Before summer ended, “Haina’s” ship was ready.
With ocean currents aligning, their optimal sailing season was near.
But the “Haina” crew never saw Fu, still drifting out there, return.
Not just Jin Xueshen—even Ning Zhuo, who usually gave Fu free rein—felt a faint unease.
…
Fu Wenqu’s latest mission had gone quite well.
His “client,” Huo Qiya, could attest to that.
One morning, Huo Qiya descended from the villa’s second floor to find Fu Wenqu mopping the floor with gusto, as if it were his own home.
Spotting Huo Qiya, Fu greeted him casually, then, in a mundane “what’s for breakfast” tone, asked: “Little Boss Huo, who’s Huo Yingbo?”
Huo Qiya froze: “My father’s… son.”
He swallowed the word “bastard.”
A son doesn’t air his father’s shame.
“Oh.” Fu Wenqu continued, “Your father’s son sent a killer after you. Nearly took him out last night. He’s locked in the basement. Call your brother to pick him up, or your dad?”
Ignoring Huo Qiya’s stunned face, Fu kept mopping, sighing theatrically: “Man, what’s a family doing, huh?”
After a few swipes, he added: “By the way, what’s for breakfast?”
From then on, Huo Qiya’s wariness of him vanished. He even wanted to book Fu for long-term service.
Despite overt and subtle offers, Fu didn’t bite, just smiled: “Little Boss Huo, not scared of me?”
Scared? Of course.
Huo Qiya didn’t know the affable Fu Wenqu of “Haina.”
From their recent dealings, he was sure Fu was a demon.
His humanity seemed half-real, not innate but cultivated, impossible to read as sincere or fake.
Only those he favored earned his fierce loyalty and heart.
Everyone else was grass to him—beneath notice unless paid to “clean.” Even stepping on them was too much hassle.
Huo Qiya wanted him in his employ.
If not, the best move was to build rapport and send him off kindly.
Unless absolutely certain, never try to kill him.
A failed attempt would haunt you.
He’d checked with his father; Old Boss Huo agreed.
So, Huo Qiya sidestepped the “scared” question, pivoting to bond: “How’d you meet my father?”
“Referral,” Fu said, propping his chin, pensive. “I was on a job for a boss at a Ruiteng subsidiary R&D firm. He hired me but dragged his feet on the final payment. So I took matters into my own hands, nabbed an android from his company…”
Fu’s voice softened, tinged with nostalgia: “To settle the debt.”
The sentiment flickered and faded.
He tilted his head, grinning at Huo Qiya: “That boss introduced me to Old Boss Huo. Funny thing—my last job before retiring was your dad’s. First job after coming back? You. Self-assigned, self-accepted.”
Huo Qiya gave an awkward smile: “Fated, huh?”
Before Fu could reply, his communicator buzzed.
He waved casually at Huo Qiya, signaling he’d step out.
On the lawn, Fu connected the call: “Yo, Ning-ning, miss me?”
Ning Zhuo’s voice was firm: “Boss Fu, time to come back.”
Fu understood instantly: “When’s the departure?”
“Tested the waters two days ago, all smooth. Min Qiu says five days from now.”
Fu closed his eyes, then opened them, saying clearly:
“…I told you, didn’t I? I’m not going.”
Ning Zhuo’s heart sank.
He’d had a gut feeling before dialing, but he needed to hear it himself.
He snapped: “No way.”
Fu flashed a bright smile: “Ning-ning, don’t be stubborn.”
Ning Zhuo wouldn’t budge.
The only person who still called him Ning-ning, who treated him like a kid, was Boss Fu.
Ning Zhuo remembered when he’d planned to change his name as a child. Fu’s genuine regret: “Hai Ning, such a good name. How can no one call it?”
Lying in bed, half his body numb, shoulder swathed in bandages, Ning Zhuo had answered dully: “Hai Ning’s dead. No need for anyone to remember that name.”
Fu clearly disagreed.
After mulling it over, he clapped his hands: “If no one else calls it, I will! I’ll call you Ning-ning—so someone’s still calling you. You’re Little Hai Ning, and I’ll remember.”
Ning Zhuo had glanced at him, pulling the blanket over half his face, noncommittal, finding it sappy yet warm.
Back then, consumed by vengeance, he thought he didn’t need warmth.
But that warmth had lingered to this day, still nestled cozily in his chest, refusing to fade.
Facing Ning Zhuo’s stiff refusal, Fu’s thoughts aligned with his: “Ning-ning, remember the day I found you?”
Ning Zhuo grunted: “Mm.”
“I’ll be honest, don’t get mad,” Fu Wenqu said. “That day your house burned, I was passing by, just wanting to gawk, no good intentions. I was at my lowest then, so low I half-wanted to die. One wrong step, and I might’ve walked into the fire, burned myself to death. Never thought I’d find you on my way to self-destruction.”
He laughed, self-deprecating: “I saved you, you saved me. All these years, you never owed me a thing. You built ‘Haina’ so fiercely—besides revenge, I wonder if you thought you’d die young and wanted this crew to look after me in my old age?”
Ning Zhuo didn’t answer directly: “You’ve been… good to me these years.”
“I know you’re the best kid.”
Fu’s voice softened: “Me? I’ve got hands and feet, don’t need you to provide for me. I’m used to drifting. Stayed ‘cause I was curious about you. Thanks, Ning-ning, for giving me these years of stability.”
Ning Zhuo felt a pang of sadness.
Fu’s words showed his mind was made up.
No amount of pulling or pleading could sway a resolved Fu Wenqu.
He asked: “If you don’t come, where’ll you go?”
“Hm… keep an eye on Little Lin Qin, make sure no one bullies him, or that he doesn’t go astray if he rises high. Someone’s gotta keep him in check. …The few staying behind in ‘Haina’—how’ll they manage without a backer? …And that huge ‘Haina’ base, just abandoning it? Such a waste. If you can’t find a way out there and want to come home, someone’s gotta guard the place, right?”
Ning Zhuo, quietly moved, murmured: “…Boss Fu.”
Fu raised a hand, miming a pat on his head from afar: “…Your fault, too. All these years, you’ve saddled me with ties. Now I can’t leave with peace of mind.”
Ning Zhuo: “Sorry.”
Fu laughed: “Not what I wanted to hear.”
Ning Zhuo: “Take care.”
“Not that either.”
Ning Zhuo lowered his eyes: “I’ll… live well.”
A hearty laugh came through the communicator: “That’s the one!”
…
When Fu’s decision reached “Haina,” everyone fell silent.
Jin Xueshen’s reaction was the loudest, erupting: “No way! If he’s not going, I’m not either!”
Ning Zhuo glanced at him: “Fine. Go find him.”
Jin Xueshen, fuming, stormed out of the meeting room like a sulky kid seeking his father’s explanation.
He didn’t come back.
After the others dispersed, Shan Feibai said to Ning Zhuo: “If he stays, I bet Yu-ge won’t go either.”
Ning Zhuo asked casually: “Why? What’s their deal?”
Shan Feibai answered earnestly: “Same deal as us.”
Ning Zhuo shot him a look, unconvinced, and snapped: “Get lost.”
As Shan Feibai started to elaborate, Ning Zhuo’s communicator pinged.
An unknown caller.
Ning Zhuo thought, then answered, staying silent.
The voice called: “Ning Zhuo?”
Ning Zhuo recognized it: “…Jiang Jiuzhao.”
His tone was lively, as if Ning Zhuo hadn’t thrown him off a building or severed his limbs: “Got time? My prosthetics are fitted, I’m mobile. Meet up, just us two.”
…
An hour later, Yu Shifei found Jin Xueshen in a corner of the base.
He sat with his face buried in his knees until the familiar figure sat beside him. Without warning, he spoke, his words disjointed: “He told me to take care of Ning Zhuo. Said he doesn’t look after himself, not even eating properly.”
“I said… I said, Shan Feibai’s got him covered.”
“He said Ning-ning needs a family to fall back on.”
“He said he’s staying to guard our home, that I’m young, should see the world, not rot in Silver Hammer…”
Yu Shifei listened to his fragmented retelling, waiting calmly for his conclusion.
He’d stay, and so would Yu Shifei.
If plans changed, he’d have plenty to handle.
Mentally sorting tasks, Jin Xueshen ended his muddled murmurs, looking at Yu Shifei: “What do you think?”
Yu Shifei blinked.
He was used to following orders.
His distinct appearance marked him as an android, so people instinctively assigned him tasks, treating him as thoughtless.
Sometimes, even Yu Shifei slipped into that role.
Hardly anyone ever asked, “What do you think?”
He considered carefully, answering haltingly: “My thought is… I want to go with you. Silver Hammer’s too cold and damp, bad for your health.”
Jin Xueshen bowed his head, silent, as if a storm raged within.
Finally, he clenched his fist: “We… go.”
As Fu said, they were young, not meant to fester in this twisted world.
Their path ahead was uncertain, fraught with risks.
But if a new world awaited, he’d return to Silver Hammer, even if it meant kidnapping Fu to bring him back to their side.
