Zhang Moyun turned around, and Li Weiyi looked at this legendary man. He should only be forty-seven this year, in his prime, with the same tall stature and stern features as Zhang Jingchan. However, compared to Zhang Jingchan’s refined handsomeness, his features were more upright and imposing. Just standing there quietly, he naturally commanded respect without anger.

This man who now stood at the pinnacle of the business world would, eight years later, be like a rat crossing the street, committing suicide in a cramped, shabby rental apartment.

Li Weiyi’s throat felt dry as she called out: “Dad.”

Zhang Moyun nodded, pulled out a chair and sat down, saying: “Sit.” On the table was a kung fu tea set with a pot already brewed. Zhang Moyun poured himself a cup, then picked up another cup and placed it in front of Li Weiyi.

“Thank you.”

Zhang Moyun gently blew on his teacup, smiled, and said: “Go ahead, what’s this about? Rushing to Shanghai in such a hurry, having the secretary hold me back? Do you urgently need money somewhere? Or is there some trouble you can’t handle?”

Li Weiyi held the hot tea and answered: “Neither. I came because I want to seriously discuss Fu Ming’s future with you.”

Zhang Moyun was startled. His smile deepened as he said: “Your old man can work another twenty years—what future do you need to worry about?”

“There isn’t that much time.”

Zhang Moyun froze.

Li Weiyi looked at him steadily: “Fu Ming doesn’t have time left.”

Zhang Moyun’s face darkened as he watched Li Weiyi operate the computer and project the PPT onto the screen. Li Weiyi understood that for someone like him, the dominance and pride in his bones probably exceeded even Zhang Jingchan’s. Even from his own son, such words would touch a raw nerve. How could she make him listen carefully with an alert heart?

An idea struck Li Weiyi. Instead of following Zhang Jingchan’s PPT step by step with in-depth analysis, she posed a question: “Do you know how large a funding gap would immediately break Fu Ming Group’s capital chain today?”

Zhang Moyun: “How much?”

“Three million.”

Zhang Moyun froze and immediately shook his head: “Impossible. Fu Ming is such a large-scale operation—a mere three million, if it were really this serious, the finance department couldn’t have failed to notice. Did you calculate correctly?”

“That’s because they’re useless.” Li Weiyi ignored the PPT. Those numbers were already deeply familiar to her. She went to a whiteboard nearby and calculated for him on the spot: “Liquid capital in the accounts is eleven million. The Greene project’s remaining property sales are expected to bring in eight million within a week. The Vienna Villas project has six million in construction material payables due within a week, and that’s only considering one week. The bank interest payment due this period is nine million. The Jiangshan Waterfront project has seven million in accounts payable…”

She calculated item by item. Finally arriving at the figure of three million, she pressed the whiteboard marker down hard and said: “Because the accounts are constantly changing and flowing, it’s not obvious. But if anything unexpected happens—for instance, if accounts receivable can’t be collected, or if the bank’s next loan can’t be disbursed on time, or if there’s any unplanned expenditure—as long as it exceeds three million, Fu Ming’s capital chain will break directly. Do you understand what this means? It’s like dominoes—once one falls, countless others will fall, ultimately collapsing completely. Projects under construction will be forced to halt, accounts payable won’t be paid, bank loans will be cut off immediately, and eventually even worker wages can’t be paid out. One link after another, a vicious cycle. The entire Fu Ming will become a huge money pit with gaps everywhere. This plate is too big—we can’t hold it up.”

Zhang Moyun’s face was expressionless. At some point, he’d set down his teacup. His five fingers spread open, pressing against the table, his body leaning slightly forward.

After a moment, he showed a proud expression and said: “That’s just theory. If there’s really a funding gap, I can liquidate any asset in my hands or break up funds with others, and immediately fill the gap. The domino effect you mentioned won’t happen.”

Li Weiyi nodded and said: “Then do you know how much money will immediately break Fu Ming Group’s capital chain two months from now?”

Zhang Moyun’s Adam’s apple bobbed up and down. He said nothing.

Li Weiyi wrote a number on the whiteboard.

Zhang Moyun’s expression changed.

Li Weiyi tossed down the whiteboard marker and said: “I didn’t write it wrong. It’s negative fifty million. Even if you don’t invest in new projects, there will still be a fifty million funding gap, unless you continue borrowing.”

“Then keep taking loans!” Zhang Moyun interrupted her.

Only then did Li Weiyi click open the PPT and said: “Do you know that real estate regulation policies will be announced next month? Do you know that documents raising interest rates have already been issued to the provincial level but just haven’t been made public yet? Do you know what percentage the sales of villas nationwide have declined as of this month? Have you thought about how terrifying the consequences would be if, by this autumn, not a single unit of the newly completed Vienna project sells?”

Zhang Moyun looked at her with heavy eyes as she began going through the PPT slides one by one, explaining to him in depth yet accessible terms.

The PPT’s style was plain black and concise, just like Zhang Jingchan himself. The analytical viewpoints within were like someone wielding a gleaming curved blade, cutting bone and trimming flesh with each stroke—cold and ruthless.

A chill rose in Li Weiyi’s heart.

As she spoke, she seemed to see Zhang Jingchan standing before her. Chairman Zhang eight years later, rising to fame in the business world yet possessing nothing, looking at his father just like this. She suddenly could sense what tone and expression he would have when speaking these heartfelt words to his father. She unconsciously began imitating him. She seemed to see Fu Ming Group as a diseased giant lying before her eyes. And she precisely located each hidden festering abscess on its body, peeling them open to present before Zhang Moyun. She spoke until her mouth was dry, her gaze electric, pouring out her heart and soul, forgetting everything else.

The giant would eventually fall, blood everywhere, desolation all around.

Finally, the PPT was finished. Li Weiyi raised her head to see Zhang Moyun’s face shrouded in the screen’s light and shadow. He sat motionless, like a sculpture. And Li Weiyi felt as if she’d gone through a great battle—exhilarating yet utterly exhausted.

There was a moment of silence in the room. Li Weiyi took a large gulp of water and called: “Dad?”

Zhang Moyun seemed to wake up only then. He lowered his head to drink water. Li Weiyi walked to his side and said: “You really need to make a decision early. The further we go, I’m afraid…”

“You don’t need to say more.” Zhang Moyun interrupted her. He actually turned away, facing the window, not letting her see his face directly. “Let me think it over carefully. You can go out first.”

“Dad!”

“Get out!”

Li Weiyi had no choice but to walk toward the exit. Just as she reached the door, she heard Zhang Moyun say: “You did very well.”

Li Weiyi turned to look at him. He still had his back to her, his voice hoarse as he said: “I’m proud of you.”

Li Weiyi’s eyes suddenly moistened. After a pause, she said: “Your son is indeed worthy of pride. Then can you promise me—for your wife and son, for Fu Ming, for the many more people who follow you—to immediately stop investing, liquidate assets, and repay loans?”

Zhang Moyun finally turned around. His eyes were red, but his face wore the smile that only a strong and loving father could have: “Dad promises you that he won’t be greedy anymore from now on.”