A month later, the partnership between Silver Cedar and Huaqing was announced as scheduled. Silver Cedar purchased the development rights for the CD30 candidate developed by Huaqing for all regions outside of Asia for 500 million USD. Silver Cedar would pay Huaqing an upfront payment of 30 million USD and milestone payments totaling over 80 million USD. If CD30 successfully reached the market, Huaqing would also receive sales royalties of no less than 10%. Barring any unforeseen circumstances, this would become one of the largest overseas licensing deals concluded by a Chinese pharmaceutical company this year.
Upon the news, the domestic pharmaceutical industry was in an uproar. The United States held the global lead in biopharmaceutical research and development, and Silver Cedar was a titan among them. For such an industry giant to "condescend" to pay a high price for the overseas rights of a product from an obscure Chinese firm was undoubtedly a dual affirmation of both CD30 and Huaqing’s R&D capabilities.
In the face of the olive branch extended by Silver Cedar, what did the minor chaos caused by Lu Wei even matter?
Within Huaqing, no one felt the shift in the external environment more than Li Qianqian. Silver Cedar released the announcement during the US market's closing hours; when she opened her computer the next morning, her inbox was flooded with unread emails numbering in the triple digits—many from investors who had previously offered a polite "let's stay in touch" before vanishing into thin air. Before she could even reply to a few, her landline and mobile phone began ringing incessantly. After a morning of being pulled in every direction, she finally reached her limit and knocked on the door to Jiang Tong’s office.
"I have a suggestion: how about we hold a conference call tomorrow afternoon?" she said, looking utterly overwhelmed. "There are too many inquiry emails and calls; I can't get through them all one by one."
Jiang Tong had been thinking the same thing. "Arrange it as you see fit. Tell me once the time is set."
He felt a sense of relief as he tossed his phone, which had been ringing since morning and was now burning hot to the touch, onto his desk.
Li Qianqian took her orders and headed for the door, but she paused at the threshold, turning back to smile at Jiang Tong. Unsure of her meaning, he asked, "What is it?"
"Lu Wei and those funds that followed suit to sell their shares must be dying of regret right now," she said, her grin revealing her teeth. "Didn't I tell you before? Once the company goes public, I’m going to cash out my shares and buy an entire subway line's worth of ad space just to curse Lu Wei. Now, I can't even be bothered to curse him. I’m going home to research which small islands in the Pacific are still for sale."
Jiang Tong didn't know whether to laugh or cry as he waved her out. The young woman skipped back to her workstation, pride radiating from her every fiber.
Li Qianqian’s optimism wasn't entirely unfounded. At the very least, Huaqing’s Series C funding had concluded successfully at a high price that even Jiang Tong hadn't anticipated.
"How does it feel to have a net worth in the hundreds of millions?" Xiao Fengtai teased him. "Should you hire a couple of bodyguards? Careful you don't get kidnapped walking down the street."
"The valuation is too high," Jiang Tong admitted honestly. "CD30 is still in the early stages of R&D, after all, and the Phase III clinical trials for BTK27 have only just begun. Having so much money all at once with nowhere to spend it makes me feel uneasy."
Xiao Fengtai scoffed. "The primary market is just a game of passing the parcel. You're the drum; you don't need to worry about the people beating it."
Jiang Tong wanted to say more, but there was a knock at the door. Li Qianqian’s young assistant timidly entered to report, "President Jiang, the reporters have arrived."
"You claim to dislike the high valuation, yet your PR momentum is quite swift," Xiao Fengtai said with great amusement. "President Jiang, send me a copy of the press release once it's out."
Jiang Tong’s face flushed with embarrassment, but before he could retort, the line went dead with a crisp click.
When Jiang Tong taught on the West Coast, he often went sea fishing with colleagues on chartered boats. Life in the "capitalist countryside" was far too tranquil, so everyone was keen on challenging sports, hoping to derive a sense of excitement and uncertainty from nature. Since returning home to start his business, he rarely even visited the gym, yet in the middle of the night, he often found himself in a daze, thinking he was still at sea. The bed was a rectangular boat, and beneath him was a transparent, colorless ocean, bottomless and vast.
The sea does not obey human will. When one hopes for waves, there is no wind; when one wishes to drop anchor, the tide surges. Since the conclusion of the Series C funding, Jiang Tong’s life was suddenly surrounded by flashbulbs and cameras. The cold faces, the doubts, the polite but distant smiles, and the handshakes that barely touched fingertips had all evaporated instantly with Silver Cedar’s announcement. Now, wherever he went, he was met with gazes of praise and envy. Grand and beautiful words wrapped around the same core message: *Look at this man, this lucky fellow—he’s achieved financial freedom!*
It wasn't that he feared exposure; on the contrary, he performed excellently. He was a refined and humble young scientist who spoke with clear logic in interviews and treated others with gentleness and modesty in private. What was rare was his excellent image, devoid of the greasy, boastful air common among some startup veterans. He was a man of grassroots origins who had worked his way up to success. Having made his fortune, he remained true to his original aspirations, resolutely abandoning the dazzling capitalist world to return home and burn through his youth—what could represent Huaqing better than Jiang Tong himself? Young, rigorous, positive, open... He discussed global biopharmaceutical R&D trends with industry reporters, recounted his fundraising experiences on financial programs, and if an emotional lifestyle writer gathered his life story, they could pen an inspirational, "chicken soup for the soul" growth piece. Li Qianqian sometimes joked that if Jiang Tong kept this up, he might actually become a celebrity and get invited onto variety shows.
"Remember to get me some celebrity autographs when the time comes!"
When she laughed, Jiang Tong laughed with her, though his smile didn't quite reach his eyes. As time passed, Jiang Tong increasingly felt a subtle sense of nausea and vertigo, as if he had returned to the turbulent Pacific. On a small boat tossing up and down in a gale, the fishermen gripped the railings until their veins popped, lest they be thrown into the sea.
He and Huaqing had endured so much to finally stand at the crest of the wave, riding the wind. But can the sea ever truly be mastered by man?
Jiang Tong’s premonition came true on a sunny afternoon. He and Li Qianqian were driving back to the office after an investor luncheon. They had spent the meal maintaining smiles and high-intensity social maneuvering; once back in their private space, they didn't even want to move their mouths, sitting side-by-side in the backseat in silence. Li Qianqian leaned against the car seat scrolling through her phone when she suddenly sat up with a start.
"Boss, is this you?"
Looking suspicious, she handed the phone to Jiang Tong.
Baffled, Jiang Tong took the phone and glanced at it, nearly throwing Li Qianqian’s new iPhone out the window.
It was a short video, filmed on a phone with shaky camera work and dim lighting—clearly a passerby’s recording. A couple in the foreground was sharing a deep, passionate kiss while cheerful music played in the hall; the surrounding crowd was cheering and hooting, creating a sweet atmosphere. The camera panned slightly, revealing that the couple was just the backdrop; the real subjects were two men behind them.
It was him and Xiao Fengtai.
In all fairness, the beautiful couple in the front was the center of attention. He and Xiao Fengtai had been trying to avoid the camera and hadn't done anything improper. It was just that they were standing far too close. Was it the siphon effect of happiness? Infected by the perfect love of others, their gestures held an unspoken and involuntary intimacy—an invisible aura that the parties involved were oblivious to, but which became clear the moment one stepped outside the frame.
*“The OP went to see a musical a long time ago, and a couple in the front row actually proposed on the spot! I was originally filming a little video to show my friends some 'dog food,' but as I kept filming, I noticed the two guys in the back row~ The one with glasses has looked more and more familiar these past few days. He seems to be the founder of a pretty impressive biopharmaceutical company; I’ve been seeing him online quite a bit lately. As expected, smart people have good taste in art too~”*
The post seemed to be written by a young girl, her style cheerful and devoid of malice. Beneath the post, comments were growing at a visible speed.
*“I pick the one next to the glasses guy! Look at those eyes! Those eyebrows! That nose bridge! That jawline! He’s at the level of an idol boy band! Wuhu, as expected, beauties are found among the common folk!”*
*“Isn't it a bit weird for two grown men to go see a musical together, haha? Could these two be a thing?”*
*“Enough with the 'fujoshi eyes' seeing everyone as gay. He’s a serious returnee scientist, not some young idol trying to ship a CP for fans.”*
*“Hehe, don't you think it’s got a great vibe? The overbearing CEO and his handsome little wife~”*
*“Anyone want to dig up info on the guy next to the scientist?”*
Shallow, harmless comments—simple, bored, curious—gathered together. When the lens zoomed out, they were revealed to be rows of tiny, pale teeth lining the maw of a giant eel.
Jiang Tong’s fingers slid mechanically across the screen. Text, symbols, and emojis scrolled up and down—a sea of bytes reflected in his lenses.
He suddenly felt a wave of nausea; that familiar vertigo had returned.
"President Jiang?" Li Qianqian was frightened by Jiang Tong’s expression, her voice cautious. "President Jiang... what’s wrong?"
Jiang Tong snapped out of it and turned to smile at his young assistant. However, his mind was still immersed in the post; his mouth was forced into a tight line and his eyes were gloomy. It would have been better if he hadn't smiled at all.
"You go back to the office first. I have something else to attend to," he finally instructed Li Qianqian. Knowing his performance was full of holes, he felt a sudden, reckless sense of relief. "Don't share the video around the office, lest the colleagues misunderstand."
What else could Li Qianqian say? She could only nod and agree. Jiang Tong’s reaction was so extreme that she didn't have the heart to tell him that the office staff had already been discussing it feverishly in their private group chat all afternoon. She was only late to the news because she had been at the luncheon, and was currently being teased in the group.
Li Qianqian returned to the company, while Jiang Tong got out halfway and found a random cafe. When people are nervous, they subconsciously perform repetitive actions—picking at fingers, grinding teeth, smoothing hair, twirling a pen—all signs that the brain has gone on strike and lost control over the limbs. Jiang Tong replayed the video over and over, turning up the brightness and the volume until his eardrums ached. They had always been careful in public, but who could guarantee they would never make a mistake?
In truth, the video was blurry; an average person would glance over it without seeing anything suspicious. Even if Jiang Tong and Xiao Fengtai had a private friendship, it was no big deal—were people not allowed to listen to music to cultivate their minds? Jiang Tong’s overreaction was primarily due to a guilty conscience.
The relationship between him and Xiao Fengtai was nowhere near ready to be exposed.
What would the shareholders who participated in the Series C funding think? How would the colleagues in the company gossip? Would Dennis be pointed at by others at school? More importantly, what would Xiao Fengtai do?
And then there was the Xiao family, the massive shadow behind him, flickering in and out of view but never truly leaving the stage.
What would the Xiao family do?
The scenes from ten years ago were still before his eyes. The old woman’s face, painted very white; her fingers were warm, yet gaunt and powerful, hard as iron claws. Those powerful figures only had to extend a single finger to crush his self-respect as easily as snapping a wafer.
He had given his all and hadn't wasted these ten years. But when the moment came, he still felt a wave of weak trepidation.
Moreover, the Xiao Fengtai of ten years ago had been resolute. A youth like a blank sheet of paper, passionate and pure, with a heart free of burdens, filled only with him. Even after being stabbed by him, before the blood had even finished draining, he would have crawled to get in front of him. But ten years had passed; having waded through life, everyone was now tied down by various entanglements. They had learned to sail with the wind and to seek another path when one was blocked. Jiang Tong didn't consider his own appearance particularly outstanding, and Xiao Fengtai likely didn't care for his "paper wealth" either. When the troubles of being together outweighed the joy, would he be the one to walk away this time?
"Walking away" wasn't even the right term; Xiao Fengtai had never promised him anything.
His thoughts wandered further and further until his phone vibrated on the table. Seeing the number, Jiang Tong for the first time didn't dare to answer—it was a call from Xiao Fengtai.
The phone rang for a while before hanging up on its own. But it tried again immediately, vibrating continuously, as if it wouldn't stop until the call was connected.
As if manipulated by an invisible hand, Jiang Tong finally answered. No matter what Xiao Fengtai said, he secretly warned himself to control his emotions and his tone; he couldn't let him hear any weakness.
He absolutely could not let him find out about that thing.
"Did you see the video?" Xiao Fengtai asked, getting straight to the point.
"...I saw it."
Xiao Fengtai’s unexpected directness made Jiang Tong’s answer a mere reflex. All his pre-planned scenarios were thrown into disarray—how did Xiao Fengtai see it? What did he think? Why did he call him after seeing it?
As he thought frantically and aimlessly, Xiao Fengtai suddenly possessed infinite patience, suffering through the silence with him.
It was better to discuss how to handle the immediate situation first. Jiang Tong lacked experience in PR; should Huaqing and Huayu issue a joint statement as a precaution? Or just ignore it? Regardless of the external response, he would certainly have to hold a meeting within the company to clarify things. Perhaps the two of them should coordinate their stories first to avoid being caught in a lie.
"Maybe we should..."
"Huayu has a dedicated PR team. The video will be taken down very soon. Don't worry."
"I see..." Being abruptly interrupted by Xiao Fengtai, Jiang Tong could only answer dully, "...Thank you."
The moment the words left his mouth, he began to regret them. Something was wrong, but he couldn't quite place it. It was a vaguely familiar feeling, as if something was fracturing and collapsing.
"Is there anything else you want to say?" Xiao Fengtai sounded quite nonchalant. "By the way, if people in your company ask, it doesn't matter if you tell them the truth."
As he spoke, he chuckled at his own thought. "Going to a musical isn't exactly something to be ashamed of."
"I understand." The matter was resolved, yet Jiang Tong still felt unmoored, unable to find his footing. Something was definitely wrong.
"Xiao Fengtai, I..."
"I almost forgot to tell you!" Xiao Fengtai interrupted him once more. "A little bit of gossip is no big deal, but I’m afraid of being targeted by people with ulterior motives. Huaqing has just completed its Series C funding; you need to be extra careful."
Jiang Tong said dryly, "I don't quite understand what you mean."
The noise of traffic and crowds came from the other end of the line; Xiao Fengtai’s voice remained casual.
"I mean, we shouldn't see each other for a while."
Jiang Tong grew anxious. "As you said, a little gossip is no big deal. There's no need to be this nervous."
Xiao Fengtai gave a short laugh. "When the call first connected, your voice was shaking."
Jiang Tong was speechless. It was so noisy on the other end; how could Xiao Fengtai hear so clearly? He hadn't even noticed it himself.
Sensing his distress, Xiao Fengtai considerately softened his tone. " I don't mean anything else by it; don't overthink things. Huaqing is currently at the center of the industry's attention; it's better to be cautious than reckless."
"I’m doing this for your sake."
His voice was very steady, very gentle. At no moment had Jiang Tong been as certain as he was now that Xiao Fengtai had truly grown up; in some respects, he was even more mature and composed than Jiang Tong.
After hanging up, Jiang Tong’s mind remained a mess. He paid the bill in a daze and took a taxi back to the office, thinking all the way about how to explain the video to his colleagues. The driver slammed on the brakes at a red light, snapping him back to reality, only to find himself staring blankly at the photo of Xiao Fengtai in his wallet.
A seventeen or eighteen-year-old boy, with relaxed brows and eyes like polished ink, his adult stature already beginning to show. Yet his features hadn't fully matured, carrying a hint of childishness that made him seem more delicate than heroic.
The youth smiled at the camera, his gaze clear and soft.
The truth, which he had deliberately ignored and hidden behind countless complex and trivial thoughts, suddenly floated to the surface. At this moment, Jiang Tong had to admit that they could never go back to ten years ago.
***
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Worlds Apart | Chapter 74 | The Cost of Exposure | Novela.app | Novela.app
