Chapter 17: Incontinence of Tears 2

The wind outside had subsided, but the rain continued to patter softly.

He Qiuting copied the construction site surveillance footage onto his tablet and returned to the room where the body was stored. Finding a chair to sit in, he began reviewing the footage frame by frame.

For a full half hour, he didn’t speak a single word to Lu Shun.

Lu Shun paced back and forth in the room, keeping his distance from the corpse, occasionally pinching his nose with clear irritation and disgust written across his face.

After a while, he approached He Qiuting and deliberately bumped his shoulder against him, teasing in a low voice, Why are you still ignoring me? So what if you cried? Crying isn’t anything to be ashamed of.

He Qiuting had just managed to compose himself somewhat, but this remark made him so embarrassed his scalp tingled.

He Qiuting made an annoyed tsk sound, frowning as he put some distance between himself and Lu Shun. Get away from me. Just seeing you annoys me right now.

To Lu Shun’s ears, this didn’t sound like genuine anger, but more like an awkward, intimate form of sulking.

Don’t be annoyed with me. Lu Shun raised his eyebrows with a smile and shamelessly pressed closer again, pretending to watch the surveillance footage with He Qiuting until their faces were nearly touching. He murmured, I still need to wipe away the little pearls for President He~

He Qiuting’s face darkened as he clenched his fist, resisting the urge to slap him.

He Qiuting, tell me, what exactly set you off earlier?

Lu Shun was determined to get to the bottom of it, particularly eager to master the technique of making someone cry. Seriously, this is the first time I’ve seen you cry like that. It really scared me.

He Qiuting made himself cry by his own words?

How extraordinary.

He Qiuting had always been hard-hearted. Witnessing him cry in person during one’s lifetime was like what, exactly…

An iron tree blooming? An iceberg catching fire? In any case, it was unbelievable and utterly terrifying!

It was genuinely frightening, yet he still wanted to see it happen again – that was equally true.

Lu Shun didn’t understand this dark psychology of his, but he particularly enjoyed seeing He Qiuting display vulnerability in front of him.

Before this, the only time Lu Shun had seen He Qiuting cry was at his grandmother’s funeral.

Looking back now, that could hardly be considered crying – at most, his eyes had reddened slightly, and any tears that might have welled up were wiped away by He Qiuting before they could fall.

That day, He Qiuting wore a simple black suit with his hair unstyled. His straight, ear-length hair stirred gently in the wind, with a few stray strands brushing across his brow bone, partially obscuring those cool, fragile eyes. He looked so haggard it made Lu Shun’s heart tremble, yet so beautiful it took his breath away.

Lu Shun had been standing far away at the time, unable to see any tears clearly – only a profile view of He Qiuting’s restrained, moving Adam’s apple and the glimmer of moisture shimmering on his eyelashes.

That single glimmer had stayed with him, lingering in his memory for a long, long time.

…

He Qiuting, why have you gone silent again? Say something.

Lu Shun could be genuinely annoying at times. Though he usually appeared respectable in his suit and tie, when he started chattering he was exceptionally noisy.

He Qiuting turned his head slightly, his gaze resting on Lu Shun’s playful face for several seconds before he let out an almost imperceptible sigh.

He felt a pang of sorrow.

He finally realized that the greatest distance between him and Lu Shun wasn’t their differing business positions, the poor timing, or even the separation caused by their secret relationship – but rather that he was someone poor at expressing himself, while Lu Shun had never been good at noticing.

Rather than being unobservant, it would be more accurate to say he lived too self-absorbed, never empathizing with others’ pain and anxiety, never reading anyone’s expressions, and disdaining to perceive them.

Even in this tense and critical situation, with two mangled corpses still piled in the room and dozens of protesting workers clamoring next door, even with He Qiuting’s nerves stretched taut as bowstrings, visibly tense and anxious…

Lu Shun remained completely unaffected, still immersed in his own amusement.

He Qiuting didn’t know what he was so pleased about.

Perhaps he was waiting for tomorrow’s market opening, anticipating Cloud Horizon’s stock to plummet so he could reap massive profits, then extend a condescending hand of assistance to force He Qiuting into submission?

As Lu Shun would say, emotions are emotions, business is business. He could compromise emotionally, but in business, he must always dominate.

This rivalry was entertainment to Lu Shun, but for He Qiuting at this moment, it only added frost to snow.

The loneliness of having no one at his back suddenly intensified.

Stomach pain is an emotional ailment. He Qiuting’s stomach soon cramped and spasmed from overthinking. He pressed a hand against it, lowered his head with eyes slightly closed, and slowly exhaled.

Stomach hurting again? Lu Shun’s expression darkened as he supported He Qiuting’s arm. Is it bad? I have medicine in my car, I’ll get it for you.

But he didn’t want to say so much to He Qiuting. After much deliberation, he finally settled on a straightforward remark: Don’t overthink it. Just do what you need to do. If there ever comes a day when you can’t keep going, I’ll take care of you.

Lu Shun secretly wished He Qiuting would fail in business.

In his view, He Qiuting was simply not cut out for commerce. Moreover, he knew that deep down, He Qiuting didn’t even like doing business.

When they were children discussing their future dreams, Lu Shun couldn’t figure out what he wanted to do. But he heard He Qiuting say he loved astronomy and wanted to become an astronomer or an astrophotographer someday.

At just ten years old, He Qiuting declared, I think the universe is more romantic than people. The stars are distant, but they’re never lonely.

Lu Shun didn’t really understand, but he nodded along anyway, convinced that He Qiuting was uniquely profound and refined.

Then He Jiyun’s real estate company went bankrupt, and he was driven to jump to his death. After that, He Qiuting’s dreams of astronomy vanished.

He Qiuting was intelligent, emotionally steady, and hardworking—capable of excelling at anything he put his mind to. It was his skill that had built Cloud Horizon into the enterprise it was today.

But Lu Shun still believed he wasn’t suited for it.

Because He Qiuting wasn’t selfish. He was too quick to soften in difficult situations, and his kindness shone so brightly it was almost saintly.

And kindness was a fatal flaw in the world of business.

Last year, to preserve the historic shops on Tianjie Street, He Qiuting spent an extra 200 million on the project, causing disagreements with some of the shareholders.

What’s nostalgia worth 200 million? Lu Shun couldn’t wrap his head around it.

He couldn’t stand watching someone pass up easy profits to do something thankless, difficult, and bound to offend people.

Those run-down shops weren’t even good—their food was mediocre, and they had no idea how to market themselves. They deserved to be left behind by the times, yet He Qiuting stubbornly kept them afloat. Later, though, after Cloud Horizon turned the area into a trendy influencer check-in spot, business didn’t seem so bad after all.

…

President He!

Lin Xu came in from outside, rainwater clinging to his clothes, and hurried over to He Qiuting. I just questioned a couple of workers. I told them I’m just another employee trying to wrap up an investigation, and they trusted me enough to share some information.

He glanced up at Lu Shun as he spoke.

He still didn’t know why Lu Shun was here. Even though Lu Shun had explained that he’d just signed a cooperation agreement with Cloud Horizon and came as soon as he heard about the incident, Lin Xu felt there was more to it and instinctively distrusted the man.

Fine, I’ll step out. I could use some fresh air anyway. Lu Shun had never liked him, and though he couldn’t make a scene in front of He Qiuting, he couldn’t resist muttering as he passed by, glaring at the corpse on the floor: Disgusting. Makes me sick.

He slammed the door on his way out.

Only after Lu Shun was gone did Lin Xu continue, This Lü Weihua had a rough life. His wife had cancer and passed away a few months ago. He borrowed money from a lot of people back then and was buried in debt.

He Qiuting paused the surveillance video on his phone and looked up. He needed money?

Yes, desperately! Lin Xu said. He has an autistic daughter at home, just turned nineteen.

Who was he close to at this construction site? He Qiuting asked abruptly.
He Qiuting remained silent but didn’t refuse. Lu Shun, ever efficient, immediately went out with an umbrella and soon returned with a steaming cup of water.

He passed the paper cup to He Qiuting, directly pressing the pill between his lips—nearly inserting his fingers too—while justifying, Why glare? Take the medicine quickly.

He Qiuting slowly swallowed the stomach medicine, cradling the warm paper cup to heat his hands. His eyes remained quietly downcast as he endured the pain waiting for the medicine to take effect.

Watching from the side, Lu Shun finally couldn’t bear it. He Qiuting, are you overheating?

This was utterly redundant.

He Qiuting glanced up at him without confirmation.

Lu Shun moved behind him, hands resting on the chair back before naturally transitioning to his shoulders, giving a gentle squeeze. Learn from me—stay relaxed. In business, wins and losses come and go. Today’s crisis could be tomorrow’s opportunity. Don’t strain yourself so tightly.

But sometimes, once you lose, there’s no winning back. He Qiuting suddenly thought of his father.

Bound to the Incontinence of Tears System, his emotions overflowed easily. Remembering his father inevitably brought back those unforgettable, warm childhood memories.

Damn it, his eyes grew hot beyond control. Clenching his fist, he struggled to suppress it, silently shedding a bitter, salty tear.

Fortunately, Lu Shun stood behind him and noticed nothing unusual.

Lu Shun disagreed with his statement. He believed there were no absolute wins or losses in business—fortunes shifted like wheels. Where some lost, others won. As long as one stayed at the table, they remained players in this game of rivalry.

Savoring moments of victory and the wheel’s constant turns—that was enough.

But he didn’t want to say so much to He Qiuting. After much deliberation, he finally settled on a straightforward remark: Don’t overthink it. Just do what you need to do. If there ever comes a day when you can’t keep going, I’ll take care of you.

Lu Shun secretly wished He Qiuting would fail in business.

In his view, He Qiuting was simply not cut out for commerce. Moreover, he knew that deep down, He Qiuting didn’t even like doing business.

When they were children discussing their future dreams, Lu Shun couldn’t figure out what he wanted to do. But he heard He Qiuting say he loved astronomy and wanted to become an astronomer or an astrophotographer someday.

At just ten years old, He Qiuting declared, I think the universe is more romantic than people. The stars are distant, but they’re never lonely.

Lu Shun didn’t really understand, but he nodded along anyway, convinced that He Qiuting was uniquely profound and refined.

Then He Jiyun’s real estate company went bankrupt, and he was driven to jump to his death. After that, He Qiuting’s dreams of astronomy vanished.

He Qiuting was intelligent, emotionally steady, and hardworking—capable of excelling at anything he put his mind to. It was his skill that had built Cloud Horizon into the enterprise it was today.

But Lu Shun still believed he wasn’t suited for it.

Because He Qiuting wasn’t selfish. He was too quick to soften in difficult situations, and his kindness shone so brightly it was almost saintly.

And kindness was a fatal flaw in the world of business.

Last year, to preserve the historic shops on Tianjie Street, He Qiuting spent an extra 200 million on the project, causing disagreements with some of the shareholders.

What’s nostalgia worth 200 million? Lu Shun couldn’t wrap his head around it.

He couldn’t stand watching someone pass up easy profits to do something thankless, difficult, and bound to offend people.

Those run-down shops weren’t even good—their food was mediocre, and they had no idea how to market themselves. They deserved to be left behind by the times, yet He Qiuting stubbornly kept them afloat. Later, though, after Cloud Horizon turned the area into a trendy influencer check-in spot, business didn’t seem so bad after all.

President He!

Lin Xu came in from outside, rainwater clinging to his clothes, and hurried over to He Qiuting. I just questioned a couple of workers. I told them I’m just another employee trying to wrap up an investigation, and they trusted me enough to share some information.

He glanced up at Lu Shun as he spoke.

He still didn’t know why Lu Shun was here. Even though Lu Shun had explained that he’d just signed a cooperation agreement with Cloud Horizon and came as soon as he heard about the incident, Lin Xu felt there was more to it and instinctively distrusted the man.

Fine, I’ll step out. I could use some fresh air anyway. Lu Shun had never liked him, and though he couldn’t make a scene in front of He Qiuting, he couldn’t resist muttering as he passed by, glaring at the corpse on the floor: Disgusting. Makes me sick.

He slammed the door on his way out.

Only after Lu Shun was gone did Lin Xu continue, This Lü Weihua had a rough life. His wife had cancer and passed away a few months ago. He borrowed money from a lot of people back then and was buried in debt.

He Qiuting paused the surveillance video on his phone and looked up. He needed money?

Yes, desperately! Lin Xu said. He has an autistic daughter at home, just turned nineteen.

Who was he close to at this construction site? He Qiuting asked abruptly.

Lü Weihua is quite popular among his colleagues. Everyone says he’s a good man, but he hasn’t been himself since his wife passed away. Aside from work matters, he doesn’t talk much with others, Lin Xu said, then suddenly remembered something. Oh, right. Some people mentioned he’s been spending a lot of time with Yuan Feng recently.

Yuan Feng?

Yes, that tall, sturdy fellow who led the group questioning us earlier.

He Qiuting’s gaze sharpened as he pointed at a figure in the surveillance footage on his tablet. Is that him?

Lin Xu leaned closer to examine it. Looks like him.

In the recording, just five seconds after Lü Weihua and another worker named Zhang fell from height, a tall man rushed over. Instead of calling for help immediately, he crouched down and appeared to be searching for something on the victims’ bodies.

The footage wasn’t particularly clear and the movements weren’t obvious, but He Qiuting instinctively felt this was the person who had hidden the phone.

Get me Yuan Feng’s employee records— Before He Qiuting could finish his sentence, their driver hurried in from outside and announced loudly:

Mr. He, reporters have arrived!

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