It was when he was imagining these kinds of things for the fourth time that afternoon. He saw the “isn’t much for fucking—mostly just watches me while I fuck myself” in Xiaokai’s neat, professional handwriting and his mind went immediately to Xiaokai’s facial expression when he came that Weiran missed so much after a week apart—his fluttering eyelashes, his open mouth—and had to turn his attention very deliberately to the television.

Sun Yue was on the screen.

“I must announce with a heavy heart that Liu Baiyan, my husband and president of Liu Incorporated, passed away this morning from a heart attack.”

Weiran slowly closed his laptop.

“Effective immediately, my son, Liu Xingyu, will be taking charge of Liu Incorporated while I make the arrangements for the funeral and the board deliberates the future of the company. The funeral proceedings will only be for family and close friends. Further announcements regarding the company will come later. Thank you for your time.”

Weiran scrambled for his phone, dialed Xingyu—no answer. Then Xiaokai.

“Hello.”

“Xiaokai. What the hell is going on? Is Liu Baiyan really dead? This isn’t a—this isn’t a trick or something, right?”

“He’s dead. Xingyu killed him.”

Weiran’s stomach dropped to the ground. “What?”

“I had the same reaction. I haven’t seen him yet, but he’s supposed to come back to the house after his meeting with Hu Yongzhu.”

Weiran was barely functioning. He spit out the first thing that came to mind: “Hu Yongzhu—that’s the—”

“It’s the whip guy, yeah.” Xiaokai laughed, dryly.

“Sorry. That was the first thing that came to mind. What in the world is he doing meeting with people right now? And what do you mean he killed Liu Baiyan?” That last part definitely wasn’t true. Xiaokai had been misinformed, he’d been mistaken—

“I can’t talk long. I’ll try to meet you as soon as I can, hopefully even bring Xingyu—but it might not be for a few more days. I need you to lay as low as possible, okay?”

He sounded shaken. Weiran wanted to reach through the phone, pull him into his arms, hold him until his voice stopped trembling. “Okay,” he said.

“Don’t reach out to either one of us until I contact you. I don’t want to take the chance that someone could find you. Just…just keep doing what you’ve been doing.”

“Are you going to be okay?”

“I’ll be fine. I need to go.”

Weiran dropped his phone onto the bed and then collapsed next to it, absolutely stunned.

Liu Baiyan was dead.

Xingyu…killed him?