TWO YEARS LATER
Two years had passed since he'd left China, two years that had seen his enterprise, 'Li R&D private limited,' explode into a multi-billion-dollar empire.
His face, now graced the covers of every major economic magazine across Asia and beyond.
He was routinely listed as one of the top ten industrialists, a financial titan whose youth and charisma were as legendary as his cutthroat business practices. Women worshipped him, reporters chased him, and the business world both feared and admired him.
Yet, despite the dazzling façade, something deep within Li Hao remained stubbornly, chillingly unchanged.
Or perhaps, it had only grown colder, harder.
The slight softening that Yu Han had once managed to evoke had long since been calcified into an impenetrable shell.
He had plunged himself into the "black world" of business, where deals were sealed with more than just contracts, and obstacles often met a far more permanent end.
It had become unsettlingly easy for him to order someone removed, to eliminate anyone who dared to stand in his path.
He had returned to his old ways, even amplified them, finding a fleeting, unsatisfying distraction in countless women, using them cruelly, pushing boundaries of pleasure and pain, but always, always finding a barren echo where satisfaction should have been.
Every exquisite, depraved encounter was just another stark reminder of the void that gnawed at him, a void that no amount of success, power, or carnal excess could fill.
[At Li Hao's office - Bangkok]
The soft chime of a notification broke the silence, but Li Hao didn't look up from the complex financial report displayed on his panoramic monitor.
His fingers, long and elegant, flew across the keyboard with practiced ease, crunching numbers, predicting market shifts, and dictating futures.
"Mr. Li," a calm, clear voice cut through the air.
Li Hao finally lifted his gaze, his dark eyes, sharp and intelligent, focusing on the woman standing beside his polished black desk.
This was Xi Feng, his personal secretary. Young, perhaps in her mid-twenties, she possessed an understated beauty. Her large, expressive eyes, often hidden behind a pair of professional glasses, held a quiet intelligence. She was one of the few women in his inner circle he hadn't touched, a testament to her unwavering professionalism or perhaps, his own unspoken boundary with her.
She held a sleek tablet in her hands, her posture impeccable. "Today you are scheduled to attend the party organized by the Y-group."
"Is Mr. Pakorn attending the party?" Li Hao's voice was a low rumble, devoid of inflection.
Xi Feng's eyes swiftly scanned the tablet's screen before meeting his. "Yes, Mr. Pakorn's name has been listed in the guest list."
A flicker, a near-imperceptible tightening around Li Hao's lips, was his only reaction. He leaned back in his ergonomic chair, a silent predator assessing its prey. "Then arrange my meeting with him for tonight."
"Understood, Mr. Li." Xi Feng nodded, her expression unreadable, and then, with a soft murmuring of "Excuse me," she turned and exited the cabin, her footsteps barely audible on the plush carpet.
Left alone, Li Hao resumed his work, but his mind had already pivoted.
Mr. Pakorn. An old-money industrialist, notorious for his shady dealings and his attempts to undermine Li private limited recent expansion into the regional real estate market.
Li Hao felt a familiar, cold thrill course through him. He enjoyed the hunt, the strategic dismantling of his enemies, often finding more gratification in their downfall than in the actual acquisition of wealth. Another victory, another notch on his belt, but he knew, deep down, it would bring no lasting warmth.
Suddenly, his phone vibrated on the desk. He glanced at the screen. It was his father, Li Wei.
The text message read: "Come home for Chinese New Year. And also, I have something important to discuss with you."
Li Hao snorted, a humorless sound. Go back to China? The very thought grated on him. He had built his new empire far from the shadows of his family's influence, deliberately distancing himself from a past that felt stifling and painful.
He didn't respond, merely placing the phone face down, dismissing the message, for now. The bitterness of his past, intertwined with Yu Han, still lingered, a phantom limb ache he tried to ignore by burying himself in work and women.
[At night - The Y-group Party]
The night air of Bangkok hummed with an almost electric energy. Li Hao stepped out of his custom-built armored limousine, a vision of power and understated elegance.
Dressed in a perfectly tailored black, three-piece suit, the rich fabric hugging his broad shoulders, complemented by a pair of bespoke red-bottom shoes, he was a walking statement of wealth and influence.
The moment his foot touched the ground, a cascade of flashing lights erupted. Reporters, jostling for position, eager to capture even a fleeting glimpse of the young magnate, shouted his name.
Cameras clicked incessantly, hungry to immortalize the handsome, enigmatic face that had become synonymous with unparalleled success.
He moved with an almost regal grace, a silent force entering the opulent party hall.
It was a space designed to impress, filled with the very fabric of Thailand's elite: powerful businessmen, influential politicians, renowned actors, and individuals whose combined net worth contributed a significant portion to the nation's GDP.
Yet, as Li Hao entered, a hush fell, followed by a ripple of recognition. All eyes, accustomed to grandeur, turned to him. The young, handsome, and undeniably successful businessman had arrived. Heads nodded in deference, whispered greetings followed his path, and hands reached out for a handshake, each gesture a silent acknowledgment of his immense power.
As he navigated the throng, a familiar figure emerged from the periphery. Xi Feng, looking stunning in a meticulously chosen gown, her hair swept up elegantly, approached him with a respectful bow. She was clearly "dolled up" for such a significant event, a departure from her usual demure office attire.
"Mr. Li," she said, her voice a soft murmur, "Mr. Pakorn is waiting for you. Please, come with me." She subtly gestured towards a more secluded part of the hall, leading him towards a private elevator.
Li Hao followed her, his hands casually tucked into his pockets, his expression as unreadable as ever.
The elevator doors slid open silently, and they stepped inside. Xi Feng pressed the button for a higher floor, the soft ascent beginning. The silence stretched, thick and pregnant with unspoken words, until Xi Feng finally broke it.
"Mr. Li," she began, her voice a little softer, a touch of hesitant vulnerability entering it, "I... I have something to talk to you about." She paused, gathering her courage, "As you know, Chinese New Year is just around the corner... and I'm Chinese. My family lives in China. They... they want me to celebrate this year's Chinese New Year with them. So, I was wondering if I could go back to China for a few days?"
Her eyes, usually so steady, flickered towards him, searching for any hint of emotion on his face.
But Li Hao remained a stone wall. His gaze was fixed on the closing elevator doors, his jaw set. He didn't respond, didn't offer a single word, leaving her request hanging in the air, unanswered.
Xi Feng, who had anticipated this stoic reaction, felt a familiar wave of disappointment, though a sliver of hope had still persisted.
The elevator chimed softly, indicating their arrival. The doors opened onto a plush, private corridor.
They stepped out, and Xi Feng led him to a large, ornate door at the end of the hall. She pressed the doorbell. In a moment, a burly man, clearly a bodyguard, opened the door, ushering them into an expansive, luxuriously furnished room.
Inside, Mr. Pakorn, a man in his sixties with a saggy face and a smug expression, was seated on a grand, velvet sofa, attended by two young, alluring girls who perched delicately beside him.
"Wait for me outside," Li Hao instructed Xi Feng, his tone low but firm. Without a word, she nodded and retreated, the door closing softly behind her.
Li Hao strode confidently into the room, his presence immediately dominating the space. He took a seat on a large armchair opposite Mr. Pakorn, crossing one leg over the other. The old man, meanwhile, welcomed him with a wide, almost theatrical smile.
"Hello, Mr. Li! How are you?" Mr. Pakorn boomed, his voice thick with feigned warmth. "It's truly a great day for me that I get a chance to meet you, the young and handsome titan of industry!" He chuckled, a throaty, self-satisfied sound.
Li Hao's expression remained firm, unyielding. He picked up a glass of amber liquid from the nearby table, swirling it slowly. A chilling smirk played on his lips.
"Mr. Pakorn," he began, his voice a silken menace, "you are fully aware of why I wanted to meet you tonight."
Mr. Pakorn chuckled again, dismissively. "Oh, young man, always so direct!"
Li Hao leaned forward, his eyes boring into the older man's. "Mr. Pakorn, you are just a shameless, perverted old man. You had the audacity to meddle in my business, to bribe my partners, and to steal a lucrative tender right from under me. And you honestly thought I wouldn't do anything? Huh!" The last syllable was a dangerous hiss, the air suddenly thick with tension.
Mr. Pakorn's jovial façade cracked, replaced by a scowl. "Li Hao, you are new to this game! This is how we manage business, how we fill our pockets. You just need more experience, Mr. Young Handsome Man." His tone dripped with condescension.
Li Hao let out a short, sharp laugh, devoid of any genuine amusement. "Experience, you say? I have more experience than you in bed, old man."
The insult hung heavy in the air, cutting deep. It was a jab not just at Pakorn's age, but at a shared, sordid world that Li Hao, despite his participation, found increasingly hollow. Even then, the words felt like ashes in his mouth – he knew the hollow satisfaction of it all too well.
Mr. Pakorn's face flushed crimson with fury. He clenched his fists.
Suddenly, one of his bodyguards, a hulking figure, lunged forward, but before he could even take a second step, Li Hao, with a speed that defied belief, pulled a sleek, silver handgun from inside his suit jacket.
Without a moment's hesitation, without a flicker of emotion in his eyes, he fired.
BANG!!
The gunshot echoed deafeningly in the confined space. The bodyguard crumpled to the floor, a dark, rapidly spreading stain blossoming on his chest.
A spray of blood splattered across Mr. Pakorn's shocked face, a horrifying, macabre decoration. The two young girls beside him shrieked, their eyes wide with terror, frozen in place.
Li Hao rose slowly, deliberately, and moved closer to the petrified Mr. Pakorn. He pressed the still-smoking barrel of the gun against the old man's temple, the cold metal a stark contrast to the rivulets of blood on his cheek.
"Drop your name out from the list," Li Hao commanded, his voice barely a whisper, yet infused with absolute, chilling authority. "And don't ever think of meddling in my business again."
Mr. Pakorn, his face pale, his bravado utterly shattered, could only nod, his eyes wide with stark terror. All anger had drained from him, replaced by primal fear.
Li Hao then turned his gaze to one of the trembling girls. He reached out, his long fingers gently touching her cheek, wiping away a fleck of blood.
"There are many young men out there," he said, his voice strangely soft, almost paternal, "Don't go for these perverted old men who can't even satisfy you."
The words, though directed at the girl, carried a bitter undertone, a reflection of his own unfulfilled desires, his own inability to find true intimacy or satisfaction despite all his power.
He let go of her, holstered his gun with practiced ease, and without another word or glance back at the bloody scene, he turned and exited the room.
Outside, Xi Feng stood patiently, seemingly unmoved by the faint, muffled gunshot. Her eyes met Li Hao's, searching.
"Mr. Li," she began, her voice steady, "your father called me. He wanted to confirm your visit to China. What should I reply to him?"
Li Hao pulled his phone from his pocket. A new message had just arrived from his father, a follow-up to the earlier one.
His eyes narrowed as he read the words: "Visit me, otherwise I'll erase every memory of your mother."
A spasm of raw, incandescent anger contorted Li Hao's face for a fleeting moment.
His mother. The one pure, unsullied memory he held, a sacred vault his father now threatened to desecrate.
The rage was immense, boiling beneath his calm exterior, a rage born of helplessness against this particular threat. He had no choice. His father knew his weaknesses, knew the one thing he would never compromise.
Li Hao let out a slow, controlled breath, the anger still simmering, but now hidden. He looked at Xi Feng, his jaw tight. "Get the chopper ready," he said, his voice low, husky with suppressed emotion. "I have to visit China."