I might... be dying

Young Master Cao had warned Paul once before.

Unfortunately, Paul hadn’t taken it seriously.

In the ruthless world of business warfare, the goal was to crush the competition.

But now, as a sudden pain shot through his abdomen, Paul abruptly remembered what Young Master Cao had said to him after the press conference.

Without delay, Paul rushed to the nearest hospital for a full-body examination.

After the tests, he had to wait for the results.

Patience wasn’t one of Paul’s virtues.

Once the abdominal pain subsided, he dismissed it from his mind.

…

Leaving the hospital by car, Paul turned to his assistant and asked, "Any updates on the raw material supplier’s formula?"

The secretary shook his head. "That factory is too small. Aside from General Manager Li, there are only a few researchers—all fiercely loyal to him. They won’t budge or reveal anything about the formula."

Paul frowned. "Stubborn fools."

The secretary remarked, "Your grasp of Chinese idioms is impressive."

Paul wasn’t in the mood for flattery. Sternly, he said, "Listen, I’m giving you full authority. Spare no expense—just get that formula as soon as possible. It hasn’t been patented yet. If we secure it and file the patent ourselves… we’ll never have to work another day in our lives."

He painted a rosy picture: "We’ll start our own raw materials company. You’ll manage it—be the CEO."

"Thank you, Mr. Paul," the secretary replied, elated.

…

That afternoon, Paul took a nap.

Lately, he’d been feeling unusually energetic, but the high never lasted. By midday, exhaustion always crept in.

Ring ring—

The phone jolted him awake.

"Hello?" Paul answered groggily, his tone brusque.

"Hmm?"

"This is Paul."

"What? Now? It’s serious?"

"Fine, I’ll head over right away."

The call ended abruptly. It was the hospital—his test results were ready, and the nurse urgently requested a follow-up visit.

She mentioned the report showed something concerning but didn’t elaborate.

Paul checked the time: around 3 PM.

He summoned his driver and secretary and rushed back to the hospital.

In the examination room, the doctor dismissed the secretary, leaving Paul alone.

"Do you speak Chinese?"

"Yes."

"Good. The situation is severe…"

"Just tell me straight, Doctor. What’s wrong with me?"

"Cancer."

"…?"

"Gastric cancer."

"…?!"

Thud—

Paul collapsed to the floor.

…

Luckily, Paul had caught it early.

He owed Young Master Cao his gratitude.

Without that warning, he might have brushed off the occasional stomach pains—after all, he’d had minor gastric issues before.

The doctor’s prognosis was hopeful: the cancer was still in its early stages, confined beneath the mucosal layer. Surgery could remove it, with a high chance of full recovery.

His overall health was strong enough to withstand the procedure.

But any delay would be fatal.

In a way, Young Master Cao had saved his life.

By evening, Paul returned to his luxury home, his face ashen.

His Chinese wife and mixed-race daughter immediately noticed something was wrong.

"Darling, what happened?"

"I might… be dying."

"What?!"

When the family learned of his cancer, their world shattered.

Strangely, Paul found himself comforting them. "It’s early-stage. The odds are in my favor. But we might need to return to Europe—the medical care there is better. At least psychologically, I’d feel more at ease."

His wife and daughter didn’t object.

But Paul hesitated.

After a long silence, he shook his head. "But I’m in the middle of a critical project. As your people say, I planted the tree, watered it, and now someone else might pluck the fruit—the fruit that’s supposed to secure our family’s future."

His wife retorted, "If you stay and your condition worsens, who cares about wealth? You might not even live to see it!"

"…"

The truth hit Paul like a ton of bricks.

Then, he broke down, sobbing uncontrollably.

A middle-aged, balding man crumpled onto the carpet, weeping like a child.

It was almost comical.

But once the tears dried, clarity emerged.

Paul pulled out his phone, scrolled through his contacts, and dialed a number.

"Hello, Mr. Paul? Decided to sell O’Lai? Name your price," came a cheerful voice.

Paul sighed. "Young Master Cao, I owe you my thanks. I went to the hospital today. The doctor told me I have gastric cancer."

"Heh. Early-stage, right?"

Paul gasped. "You’re clairvoyant! As the Chinese say, you ‘foresee everything.’"

Young Master Cao replied, "I know a bit of traditional medicine. Your complexion gave you away. But you didn’t call this late just to thank me, did you?"

"…"

Paul hesitated before confessing, "I’ll likely step down from O’Lai’s core leadership. I’m returning to Europe for treatment. I wanted to tell you… about the supplier issue. I was the one who approached General Manager Li and bought up all the X-Essence."

"You bastard! Why don’t you just drop dead?"

"…?!"

"Apologies, that was uncalled for. I was watching a movie—Japanese, actually. Got me all worked up."

Paul understood instantly.

After a decade in China, he’d picked up on the cultural quirks.

"No offense taken. Your anger is justified. I truly am sorry. It was just business—warfare, really. I was doing my job."

"If I’d known about my health sooner, or heeded your advice earlier, we might’ve been good friends. I wouldn’t have cut off your supply chain," Paul admitted remorsefully.

Young Master Cao chuckled. "You really think you succeeded?"

"Huh?" Paul was stunned.

"You did block us, impressive. But don’t worry. We Chinese excel at ‘snatching victory from the jaws of defeat.’ Just watch how I turn the tables… When are you leaving?"

"Tomorrow’s flight."

"Well… bon voyage."

"Thank you. And again, I’m deeply sorry."

"If you’re truly sorry, focus on getting better. Once you’re cured, come be Miracle’s regional CEO for Europe."

"…" Paul was speechless. Finally, he nodded. "If you can actually break into the European and American market, I’d consider it. But first, you’ll need to solve the essence shortage."

"Also, back at headquarters, I’ll recommend a less aggressive successor. Hope that helps."

They spoke a while longer before hanging up.

Paul never asked Young Master Cao for medical help—likely doubting his ability to cure him.

Young Master Cao didn’t offer either.

Respecting one’s fate was paramount.

Besides, giving him a heads-up years in advance was already a gesture of admiration—a nod to his talent.

The man had spent half his life expanding O’Lai’s empire.

In just a few years, he had managed to navigate every critical juncture of the cosmetics market in the entire Eastern powerhouse, rising to the top position!

Though the platform provided by L'Oréal had offered considerable assistance,

there was no denying the strength of his decision-making and patience.

Of course,

Young Master Cao had absolutely no ulterior motives for his mixed-race daughter.

He simply recognized the man's capabilities.

In the future, he would rely on him to expand his territory in Europe and America… 'Using barbarians to control barbarians' was a necessary strategy.

...

After hanging up the phone,

Cao Cheng tossed his phone onto the coffee table.

From across the room, Eldest Sister, who had been pretending to read, looked up.

"Paul?"

"Yes, he's returning to Europe tomorrow. Stomach cancer!"

"What?"

Eldest Sister hadn’t expected such a turn of events.

She frowned in concern. "After he leaves, L'Oréal’s headquarters will send a new CEO. Could that disrupt your plans?"

Cao Cheng shook his head. "Even a China expert like Paul couldn’t spot the issue. What trouble could some foreigner who needs a translator even cause? Still… Paul’s departure does throw a minor wrench into my plans."

Earlier,

Cao Cheng had intended to do Paul a favor by helping him with treatment—a life-saving gesture.

He’d even considered collaborating with Paul to manipulate L'Oréal from within and without.

An inside ally would’ve made the takeover smoother, or at least faster.

But who knew Paul would delay his checkup for so long?

And after the diagnosis, he immediately decided to return to Europe for treatment.

However,

Cao Cheng’s plans were always multi-layered. Even if one link faltered, the overall objective remained intact.

"The samples and reports of the essence have already been sent to Europe," Cao Cheng said. "Including the latest batch, which is about to be used in L'Oréal’s new flagship product. This process is irreversible."

"Even if a handful of exceptionally sharp minds notice something amiss, so long as the profits are astronomical, L'Oréal’s executives won’t halt the product launch. Who could resist gains in the hundreds or thousands of percent?"

"Besides, I don’t believe they’re clever enough to see through my scheme."

"They lack the intellect."

Cao Cheng smirked. "Paul’s exit will leave L'Oréal China in a leaderless vacuum…"

"Perfect timing for General Manager Li to negotiate with other industry giants. We’ll find an excuse to share the essence with them—why let L'Oréal monopolize the market?"

"I want a full-blown revolution."

"Only when other giants get their hands on the essence will L'Oréal be too preoccupied to overanalyze. They’ll focus solely on rushing their product to dominate the luxury segment."

"This is what you call 'introducing a catfish'—or 'driving a tiger to devour a wolf.'"

Cao Cheng stroked his chin,

though it was clean-shaven.

That didn’t stop him from savoring the image of strategizing from his armchair while securing victory a thousand miles away.

Eldest Sister put herself in his shoes and gasped in realization.

Young Master Cao’s methods were blunt,

but devastatingly effective.

Once the essence, now up for grabs due to Paul’s departure, landed in the hands of other cosmetics titans and swept through Europe and America, L'Oréal would be racing against time.

Their only path forward would be to sprint ahead—

accelerating R&D to launch their product before competitors.

Then,

the giants would turn on each other.

Engaging in endless battles, burning cash, even slashing prices.

By the time they’d carved up the mid-to-high-end and luxury markets, and the dust settled, Cao Cheng would simply cut off the essence supply.

And then…

Hiss—

Eldest Sister shuddered at the thought of what would follow.