Chapter 14: The Rising Star

“Then I’ll buy a few shares—maybe I can still make some profit.”

When Gu Yao said this casually, she hadn’t given it much thought. But later, sitting quietly in her office, she found herself puzzled: since when had she developed this inexplicable trust in Su Yu?

Resting her head in her hands, she pondered for several minutes, her brows furrowed deeply. She was the type to analyze everything thoroughly, yet now her thoughts hit a snag, leaving her quite unsettled.

Cen Xi came in and, seeing her like this, silently withdrew her foot as if unsure whether to enter.

“What’s wrong?” Gu Yao sighed, leaning back in her chair and spinning around.

“Um… I just wanted to ask whether I should sell the Hangsheng shares or not,” Cen Xi asked cautiously.

“Better keep them. Given how much they’ve dropped, holding on might bring some unexpected gains,” Gu Yao decided, trusting her intuition.

“Okay, I’ll listen to you. Thanks, Yao Yao.” Cen Xi exhaled in relief, tossed a bag of snacks over, and turned to leave.

Gu Yao took the bag—it was a pack of Wangzai Little Steamed Buns. She hadn’t had these in years. Opening it, she popped one into her mouth; it was slightly sweet with a milky flavor.

Cen Xi loved these childish snacks. Though their ages were similar, she was petite with a baby face, looking much younger than she was.

Yet, even someone so adorable wasn’t immune to hardships at work, sometimes reduced to tears by scolding from patients’ families.

Although Mingxi was a high-fee private hospital, that didn’t mean the patients were more refined. Wealthier people often indulged their tempers, thinking money could resolve everything afterward.

Soon, Gu Yao heard shouting outside, mingled with Cen Xi’s sobs. She hurried out to find the emergency room in chaos.

A middle-aged woman dressed lavishly, her hair in an elegant bun, stood with a face as cold as still water, pointing at a tearful Cen Xi and scolding, “Who do you think you are? You casually diagnose my daughter, who’s in such a state, and you say it’s psychological? Are you saying she’s faking it?!”

Cen Xi lowered her head, intimidated by the woman’s force. She stammered, “Ma’am, I’m a nurse, not a doctor. I was just relaying the doctor’s words.”

“Then where is the doctor? Call them here immediately!”

“What’s going on?” A crowd had gathered, curious. Gu Yao squeezed through to glance at the patient’s bed.

It was the young girl who had been rolling in pain with a headache before. Now, she was calmer, receiving an IV drip. She was small and thin, curled up even in sleep, as if clinging to a fragile sense of security.

Cen Xi looked up at her, eyes brimming with tears, on the verge of crying again.

Gu Yao saw her expression and knew it was pointless to ask further. She reached out, “Patient file, please.”

Cen Xi hurriedly handed it over. Gu Yao scanned it and said, “The diagnosis clearly states your daughter has a neurogenic headache. This condition is closely linked to emotional factors, but it doesn’t mean the patient is pretending. I hope you can understand that.”

“And who are you?” The woman’s gaze was sharp, wary of everyone, eyes like daggers.

Gu Yao sized her up, sensing a highly critical and strict character—no wonder her child was so sensitive and anxious.

Just as she opened her mouth to speak, someone pushed her aside. Glancing sideways, Gu Yao greeted faintly, “Director Zhang.”

“Hmm, Xiao Gu, you can get back to work. I’ll handle this,” the middle-aged man with glasses nodded, then smiled as he faced the woman.

Seeing no further need for her presence, Gu Yao turned to leave, pulling Cen Xi out with her. Just as they reached the corridor, a tall, slender doctor hurried by, nearly colliding with them.

“Go in, Director Zhang is there.” Gu Yao nodded toward the room, her eyes full of sympathy. Anyone would be troubled by a difficult relative like that, especially since young Dr. Zhang was newly transferred.

“Dr. Xiao Zhang was called away by the hospital director midway through treatment, so he asked me to inform the family about the condition first,” Cen Xi explained after Director Zhang entered.

“It’s not your fault,” Gu Yao comforted her.

“I heard that mother runs an education center, but who knew her manners were so poor? She just scolded without knowing the facts,” Cen Xi said, regaining her composure. Then she added, “Have you seen the recent kindergarten scandal? That’s part of her chain of businesses.”

“I know a bit,” Gu Yao nodded, her impression of the woman worsening. Wanting to change the subject, she asked, “Where can I find news about Hangsheng Group you mentioned earlier?”

“All major websites have it. You can also find it on Weibo. Just search,” Cen Xi replied.

With some free time after work, Gu Yao researched the news. Hangsheng’s main issues were internal. Many senior executives supporting Su Xingshui were resigning, causing strikes among some workers. If Su Yu managed to resolve it, he could justify purging rivals—troublesome, but beneficial in the long run.

As for the stock market, it fluctuated with every disturbance but would stabilize within days.

Indeed, Su Yu didn’t return to the villa for three days, likely busy beyond measure.

Gu Yao enjoyed the ease of living in his large villa, chauffeured daily, with a new chef suddenly hired downstairs to prepare meals she could eat immediately.

One day, while organizing a large suitcase at the villa, she received a call from Yi Xun.

“Where have you gone this time? No one answered when I rang your doorbell.”

Gu Yao laughed, teasing, “I went out again. This time, I’m in the States.”

“Hey!” Yi Xun shouted, “Are you quitting your job?”

She didn’t doubt her for a second—deep down, she believed Gu Yao was exactly that kind of person.

“Alright, I lied. I have some things to handle, so I’m staying out for a while,” Gu Yao admitted.

“What kind of things? Never mind, we’ll talk when we meet. Come to Yao Yue tonight,” Yi Xun said before hanging up.

Yao Yue was a well-known city bar, beloved by young artists. Gu Yao wasn’t fond of such places; if she had the time, she’d rather go home and sleep. But Yi Xun loved it—she was a sentimental soul, passionate about indie films and music.

By the time Gu Yao left the hospital, it was past eight. Too lazy to eat, she called Yi Xun and took a taxi to the bar.

Inside, the lighting was dim and moody. The space was large, and on the second floor, many girls in short skirts and red lipstick leaned on railings, sipping drinks and swaying gently to the music.

Gu Yao walked deeper inside to a corner booth where Yi Xun waited, dressed in an oversized sweatshirt and pants, her hat pulled low, looking like a hip-hop kid.

“What do you want to drink?” Yi Xun greeted her.

“Anything,” Gu Yao said as she sat down. She wasn’t picky about drinks—anything drinkable would do.

“Two frozen Margaritas,” Yi Xun called the waiter, knowing Gu Yao could handle strong drinks. Then she asked, “Driving?”

“No, my car’s broken,” Gu Yao waved it off.

They drank and talked as Gu Yao recounted recent events to Yi Xun.

Yi Xun sipped lightly, a faint blush coloring her pale cheeks beneath her hat. She opened her mouth, voice low with concern: “Yao Yao, living in a strange man’s house is dangerous. Why don’t you move in with me?”

“Dangerous? Do I look like I’m in danger?” Gu Yao tapped the table, smiling mischievously.

“You still can’t…” Yi Xun began.

“Alright, no worries. I trust his character,” Gu Yao reassured, patting her hand. “Besides, in my current situation, he’s the only one who can protect me.”

“Okay, call me if you need anything,” Yi Xun nodded, sighing softly. Then she added, “I saw your brother a few days ago.”

“Gu Shisheng?”

“Yeah. He formed a band as lead singer and guitarist. They just signed with this bar and perform here every Friday.”

“Does anyone else know?”

“No, mostly young people come here,” Yi Xun said.

“Oh, keep an eye on him. Don’t let him get into trouble,” Gu Yao nodded. “By the way, does he still recognize you?”

“Probably not,” Yi Xun touched her hat. “I only glanced at him from afar, never spoke.”

As they talked, a waiter approached, bowing: “Miss Yi, it’s your turn on stage.”

“Got it,” Yi Xun responded softly, standing and walking to the front to ascend the steps.

“Next, please welcome singer Qian Xun!” the host announced loudly.

The crowd erupted.

Gu Yao’s seat was slightly off-center, so she stood and moved to the middle to cheer for Yi Xun.

The lighting shifted, illuminating the stage brightly. Yi Xun stood center, simply dressed, face partly hidden under her hat, a large electric guitar slung over her shoulder.

After tuning, she strummed the strings. The electric guitar’s sound poured through the microphone—powerful and beautiful. Then she began to sing.

Contrasting her slender frame, Yi Xun’s voice was husky yet passionate. With the guitar’s accompaniment, she quickly stirred the crowd’s enthusiasm. People set down their glasses and moved to the center, dancing to the music.

Gu Yao swayed along. She had always been proud of Yi Xun’s voice, but only she knew how pure and clear it had once been—the same girl now singing rock with a raspy edge.

“Miss, how about a drink?” a young man holding up a glass approached.

Gu Yao turned, expressionless.

“Come on, one drink won’t hurt,” he smiled, stepping closer.

Such cluelessness was rare. Gu Yao smiled slyly, ready to tease him when suddenly two men in black appeared from behind, expressionless, and hauled the man away.