Mortal World

Not just the tech world was waiting—the entire globe held its breath.

From Xia Country to Nation A, countless analysts and investors anticipated Lu Chenyuan's return.

They awaited a product launch, a manifesto, a new strategy powerful enough to shift the global tech landscape.

Though Yuanlong Tech had long been delisted, stocks of all companies associated with it soared after Lu Chenyuan's homecoming, market sentiment peaking at a fever pitch.

Everyone wondered what changes this former titan would bring.

Then, under the world’s watchful gaze, Yuanlong Tech’s official website updated with just one terse announcement.

No press conference.

No company-wide letter.

Only a routine personnel notice, the kind typically issued by HR.

"By resolution of the board, Mr. Lu Chenyuan is appointed Chief Strategy Advisor of Yuanlong Tech."

Chief Strategy Advisor.

A lofty-sounding title, yet clearly detached from day-to-day operations—a ceremonial role.

And that was it. No further news about Lu Chenyuan.

Just those words.

The entire market—competitors and allies alike—plunged into confusion.

Media outlets scrambled to interpret the move.

Some claimed Lu Chenyuan was retreating to advance, hinting at a grander scheme.

Others argued he had lost a power struggle with the board, stripped of real authority.

Still others insisted that three years of trials had dulled the edge of this once-feared leader.

Speculations snowballed, flooding financial headlines worldwide.

...

Yet at the eye of the storm—

The penthouse of Cloud Peak Residences.

Steam curled in the bathroom.

Lu Chenyuan crouched on the floor, his expression focused, even tense—as if facing a formidable opponent.

Before him sat an adorable whale-shaped baby bathtub filled with warm water.

The thermometer displayed a precise 38.5°C, the optimal temperature he’d determined after poring over countless parenting guides.

Neatly arranged nearby were baby shampoo, massage oil, and a plush cotton towel.

Everything was in meticulous order, like preparations for a delicate chemistry experiment.

In the tub, Lu Shi'an giggled, splashing water with his tiny feet.

After returning home, Lou Mengling and Lin Shuhan hadn’t stayed indefinitely downstairs.

Lou Mengling had previously put her work on hold to care for her son, daughter-in-law, and later her grandson in the capital.

Now, backlogged obligations at Jingzhou University awaited her—along with Wang Tongwen.

Lin Shuhan, too, had returned to the Mo family estate, as Mo Zhenbang needed her.

Both mothers gradually resumed their own rhythms.

Thus, for the first time, the full responsibility of caring for Lu Shi'an fell squarely on the new parents.

"Alright, An'an, time to wash your hair," Lu Chenyuan coaxed, his voice tender.

He picked up a cartoon-shaped rinsing cap with ear guards, carefully attempting to place it on his son’s head.

Lu Shi'an, who had been merrily playing with the water, seemed to treat this as a new game.

He shook his head like a rattle drum, evading the cap.

Lu Chenyuan took a deep breath, feeling more nervous than when confronting Nation A’s sanctions.

After several attempts, he finally succeeded in securing the cap.

He exhaled in relief, dampened his son’s hair with a washcloth, applied a dab of shampoo, and gently massaged.

Just as he thought the worst was over—

Lu Shi'an’s tiny hands suddenly grabbed the cap’s rim and yanked.

"Splash—!"

The cap flew off, sending a wave of soapy water straight into Lu Chenyuan’s face and clothes.

He froze.

Ignoring his own drenched state, his first instinct was to check his son’s eyes, fearing soap had seeped in.

Fortunately, the angle spared them.

Mo Qingli, having just finished reviewing a Mo Group document, walked into the bedroom to this scene:

The man who had once shaken the world’s power dynamics in Nation J now stood with damp hair, flecks of white foam dotting his face.

Crouched helplessly before the bathtub, he watched the gleefully giggling baby with utter defeat.

She couldn’t help but lean against the doorframe and laugh.

"Chief Strategy Advisor," she teased, "your new project seems... challenging?"

Hearing her, Lu Chenyuan turned with a wry smile, mirroring the amusement in her eyes.

He glanced at his own hands—the same ones that had signed billion-dollar contracts and steered corporate strategies.

Now, they felt utterly clumsy.

"Stay still. Let me help." Mo Qingli stepped forward, though she made no move to take over.

Instead, she unhurriedly plucked a yellow rubber duck from the shelf, wiggled it before Lu Shi'an’s eyes, and set it afloat.

"Quack," she squeaked, giving the toy a light squeeze.

Instantly, Lu Shi'an’s attention locked onto the chirping, bobbing novelty.

He stretched both hands, engrossed in capturing the elusive duck.

Mo Qingli shot Lu Chenyuan a glance.

He caught her meaning at once.

Swiftly, he reapplied shampoo, rinsed, and finished the job without further protest.

This time, Lu Shi'an was too busy "battling" the duck to resist.

After the bath, Lu Chenyuan bundled his son in a large towel, cradling him close.

The little one smelled of milk and baby shampoo, his cheeks pink, yawning as he nuzzled into his father’s warmth.

Lu Chenyuan’s heart swelled.

Carrying Lu Shi'an out, he found Mo Qingli already holding fresh clothes and a diaper.

"Seems your new role is tougher than expected," she remarked softly.

Lu Chenyuan chuckled, pulling her into an embrace as he sat beside her.

"It is. Harder than any corporate challenge."

Mo Qingli rested her head on his shoulder, watching their drowsy, clean-scented son.

"But also happier," she whispered.

He tightened his arms around her.

Yes.

Outside the window lay the world’s clamor, speculation, and relentless chase.

Inside, there was only the sweetness of baby formula and the quiet joy of three.

This—this was the most precious reward he’d fought for over three long years.

...

That afternoon, after signing a stack of essential documents, Lu Chenyuan called Lu Ruoxi.

The phone rang endlessly before she picked up.

"Brother?" Her voice carried exhaustion.

"Still in the lab?" he asked.

"Yeah. An algorithm’s at a critical phase."

"Drop it." His tone was calm.

"What?" Lu Ruoxi thought she’d misheard.

"I said, put your work down. Leave with Su Yang. Go home."

Though gentle, his words brooked no argument.

"But—"

"No buts," Lu Chenyuan cut in. "What I told Zhang Qi yesterday wasn’t a suggestion. It was an order."

He paused, softening slightly.

"Ruoxi, life is long. There's more to it than just code and formulas."

"A brief pause won't delay anything. In fact, it might help you see further."

Lu Ruoxi fell silent on the other end of the line.

After a long moment, she finally responded softly.

"...Alright, I understand, brother."

Lu Ruoxi hung up the phone and stood motionless before the massive data waterfall screen, her gaze distant.

Su Yang emerged from another equipment room and noticed her uncharacteristic daze.

"What's wrong?"

"My brother called," Lu Ruoxi turned to look at him.

"He's ordering us to clock out immediately."

Su Yang blinked in surprise, then smiled.

"Well then... should we obey?"

He removed his white lab coat and picked up his jacket from the rack along with Lu Ruoxi's trench coat.

Approaching her, he gently draped the coat over her shoulders.

"Let's go, Chief Scientist. When the boss speaks, we listen."

Lu Ruoxi studied Su Yang.

The boyish uncertainty of his student days had faded—his shoulders had broadened, his eyes steady and warm.

For eight years now, he'd remained by her side.

From that tiny classroom in Anhe County to the lecture halls of Jingzhou University.

Then to Dragon Abyss Technologies, this AI laboratory gathering the world's finest minds.

He'd transformed from someone chasing her shadow to standing as her equal.

In academics. In career. In life.

"Alright."

Lu Ruoxi nodded and powered down the screen before her.

The entire laboratory seemed to exhale into silence.