The Heiress's Game

Gu Zhenxing has his own hospital.

It wasn't a hospital he invested in, but one he built.

It took four years from land acquisition to completion. On the surface, it bears the name of a branch of a well-known top-tier hospital, but those in the industry know that the six-story gray-white building hidden deep in the park is called "Zhenxing Medical Center".

The center does not accept registrations from the general public; it only receives Gu Zhenxing himself, his immediate family members, and a few close friends who have been personally approved by him.

The medical examination equipment was imported from Germany, the CT scanner in the radiology department was one of the first dual-source CT scanners in China at the time, the physiotherapists in the rehabilitation department were brought back from Switzerland, and even the head chef of the nutrition canteen had worked in the kitchen of a Michelin three-star restaurant.

The building has a resident medical team of more than 30 people, but they only serve one specific patient.

No wealthy person of that age is unafraid of death. Gu Zhenxing is no exception.

He is 67 years old this year, with high blood pressure and high blood lipids. His knee injury, which he had when he played rugby in his youth, aches slightly on cloudy days.

I receive two full physical examinations every year, an immune-boosting and anti-aging treatment every month, and a personal trainer visits me three times a week for core strength training.

When Gu Yunjin was a child, she didn't understand why her father wanted to turn a building into a hospital. Later, she took an elective course called "Wealth Management and Intergenerational Succession" at London Business School.

The professor showed a slide from a Swiss anti-aging clinic in class, saying that the world's top billionaires spend more on health management than many listed companies do on average each year.

She wrote a line in her notebook: There are no rich people who are not afraid of death; what rich people are more afraid of is that they will die with money left unspent.

But now, sitting on the terrace of his private suite on the top floor of the hospital, Gu Zhenxing feels that he is in better shape than he has been in the past ten years.

It's not that my health test results have improved, it's that my mindset has changed.

He couldn't pinpoint exactly when things started to change, but it probably started when Julie sent him that cat with its eyes squinted in a smile in the chat box, or when she started chatting with him via voice message from the Warring States period all the way to the Jingnan Campaign.

A twenty-five-year-old woman never tried to please him, never made any demands, and only asked him what he thought of the Yongle Emperor.

He no longer needed to be the invincible Gu Zhenxing; she made him feel like a young man who had just discovered the world.

He texted Julie, "What's the name of that historian you mentioned last time?" She hadn't replied yet, but he wasn't in a hurry.

He pressed his phone against his chest, as if it could warm his heart, which had been used for over sixty years.

He had never met a girl like Julie—independent, intelligent, and full of energy.

Chatting with her is never tiring; every reply makes him feel more than ten years younger.

Today, Gu Mingcheng came to report on his work. The father and son sat on a rattan sofa on the terrace, separated by an iron coffee table with two cups of freshly brewed Longjing tea on it, the steam rising gently in the sunlight.

Gu Mingcheng was wearing a dark gray suit with his tie tied perfectly, and he was holding a leather document bag in his hand.

He had been in charge of the real estate sector of the Gu Group for three years and had become increasingly accustomed to playing the role of a reporter in front of his father.

"Has Daheng come by?" Gu Zhenxing asked, holding his teacup and looking at the artificial lake in the distance.

"I've been here." Gu Mingcheng opened the file folder and pulled out a few pages.

"President He hopes we can acquire the land together with Daheng this time. Uncle Zhang has already expressed his opinion and hopes we will join in as well."

"Zhang Mingyuan? He just had a kidney transplant, does he still have the mind to care about these things?"

A faint smile appeared on Gu Zhenxing's face. "Zhang Zhuoran just sold the shares his mother left him, and Xue Min took over."

He was willing to part with it; it was everything his mother had risked her life to leave behind. His mother had painstakingly revised the trust terms on her sickbed, just to protect him from his mistresses. And now, less than twenty years after her death, it was all for nothing.

Gu Mingcheng didn't respond to that. He knew his father wasn't discussing Zhang Zhuoran with him; his father was simply stating an order he approved of—the empire built by the father should be inherited by the son.

Zhang Zhuoran's sale of shares is a waste of money.

"Daheng is overleveraging too much right now. I've looked at their project; the land acquisition costs are too high, and it's uncertain when the pre-sale permit will be issued. You should invest less, just a few hundred million as a token gesture."

Gu Mingcheng frowned slightly. "What President He means is—"

Before he could finish speaking, Gu Zhenxing's phone, which was on the coffee table, rang.

The screen lights up, and the caller ID shows Lily.

Gu Zhenxing's expression changed visibly in that instant.

His eyebrows were slightly raised, and a smile played on his lips.

He picked up his phone and waved at Gu Mingcheng, the gesture making it clear – you can leave now.

"Julie, I was just thinking about that topic you brought up last time when you called."

His voice was light and cheerful, unlike that of an elderly person. As he spoke, he stood up from the sofa and walked into the room.

Gu Mingcheng stood up, bowed slightly, and turned to walk out onto the terrace.

As he walked through the suite's living room, he heard his father's laughter coming from behind him—a hearty, energetic laugh that he hadn't heard at home in a long time.

In the hallway, the assistant was already waiting at the elevator entrance.

"Mr. Gu."

"explain."

"Xue Min has confirmed that Zhang's Real Estate raised 8 billion yuan through mortgage loans and off-balance-sheet financing, all of which was invested in the new Daheng project. Nominally, Xue Min signed the document, but the source of funds is still Zhang Mingyuan."

Gu Mingcheng stopped in his tracks. One of the motion-sensor lights in the corridor turned on, illuminating his expression clearly. He chuckled.

"Everyone says that Xue Min is now in charge of Zhang's Real Estate. But what does she manage? She's just there to put on a show. The real decisions are still made by Zhang Mingyuan, who's lying in his hospital bed, moving his fingers around."

He took a cigarette out of his trouser pocket, then, remembering that this was his father's hospital, put the cigarette back in.

His hands were in his pockets, his fingers unconsciously twirling the lighter, the metal casing of which was warm from his body heat.

"Uncle Zhang can raise 8 billion yuan to invest in Daheng while lying in the ICU. What about me? I'm the youngest in Zhaoyang Club and the last to join. They call me 'nephew' but they may not really take me seriously."

"Regarding the Daheng project, Mr. He told me that the land price premium would at least double. What is the real estate market now? It's like a goose that lays eggs. If you sit in the right place at the right time, the goose will lay the eggs for you."

He paused for a moment, then pressed the lighter in his pocket with a click.

"Add another six billion, making it seventy."

The assistant was taken aback.

He opened his mouth, but the words he was about to say rolled around in his throat before he swallowed them back down.

He had been by Gu Zhenxing's side for many years, and he knew the old man's style all too well—a few hundred million was just a token gesture; he would never put all his eggs in one basket.

However, Gu Mingcheng is now in charge of Gu's real estate business.

Gu Zhenxing had handed over decision-making power for the real estate sector to him half a year ago. This is true "being in charge" - not the kind where you sit in the boss's chair and sign documents, but the kind where you make a decision and never look back.

"Yes." The assistant nodded.