xuewu raised an eyebrow, puzzled.

Zhou Xiaobai pursed her lips, hesitating: “First, let me say—Luo Yun’s a good person. Her attitude toward you had a reason.”

“Huh?”

Li Xuewu was even more confused and frowned: “She’s been hostile toward me?”

“Mm~”

Zhou Xiaobai whispered: “She’s a little afraid of you—and she said… she said the two of us… weren’t a good match.”

As she said this, she grew embarrassed—she couldn’t bring herself to say it plainly, so she mumbled vaguely.

Seeing Li Xuewu’s confused expression, she added: “I understand her, really—my choice and hers are different.”

Zhou Xiaobai stared down at her rice, whispering: “Our families aren’t alike either. She compared Zuo Jie to you—and felt a big gap.”

After saying this, she waited nervously for Li Xuewu’s reply, her ears flushed red—but no sound came from beside her.

When she looked up again, she saw Li Xuewu waving to Huang Gan and the others at the door.

Her confession ignored, Zhou Xiaobai’s face turned pale, then she gazed at Li Xuewu with wounded eyes.

Li Xuewu had heard every word—but he couldn’t respond.

He couldn’t offer her the romantic fantasy she wanted, nor could he give her any grand promises—what could he say?

It wasn’t about her status—he’d never once thought he should take responsibility for a beautiful youth or life.

Otherwise, you’d think: in Jinmen, Zhou Xiaobai had practically offered herself to him—why didn’t he take her?

He still had principles—his Three No’s were principles too.

A girl full of adolescent fantasies—if he took her, he’d probably end up vomiting.

If Zhou Xiaobai didn’t care about forever, only about having had something—wanted a wild, unrestrained youth—then he didn’t mind. Who doesn’t like young things?

To hang out with a mature, steady older brother, broaden her horizons, learn something, experience another side of society—

Isn’t that better than getting hurt by some scumbag in a confused haze? At least Li Xuewu had principles.