The follow-up to the lawsuit was handled by Zhu Yun. She reported only the simplest outcome to Li Xun: Jili had agreed to a settlement of twelve million yuan in compensation.

Li Xun seemed less than satisfied with that figure. Zhu Yun said, “For the gaming industry, this is already considered an astronomical sum. It’s rare for a domestic mobile game infringement case to reach even ten million in damages.”

Li Xun let out a disgruntled snort, his expression thoroughly unimpressed.

Zhu Yun moved quickly to finalize the settlement — she wanted to resolve the matter as soon as possible so Feiyang could fully focus on moving forward. Jili, for its part, was even more eager to clear the way for the securities regulator’s review. Fang Zhijing was uncharacteristically generous; he had the funds wired to Feiyang’s account before the contract was even properly signed. Not daring to show his face directly, he had his legal team press Zhu Yun to withdraw the lawsuit as quickly as possible.

With both sides in a shared frenzy to get things done, the matter was essentially wrapped up in just four days.

The day the settlement agreement was signed happened to fall on a Saturday. When Zhu Yun walked out of the Jili building, the weather was perfect — blue skies, white clouds, and lush green grass. She stood at the entrance and took a few deep breaths. The lead attorney of the legal team she had commissioned came to her side and shook her hand.

“Attorney Zhang, thank you for all your hard work,” Zhu Yun said.

Attorney Zhang was in his mid-thirties, with a broad, square face, a lean frame, and a deep, resonant voice.

“Manager Zhu, please don’t say that. We were entrusted with a task and we saw it through — the best outcome is that everything has been resolved satisfactorily. I hear that Feiyang is looking to expand its operations. For any company looking to grow, a solid legal team is indispensable.”

“I’ll reach out if the need arises,” Zhu Yun said.

Attorney Zhang smiled warmly. “We’ve worked with many start-ups, but none quite like Feiyang. If you ever need legal representation or advisory services in the future, Manager Zhu, I would be more than happy to be of service.”

After Attorney Zhang left, Zhu Yun lingered at the intersection for a moment longer. Before leaving, she turned back for one last look at the Jili building, her gaze drawn to the massive “L&P” sign hanging at its very top, and felt a wave of mixed emotions wash over her.

Everyone inside that building had no idea what “L&P” truly stood for. They would never know how much passion and idealism were contained within those letters — nor how many tender, love-filled years.

Her phone rang. It was Li Xun calling. Zhu Yun told him the settlement agreement had been signed.

“Are you at the office right now?” she asked.

“No,” Li Xun said. “Dong Siyang is in the middle of renovations. The place is a complete mess — no one can get in.”

“Why don’t we go out for a meal then? Celebrate a little.”

Li Xun gave a cold laugh. “Celebrate what? Celebrate having our company taken from us?”

“…”

“From the time I was young, I was always the one taking things from others — no one has ever taken from me,” Li Xun said, his voice low and menacing. “I’m filing this away.”

Most of the time, Li Xun moved with the force of a thunderstorm — swift, decisive, overpowering. Only on rare occasions did he revert to something almost childlike, brooding over things that had not gone his way.

Zhu Yun tried to comfort him. “The office is under renovation anyway, so take it as a chance to rest. Where are you right now? I’m heading home later — you can just wait for me there if you want.”

“Sure,” Li Xun said lazily.

Ever since they had made that decisive breakthrough together, Zhu Yun had wasted no time — she had a spare key cut for Li Xun.

Zhu Yun hung up and drove home. She hit traffic along the way, her mind drifting through possible dinner options for the two of them. Li Xun had no particular interest in food or drink — she had never once heard him mention anything he specifically liked to eat.

She was still weighing which restaurants near her place might be worth trying when her phone rang again. Assuming it was Li Xun calling to hurry her along, she picked up without even glancing at the screen.

“Traffic’s bad. Give me a bit more time.”

“Waiting for who?”

The moment Zhu Yun heard the voice on the other end, her hand tightened around the phone.

Her mother’s voice was calm as she asked, “Who did you just tell to wait a little longer?”

The shock made Zhu Yun forget to watch the road. The cars ahead had inched forward, and the vehicles behind her were leaning on their horns. Zhu Yun hurriedly closed the gap.

She knew her mother far too well. The moment she heard that tone, she knew something was wrong.

“I saw online that the painter has gone back to France for an exhibition,” her mother said. “Why didn’t you mention any of this to me?”

Zhu Yun rubbed her palms against the steering wheel and lowered her voice. “Mom, there’s something I need to talk to you about. Can we wait until I come home next time—”

“No need for next time.” Her mother cut her off. “Don’t trouble yourself with coming back. I’m standing right outside your rental apartment.”

“What?”

“Drive carefully, there’s no rush,” her mother said lightly. “We should really have a proper conversation.”

She hung up and looked at the person standing in front of her.

The door was open. Li Xun was standing in the doorway — he had been inside reading while waiting for Zhu Yun.

Zhu Yun’s mother set down her phone and addressed him directly. “Mr. Li, I’m about to have a conversation with my daughter. Do you intend to stand there and listen?”

Li Xun said nothing. He turned around, picked up his unfinished book, and prepared to leave. Zhu Yun’s mother called after him: “Your key. Leave the key.”

Li Xun turned back and handed over the key from his pocket. Zhu Yun’s mother took it and tucked it into her bag, then said: “Mr. Li, this is the first time we’ve met, and I’m giving you the courtesy of saying this privately. I hope you will know when to stop. Zhu Yun will never be with you — that is simply not a possibility.”

“You’re welcome to state your terms,” Li Xun replied.

Zhu Yun’s mother’s expression hardened.

“My terms are that you disappear from our lives completely. Zhu Yun has always been obedient — since you appeared, she has been like someone under a spell, and our entire family has been put through misery because of it. We finally had several years of peace, and now here you are again. Mr. Li, you have truly become a curse upon our family.”

Zhu Yun’s mother had a similar build to Zhu Yun. She was well-preserved, and it was easy to see she had been a beauty in her youth. Having spent decades in education, she carried an effortlessly authoritative manner — the kind of woman who said what she meant and meant what she said.

“I don’t care what your intentions are, and I have no interest in arguing with you. End it yourself, and walk away from her. She is our only child — we cannot simply hand her over to someone like you.”

Li Xun stood several feet away and listened to everything she said. He was quiet for a long moment, then finally spoke. “You are her mother. Whatever you have to say, I will hear it out — whether I like it or not.” He met her gaze steadily, his voice unhurried. “I said you are welcome to state your terms. I will do my best to meet them. That is the only promise I can make.”

Seeing that Li Xun remained unmoved, Zhu Yun’s mother’s expression turned cold.

“Since you’re open to terms — our standards for a son-in-law are not particularly high. A decent family background and a compatible social standing will do. I’m not asking for wealth. But Zhu Yun has always been a good girl — she has barely put a foot wrong her entire life. It’s only natural to expect a man with a clean record in return, isn’t it?”

Li Xun watched her steadily. Zhu Yun’s mother continued: “When Mr. Li has managed to remove the stain from his record, bring your parents along and we can all sit down together and discuss this properly. How does that sound?”

Li Xun listened to the end, then gave a quiet, humorless smile, shook his head, and turned to leave.

Half an hour later, Zhu Yun rushed home. When she arrived, the front door was still open. She stepped carefully inside and found her mother sitting upright at the writing desk, a pile of gifts she had brought arranged to one side.

“Why didn’t you close the door…”

Her mother looked over. “What for? It seems anyone can walk in here as they please.”

Zhu Yun winced. She poured her mother a cup of hot water, which her mother left untouched.

“When was he released?”

“A while ago now.”

“And the moment he got out, he came to find you?”

“…”

If only that had been the case.

“No,” Zhu Yun said. “I went to find him.”

Her mother slammed her palm down on the desk. “Zhu Yun!”

The weather outside was pleasant — warm sun, a gentle breeze.

Zhu Yun had imagined countless times how this moment would unfold once the secret was out. Now that it had finally arrived, she found herself in far better shape than she had expected — she wasn’t even particularly nervous. She had the timing of fate to thank for that. Not long ago, she and Li Xun had found their way back to each other, and the strength that had given her far exceeded anything she could have anticipated.

She looked at her mother and said, “Mom, let’s talk about this calmly.”

Zhu Yun walked her mother through everything that had happened since Li Xun’s release — including their work together at the company and the direction they were heading in the future. At first her mother was incensed, her eyes blazing, her teeth clenched. But as Zhu Yun slowly worked through the long story to its end, the anger gave way to something more exhausted — her mother sat with her eyes closed, one hand propped against her temple, shaking her head repeatedly.

“Zhu Yun, you have disappointed me deeply.” Her mother’s voice trembled; she was clearly shaken. “You deceived your father and me for the sake of this man. I truly had no idea all this time. Listen to me clearly — the family does not approve. We didn’t approve before, and we certainly don’t approve now, not after he spent all those years in prison.” At the mention of the prison sentence, a fresh wave of agitation swept through her. “Prison — my God… when has our family ever had dealings with someone like that? Zhu Yun, you have truly grown bold — what kind of person won’t you get involved with?”

“If I hadn’t known him from the start, I would never have given someone in that situation a second look,” Zhu Yun said.

“And what difference does it make that you knew him? Does that change the fact that he went to prison?”

“It does — because I know him, I know that he is not that kind of person. Mom, there were circumstances behind what happened. You know what Fang Zhijing is like.”

“However bad Fang Zhijing’s character may be, there are limits!” her mother snapped. “Don’t think I don’t know what happened back then. If he hadn’t broken the rules at the competition first, would they have ended up as enemies? He made extreme choices and let the consequences fall on those around him — who else is there to blame?”

Zhu Yun was quiet for a moment. “We all made mistakes back then. Everyone paid a price. Li Xun’s personality is undeniably extreme, but he’s been working on himself.”

“A leopard cannot change its spots — he can only change so much!”

“That’s true,” Zhu Yun said, nodding in agreement. She looked at her mother, her expression steady and sincere. “He can’t change who he is at his core. So no matter how much time passes, I always find myself falling for him just as easily.”

Her mother stared at her, thrown completely off balance by the tone and certainty in her daughter’s voice. She looked at Zhu Yun as though she were a stranger.

The sunlight filtered softly through the window, settling gently on Zhu Yun’s hair and shoulders, as if offering quiet encouragement.

Zhu Yun sometimes felt that the world was like a battlefield, with everyone struggling within it — some cut down, some having given up, and some still fighting on.

To keep fighting required great strength and courage. She didn’t have that kind of power on her own. She could only follow in the wake of someone who did.

“Mom, do you remember — in my darkest days, you once told me that the only reason I thought so highly of him was because I hadn’t met enough people. Well, all these years have passed. I’ve met plenty of accomplished men, and yet not one of them has been able to hold my attention the way he does. Not a single one…”