The Hearth of Humanity

The expansion of Yuanlong Technology was unstoppable.

The "Boundless" system, like a ravenous serpent, devoured market shares both domestically and abroad.

Artificial intelligence, biomedical research, new materials—

Every piece Lu Chenyuan had strategically placed was now falling into place.

His business empire was growing at a terrifying pace.

But with it came invisible pressure and hidden adversaries.

Every day, countless reports and data landed on his desk.

Every decision he made could alter the future trajectory of an entire industry.

He stood atop the summit like a solitary, clear-eyed monarch.

Yet everything changed when he returned to the penthouse of Cloud Peak One.

Here was another world—his world.

A soft, lived-in sanctuary few were permitted to enter.

Mo Qingli had become a frequent visitor.

At first, she only dropped by occasionally to discuss business collaborations.

When Lu Chenyuan returned from Country Y with a fractured leg, Mo Qingli had bought the apartment below his to care for him.

But after his recovery, she mostly returned to the Mo family residence.

Gradually, however, she began driving straight here after work.

She would kick off her heels, slip into comfortable slippers, and shed the armor of the Mo Group's queen.

Languidly curled on the sofa, she no longer pored solely over Mo Group’s financial reports.

Now, they included dossiers on Lu Chenyuan’s rivals—or potential threats.

"This Wall Street wolf named Vincent has been short-selling several of our suppliers. His tactics are insidious, targeting those with weak cash flow."

Mo Qingli pointed at the blond man’s photo on her tablet, her voice cool but laced with concern.

"His goal is to disrupt our supply chain and delay production of the 'Boundless' vehicles."

From the kitchen came the rhythmic sound of chopping.

Lu Chenyuan, wearing a simple apron, was handling a premium cut of beef brisket.

His knife skills were impeccable—steady, precise, swift.

He had kept his promise to Mo Qingli after his injury: cooking for her.

"I’ve had my eye on him for a while," Lu Chenyuan’s voice drifted from the kitchen, softened by the aroma of food.

"Just a fly drawn to blood. Nothing to worry about."

"I’ve asked Lin Yuan to prepare a 'gift' for him. It’ll reach him in a couple of days."

Mo Qingli didn’t press further. She trusted Lu Chenyuan’s judgment—and his methods.

Setting the tablet aside, she strolled to the kitchen island.

She watched as Lu Chenyuan blanched the brisket, then transferred it to a clay pot with spices and a secret sauce.

His movements were fluid, more reminiscent of a seasoned chef than the CEO of a billion-dollar empire.

"What’s on the menu today?" she asked curiously.

"Braised beef with tomatoes," Lu Chenyuan replied. "An old woman once taught me this recipe. She said it was her family’s secret—a dish that brings happiness."

Mo Qingli studied his focused profile, her heart stirring faintly.

She realized she loved watching him cook.

This man, who outside these walls was the decisive, formidable Lu Chenyuan, could return home and craft something warm and ordinary—just for her.

That contrast fascinated her more than any sweet words ever could.

As Lu Chenyuan’s empire grew, he came home later each night.

Mo Qingli noticed, and an impulse flickered within her.

But after several disastrous attempts at cooking—nearly destroying his high-end kitchenware and almost setting the kitchen ablaze—she accepted a hard truth: even the infallible Queen of Mo Group had her limits.

From then on, Lu Chenyuan officially claimed the kitchen.

And Mo Qingli happily surrendered to his culinary care.

His skills were a constant surprise.

He cooked dishes she’d never heard of, yet each was astonishingly delicious.

Once, he made "Iron Pot Chicken"—a rustic, hearty dish with dough slapped onto the sides of a sizzling wok, the chicken stewing beneath.

The primal, steaming feast was a revelation to her, a woman raised on impeccable table manners.

Another time, it was "Sour Fish Soup" from the southwestern mountains.

The tangy, appetite-whetting broth had her devouring three bowls of rice.

And there was more: steamed pot chicken, blood cake duck, bamboo worm jelly—dishes Mo Qingli had never encountered before.

Lu Chenyuan was a trove of secrets.

She never knew what unexpected facet of him she’d discover next.

And she adored it.

Outside, they were allies, commanding respect with unshakable presence.

Here, they shed all titles, becoming just two ordinary young people.

Amid the cutthroat world of business, this was their haven of peace.

This steady, tender dynamic filled her with quiet contentment.

......

That evening, just as Lu Chenyuan set the brisket to simmer, his private phone rang.

It was Ren Qian.

"Lu Chenyuan, apologies for disturbing you so late." Her voice carried urgency.

"I’ve just received an urgent acquisition proposal from North America’s 'Starlink.' They demand our response before the U.S. market opens tomorrow."

"This proposal impacts our global communications strategy. I need to brief you in person immediately."

Lu Chenyuan glanced at the wall clock—9 p.m.

He paused.

The Cloud Peak One penthouse was his sanctum.

Apart from Lin Yuan and Zhang Qi, who’d visited under exceptional circumstances, no subordinate had ever stepped inside.

Especially not Ren Qian.

He knew his old classmate’s feelings all too well.

Precisely why he maintained distance.

Unnecessary private contact was irresponsible—a form of ambiguous cruelty.

But tonight’s matter was critical. The "Starlink" proposal required his direct review.

His gaze shifted to Mo Qingli, reading in the living room.

An idea flickered in his mind.

Perhaps this was also an opportunity—

A clean cut.

"Meet me at Cloud Peak One’s entrance. Call when you arrive," he said.

"Understood."

Hanging up, Mo Qingli looked up.

"Work emergency?"

"Mn. Ren Qian is delivering urgent documents." His tone was deliberately neutral.

Mo Qingli was razor-sharp.

She instantly detected the undercurrent in his voice.

With a faint smile, she returned to her book, as if indifferent.