Chapter 10: Studies of a High School Dropout

Chapter 10: How a High School Dropout Studies

At 5 p.m., Zhao Yu texted Gu Hansheng: Bro, I'm all good and got discharged to go home. Thanks.

Putting down his phone, he looked at Zhou Lan's PPT, crammed with text, and said, "Zhou, this is way too complicated. Got a simpler version?"

"This is the simple version. Any simpler and there'd be nothing left," Zhou Lan tapped the computer screen. "Pay attention. I'll walk you through it item by item so you can explain it clearly to Mr. Gu later."

Zhao Yu rubbed his temples and pried his eyelids open with his fingers to listen. He hadn't seen this many words in one go since dropping out of high school—his eyes ached and his head throbbed.

Zhou Lan lectured for two hours until his throat went dry. When he quizzed Zhao Yu afterward, the answers were all over the place.

"Are you even listening? Am I not being clear enough?"

Zhao Yu slumped over the desk, waving a hand. "Let's take a break. My brain's overloaded."

"I can see that—you're just not cut out for studying."

"Don't say that. When I was playing soccer, I was the team's strategist. I picked up tactics faster than any of the other kids."

"Well, you're clearly not cut out for office work."

"Yeah, that's true."

"You're not going to give up, are you? This was your idea, after all."

Zhao Yu shot upright. "Who said I'm giving up? Assistant Zhou, put down your water. Come on, keep teaching. I'll record everything you say and listen to it on repeat."

Zhou Lan almost choked on his water. "Why didn't you record it earlier?"

"I thought I could just remember it, but I couldn't. Overestimated myself." Zhao Yu chuckled and squeezed out an idiom: "Diligence makes up for lack of talent."

Zhou Lan thought to himself: You're the one being diligent, but why am I the one exhausted?

That evening, Zhou Lan went through it all again in detail and didn't leave until 8 p.m. Zhao Yu opened the recording, tore out two more sheets of paper to jot down the parts he still didn't understand, and by the time he looked up, it was past 1 a.m.

He tossed down his pen, stretched, and snapped a photo of the corner of his keyboard and notes, posting it to Chen Xitong's social media. When Zhou Lan gave him the account, he'd already blocked all of Chen Xitong's friends except Gu Hansheng, so only Gu Hansheng could see his posts.

As expected, a few minutes later, a message from Gu Hansheng came in: Why aren't you asleep yet?

Zhao Yu: Studying. I'll go to bed in a bit.

Gu Hansheng: You just got out of the hospital. Don't stay up too late, okay?

Zhao Yu: Okay. You get some rest too, bro.

His goal was achieved—every bit of effort had to be seen by Gu Hansheng so that every word he said when persuading him to invest would carry weight.

But looking at Gu Hansheng's "Goodnight," Zhao Yu felt a strange feeling. In the quiet of the late night, he kept thinking back to falling asleep in Gu Hansheng's arms the night before. Nothing had happened, yet it left such a deep impression on him that he couldn't figure out why.

He spaced out for a moment, then opened the PPT on his computer again.

The next morning, Zhou Lan arrived early. The moment he stepped inside, he saw someone slumped over the desk, fast asleep—so out of it that he didn't even hear anyone come in, still wearing yesterday's clothes.

He walked over and shook Zhao Yu awake. "Why didn't you go sleep in your bed?"

Zhao Yu blinked groggily, immediately feeling a sharp ache in his neck and a sore, numb arm.

"What time is it?" He squinted toward the window, with a big red patch on his cheek from where it was pressed, looking utterly ridiculous.

"It's 8:30 in the morning."

"Already 8:30?" Zhao Yu pushed himself up from the desk and stumbled toward the bathroom. "Wait, I need to take a shower."

Zhou Lan glanced at the notes on his desk—two full pages of dense notes, key points underlined, and questions marked with wavy lines and question marks. His handwriting was bold and free-flowing, yet boxed in by the grid lines, just like the man himself. He'd said diligence makes up for lack of talent, and he was actually doing it.

Zhao Yu had just stepped into the bathroom when he spun around and rushed back out, shouting, "Where's my phone? Assistant Zhou, help me find my phone."

"It fell on the floor." Zhou Lan picked it up. "What for?"

"Damn, my face got flattened from sleeping on that desk. I can't let a whole night go to waste." Zhao Yu took a selfie of his side profile and said, "I'm posting this to my feed."

He captioned the photo: Accidentally fell asleep. The desk is so hard.

After posting it, he waved the phone at Zhou Lan. "Assistant Zhou, wanna bet? Gu Hansheng will message me within half an hour."

"What's the bet?"

"A cup of coffee."

"You're on."

By the time Zhao Yu finished his shower, a cup of coffee was already waiting on the desk.

"Assistant Zhou, you're throwing in the towel before the fight even starts." Zhao Yu poured milk into the coffee and added half a packet of sugar.

Zhou Lan said, "Consider it a little something for you staying up all night."

"Will the company reimburse it?"

"It's just one cup of coffee. It's on me."

Zhao Yu smiled, sipping his coffee while picking up his phone. And sure enough, there was a message from Gu Hansheng.

Gu Hansheng: What time did you end up staying up till?

Zhao Yu: I wasn't planning to stay up. I just fell asleep without meaning to.

Gu Hansheng: What are you studying, then?

Finally, the question he'd been waiting for! Zhao Yu took a deep breath, reminding himself not to rush—he'd already messed up once by being too hasty. Once bitten, twice shy.

He didn't answer directly, just saying: Just some things I'm interested in.

Gu Hansheng: Don't want to tell me?

Zhao Yu: It's a secret for now. I want to work hard on my own first and show you something worthwhile once I've made progress.

A few minutes later, Gu Hansheng replied: Okay. Don't stay up late again. Sleeping on the desk is bad for your neck, you know.

Zhao Yu: My neck is killing me.

His phone buzzed almost immediately. Zhao Yu hadn't expected him to call, froze for a second, and only answered after steeling himself.

Gu Hansheng's voice came through the phone, as if he were whispering right in Zhao Yu's ear: "How bad is it? Can you still move your neck?"

The man's deep, magnetic voice made Zhao Yu's ear tingle. He instinctively held the phone a little farther away, rubbing his neck awkwardly. "It's okay, not too bad. It's just stiff from sleeping on that desk."

“I’ll take you to see a Chinese medicine doctor later.”

“It’s fine, bro, I can just work it out myself. Besides, I need to head to my mom’s place later—got something to take care of.”

“You sure you’re okay?”

“Really.”

“Alright then. Don’t stay up tonight—sleep in an actual bed.”

“Okay.”

After he hung up, Zhou Lan asked, “Why’d you say you were going to President Chen’s place? I don’t recall that on the schedule.”

“Obviously, I was lying to him.” Zhao Yu pointed at the PPT on his computer. “I don’t want to see him on a whim before this is done. If Chen Li has any business events coming up, I want to show my face. Don’t get me wrong—it’s not about fighting Chen Xitong for the family fortune, just pure face time to build my image.”

“Then I’ll give President Chen a heads-up.”

After Zhou Lan called Chen Li, he came back and said, “President Chen said you can come to her company tomorrow. She happens to have a few important video conferences, and execs from several partner companies will be there.”

“Good.” Zhao Yu flipped through the notes on his desk. “Assistant Zhou, there’s a lot I don’t understand. Would you mind explaining it to me?”

Zhou Lan smiled. “No problem—ask me anything.”

Zhao Yu dove into studying all morning, and by noon he was so wiped out he passed out, sleeping straight until 6:30 that evening. Zhou Lan couldn’t bring himself to wake him, so he quietly slipped out and shut the door.

The next morning, Zhao Yu arrived at Chen Li’s company on time. Gazing up at the towering building, he once again cursed urban development. Luckily, Chen Li’s company was on the eighth floor.

Chen Li had rented the entire eighth floor. Her company wasn’t large—at its peak, it had around a hundred employees, but after layoffs due to funding issues, many desks in the office area sat empty.

Employees slacking off stared at Zhao Yu curiously, since Chen Xitong rarely came in and most people didn’t recognize him.

The conference room was packed with the company’s key staff, the atmosphere quiet and tense.

“Xitong, come sit here.” Chen Li waved him over, her tone gentle.

As Zhao Yu walked toward her, he overheard someone whisper, “This is President Chen’s most beloved son.”

“No wonder—I was wondering why President Chen had such a soft side.”

Zhao Yu found it ironic. When it came to acting, mother and son were cut from the same cloth—or maybe she was even better at it. So cold and distant in private, yet she could put on such a loving act in public.

He’d just sat down when his phone buzzed.

“Put your phone on silent.” Chen Li reminded him.

“Mm.” Zhao Yu switched his phone to silent and saw a message Gu Hansheng had just sent, inviting him to a private gathering that evening.

Zhao Yu set his phone face-down on the table, zoning out for a moment.

He thought Chen Li was a hypocrite—but wasn’t he the same? He’d originally treated Gu Hansheng as nothing more than an ATM, but now a flicker of guilt had crept in. He was starting to care about Gu Hansheng’s feelings, even if only a little—yet it weighed on him, growing heavier with every meeting, every kiss, every show of concern, every goodnight text.

He was increasingly aware that he was using that man’s feelings, even trampling on them, and a deeper unease began to settle in.

The meeting wasn’t going well. Chen Li kept laying out the project plan, but the response from the other side was lukewarm.

Thanks to Zhou Lan’s coaching, Zhao Yu could understand some of it. He jotted notes on paper as the meeting dragged on, and four hours flew by.

During the short lunch break, Zhao Yu finally had time to text Gu Hansheng back.

Zhao Yu: Bro, I’m in a meeting at my mom’s today, so I might not have time tonight.

Gu Hansheng stared at the text on his screen, tapping his fingers on the desk with mild irritation. He pushed open the door and told his secretary, “I won’t be in the office this afternoon. Notify all departments—anyone who needs a signature has one hour to find me.”

“President Gu, but a few supervisors are scheduled to give their reports this afternoon…”

“Are they?”

“You told them last week to come in at 2 p.m. today.”

“Push it to tomorrow.”

“Understood.”

The secretary watched him leave, sending out the notices while feeling genuinely surprised. Though listening to reports wasn’t a big deal, Gu Hansheng rarely disrupted his work schedule. Lately, he’d been acting out of character—forgetting things he’d said, spacing out at times, with no one knowing what was on his mind.