Chapter 5: The Young Lady Has Been Eating Sand for Three Years (Part 4)

Liu Yang, now convinced, regained his exuberance and continued sharing the team’s research achievements with their financial backer. Holographic technology, unique in the market—his boss was bound to earn a fortune! And if the boss made a fortune, wouldn’t that mean more funding for them? Liu Yang was no business prodigy; he had little head for commerce, but when it came to research, especially in games, he was in his element.

Qin Ye listened with an impassive expression. Apart from Liu Yang, everyone present was a senior executive of the Qin Group—a company whose upper management was notably youthful. As for those who, in the plot, acted as spies for Gu Yeting, Qin Ye dismissed them all with a wave of his hand. A self-made chairman carried that kind of authority.

He had scaled back his industrial ventures, redirecting efforts into weapons research… or so he believed at the time, not realizing it was actually for a game. Although the old-timers on the board didn’t fully understand, they supported him nonetheless. Now, the time for harvest had come.

Everyone present was eager and full of ambition, ready to make their mark—everyone except Qin Ye, who remained utterly unmoved, even a little sleepy. In the end, he left the matter to his subordinates and returned to his empty house. Well, not entirely empty—Aunt Zhang was still there. Seeing Qin Ye return, she approached with hopeful eyes and asked, “Sir, is Miss Qin doing well?”

“She’s fine,” Qin Ye replied.

How should he know how Qin Yue was really doing? As far as he knew, she wasn’t in any danger and certainly wasn’t dead—otherwise, Number Three would have warned him by now.

By this time, more than half a year had passed since Qin Yue went abroad. The New Year was fast approaching, and Aunt Zhang was eagerly hoping Qin Yue would return for the holiday. Yet, it was better she didn’t. The Gu family was teetering on the edge of collapse. They didn’t dare trouble Qin Ye directly, but they had no qualms about pressuring Qin Yue.

What’s more, she’d only been abroad for half a year—surely she hadn’t forgotten Gu Yeting. Rumor had it that after learning Qin Yue had left the country, Gu Yeting became even more unapproachable, prone to violent outbursts. With whispers of the Gu family’s impending bankruptcy, he’d grown more withdrawn.

This news, naturally, came from the principal. Qin Ye listened but offered no comment. When the principal mentioned some special connection between Gu Yeting and a scholarship student—a girl being severely bullied by wealthy classmates—Qin Ye finally spoke: “Keep an eye on things. Don’t let them think they’re princes and princesses, free to do as they please.”

The principal responded cheerfully, clearly emboldened by Qin Ye’s support—a backing he’d likely been waiting for. In an elite school, unless the headmaster hailed from a powerful family or had a strong patron, the position was nearly impossible to hold. Intervene, and he risked losing his job with a single word from the wrong person; ignore it, and his conscience tormented him.

Qin Ye’s advice stemmed purely from his upright and friendly nature.

As the New Year approached, Aunt Zhang yearned to see Qin Yue. Observing her longing, Qin Ye decided to bring her along to the East African savannah.

Yes—Qin Ye took Aunt Zhang to the savannah of East Africa, just to ensure Qin Yue wouldn’t return home.

Stay away from trouble.

In the story, Qin Yue had a tendency toward blind infatuation. For example, she once threatened her father with her own life to secure help for the Gu family. Or, after three years abroad, she returned with her heart still set on Gu Yeting, that wretched toad. Later, even when she began to turn bitter, her resentment was aimed at Ye Xiaoxiao for “seducing” Gu Yeting and stealing his heart, rather than seeing Gu Yeting’s true worthless nature.

Before she left the country, on Qin Ye’s word, his people scrambled to obtain high-definition photos from a private detective—all of them showing Gu Yeting and Ye Xiaoxiao in intimate poses. Who knew how the detective had managed to capture such images? Qin Ye intended to show these photos to Qin Yue.

East Africa.

After more than half a year of rigorous training, Qin Yue was now deeply tanned, her demeanor steady and capable. The most striking feature of the savannah was the star lion king. Qin Yue’s mentor was a renowned professor studying lion prides, and Qin Yue had joined the team somewhat out of turn. At first, everyone thought she was just a burden.

Qin Yue herself knew she was outmatched in both knowledge and experience. She kept a low profile, watching and listening more than she spoke, and gradually integrated into the group—no longer seen as a pampered heiress playing at science.

Truthfully, at first, she had been lost and bewildered. Her father had told her that, after some time abroad, she would understand the things that once troubled her. And so, she’d been “shipped off” with little warning.

But who could have predicted that “going abroad” would mean ending up on an endless grassland?

Determined not to be underestimated by her father, Qin Yue strove to adapt to both the climate and her new environment, working hard to fit in with her team. Gradually, she grew fond of the lions her mentor studied, and she found excitement and thrill in driving off-road vehicles, tracking the pride as they moved.

Now, if Qin Ye told her to return home, she’d probably refuse—she wanted to stay.

Back in her own country, Qin Yue’s academic load had never been heavy. Being the only beloved daughter, her family had no lofty ambitions for her—her happiness was all that mattered. Even so, she excelled both academically and morally, a testament to her own self-discipline.

Learning came easily to her, and without confusion or pressure about her future, she inevitably became entangled in the throes of first love. Spurred by others, her curiosity about Gu Yeting—once just a name—grew. And curiosity, after all, is often where feelings begin.

But that was the Qin Yue of the past.

When Qin Yue first went abroad, her mind was inevitably preoccupied during the flight. But upon landing and realizing she’d been deposited on the savannah, she was quickly overwhelmed by the demands of her studies. The romantic entanglements that once consumed her faded away completely.

There simply wasn’t time to dwell on such things. Her attention was wholly absorbed by the lions. Even during rotations back to rest, her mind was full of the pride—worrying about whether the current lion king would be ousted by a roaming male, or if the newborn cubs would survive.

The lion king was fine, but several cubs didn’t make it.

Each time a cub died, Qin Yue wept. Before she could finish mourning one loss, another tragedy struck.

Then the elephant herd discovered the cubs and trampled the rest to death, wiping out the entire litter.

It was at this moment that Qin Ye arrived in East Africa.

Qin Yue’s eyes were swollen from crying. Despite the comfort of her mentor and teammates, she was heartbroken. When Qin Ye appeared, she burst into tears all over again, soaking him with her grief.

After this experience, Qin Ye’s desire to adopt dozens or hundreds of godchildren upon returning home diminished considerably. Number Three gloated—this was nothing yet; just wait until you witness the despair of seeing a newborn die.

Qin Ye couldn’t fathom the depth of feeling in a young girl’s heart, but recalling the original owner’s memories, he gently patted Qin Yue’s back, trying to soothe her.

After crying, Qin Yue became embarrassed—she wasn’t a child anymore, after all.

Sniffling, she asked, “Dad, why are you here?”

“It’s almost New Year’s. I came to spend it with my girl.”

Qin Yue hadn’t been paying attention to the time, but hearing the New Year was near, she suddenly realized she’d been abroad for over half a year.

Having her family’s support meant the world to her; she wanted them to know what she was doing and why it mattered.

So, after Qin Ye had rested a day, Qin Yue convinced her mentor to let him join their excursion to observe the lion pride she’d been following for months.

It hadn’t been easy to persuade her mentor. But Qin Ye was the financial backer—generous beyond measure—so the professor had little choice but to agree.

Qin Yue had grown deeply attached to the lions after only half a year, but her mentor and his team had been tracking them for years. Their bond with the pride was even stronger.

Unfortunately, their funding was tight, sponsorships scarce, and life was a constant struggle. Until Qin Ye decided to send his daughter far from the troubles of the plot and its entangled protagonists.

On his orders, his assistant found a connection in East Africa. Someone who knew Qin Ye as a patron and was friendly with the mentor, aware of his funding woes, made the introduction.

The mentor was initially reluctant. He desperately needed sponsorship but couldn’t risk an inexperienced rich girl endangering the team. In their line of work, accidents—wild animal attacks, natural disasters—were all too real. If anything happened to her, the whole team would be implicated.

But Qin Ye’s offer was simply too generous, with hardly any conditions—he promised to leave everything up to the team once his daughter arrived.

Unable to resist, the mentor finally relented.

Now, with the patron present, the mentor—having surrendered to financial pressure—felt somewhat uneasy. He worried Qin Ye might be like other wealthy sponsors, demanding to pet lions or get dangerously close to the lion king—requests that, if denied, caused trouble, but if granted, could lead to disaster. To avoid this, the mentor deliberately kept his distance.

But Qin Ye had no interest in the lions. In his eyes, ordinary lions and tigers were unremarkably weak. If not for Qin Yue’s invitation, he’d have been content to spend his days reading at the base, waiting to return home after the New Year.

Yet, since Qin Yue asked, he couldn’t refuse. He put down his book, donned the gear provided by the staff, and joined the group on their expedition.