Freshmen

Autumn in Gedu finally came to an end.

The first snow arrived without a sound.

Delicate snowflakes settled on the withered maple branches of the rooftop terrace, quickly forming a thin layer.

The world seemed to have been muted.

This tranquility was infused with new warmth by the arrival of a person.

Mo Qingli’s mother, Lin Shuhan, had arrived.

Lin Shuhan’s presence made this luxurious "cage" feel more like an ordinary home.

There was a peculiar harmony between the two mothers, Lin Shuhan and Lou Mengling.

They would sit together in the sunlit living room, one knitting tiny baby sweaters, the other trimming freshly delivered flower arrangements.

Their conversations never touched on the storms outside.

Instead, they spoke of how stubborn Qingli had been as a child, and how silent Chenyuan had been.

They talked of the plum rains of Jiangnan and the snowstorms of Jingzhou.

Lu Chenyuan and Mo Qingli often sat quietly beside them, listening.

Time seemed to flow more slowly here.

Yet, the struggles of the outside world never ceased.

Lu Chenyuan’s dismantling of the "Yuanlong System" sent shockwaves across the globe.

His move had caught everyone off guard.

The politicians in Country A, who had been brandishing sanctions like clubs, suddenly found themselves without a clear target.

Yuanlong, Hanqing, Lianshan—these were no longer Lu Chenyuan’s personal assets but belonged to a vast collective of core employees.

Attacking any one of them meant declaring war on some of Xia Country’s brightest minds.

More importantly, the seeds Lu Chenyuan had sown through "asymmetric warfare" were quietly taking root worldwide.

From water wells in Africa to art exhibitions in Europe.

From the open-source trial models of "Kaitian" to the unexpected "New Energy Industry Alliance."

Xia Country’s technology and capital were no longer an empire ruled by Lu Chenyuan’s commands.

They had become a self-propagating rainforest—rich in diversity, deeply interconnected, and teeming with vitality.

Country A realized they were no longer facing a single tree that could be easily felled.

Instead, they were up against an entire ecosystem where the climate and soil were shifting.

The scales of this game were tilting silently.

The authorities in Country J were the first to sense this change.

They had believed that detaining Mo Qingli would give them leverage over Lu Chenyuan.

They thought they were the most crucial pawn in this great power struggle.

But now, they found themselves in an awkward position.

The player, it seemed, was no longer paying much attention to the board.

Lu Chenyuan lived leisurely in Gedu, spending his days accompanying his pregnant wife—strolling, reading, listening to music.

He had even set up a small woodworking room in another suite.

With the finest timber and protective goggles, he clumsily learned to craft a tiny cradle for his unborn child.

There was no trace of the anxiety or anger expected of a "hostage’s" family.

This extreme calm, however, unnerved Country J.

They realized Lu Chenyuan wasn’t relying on their "mercy" at all.

He was waiting.

Waiting for shifts in the international landscape, for the growth of Xia Country’s industries, for the rainforest he had planted to mature into a force capable of altering the climate.

Time was not on Country J’s side.

That afternoon, Ambassador Li Wenbo visited again.

His expression carried a hint of relief.

"Mr. Lu, things are changing," he said, handing Lu Chenyuan a briefing in the study.

"In Europe, several major automakers have jointly protested against Country A’s restrictions."

They argue that limiting the 'Tianshu System' would severely hinder the intelligentization process of Europe’s automotive industry, putting them at a disadvantage against Xia Country’s car manufacturers.

"Also, those 'small kindnesses' you planted in Country J are bearing fruit."

"'Living Water Lab’s' new rice variety has succeeded in trial plantings in northern Country J, increasing yields by fifteen percent. The agricultural association is petitioning the government to expand cooperation."

Li Wenbo looked at Lu Chenyuan with unconcealed admiration.

This young man had stirred the world, then simply closed his doors to live a quiet life.

Yet the world was unfolding exactly as he had scripted.

Lu Chenyuan listened calmly and nodded.

"Understood."

His reaction was so indifferent it seemed none of this concerned him.

What he cared about more was something else.

"Ambassador Li, how are the arrangements with Gedu’s best maternity hospital?"

Li Wenbo paused, then chuckled wryly and shook his head.

He had met countless strategists, but never one who, on the eve of battle, was solely preoccupied with preparing a delivery room for his child.

"Don’t worry," Li Wenbo replied earnestly, putting away the documents.

"It’s all arranged. The Royal Central Hospital, the best team, on standby around the clock."

"Good." A faint smile finally appeared on Lu Chenyuan’s face.

As the due date approached, the atmosphere in the suite grew tense yet brimming with anticipation.

Lu Chenyuan set aside all his "hobbies."

No more hammering in the woodworking room, no more reading business or tech news.

All his time was devoted to Mo Qingli.

He recited poetry to her.

Not the obscure, intricate kind that required deep interpretation.

Just the simplest nursery rhymes.

"Spring sleep, dawn unnoticed, everywhere birds sing."

His deep voice resonated in the quiet room.

Mo Qingli leaned against him, her hand resting gently on her rounded belly.

She could feel the little one inside listening quietly too.

Sometimes, Mo Qingli would gaze at Lu Chenyuan’s profile, lost in thought.

She wondered—if not for this accident, this quasi-imprisonment—what would their lives have been like?

Perhaps they would still be allies fighting side by side.

Two independent individuals who admired each other.

But they might never have had this stretch of slow time, stripped of all external roles, belonging only to each other.

They might never have had the chance to fumble clumsily together, preparing for a new life.

"Chenyuan," she murmured softly.

"Hmm?"

"When we go back, we’re taking that cradle you made."

"It’s too ugly," Lu Chenyuan said, embarrassed. "The edges aren’t even smoothed."

"No, it’s not." Mo Qingli shook her head and smiled. "It’s Shi’an’s first gift."

Lu Chenyuan lowered his head and kissed her forehead lightly.

"Alright."

The snow fell again through the night.

Gedu was blanketed in pure white.

At dawn, Mo Qingli woke to a faint, rhythmic tightening in her abdomen.

She opened her eyes.

No panic.

Just calm.

She nudged Lu Chenyuan, who was sleeping soundly beside her.

"Chenyuan, I think… it’s time."

Lu Chenyuan woke instantly.

The man, who had been immersed in slumber just a second ago, now had eyes that were completely clear and calm.

He glanced at the time, noting the frequency of the contractions.

Then, unhurriedly, he pressed the emergency call button by the bedside.

Everything proceeded in an orderly manner.

As if they had rehearsed this moment a thousand times.

Royal Central Hospital.

The VIP delivery room on the top floor had long been cleared.

The corridor was lined with solemn-faced security personnel.

Lin Shuhan and Lou Mengling waited anxiously outside the delivery room, praying incessantly.

One was a matriarch accustomed to the storms of the business world, the other a resilient woman who had weathered life’s upheavals.

But now, they were simply mothers, worried for their daughter.

Lu Chenyuan did not wait outside.

He changed into sterile scrubs and accompanied Mo Qingli into the delivery room.

Holding her hand, he said nothing.

But his gaze, his warmth, the steady and powerful strength transmitted through his palm—these were the best sedatives.

Mo Qingli looked at him.

At the fine beads of sweat on his temples, born of tension.

At his eyes, which had never wavered even in the face of global dominance, now filled with concern and tenderness meant only for her.

Suddenly, the pain in her abdomen seemed to lessen.

She gave him a weak smile.

"Don’t be afraid," she said. "I’m Mo Qingli, after all."

Yes.

She was Mo Qingli.

The Mo Qingli who never surrendered, no matter the adversity.

He returned her smile.

"I know."

Time passed, second by second.

For everyone outside the delivery room, each moment was agony.

Finally, a clear, loud cry pierced the quiet of the dawn.

Like a beam of light, dispelling all the gloom and waiting.

A boy.

Seven pounds and six ounces. Mother and child, both safe.

When the nurse brought the tiny, wrinkled, red-faced bundle to Lu Chenyuan,

the man experienced something he never had before—utter helplessness.

Tentatively, he reached out, wanting to touch the baby but afraid to disturb him.

He gazed at that small life, eyes tightly shut.

This was his blood, the continuation of his and Qingli’s love.

The grandest, most precious victory in their silent war.

Cradling the child, he bent down to look at Mo Qingli, her face pale but her eyes brimming with joy.

A thousand words condensed into the simplest sentence.

"Qingli, you’ve worked hard."

Mo Qingli shook her head, tears slipping from the corners of her eyes.

"Give him a name," she said.

Lu Chenyuan straightened slightly and murmured,

"Let’s call him Lu Shi’an."

"Born in this moment, returning home in peace."

Mo Qingli repeated the name, her vision blurring with fresh tears.

Shi’an.

Lu Shi’an.

...

The child’s arrival was like a powerful signal.

Swiftly, it spread to every corner of Nation J’s political arena.

When the Prime Minister of Nation J saw the special report on the name "Lu Shi’an" in his office,

he remained silent for a long time.

He knew Lu Chenyuan was sending him a message.

The standoff, with time as the wager, was over.

The birth of a new life marked a fresh beginning.

He could wait.

But Nation J, struggling to survive in the cracks, could wait no longer.

The Prime Minister slowly rose and walked to the window.

Gazing at the snow-covered, tranquil city in the distance,

he picked up the red phone on his desk and dialed a number.

"Prepare," he said into the receiver, his voice weary but resolute.

"We can talk now."