Chapter 13 - The Return of the Beggar
Three months passed like water flowing over polished stones.
The legal war within Dami Technology ended not with a bang, but with a series of quiet, devastating press releases. Lu Guowei surrendered his shares, retired to a small cottage in Hainan under twenty-four-hour private surveillance, and Lu Miaomiao was enrolled in a strict boarding school in Switzerland with no access to family funds.
The board of directors was now entirely united behind Lu Zongheng. The stock price reached an all-time high, driven by the launch of a new microchip architecture that Lin Chen's father's old factory—now reopened and modernized under Dami's industrial division—was producing with zero defect rates.
Lin Chen didn't move back to Damen Road.
She lived in the East Wing of the Lu Manor. She didn't buy designer clothes or spend her days at country clubs; she took over the management of the Lu Family Charitable Foundation, redirecting forty million yuan a year into free dialysis clinics for low-income workers across the province.
On a warm, golden Tuesday afternoon in September, a black Maybach pulled up to the curb near the fish market on Central Avenue.
The street still smelled of burnt oil, steamed dough, and wet concrete.
The car door opened, and Lu Zongheng stepped out. He wasn't wearing his five-thousand-dollar suit today. He wore a simple dark-gray sweater, black trousers, and comfortable leather shoes.
Beside him, Lin Chen stepped out wearing a simple yellow sundress, her hair tied back in her familiar, messy ponytail, the gold band gleaming brightly in the autumn sun.
They walked together down the narrow alleyway toward the faded green awning of the dumpling shop.
The old shopkeeper was still there, leaning against his steamer, wiping a plastic tray with a grey rag. When he saw them approaching, he blinked, recognizing the girl who used to buy three steamed buns every morning on her way to the diner.
"Little Lin?" the shopkeeper asked, squinting through the steam. "I haven't seen you in months! Your uncle said you moved to the South!"
"I didn't move to the South, Boss Wang," Lin Chen smiled, walking up to the counter. "I just moved up the mountain."
The shopkeeper looked at the tall, handsome man standing beside her, then at the sleek Maybach idling at the mouth of the alley with two bodyguards standing near the trunk.
"Is this...?" the shopkeeper stammered, his eyes going wide.
"This is my husband," Lin Chen said proudly, reaching out and taking Lu Zongheng's arm. "Zongheng."
Lu Zongheng smiled—a real, warm smile that reached all the way to his dark eyes. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a clean, crisp twenty-yuan bill.
He laid it on the greasy glass counter.
"Two meat buns, please," Lu Zongheng said. "And keep the change."
The shopkeeper looked at the twenty-yuan bill, then at the billionaire, and finally at Lin Chen, who was laughing—a clear, ringing sound that filled the narrow alleyway like music.
They took the paper bag of hot buns, walked back to the car, and sat on the rear bumper with their legs dangling over the curb, eating the hot meat buns in the autumn sun just like two ordinary people who had nothing to hide and everything to give.
Lu Zongheng looked down at her, his arm wrapping around her waist, pulling her close against his side.
"Clause four point one of our contract," he murmured near her ear, his lips brushing her hair. "The three-hundred-and-sixty-five days are almost up."
Lin Chen took a bite of her bun, her eyes twinkling with a bright, stubborn light as she looked up into the dark eyes of the man who had pretended to be a beggar just to find her.
May you like
"Then you'd better draft a new contract, Chairman Lu," she whispered, leaning up to press her lips against his jaw. "Because I don't accept forty million yuan to leave. You're going to have to keep me for the rest of your life."
Lu Zongheng laughed—a deep, triumphant sound that echoed off the old brick walls of the alley—and pulled his wife into a long, deep kiss under the golden light of the city sun.
