The Creator's Grace - Chapter 4

One month ago.

“Second Miss, the Eldest Miss… she has passed away.”

Twenty hours earlier, while overseas, Chi Yu received a call from Butler Chen.

Chi Yu, who had been staying up late performing calculations at her computer, didn’t understand what Butler Chen was saying at first. She fell into a long silence.

Receiving no response, Butler Chen asked, “Second Miss?”

Only then did Chi Yu slowly stand up from her chair. “What did you say?”

A long, heavy sigh came through the receiver.

“Second Miss, please accept my condolences.”

The first thought that sprang into Chi Yu’s mind upon receiving this call was four words: This makes no sense.

Just yesterday, her sister had video-called her as usual, complaining about a bit of “internal heat” and a toothache. She had nagged Chi Yu to take better care of herself while she was away.

While running her calculations, Chi Yu had taken the time to snap back: “Sister, are you getting old? You’re not even forty and you’ve already started the ‘old lady nagging’ mode.”

“I only have one sister. If I don’t nag you, who am I supposed to nag?”

On the screen, Chi Li took a sip of coffee and smiled. “You just had to run off so far away. I can’t find anyone to nag in person; I have to do it through a screen.”

“Just stop nagging me. Fine, I’m done talking—I have a mountain of work here. I’ll talk to you when I’m finished.”

Chi Yu was indeed very busy. The issues with the new orbit were more complex than she had anticipated, and the newcomers in the project team loved coming up with their own ideas on a whim. Even after Chi Yu had scolded them with a cold face, they wouldn’t stay in line.

Her sister’s call had come at a bad time; she had been scouring the web for a specific paid program when the video popped up. And it was just to talk about such trivial topics…

Chi Yu had hung up decisively. She hadn’t felt anything was wrong at the time; the two sisters had grown up bickering like that, and it had only made their bond stronger.

She never imagined that would be her final conversation with her sister.

Her sister was dead?

Chi Yu clutched the phone in her hand. After standing in the room for a long while, she dialed back.

“Cause of death.”

Butler Chen said, “For now… we don’t know…”

Infuriated, Chi Yu said in a low, trembling voice, “Then go find out!”

Butler Chen, clearly stung by her rage, replied hurriedly, “Yes!”

Without even taking the time to pack, Chi Yu simply stuffed her passport and a few essentials into a backpack. She bought a ticket for the earliest flight home on her way and rushed back to the country.

Before the plane took off, she received a call from Ran Jin.

“Xiao Yu, please be strong.”

Hearing Ran Jin’s familiar voice, Chi Yu finally couldn’t hold it back anymore. She realized then that her sister was truly gone. A sharp pain tore through her chest; she gripped the phone, head lowered, as a silent stream of tears fell.

It took a long time for Chi Yu to manage her emotions. When her voice was steady, she said:

“Sister Ran, take care of yourself. I’m already on the plane. I’ll be back soon.”

“You’re coming back already?” Ran Jin’s question caught Chi Yu by surprise.

“Of course I’m coming back—to see my sister off one last time with you.”

Silence hung on the other end for a moment. Then Ran Jin said, “Send me your flight information. I’ll pick you up.”

At that time, Chi Yu—unaware that her sister and Ran Jin had broken up—replied naturally: “No need. There must be many things at home that need your decision. I’ll likely arrive late at night; I can make my own way back.”

Ran Jin insisted on picking her up, so Chi Yu eventually relented and told her.

Having received Chi Yu’s flight info, Ran Jin had now been awake for twenty-six consecutive hours.

The news of Chi Li’s accidental death had spread like wildfire.

The battle for lunar mining rights had entered a fever pitch. Everyone in the Chi Group was straining every nerve to win, yet the “lead engine” had suddenly broken down.

Chi Li was dead, but the battle for the lunar rights could not stop. This was the Chi Group’s most important project in the last five years. They had prepared for years and put all their eggs in one basket to take it. Now that they were at the finish line, any sign of chaos would mean all their efforts went to waste.

With Chi Li gone, there was a certain amount of panic within the Chi Group. Many feared that a competitor had resorted to unscrupulous means to eliminate her for a piece of the massive cake. Since the cause of death remained unknown and the Chi family showed no intention of announcing it to the public, speculation and fear grew exponentially.

Just as the Chi Group was about to fall into total disarray, the new Chairperson, Ran Jin, presided over the Board of Directors and made several major decisions with surgical precision.

She decisively allocated funds, reassigned personnel, and bid for lunar orbits. It was through this board meeting that everyone realized the Chi Group had changed hands. Chi Li was dead, and the woman named “Ran”—whom she had raised herself—was now the top leader of the Chi Group.

In the matter of purchasing navigation routes—a task that should have been approached with extreme caution—Ran Jin acted with a heavy hand. She spent a fortune to secure the three most expensive and convenient routes, purchasing them for a ten-year term.

These ten years were the “golden decade” for lunar mining. Whoever established a foothold on the moon during this time would hold the power over the future. Everyone knew this, but knowing it was one thing; having the courage to act on it was another. After all, the annual cost of a single route required two hands to count.

With countless competitors, having private navigation routes was the only way to gain an advantage and take the lead in the struggle for mining rights. Routes were the foundation of confidence and the most powerful weapon for seizing the market.

The logic was sound, but what if they failed to secure the mining rights in the end? The Chi Group could certainly resell the routes, but lunar orbits were auctioned by tenure—every passing day meant a drop in value. When the time came, they would have to find a buyer willing to take them off their hands at a loss.

While these three routes were the most convenient, one could still take longer, more circuitous paths. To witness the spectacle of the Chi Group holding routes they couldn’t unload—what did taking a longer way matter to the competition? If they didn’t win the mining rights and couldn’t find buyers for the three major routes, the Chi Group would likely suffer a crippling blow.

Facing skepticism, Ran Jin had only one thing to say:

“You need not have any hesitation. You only need to follow me and listen to my decisions.”

Decisions that Chi Li had been unable to settle quickly while alive were now being issued as irrevocable commands by the new “emperor.” Furthermore, Chi Li’s former followers had shifted their allegiance to the new leader in the blink of an eye.

The decisions were implemented immediately. From top to bottom, tens of thousands of employees in the Chi Group trembled for their livelihoods.

On the second day after the death of the Chi Empire’s leader, Ran Jin pushed the company to the edge of a cliff—and suspended herself high in the air. One misstep, and she would be pierced by ten thousand arrows.

Some saw Ran Jin as possessing peerless courage; others felt she was far too reckless. But no one could deny her boldness. Amidst the high-speed transmission of information, Ran Jin’s decisions were quickly leaked to the internet, causing a stir throughout the entire energy sector.

[Whoa, buying three at once? Is this an attempt at a monopoly?]

[The Chi family is still rich, after all.]

[It’s not wealth she built herself, so she spends it lavishly without a hint of regret.]

[Acting so recklessly—aren’t they afraid they’ll be cut off in the end and lose everything down to their underwear?]

Click.

Shutting the voices of doubt outside the door, Ran Jin—who had held three consecutive meetings—had not yet eaten. She asked her assistant to get her a sandwich and a cup of black coffee.

Sitting in her chair and opening her laptop, she checked the progress of the mining rights and news from various parties. Ran Jin felt a dry, stinging pain in her eyes. She pulled a bottle of artificial tears from a drawer, applied a few drops, and leaned back in her chair with her eyes closed to rest.

When her eyes felt better, she opened them again, her thick lashes still damp. She opened a drawer and took out a preserved flower sealed in a transparent resin sphere. The white rose was frozen in the moment of full bloom, still as beautiful as it had been years ago.

A knock came at the door, and the assistant entered. “President Ran, I’ve put the sandwich and coffee on the table for you.”

“Mhm.” Ran Jin had already put the flower back. “Thank you.”

After the assistant left, she checked the time and realized she had been staring at the flower for too long. She needed to visit Lu Siqiong and then rush to the airport to pick up Chi Yu. She took her handbag and rode the private elevator down to the underground parking lot.

After she had gone, the assistant entered the room again and found that President Ran hadn’t taken a single bite of the sandwich or a sip of the coffee.

Ran Jin stayed at the Lu residence for a long time. It wasn’t until well after midnight, close to the time Chi Yu’s flight was scheduled to land, that she ended the conversation.

As she stood by the elevator, Lu Siqiong stood behind her wearing a bathrobe. Lu Siqiong’s hair was still damp, hanging over her shoulders in strands. Her hands were tucked into the pockets of her pink robe as she scrutinized Ran Jin’s face.

“Hmm?” Ran Jin squinted her aching eyes. Seeing Lu Siqiong observing her, she relaxed her brow and voiced a question.

Lu Siqiong laughed. “Does everyone know that the great President Ran, who defies everyone, acts like a child in front of me? You don’t even know how to take care of yourself. Come here, let me look at your eyes. How much pain are you in? Are you still wearing them?”

Lu Siqiong pulled Ran Jin closer, leaning into her face to examine her pupils.

Ran Jin stepped back and instinctively pressed the elevator button. “I have to. I must be cautious.”

“You don’t even take them off when you sleep, do you?”

“I don’t.”

“You’re truly mad… do you not want your eyes anymore?”

Ran Jin said nothing.

“Sigh, forget it. I’m tired of talking to you; you don’t listen anyway. You’re great in every way, Xiao Jin, except for that stubborn temper of yours—it’s exhausting. Go back and sleep. Do you have to keep watch at the funeral hall tonight?”

“I’m going to the airport first.”

“To the airport at this hour? For what?” Lu Siqiong snapped to attention and quickly understood. “Chi Yu is back?”

“Her sister passed away. How could she not come back?”

“True. It’s good she’s back; let her keep the vigil. You’ve been tired for so many days—stay out of it. The Chi family doesn’t welcome you anyway. But why are you going to pick her up? Is there no one else left in the Chi family, or are there no cars at the airport? You’ve already broken up with Chi Li, haven’t you? Why not just go home and get a beautiful sleep? You have to fight the whole world again tomorrow!”

Ran Jin watched the floor numbers flickering on the digital display and didn’t answer. Lu Siqiong wanted to say more, but the elevator doors opened. Ran Jin stepped inside, turned, and said “Goodnight,” cutting off Lu Siqiong’s thousand words.

The doors closed, shutting out Lu Siqiong’s angry face.

As the elevator carried Ran Jin slowly downward, the cold lights of the advertisements in the car washed over her face. Her expression, which hadn’t seen a smile for days, softened into an imperceptible curl of the lips as she thought of something…

Ran Jin’s car sat in the parking lot for nearly an hour. Chi Yu’s flight was delayed and had still not landed.

Ran Jin sat in the driver’s seat, arms crossed over her chest, leaning forward slightly with her head lowered. Her forehead was almost touching the steering wheel. She had been forcing herself to stay awake while waiting for Chi Yu’s WeChat message, but the exhaustion and the comfortable temperature in the car caused her, who had been working non-stop for days, to drift off into sleep.

In her dream, she returned to that rainy day.

Crouched in an alleyway, she was covered in filth and blood. Her broken body had only one breath of life left. She heard the dull thud of raindrops hitting an umbrella.

At some point, a stranger stood beside her while someone behind held an umbrella for them. The woman crouched down, took her limp wrist, and examined it.

“Hello there, Xiao Ran.” The woman lifted her face, studied it for a moment, and said, “I’ve finally found you.”

…

She was then taken to a large house. It was warm and bright, and every corner smelled of a pleasant fragrance. She didn’t dare sit on the soft saffron-yellow sofa, fearing her filth would ruin it.

That was until a smiling young girl approached her with a glass of peach juice and pulled her down to sit.

“I’ve sent someone to get you some pajamas. Drink some peach juice and then go take a shower. It’s so cold outside; you’re soaked to the bone—you’ll freeze. Look at you, your hands are so cold.”

Sixteen-year-old Chi Yu had her black hair draped over her shoulders. Her lips were like glistening jelly. She had no idea what kind of relationship this person would develop with her sister. Pure and full of kindness, she held Ran Jin’s hand; her palms were soft and warm, and her slender, fair legs were full of youthful beauty and vitality.

Without a hint of disdain, Chi Yu used her snowy-white, clean hands to warm her, offering her the peach juice. “You’re Sister’s guest, right? We rarely have guests. I’m Chi Yu. You can call me Xiao Yu. What’s your name?”