He knew this down to his bones, even if he did not want to admit it. If he had perhaps only used Liu Baiyan’s strategy, he might be as perfect on the inside as he was on the outside. But he was Sun Yue’s son after all, and that list that only he and Sun Yue and the people who came before Sun Yue—it had swept up some of the best deals Liu Incorporated had seen in years. All because of that list. All because of Liu Xiaokai. And after all that, Liu Xingyu really dared to come and take everything from him?

“Sir,” said his driver tentatively, “we’ve arrived.”

Liu Xiaokai shook himself out of his stupor. “Yes,” he said, “thank you. You can pick me up in five hours.”

Something flickered behind his driver’s eyes. “Five hours? Sir—”

“I’ll see you then,” said Liu Xiaokai firmly. He opened the door on his own and got out, and the driver watched as he walked with that graceful swagger that was now so familiar to the gleaming doors. He flinched when the young master went inside.

“Five hours…” he murmured under his breath, and he shook his head as he started the car. Five hours? He’d never taken that long for this kind of business deal—even the longest ones had been two, two and a half hours tops, and afterward the young master would just slink back into the car, sit quietly the entire car ride back, and slink into his bedroom without a word. Each of these meetings broke him a little more. As Liu Xiaokai’s personal and regular driver…he really couldn’t bear to watch every time.

He drove around the block and parked across the street, his gaze trained on the doors without wavering once. As soon as the young master was done, he would be out here, ready to receive him, ready to help him.

Meanwhile, Liu Xingyu was unpacking his things in his old bedroom. Upon entering, he had taken several minutes to regard it all with some nostalgia; he hadn’t been here in over a decade now, after all, but he couldn’t drag it out any longer than that. The room had been meticulously cleaned, scrubbed of any traces he’d left in it. The band posters he’d pasted onto the wall had been taken down, the walls repainted. Any trinkets he hadn’t taken with him when he left were put away—more likely thrown away, actually. He wondered briefly if his didi had anything to do with it but pushed the thought away immediately. The kid already looked like he was ready to burst when he’d come to pick him up—had Ba not told him his ge was coming? Maybe not, and maybe that had been a good idea after all—he wouldn’t have come to pick him up if he’d known it was Xingyu.