The Heiress's Game

The day Julie was discharged from the hospital, the sun was shining brightly.

She stood at the hospital entrance, her eyes slightly narrowed. Her right hand was still wrapped in a thin bandage, with the stitches on the side of her palm hidden inside, revealing a slender wrist.

There were quite a few people who came to pick her up, including gallery staff, her newly hired assistant from China, and several colleagues from the art world who were waiting at the door with bouquets of flowers.

Gu Zhenxing didn't come—he didn't want people to think that Julie was "taken away by Gu Zhenxing," which was the old-fashioned way of keeping a mistress hidden away.

Julie isn't that kind of woman; he can't let her suffer that kind of injustice.

But he did something else—he had Xu Bingjun contact the hospital in advance to transfer Julie from a regular VIP ward to a private rehabilitation suite on the top floor, with all expenses charged to Zhenxing Medical Center's account.

When Julie's assistant went to complete the discharge procedures, she was informed that the bill had already been settled. The nurse handed her a card with four words handwritten by Gu Zhenxing: "Take good care of yourself."

In the afternoon, Gu Zhenxing went to her art studio.

The art studio was on the top floor of an old factory building in the west of the city; it was a place he helped her find.

He originally wanted to buy the apartment next to the art museum for her to use as a studio, but Julie refused.

She said that the studio is a place for creation, her own space, and she shouldn't let others give it to her.

Gu Zhenxing didn't insist—he liked it when she rejected him. Every time Julie said, "No need, I can do it myself," he mentally added a point to her score. There were very few people who could say "no" to him now.

The studio remains the same as before.

The view of the river outside the window was sliced ​​into pieces by the afternoon sun, and the floor still bore the faint scratches left from when the broken glass was cleaned up that day.

Julie stood in the center of the studio, looked around, and finally her gaze fell on the painting called "Jue Ming".

"The paint has dried," she said softly.

Gu Zhenxing followed two steps behind her.

From the hospital to the studio, he observed Julie's emotions the whole way—he felt that Julie had been angry, even though she hadn't said a single harsh word that day.

But looking at her back as she stood in the studio, he realized that something thin and heavy seemed to have been peeled away. She wasn't angry anymore.

Julie turned around, walked to the coffee machine, and awkwardly operated the buttons with her left hand to make him a cup of coffee.

She handed him the coffee but didn't drink it herself. Leaning against the easel ladder, the sunlight shone from the side, making her bandaged right hand stand out.

"Mr. Gu, I want to talk to you about something." Her voice was softer than usual, as if she had made up her mind.

"This matter has been weighing on my mind for several days. From childhood to adulthood, I've always relied on myself for everything."

You may not be familiar with our family situation—although we are of Chinese descent, my parents wash dishes and serve food in a Chinese restaurant in the back alley of Chinatown. The whole family squeezes into one cubicle, and we have to go to a public bathroom to shower.

No one has ever shown me any favoritism, nor have I ever given anyone the opportunity to show me any favoritism.

But this time—this time when I injured my hand, you stayed with me in the hospital, shielded me from the media, and even spoke to the hospital on my behalf—I've never experienced what it feels like to be put first in someone's life.

She paused here, gently touching the edge of the gauze on her right hand with her left hand, pressing down on a small corner of the gauze that was sticking up with her fingertips.

"From childhood to adulthood, I've always relied on myself for everything. But this time is different."

She looked down at her right hand, which was wrapped in gauze, and gently touched the edge of the gauze, pressing down on a small corner that was sticking up with her fingertips.

"I know Ningville isn't your biological daughter. You raised her for twenty-three years, bought her a Cullinan, sent her to study in Paris, and she called you 'Dad' for twenty-three years. Last year, on her birthday, you gave her a custom-made car; you told me you spent a long time choosing the color."

She looked up, her eyes shining, but her tone was calm, as if stating a fact unrelated to her emotions.

"Sometimes when I look at how you treat her, you really dote on her like a daughter. You even installed underfloor heating in your house in Clearwater Bay for her sake."

Gu Zhenxing's fingers tightened slightly as he held the coffee cup. He hadn't expected Julie to bring this up, but Julie didn't give him a chance to respond.

"This time she hit me, my hand—you know I make a living with my hands. I needed six stitches, and I couldn't hold a pen for three months. To be honest, I was really angry when she hit me."

Besides, Miss Will and I have no grudge against each other. Why does she suddenly hate me so much? I don't know if there's anyone else involved, and I have no evidence.

She spoke of "others" in a very casual tone, but the word, spoken in the quiet studio, was clearer than any direct naming.

"But how did you do it?" Julie lifted her gaze from the gauze and looked into Gu Zhenxing's eyes.

"You didn't advise me to give up. You didn't tell me she was still a child. You didn't ask me to consider the bigger picture."

You took the villa in Clearwater Bay, suspended Will's black card, and froze Ning Limei's entire allowance. You've broken up with Ning Limei.

She gently placed her left hand on the coffee table, her fingertips only a few centimeters away from Gu Zhenxing's hand.

"I know how much you love Will. I've seen so much out there, I know exactly who has designs on me."

But you went and punished the person you had loved for twenty-three years, all for my sake.

Because of me, you called Ning Limei in the hospital corridor and yelled at her so loudly that I could hear you in my ward—you didn't know that, did you?"

Gu Zhenxing's Adam's apple bobbed.

"Zhu Yuanzhang treated everyone the same, but he treated Empress Ma differently."

When Empress Ma was ill, he personally served her medicine. After Empress Ma died, he never appointed a second empress.

Li Shimin killed his brothers and forced his father to abduct everything he owned in his life, except for Empress Zhangsun—who had been dead for so many years, yet he stood on the city wall, facing her grave, and wept alone.

Julie spoke slowly, as if she were pulling these words up from a very deep place.

"I used to read these things and think they were history. Now I know. This is what it feels like to be favored."

She lowered her head and touched the small spot of iodine seeping through the gauze on her right hand with the fingertip of her left hand.

"You chose me over Will. She's been with you for twenty-three years, how long have I been to you?"

But you chose me. This favoritism is too heavy, so heavy that I can hardly bear it.

But I'm also wondering—is this what it feels like to be favored? I think I'm starting to like you a little. This has nothing to do with money.

I have my own money, though not as much as you.

I know that feeling now. It's the feeling of being favored.

I used to think the saying "age is not a problem" was a lie, but now I think it is not a problem.

It's just a number. I only regret that I was born too late. If I had met you sooner, perhaps we wouldn't have gone through such a long and winding road. I just regret that I was born too late.

Gu Zhenxing felt his hands trembling. It wasn't a pathological tremor, but a tremor that came from deep within his heart, warm to the touch.

He thought of Wang Manyun, Ning Limei, Su Wanning, and so many other women who came and went.

She wasn't jealous of whether there were other women around him; she was jealous of the countless favors he gave to his good-for-nothing daughter, Ningweier, during the twenty-three years she couldn't participate in.

She had only been truly cared for by him for such a short time, yet she was already so grateful that she wanted to use Zhu Yuanzhang and Li Shimin as examples.

At that moment, nothing else remained in his mind but the girl in front of him.

Her bandages, her left hand, her straight and calm gaze, and her voice that didn't tremble when she said "a lifetime" were the most heart-wrenching words he had ever heard in his life.

"If I were twenty years younger—" Gu Zhenxing stopped mid-sentence because Julie reached out her left hand and touched the back of his hand, which was resting on his knee, with her fingertips.

The touch was as light as a butterfly's wing landing on a petal, but the electric sensation struck his brain directly.

"Don't say things like that. You look fine as you are."

Gu Zhenxing lowered his head, looking at the small patch of skin on the back of his hand that had been touched.

Sixty-seven years have passed, and he thought his heart had long been worn down by the calculations of the business world, the interests of his family, and the ups and downs of human relationships, turning it into a stone that would never be disturbed.

But at this moment, someone knocked a crack open on the stone from the inside, and light leaked in through the crack, illuminating what he thought had long since gone out.

A renewed sense of confidence surged within him—Gu Zhenxing, at his age, was able to have a woman as independent and talented as Julie openly and frankly express her true love. This sense of satisfaction was something that the women who had been sent to him back then could never provide.

He raised his hand and gently covered her left hand, which was resting on her knee.