Chapter 103: Cursed, Perhaps

Yang Tiancheng lingered in the Bai family’s study for half an hour before leaving with a genial smile. No sooner had his footsteps faded than Bai Yongyuan swung a heavy kick at Bai Yu.

Completely unprepared, Bai Yu tumbled to the floor from the force of the blow. The butler, witnessing the scene, felt his heart skip a beat. “Master—”

“Silence!” Bai Yongyuan’s temper flared, and the butler dared not utter another word, retreating quietly with his head bowed.

Bai Yu wavered for a moment before returning to his knees at his original spot.

“Let me tell you, Bai Yu. If you still want to marry Yang Yuqing, you’d better rein in your behavior. For now, you’re to stay at home. You’re not allowed to go anywhere,” Bai Yongyuan said coldly.

“Yes, sir,” Bai Yu replied.

With that, Bai Yongyuan strode out, leaving his words hanging in the air. Bai Yu wiped the corner of his mouth, eyes cast down and filled with resentment. If only…

“Young master, are you all right?” the butler inquired softly.

“I’m fine.”

...

After evening self-study, Zhao Fan packed his things, preparing to go home. Just as he reached the doorway, Chen Sicheng appeared with a dozen others, blocking his path.

Zhao Fan raised an eyebrow. “What’s the meaning of this?”

Chen Sicheng grinned. “Nothing much, we just wanted to ask you a few questions.”

A few questions? Zhao Fan found this odd. The conflict from a few days ago hadn’t blown over yet, and now Chen Sicheng was showing up with a crowd to “ask questions?” Heh, more likely they were here to start a fight.

“Where do you want to talk?” Zhao Fan asked.

Chen Sicheng nodded behind him. “Let’s go ou—”

Before he finished, a hand landed suddenly on his shoulder.

“Go out where?” The abrupt appearance of He Yongshan instantly froze the atmosphere around them.

Chen Sicheng stiffened. “It’s nothing, teacher. We just wanted to discuss some math problems with Zhao Fan.”

He Yongshan glanced around. “Is it you who wants to discuss, or all of them?” With such a crowd blocking the doorway, did they take him for a fool?

“All right, I don’t care what you’re up to. Mind your behavior. There’s a competition coming up, and the school just received a recommendation notice from Yangcheng University. If anything happens because of certain people…” He Yongshan’s tone was half warning, half notice. He patted Chen Sicheng on the shoulder and told him to take his group away.

As the group dispersed, Zhao Fan grinned at He Yongshan. “Old He, you seem so nervous about me.”

He Yongshan scrutinized Zhao Fan critically. “You’re hopeless.”

Zhao Fan’s smile froze. “Old He…”

“Hurry home. It’s late—don’t get into trouble.”

“Tsk, Old He, you’re not exactly wishing me well. If something really happens, you can’t claim innocence with your jinxed words.”

He Yongshan decided not to argue with Zhao Fan any further.

Half an hour later, Zhao Fan found himself in the hospital. Lying on the hospital bed, he stared at his leg encased in plaster, recalling He Yongshan’s words. He was convinced his leg had been cursed by He Yongshan.

Who would have thought he’d be waylaid by a group of drunken men on his way home? Those drunks were utterly unreasonable, and in the end, Zhao Fan had no choice but to fight back. At least he hadn’t lost, though his leg was injured and now had to heal in a cast.

As for those drunken men, Zhao Fan sneered. If he ended up like this, those men were in no better shape—they were probably getting stitched up in the other ward.

A nurse came in to hang his IV and gave some instructions before leaving. The pain throbbed dully; Zhao Fan sighed, resting one hand behind his head and gazing at the ceiling.

Such rotten luck!

His phone lay beside him. As Zhao Fan was lost in thought, it suddenly vibrated. Glancing at the caller ID, he saw it was Zhao Haitian. He hesitated. This call was probably at his mother’s behest—should he answer or not?

After a few minutes of indecision, Zhao Fan decided not to pick up.

The phone screen lit up and dimmed again and again until finally, it was silent.

But then—“Bzz, bzz, bzz…” The phone rang once more.

With a resigned sigh, Zhao Fan answered, “Big brother, what is it?”

“Why aren’t you home yet?”

His mother’s voice came through instead, and Zhao Fan tensed slightly.

“The company’s busy these days. I’m planning to stay at work for a while and won’t be coming home.”

“The company’s really that busy?”

“It’s just getting started, so there’s a lot I need to handle personally. Once things settle down, I’ll come home.”

“All right, if you say so,” his mother replied, her tone reluctant but without further protest before hanging up.

Relieved at having dodged the issue, Zhao Fan thought he’d just pretend to be at the company for the next few days. But what about school…

Without further ado, Zhao Fan called He Yongshan.

After hearing the situation, He Yongshan was silent for a moment. “You’re not just making this up, are you?”

Zhao Fan replied, “Would I be so crazy as to fake something like this with my own leg? Old He, what should I do about this? My leg really can’t move at all—ouch, it hurts.”

“If you want leave, just ask. No need for the dramatics,” He Yongshan retorted with a cold snort. “I’ll give you three days off, but let me warn you—if your grades slip…”

“They definitely won’t.” Zhao Fan promised, then briskly hung up.

...

While the Bai and Yang families plotted in secret, Zhao Fan had already been spending little time at school. Now, he found this unexpected turn of events rather fortunate.

The next morning, Zhao Fan called Han Chen to pick him up from the hospital.

“It’s only been a few days and you’ve ended up like this?” Han Chen looked at him in disbelief.

Zhao Fan sighed. “You think I wanted this? Just my rotten luck, getting targeted by a bunch of drunks. How’s the company lately?”

“It’s going well, no problems.”

“That’s good.”

With Han Chen’s help, Zhao Fan got into the car. “Let’s go to the office.”

“All right.”

At the office, Zhao Fan reviewed the recent meeting summaries and asked Han Chen about the software development progress.

Han Chen reported, “The initial phases are going smoothly, but the server negotiations haven’t been successful.”

“They haven’t?” Zhao Fan frowned. “Is it about the money, or something else?”

Han Chen hesitated. “To be honest, I don’t think they ever intended to sell.”

“If that’s the case, let’s stop wasting time. There’s more than one company with servers. Find another.”

“Better not waste anyone’s time.”

Han Chen nodded. “I’ll notify them.”

After Han Chen left, Zhao Fan resumed going through documents. Suddenly, a file caught his eye—the cover read “On the Future Development of Games.”

Zhao Fan was taken aback. This file definitely shouldn’t have ended up in his hands. Yet, here it was.

Games…

He drummed his fingers lightly on the desk. Even someone like him, who didn’t play games, understood just how popular they were destined to become.

Just then, Han Chen returned. Before he could speak, Zhao Fan waved him over.

“Take a look at this.”

After reading the document thoroughly, Han Chen nodded. Zhao Fan asked, “What do you think?”

“It’s very detailed, and the research is solid.”

“So?”

“It’s worth setting up a department to give it a try.”