novelraw Chapter 88 Unreply Emails
Chapter 88 Unreply Emails
Jin Qiqi gently patted Lu Xiran's back, and could feel the trembling of her thin shoulder blades in her palm.
In just one day, she became extremely thin and emaciated.
"Where's my brother?" Jin Qiqi's voice was filled with barely concealed anger. "Where on earth is he?"
Lu Xiran's body stiffened for a moment.
She buried her face deeper into Jin Qiqi's shoulder, and after a long while, she whispered in an almost inaudible voice:
"He...is ignoring me."
The sound was as soft as a feather falling to the ground, yet it made Jin Qiqi's heart clench violently.
She hugged the trembling person in her arms tightly, feeling the warm liquid quickly soak through her clothes—it was Lu Xiran's tears, which she had suppressed for three whole days, finally bursting forth.
On the other side of the city, on the top floor of the Gu's Building.
Gu Yanshen sat in front of the computer, the cold white light of the screen reflecting on his pale face. He opened the encrypted email account and clicked on the folder marked "starred"—it contained hundreds of emails neatly arranged, spanning a full three years.
From: Emma_lu@**
The title of each letter was simple: "Dear senior, I hope you are well."
He opened the most recent email, his fingertip lingering on the touchpad for a long time before slowly sliding down.
That winter three years ago was the coldest season of Gu Yanshen's life.
He had just taken over the most troublesome subsidiary of the Gu Group, and on his very first day stepping into the conference room, he understood—this was not a business, but a battlefield.
The boardroom was filled with his uncles and elders, and everyone looked at him as if he were an outsider who had trespassed into their territory, with scrutiny, vigilance, and an almost imperceptible murderous intent.
The office was heated to a constant 26 degrees Celsius. But sitting in that six-figure leather chair, he felt a chill seeping into his bones, making his fingertips numb.
On the first day, the CFO "accidentally" picked up the wrong report. If that contract were signed, the subsidiary would lose hundreds of millions within six months. He discovered the deliberately altered figure on the last page, and when he looked up, he met the CFO's panicked eyes.
On the third day, the overseas project he had personally negotiated for over half a year was snatched away by his second uncle on the eve of the signing. On the phone, the other party apologized, saying, "Mr. Gu, I'm so sorry, but your uncle's terms..."
On the seventh day, an anonymous post leaked from the company's internal system, saying that this young master who had returned from overseas didn't understand the domestic market at all, was wasting headquarters resources, and would eventually drag the company down. The comments below were full of agreement.
That's only what's on the surface.
In the shadows, someone discovered that the brake cables in his car had been tampered with; someone removed three listening devices from the plants in his office; and at his favorite restaurant, an apprentice in the kitchen took money to add something to his favorite soup.
Gu Yanshen works eighteen hours a day, and the office lights are always on until the early hours of the morning. The coffee his secretary brings gets cold and is replaced, only to get cold again.
He learned to find traps in every document, to see scheming behind every smile, and to detect the sharp edge in every flattery.
Until 3 a.m. one morning, after finishing the last report, his temples throbbed. As he hovered the mouse over the email icon, he saw a new email.
The sender was an unfamiliar address and asked a question about the architecture courses at his alma mater. The question was naive and simple, and the earnestness of a student was evident between the lines, a stark contrast to everything he had encountered at Gu's company.
He should have deleted it. He was so tired that night, so tired he barely had the strength to move the mouse. But inexplicably, he replied. Very briefly, just two sentences.
The next day, he received another reply. The girl named "Emma" wrote a long message, thanking him for his reply and saying that she loved his design notes. She was preparing to apply to the architecture department of ETH Zurich and hoped to be as talented as him someday.
Gu Yanshen twitched the corner of his mouth at the phrase "as capable as you".
Is he good?
Is he really that good?
He's even wary of his own father, and he has to test his water for poison before drinking it. Today in the meeting room, his third uncle dug another pit for him, and he almost fell into it.
He did not reply.
From then on, a new email would appear in my inbox every Friday night.
He initially thought it was just a passing fancy for her, but little did he know that she persisted for three whole years.
Those emails became his only outlet in the power struggle within the Gu family.
She didn't know who he was, and only called him "senior".
She wrote about funny things that happened in class, the frustrations she had when sketching designs, how terrible the new dishes in the cafeteria were, and how the window seats in the library offered views of the lake's ripples.
She wrote: "Senior, I saw your museum design today. The light and shadow on the dome change over time, like a whole starry sky inside the building. How did you come up with that idea?"
He stared at the screen, his fingers hovering over the keyboard for a long time, but ultimately he didn't reply.
But he remembered—there was a girl who understood the starry sky he had hidden in his design.
During that time, his most relaxing moment each day was opening his email late at night to see what she had written. Her words were simple, direct, and clean, like a gentle breeze that dispelled the bloodlust emanating from him.
Sometimes he would imagine what she looked like while looking at the screen—she should be a quiet girl who liked to sit by the window and would unconsciously bite her pen while drawing.
Six months later, he had established himself in the Gu family business. Those who tried to bring him down were purged one by one. His methods weren't exactly clean, but he had no other choice—in the Gu family, it was either eat or be eaten.
On the night of the victory celebration, the champagne tower reflected the light from the crystal chandeliers.
Everyone complimented him on his youth and talent, but only he knew that the white shirt under his suit jacket had been soaked with cold sweat once—his second uncle's men had ambushed him in the parking lot, and he almost didn't make it back.
Back in his empty apartment, he habitually checked his email. She had written: "Senior, I'm preparing to apply to your ETH Zurich. If I get in, could I... bump into you on campus?"
Gu Yanshen stared at that sentence for a very long time.
Then he shut down his email, went into the bathroom, and splashed cold water on his face. The person in the mirror had bloodshot eyes and a taut jawline that looked like it was about to split open.
He cannot see her.
The Gu family is too dangerous; he can't involve any clean people.
Until a year ago, he returned to his alma mater for a donation ceremony. After the event, he walked alone to the lake she often mentioned in her emails.
On an early autumn afternoon, sunlight filtered through the sycamore leaves, casting dappled patterns of light. The lake shimmered with a pale gold, and a few white geese swam leisurely by. Then he saw it—a girl sitting on a bench by the lake.