Long Time No See (GL) - Chapter 2

From the moment she stepped into the university gates, Gu Weiran completely escaped Yun Shu’s control.
She had thought their “parting” would last forever—
but fate brought them together once again.

Counting carefully, it had been a full five years.

All these years, Yun Shu’s phone number had never changed,
while Gu Weiran, in order to avoid persistent suitors, had changed hers several times.

They say people who never change their number are sentimental—
but Yun Shu’s nostalgia probably had nothing to do with her.

The funny thing was, Gu Weiran still remembered that number by heart.

Before leaving, she had wanted to say something—
but she didn’t know in what identity or tone she should speak.
So she chose silence, and walked away.

Yun Shu took a sip of tea and exhaled deeply,
a sound that was half sigh, half emotional release.

She walked to the window and looked into the distance.
The sky over Xuan’an was still as clear as ever.
No matter what season or what time she came back,
it was always sunny.

Her ties to this city, it seemed, would never be cut.

To meet Weiran again like this—
though expected, still came with a touch of surprise.

A gentle smile curved Yun Shu’s lips,
a rare lightness warming her mood.
When she lowered her gaze,
she caught sight of Gu Weiran, just stepping out of the building.

Weiran had grown up—
her appearance had changed too.
People often said a girl changes greatly as she matures,
and she truly had inherited Teacher Lin’s grace and temperament perfectly.
Only, deep inside, that stubbornness and detachment were nothing like her mother.

The two of them were opposites in personality—
Teacher Lin was tender, gentle to the bone.
Weiran, on the other hand, was extreme:
either indifferent to everything,
or she cared so deeply she’d burn herself out for it.

Yun Shu wondered—
what kind of surprise, or shock, would this tension-filled nature bring her next?

“Let me see just how strong your wings have grown,”
Yun Shu murmured, watching the girl’s figure fade into the distance,
her smile deepening.

Returning to her desk, she flipped open the tender documents her assistant had prepared.
In the “Person-in-Charge” section, she found Gu Weiran’s number.
Narrowing her eyes, she tapped it lightly.
This girl—she had changed her number again.

Was she trying to avoid her? Or someone else?
Yun Shu didn’t care.
She only wanted to see—
when the storm rose, would Gu Weiran be able to resolve it herself?

Fengqi Communications

The company had been operating for eight years.
But due to brutal market competition and broken connections,
it had fallen into crisis—
business stagnating, payments delayed.

Boss Lü Yida, nicknamed Uncle Da,
had once been a legend in the industry.
But after years of struggle, his health and morale had collapsed.

He decided to quit and dissolve the company.

When the Mingde bid came in, he hadn’t held much hope.
Later, it was Gu Weiran who insisted they participate.
For certain reasons, he didn’t stop her.

Uncle Da could understand her feelings for the company.

She had joined Fengqi at twenty—
working while still in university, finishing her credits early.
Through talent and hard work, she had balanced academics and career perfectly.

Though she had only three years of work experience,
her insight and creativity surpassed many veterans.

Her strength lay in her youth—
progressive thinking, open imagination,
always bringing new ideas to the table.
That was what had made Fengqi stand out in recent years,
and why they still managed to get projects despite the downturn.

But now, in this environment—
strength alone wasn’t enough.
Without connections or financial backing, they couldn’t survive.

Gu Weiran thought she was bringing hope back.
She thought Uncle Da would pick up his courage again,
that the team would regain its confidence.
But the answer was still the same—
he was dissolving the company.

“We’ve got two projects left. They’ll end by month’s end,”
Uncle Da said, his voice heavy,
“After that, I’ll settle everyone’s pay and recommend you to other companies.
You don’t have to worry about where to go next.”

His words felt like a sentence,
and the air in the office grew painfully still.

Gu Weiran said nothing. Her face was pale with anger.

“Weiran, come with me.”

Uncle Da knew she was furious.
And he knew—if the company were to survive,
the only chance lay in her.

“Uncle Da, as long as we win Mingde’s two projects,
we can survive! They’re worth 280,000 a month for a whole year!
If we take on smaller projects on the side,
why give up now?!”

She couldn’t understand how he could let go so easily.
This company was everyone’s sweat and dream!

“Weiran,” he sighed, “our staff costs and rent alone have buried me in debt.
I sold two of my houses—one to pay off loans,
the other I plan to use to start a new cultural venture with a friend.
I’m old, I’m tired. I really can’t do this anymore.”

Gu Weiran had never cared about money or position.
After losing her parents, she’d grown indifferent to most things—
except for Fengqi.
That company was her sense of belonging, her last anchor.

“Does it really have to come to this?”

“I’m no saint,” he said softly.
“I can’t keep everyone’s dreams alive.
We have to survive before we can live.”

“There’s really no other way?”

She refused to let go.
She couldn’t bear to see the young, lively team disband,
only to become competitors in the future.

“Unless someone takes over this mess,
there’s nothing more I can do,” he finally admitted.

A wild thought flashed through her mind.
She wanted to take over Fengqi—
but she didn’t dare say it outright.

Instead, she asked,

“How much capital would it take to keep Fengqi running,
assuming we still win Mingde’s bid?”

“You think I haven’t calculated it?
At least 800,000 yuan.
That’s if Mingde agrees to pay monthly—
and you know how rare that is.
Getting payments is always a nightmare.”

He sipped his tea quietly, watching her reaction.

“Eight hundred thousand…”

She did the math in her head.
She had no dependents, a decent salary,
some savings from her late parents,
and her apartment had appreciated in value.
If all else failed—
maybe she could try.

Even if she lost it all,
it was only money.
No parents to care for, no children to raise,
no marriage in her plans.
What did she have to fear?

“Give it to me,” she said suddenly.
“I want to try. Uncle Da, transfer the company to me.
You can retire peacefully.”

“Weiran, don’t be impulsive—this is a huge risk!”

“You know I’m not impulsive.
Just tell me what paperwork is needed.
I’ll start raising the money.
And I will attend the second round of Mingde’s bidding.”

When Gu Weiran made a decision,
she would do everything to follow through.
She never made promises lightly—
but once she did, she kept them.

She had made up her mind:
no matter how hard it was,
she’d win Mingde’s project—
by skill, by persuasion, whatever it took.

Even if it meant facing Yun Shu,
she had to put business first.

Tea Room

Uncle Da sat in a private booth,
waiting for his guest.
Just as his watch struck two, the door opened.

“Sorry to keep you waiting.”

Yun Shu entered, sunglasses covering half her face.

“President Yun,” Uncle Da stood up to shake her hand.

She removed her glasses, extended her hand politely.

“Hello. Let’s get straight to the point.”

“Yes, yes—thank you, President Yun, for giving me this opportunity.
Otherwise, I’d never have a chance to enter the cultural market.”

It turned out Yun Shu had contacted him before returning to Xuan’an.
She already knew about Fengqi’s crisis,
and that Uncle Da wanted to shift into cultural ventures.
So she offered to pave the way—
on one condition:
he had to find a way to transfer the company to Gu Weiran.

A brilliant move—retreating to advance.
They both knew exactly how Weiran would react.
Now that things had gone as planned,
they met as agreed.

“Your technical team still has a fair chance in the second round,”
Yun Shu said coolly.
“Think carefully—this is your last opportunity.
If you give up, Fengqi will belong to Weiran completely.
You’ll have nothing to do with it.”

She held a business card between her fingers.
Whether or not she handed it over depended on his choice.

“I’ve made up my mind, President Yun.
I’m reluctant, but I truly can’t continue.
Weiran’s capable, but I’m not sure she can raise the 800,000.”

“That won’t be a problem.”

Yun Shu’s expression didn’t change as she handed over the card.

“This is my friend. He’ll give you the business you need.”

“Thank you, President Yun, thank you.”

“Remember,” she said lightly,
“I never came to you.
You never met me.”

“Yes, yes, I understand.”

Yun Shu was curious—
how would Gu Weiran handle this mess?
She didn’t have 800,000 yuan.
Would she touch that money?

Ever since Weiran entered university,
Yun Shu had been transferring money monthly into a card—
linked to her own phone for SMS alerts.

Weiran, however, had never touched a cent.
Through four years of undergrad,
she lived entirely on scholarships and part-time work.

When one is desperate, there are only two paths:
borrow, or use what they already have.

Which would Gu Weiran choose?

Yun Shu was eager to find out.

That night, Gu Weiran finished her work early and went home.
She needed to figure out exactly how much she could gather.
Eight hundred thousand wasn’t a small sum.

She sat by the coffee table, calculator in hand.
Given current returns, the company wouldn’t see cash flow for three months.
Monthly expenses totaled over 200,000,
including kickbacks—
yes, she’d need 800,000 at minimum.

She didn’t have much savings.
She’d always lived comfortably,
never realizing how vital capital could be.

“What are you calculating?”

Her best friend Su Qing had just come home,
and found her frowning over a page full of numbers.

Su Qing was her closest friend.
After graduation, they both stayed in Xuan’an.
An orphan with no family or home, Su Qing had lived with her for years—
closer than sisters.

Su Qing was a famous online author;
one of her novels had even been adapted into a drama.
By chance, she had also taken over a struggling online fiction site,
turning it into a start-up.
Now, she was planning to open a film studio—
chasing her dream,
and chasing the person beyond the clouds.

“Short on money. Uncle Da can’t keep the company, so I took it.”

Weiran looked pitifully at her.

Su Qing understood instantly.

“How much do you need?”

“Eight hundred thousand.”

Su Qing calculated quickly.

“I can give you half.
The rest—I’ll have by the end of the month,
once the website’s revenue clears.”

“Forget it,” said Weiran, shaking her head.
“Your new company’s rent, equipment, staff—
you’re already juggling enough.
I can’t let you risk that for me.”

She had always supported Su Qing’s dream.
Taking her money now would be too selfish.

“You… haven’t considered using that money?” Su Qing asked carefully.

“No way! Not a single cent of hers will I ever touch.
Besides, there can’t be much in that account anyway.”

Weiran refused to use Yun Shu’s money to solve her crisis.
She thought it was just leftover tuition money—
maybe a few thousand at most.

She had no idea how large that sum had grown.

Now, there was only one way left.

She hurried to her room,
dug out the property certificate—
her only asset.
Years ago, Yun Shu had helped process the transfer,
putting the apartment entirely under her name.

Typical of Yun Shu’s baffling actions—
she had insisted on removing her own name from the deed.

She’d once advised Weiran to sell the old apartment and buy a new one,
invest in real estate.
Weiran hadn’t listened.

Now, prices in that district had tripled.
She’d missed her chance at fortune—
fate’s little joke.

That very night, she listed the apartment with an agent.
She wouldn’t use Su Qing’s money.
This was her problem, and she’d solve it herself.

But money alone wouldn’t save Fengqi.
The key was still the Mingde project.
Which meant—
she had to discuss kickbacks with Yun Shu.

Skill mattered, but so did “connections.”
In this world, sometimes knowing how to deal with people
was more useful than knowing how to do things.

Mingde Real Estate — General Manager’s Office

“President Yun, here’s today’s housing market report.”

Her assistant placed the printout on her desk.
It was Yun Shu’s daily habit—to study the data,
always staying alert to the market.

“Got it.”

She flipped through carefully—
from new listings to resale trends,
making notes as she read.

But when she reached a familiar neighborhood,
her hand suddenly froze.

Her eyes widened slightly at the building and unit number.
So familiar, so intimate—
and with it came a piercing ache.

“Gu Weiran,” she whispered.
“You’re really something.
You’d rather sell your house than touch my money.”