Farewell in the Eye of the Storm

Yuanlong Technologies, top-floor office.

The atmosphere was even heavier than in the Western Mountain conference room.

Lin Yuan and Ren Qian stood before Lu Chenyuan’s desk, their faces etched with identical shock and opposition.

“Old Lu, have you lost your mind?” Ren Qian’s voice carried an uncontainable intensity for the first time. “How is this any different from suicide?”

She had followed Lu Chenyuan for years—from university to entrepreneurship—and never once had she seen him make such an impulsive, or rather, reckless decision.

“They’re baiting you into going!” Lin Yuan forced himself to stay calm, methodically laying out his reasoning.

“They took Mr. Mo to force your hand. The moment you land, you become their second bargaining chip. Then, we’ll be completely at their mercy.”

They were Lu Chenyuan’s most trusted right-hand advisors.

They understood the thunderous weight of the "Buzhou Mountain" protocol.

But they couldn’t comprehend why Lu Chenyuan would willingly step into the eye of the storm.

Lu Chenyuan looked up.

His eyes had regained their unfathomable calm.

“Everything you’ve said is correct.”

His voice was unnervingly steady.

“But you’ve overlooked one thing.”

“From the moment they targeted Qingli, this game stopped having rules.”

“They think they’ve found my weakness. They think I’ll hesitate, that I’ll bend to their demands at the negotiation table.”

“That kind of thinking is naive—and dangerous.”

Lu Chenyuan rose and walked to the floor-to-ceiling window, gazing down at the technological empire he had built with his own hands.

“They underestimated Qingli’s importance to me.”

“And they underestimated my resolve.”

“If I don’t go, this conspiracy against us will never end. They’ll use Qingli, then our other allies, to bleed us dry.”

“My going sends them a message: the game is over.”

“I am the rules now.”

Lin Yuan and Ren Qian fell silent.

In Lu Chenyuan’s words, they heard an unshakable will.

This wasn’t impulsiveness.

It was a strategy born of cold calculation—direct, effective, and utterly ruthless.

To step onto the board as a living piece.

To become the variable that shattered the enemy’s plans.

“Old Lu…” Lin Yuan’s voice was hoarse. “I’m coming with you.”

Lu Chenyuan turned and shook his head.

“No. You have a more important task.”

“Guard our home.”

“Let the world know that even in my absence, Yuanlong, Hanqing, and Lianshan remain unshakable.”

“That’s an order.”

Those final four words ended all debate.

…

Night enveloped Jingzhou.

Lu Chenyuan didn’t return to Cloud Peak Residence No. 1.

Instead, he drove to his mother Lou Mengling’s home—a quiet suburban courtyard.

Pushing open the door, warm light and the aroma of home-cooked food instantly dispelled the late-night chill.

The living room was full: his mother Lou Mengling, his younger sister Lu Ruoxi, and his three brothers, who had rushed over upon hearing the news.

No clamoring voices.

Just silent waiting.

The table was laden with dishes Lu Chenyuan had loved since childhood.

“You’re back.”

Lou Mengling stepped forward, taking his coat, her eyes heavy with worry.

But she asked no questions.

She didn’t weep or beg her son not to take the risk, as other mothers might.

Instead, she simply led him to the table.

“Eat before it gets cold.”

She piled food onto his plate, as if trying to anchor him there through sheer force of care.

“Brother.”

Lu Ruoxi broke the silence.

Her gaze was clear and steady as she looked at him.

“‘Skybreaker’ is ready.”

“All my academic contacts in Country J have received my emails.”

“They’ll mobilize every resource to provide intelligence support.”

She paused, then spoke deliberately:

“We’ll be waiting for you and Qingli to come home.”

The three brothers raised their glasses in unison. “We’ll be waiting for you and Qingli to come home.”

Lu Chenyuan looked at his family—at his mother’s tearful smile, at his siblings’ faces, matured overnight by adversity.

He said nothing.

He picked up his bowl and ate.

Quickly. Heartily.

As if it were the most delicious meal in the world.

The dinner passed in quiet warmth.

Before leaving, Lu Chenyuan embraced his mother.

“Mom, I won’t be long.”

“I’ll bring her back—safe and whole.”

Lou Mengling finally let her tears fall.

She nodded fiercely, patting her son’s back.

“Good. Good. I’ll be here, waiting for you both.”

…

Leaving his mother’s home, Lu Chenyuan drove to the Mo family estate.

The lights were on there too.

In the study, only two people sat:

Lu Chenyuan, and Mo Zhenbang—patriarch of the Mo Group, father of Mo Qingli.

No tea. Just a glass of water.

Mo Zhenbang studied the young man before him.

His eyes, sharpened by decades in the business world, now held a storm of emotions—admiration, concern, and a father’s helplessness.

“My people are already there,” Mo Zhenbang said, his voice low.

“The Mo family still has old connections in Country J, built over decades. They may not swing the tide, but they’ll ensure Qingli isn’t mistreated.”

“Thank you, Uncle.” Lu Chenyuan inclined his head slightly.

“You should have stopped her.” A thread of reproach ran through Mo Zhenbang’s tone.

“I failed in that.” Lu Chenyuan offered no defense. After a beat, he added,

“But you know her. It was her duty. She wouldn’t retreat.”

Mo Zhenbang exhaled heavily.

Of course he knew his daughter.

That unyielding pride and resilience—it mirrored his own younger self.

“What does the Mo family need to do?” No more circling.

“Hold steady.” Two words.

“Stabilize Mo Group’s stock. Steady the morale.”

“Show everyone the Mo Group won’t fall.”

“Leave the rest to me.”

Mo Zhenbang watched him for a long moment.

This young man was calmer—more formidable—than he’d imagined.

This wasn’t a corporate crisis. It was war without gunfire.

Yet not a flicker of panic showed on his face.

“Alright.” Mo Zhenbang nodded. “I trust you.”

Just then, the study door opened.

Lin Shuhan, Mo Qingli’s mother, entered carrying a bowl of soup.

Her eyes were red from crying.

“Chenyuan, have some soup.” She set the bowl before him. “That child… she’s always been so stubborn…”

Her voice broke.

“Auntie.” Lu Chenyuan stood, meeting her gaze with solemn certainty.

“I promise you.”

“No matter where she is, I’ll find her.”

“No matter who took her, I’ll make them pay.”

“Then, I’ll bring her home.”

Lin Shuhan looked into his resolute eyes, wiped away her tears, and nodded firmly.

She knew her daughter had not chosen the wrong man.

...

Before dawn, Lu Chenyuan arranged to meet an unexpected person.

In Jingzhou, at a private teahouse closed to the public.

Qin Ya sat alone, waiting.

The tea in front of her had gone cold.

When Lu Chenyuan entered, she didn’t rise—only lifted her gaze slightly.

"You actually dared to go," she said, her tone unreadable—whether mocking or admiring.

"I had no choice," Lu Chenyuan replied, taking the seat across from her.

"The Qin Group has suspended all collaborations with J-Country," Qin Ya stated coolly.

"I’ve also sent a formal notice to the Mo family. The Qins will leverage all our political connections in J-Country to pressure them on your behalf."

Lu Chenyuan gave her a measured look.

"Self-preservation, nothing more," Qin Ya said, lifting the cold tea to her lips. "Besides, I despise underhanded tactics."

She set the cup down, her lips curving into a self-deprecating smile. "Most importantly, I won’t take advantage of others’ misfortunes. If I win, I’ll do it honorably."

Lu Chenyuan studied her.

This woman, for all her capriciousness, carried the pride of a top-tier heiress in her bones.

"Thank you," he said sincerely.

Just then, the teahouse door swung open again.

Huangfu Chengshi rushed in, his backpack slung over his shoulder, looking travel-worn but exhilarated.

"Lu—Lu Chenyuan!" His eyes lit up at the sight of him, brimming with excitement.

"Sis—Sister Ya mentioned you’d be here, so I... I came too."

His admiration for Lu Chenyuan was unmistakable.

"'Edge-1' is impressive work," Lu Chenyuan said, surprising him with a faint smile.

Huangfu Chengshi flushed like a child praised for good grades.

"It... It’s still far from perfect."

"No." Lu Chenyuan shook his head. "Its underlying logic is unique. With enough computational power, it might one day rival 'Genesis.'"

The acknowledgment from the modern tech titan left Huangfu Chengshi nearly speechless.

He could tell this wasn’t empty flattery—it was genuine recognition.

"I... I’ll keep working hard!"

"Good." Lu Chenyuan stood. "I should go."

He said nothing more.

But before leaving, he turned to Qin Ya.

"This young man has promise. Don’t waste it."

Qin Ya blinked, her composure unreadable, as if she didn’t grasp the implication.

Then Lu Chenyuan took his leave.

Neither Qin Ya nor Lu Chenyuan noticed the flicker of ambition in Huangfu Chengshi’s eyes as he watched Lu Chenyuan depart—burning beneath the veneer of admiration.

...

Jingzhou International Airport, VIP tarmac.

A Gulfstream G700 waited silently for its owner.

Lin Yuan, Ren Qian, Lu Ruoxi—every core team member had come to see him off.

His mother and brothers were absent.

At Lu Chenyuan’s request.

He disliked drawn-out farewells.

Just as he prepared to board, a black Hongqi sedan glided to a stop nearby.

The door opened, and an elderly but vigorous man stepped out, leaning on a cane.

Lu Chengsi.

Lu Chenyuan’s grandfather.

His appearance stunned everyone.

The semi-reclusive patriarch, long retired from worldly affairs, had come to the airport in person.

Lu Chengsi ignored the others.

He walked straight to Lu Chenyuan.

Grandfather and grandson faced each other.

This was the man who had once elevated Lu Chenyuan to power—yet whose indulgence toward his own sons had also burdened Lu Chenyuan with endless strife.

Theirs was a complicated bond.

"Grandfather," Lu Chenyuan greeted, his voice steady.

Lu Chengsi studied his eldest grandson.

No well-wishes were exchanged.

Instead, the old man reached out, his wrinkled hand gripping Lu Chenyuan’s shoulder firmly.

"Go."

Lu Chenyuan nodded.

"Alright."

He turned toward the aircraft’s steps without another word.

He didn’t look back.

Dawnlight pierced the clouds, casting his silhouette—long, solitary, and unyielding—across the tarmac.