The Heiress's Game

Gu Yunjin met Gu Zhenxing in the top-floor suite of Zhenxing Medical Center. When she arrived, Gu Zhenxing had just finished an immune anti-aging treatment.

He changed into a dark gray casual home outfit and sat on the rattan sofa on the terrace, holding a cup of Longjing tea in his hand, with several documents spread out in front of him.

Sunlight reflected off the surface of the artificial lake, highlighting his striking white hair and nasolabial folds.

He saw Gu Yunjin being led in by the nurses, and he slightly raised his chin, gesturing for her to sit down in the chair opposite him.

"Jin'er? What brings you here?"

He stepped aside to let her in, his tone the standard warmth a father would show his daughter—not too warm, but warm enough.

"What couldn't you say over the phone? Why did you make a special trip? What happened?"

"It's nothing serious, Dad." Gu Yunjin sat down on the sofa, her voice still as obedient and gentle as ever. "I just have a small thing I wanted to tell you."

"Speak. What is it?" Gu Zhenxing sat down on the single sofa opposite her, put the book on the coffee table, picked up his teacup and took a sip.

I want to move out.

Gu Zhenxing put down his teacup and looked into her eyes.

He had assumed that Gu Yunjin had come to see him for something important—whether she wanted to join the company, wanted a raise, or wanted something else.

When Gu Mingyue moved out, she took a villa and a sports car from him. When Gu Mingcheng went independent, he took an entire floor of office space.

Gu Yunjin walked in empty-handed, only saying that she wanted to move out.

He didn't even have a chance to say the few polite words he had prepared.

"I thought something had happened. Is that all? No need to make a special trip. Just move if you want."

Have you found an apartment? Pick one of those two apartments your secretary gave you last time. If you think it's too small, tell Wang Manyun and she'll arrange something else for you.

"Not those two sets," Gu Yunjin said. "It's the land my mother bought before."

Gu Zhenxing's hand, which was holding a teacup, stopped in mid-air.

"The plot of land Wan Ning bought? I remember that land has been vacant and nobody's taken care of it. How do you plan to live there?"

"I had the house built a few years ago."

"Is it covered?" Gu Zhenxing's eyebrows rose slightly.

"Mm." Gu Yunjin lowered her head.

"Before Mom left, she saved up money to buy that piece of land, and even hired a designer to draw up blueprints."

"After she left, I thought—I have to finish building the house she wanted to live in."

"She used to tell me that she wanted to plant an osmanthus tree, a swing, and that my room window should face south."

She looked up at Gu Zhenxing, her eyes slightly moist, but not enough to make her cry.

"Dad, I've saved a room especially for you. If you ever miss me or her, you can come and stay for a couple of days."

"The room faces the small garden at the back, and it's very quiet. My mother used to say that you were too busy and tired when you were young, and that you should have a place to rest properly when you get old, a place that is quieter than the old house and much quieter than the medical center at night."

Gu Zhenxing's fingers stopped on the armrest of the sofa.

He looked at his daughter's face; it looked so much like Su Wanning's.

When Su Wanning stood in front of him and said, "I am willing to retire from acting," she had the same expression—her heart was churning, but her face only showed a little bit of tenderness that made people feel sorry for her.

How long has it been since he last thought of Su Wanning? It's not that he doesn't want to think about her at all, it's that he doesn't dare to.

He wronged her.

The only thing he did after she died was to give her a proper funeral.

Now that houses have been built on that land, these details suddenly struck him like a blow—not a feeling of gratitude, but a sense of guilt.

A very specific, embodied sense of guilt.

"Your mother's land—" He paused, "I didn't think much of it when she bought it. I never imagined that you would be the one to build the house for her in the end."

Gu Zhenxing was silent for a moment. Then he picked up his phone and sent a message to Xu Bingjun. The message contained only one line: Transfer five million from my personal account to Yun Jin, marked as renovation payment.

"I'll have Xu Bingjun transfer some money to you later, take it. You'll need to buy furniture once the house is built."

Gu Yunjin opened her mouth, as if she wanted to refuse, or as if she didn't know what to say.

In the end, she simply nodded and softly said, "Thank you, Dad."

There was silence for a few more seconds.

Gu Zhenxing picked up his teacup, then put it down again, his gaze lingering on his daughter's face for a moment.

"When you move over there to live on your own, please be careful. I'll have the housekeeper arrange a reliable driver for you later. Also—"

He paused, as if suddenly remembering something, "You and Zhang Zhuoran? Are you still seeing each other?"

"We keep in touch, we're just ordinary friends," Gu Yunjin said casually.

"Dad, there's one more thing."

"explain."

"Zhang Zhuoran is currently working on a new technology project in the field of artificial intelligence."

"I've talked to him a few times and found him quite interesting. He happens to be looking for investment, and I'd like to use some of my spare change to try it out."

Gu Zhenxing was somewhat surprised.

He knew Zhang Zhuoran well—he had recently sold the shares his biological mother had risked her life to his stepmother, Xue Min, and was heavily criticized online. People in the industry were saying that the Zhang family had raised a spendthrift son.

But the reason he was willing to take a second look was indeed because the kid had guts.

Gu Yunjin changed the subject, "I want to borrow your name as a shield—with your approval, it will be easier for me to speak to my partners in the future."

Gu Zhenxing looked at her.

His 25-year-old daughter, wearing a beige cardigan, sat opposite him and said she wanted to borrow a tiger skin, speaking frankly and openly.

He actually appreciated her open and aboveboard use of his name—she wasn't the kind of stubborn person who refused all of her parents' resources, nor was she the kind of useless person who only knew how to ask for things.

I'm being frank with you because I just want to get some of your endorsement; I'm not greedy, not humble, just right.

"How much should we invest?"

"Ten million. I was originally thinking of putting some more into the fund, but after listening to him, I think it's more worthwhile to go in at this stage."

Gu Zhenxing almost laughed out loud; ten million.

How much did Gu Mingcheng ask him for last time? Three billion.

Before Gu Mingyue got married, she transferred 300 million yuan from his trust account.

Gu Yunjin only asked for ten million. He leaned back in the rattan sofa and tapped his fingers twice on the armrest.

"You have enough pocket money for ten million?"

"I've saved some myself, but I'm still a little short."

Gu Yunjin gave a number.

"Alright."

Gu Zhenxing picked up his phone and sent another message to Xu Bingjun: "Transfer 50 million from my private account to Miss Er tomorrow, with the note 'long-term investment'."

"Keep that pocket money as your secret stash. I'll pay for this; consider it practice for you."

After he finished speaking, he stood up, picked up his reading glasses and documents from the coffee table, and walked into the room.

He paused at the door without turning his head—"Remember to call me when the osmanthus tree blooms in that room you left for me."

When Gu Yunjin came out of the medical center, it was already dark.

Today was truly a day of incredible luck. I got five million for renovations for free, fifty million for investment, and I even gained a father who said, "Call me when the osmanthus tree blooms."

She knew Gu Zhenxing too well—he gave her money not because he loved her, but because giving money was what he was best at.

Emotional wounds are patched with money, guilt is filled with money, and memories are bought off with money.

He felt better after transferring the money to her, and he felt like a good father.

As the car turned onto the ring expressway, she took out her phone again and scrolled through her emails. It was the due diligence report on the artificial intelligence project that Zhang Zhuoran had sent her earlier that day—covering the technical team's background, patent portfolio, competitor analysis, and three-year financial forecasts. She read it from beginning to end, marking each question mark with her fingertip before finally exiting on the last page.