The Retired Young Mercenary Is Secretly a Billionaire

Chapter 327: Failure!!

Flashback

Baby Dragon Art School, Shanghai

The afternoon sun filtered through the tall windows of the art studio.

Golden light spilled across wooden floors covered with paint stains from countless years of creativity. The room was quiet except for the gentle scratching of brushes and the occasional sound of birds outside.

Ghost stood beside Wáng Yí.

His arms were folded as he silently watched her work.

Unlike him, who approached every task with intense concentration, Wáng Yí painted with ease.

Her brush moved naturally.

Almost effortlessly.

A soft green color spread across the canvas.

Then came rolling grasslands.

Small patches of colorful flowers.

A winding river that reflected the sunlight.

Tiny butterflies dancing above the fields.

Each brushstroke added more life to the painting.

Ghost found himself impressed.

Very impressed.

She was clearly experienced.

Her hands moved with confidence.

There was no hesitation.

No frustration.

Only creation.

After a while, Ghost’s eyes studied the completed sections more carefully.

Then he noticed something.

The landscape was beautiful.

The river was alive.

The butterflies looked free.

The grasslands stretched endlessly.

Yet there was only a single tree standing in the entire painting.

One large tree.

Alone.

Its branches stretched toward the sky.

Surrounded by beauty.

Yet somehow isolated.

Ghost stared at it for several seconds.

Something about it felt familiar.

Wáng Yí noticed his gaze.

"You are staring at the tree."

Ghost nodded slightly.

"It feels lonely."

Wáng Yí smiled without looking up.

"Maybe."

She continued painting.

Ghost remained silent for a moment before speaking.

"I heard you were a troubled kid too."

A small laugh escaped her lips.

"It depends on what you mean by troubled."

She finally turned toward him.

"To be honest, you don’t look like a troubled kid to me."

Ghost raised an eyebrow.

"So how do you define troubled?"

Wáng Yí put down her brush and leaned back in her chair.

For a few moments she stared at the canvas.

Then she spoke quietly.

"My father always wanted a son."

The smile on her face became weaker.

"So he never really looked after me."

Ghost listened silently.

"Every night my parents fought."

"I grew up listening to arguments through walls."

"I still remember lying in bed and hoping they would stop."

Her eyes drifted toward the window.

"One day they decided to get divorced."

A bitter smile appeared.

"No one asked what I wanted."

"Dad got custody."

"Mom became an alcoholic."

Ghost said nothing.

Sometimes silence was more comforting than words.

Wáng Yí continued.

"I started throwing tantrums."

"I wanted them to get back together."

"I wanted someone to notice me."

Her fingers gently touched the paintbrush.

"But it was already too late."

"I fought at school."

"I caused trouble."

"I stole little things from supermarkets just to get caught."

She laughed softly at the memory.

"Pretty stupid, right?"

Ghost slowly shook his head.

"No."

Wáng Yí smiled.

"Maybe."

"But even then I couldn’t get his attention."

"He always sent someone else to deal with me."

Her expression darkened slightly.

"Then he remarried."

"He brought home a woman."

"And she brought a son."

"A college student."

"A genius."

"An idol student."

"The perfect son."

Her voice became quieter.

"The son my father always wanted."

Ghost looked at her.

For the first time since meeting her, he saw a glimpse of the pain hidden beneath her cheerful personality.

"One day he compared me to him."

She lowered her eyes.

"And called me a failure."

The words seemed to linger in the air.

Even after all this time.

"I felt so small."

"I cried."

"And cried."

"And cried."

"I wanted to run away."

"So I did."

A small smile returned.

"But I got caught."

"And eventually I was sent here."

She spread her arms dramatically.

"So yes."

"I was a troubled child."

Ghost looked down briefly.

"I am sorry."

Wáng Yí immediately shook her head.

"Don’t be."

"I moved on."

"Mostly."

She smiled again.

"Now I just want to focus on becoming a great artist."

Ghost nodded.

"You are strong."

Wáng Yí stared at him for a moment.

"Maybe."

Then her eyes narrowed slightly.

"Your turn."

Ghost blinked.

"My turn?"

"Yes."

She pointed at him with her brush.

"You."

"The mysterious foreigner."

"You arrived here alone."

"You speak Chinese."

"You act older than most adults."

"You definitely aren’t a normal troubled kid."

She leaned forward.

"So what is your story?"

Ghost looked at the painting.

His gaze settled on the river she had painted.

For several seconds he remained silent.

Then he finally spoke.

"Do you see that river?"

Wáng Yí followed his gaze.

"The one you painted?"

"Yes."

Ghost looked at the flowing water on the canvas.

"You know rivers carry countless things."

"They carry leaves."

"Branches."

"Rocks."

"They carry everything."

His voice became distant.

"As they flow, rocks break apart."

"They grind against each other."

"Slowly."

"Relentlessly."

"Until one day they become nothing more than tiny grains of sand."

Wáng Yí listened carefully.

Ghost continued.

"I feel like that rock."

"I keep traveling with the current."

"Leaving pieces of myself everywhere."

His eyes lowered slightly.

"I just want to know where I finally come to rest."

The room grew quieter.

"Will I ever reach the ocean?"

"Or will I simply become dust somewhere along the way?"

A faint smile appeared on his face.

"I don’t have dreams."

"I don’t have a destiny."

"I am just following the river."

"Going wherever it takes me."

Wáng Yí stared at him.

For the first time she understood why Meiling paid so much attention to this strange boy.

Because behind his calm face was someone completely lost.

Someone drifting without a home.

Without a future.

Without a direction.

After a long silence she asked softly,

"Do you think you’ll find what you’re looking for here?"

Ghost looked outside the window.

The wind gently moved the leaves of nearby trees.

"I don’t know."

A faint memory of Meiling’s words surfaced in his mind.

"Meiling said I need to start dreaming."

Wáng Yí blinked.

Then suddenly her serious expression disappeared.

A mischievous smile appeared.

She tilted her head.

"Tell me something."

Ghost looked at her.

"What?"

Wáng Yí grinned.

"Do you have a girlfriend?"

....

Present

Miles sat alone on the living room couch.

His eyes were distant.

The memories of Shanghai kept resurfacing.

Wáng Yí’s cheerful smile.

The art school.

The peaceful days that felt completely different from the violence of Graveyard.

For a brief moment, those memories made him feel like he was nineteen again.

Then his phone rang.

The screen displayed Darius’ name.

Miles answered immediately.

"Darius."

"Leader."

"The team has departed."

"Ren and his squad are already on their way to Shanghai."

Miles slowly nodded.

"I hope things are stable."

"I hope we are not too late."

Darius’ confident voice came through the speaker.

"Don’t worry, Leader."

"No trap can do anything to us."

"We will find all three of them."

Miles leaned back slightly.

"I hope so."

Then another thought crossed his mind.

"Darius."

"Yes, Leader?"

"I heard Azure Bank moved its headquarters to Chongqing after the fire that year."

"I want you to look into it."

Darius immediately understood.

"You want to know who is running things after Xin’s death?"

"Exactly."

Something about the situation felt wrong.

Too many clues pointed toward Xin.

Too many events were connected to the past.

And yet Xin was supposed to be dead.

Darius replied instantly.

"Understood."

"I will start a separate investigation."

"Give me some time."

Miles nodded.

"Keep me updated."

"As always."

The call ended.

The room became silent again.

Miles looked at the phone in his hand.

Then quietly spoke to himself.

"Wáng Yí..."

"Stay strong."

A few seconds later his phone vibrated again.

This time a smile appeared on his face.

The caller ID showed Chloe.

Miles answered immediately.

"Hello."

"Well rested?"

Her gentle voice carried through the speaker.

Miles smiled.

"Yes."

"What about you?"

"Kinda."

"I just woke up."

He could almost imagine her stretching while talking.

Then Chloe continued.

"I suddenly want coffee."

"Want to join me?"

Miles laughed.

"Wait for me."

"I’ll pick you up."

There was a brief silence.

Then Chloe spoke dramatically.

"The Chairman himself is coming to pick me up."

"I feel like I am living inside a novel."

Miles leaned back on the couch.

"What can I say?"

"Maybe novelists sometimes write reality."

A soft laugh came from the other side.

"Well, well."

"I am getting ready."

"Come pick me up."

Then her tone became serious.

"And don’t come wearing a hoodie."

Miles sighed.

"I know."

"You always complain about that."

"Because you dress like a mysterious criminal."

"I am hanging up now."

The call ended before he could defend himself.

Miles stared at the screen.

Then laughed quietly.

A few minutes later he went upstairs.

After changing into casual clothes and making sure he looked somewhat presentable, he headed toward the underground parking.

The sports car roared to life.

Soon it was moving through the streets of Star Harbor.

The city looked peaceful.

Traffic flowed smoothly.

People walked along sidewalks enjoying the pleasant weather.

But he was only thinking about Coffee and Chloe.

Nothing more.

Nothing less.

About twenty minutes later, the sports car entered Mars Residencies.

The security guards recognized him immediately and opened the gates without delay.

Miles parked near the entrance.

And there she was.

Chloe was already waiting downstairs.

The moment he saw her, he found himself smiling.

She wore a simple light colored outfit that suited the warm afternoon perfectly.

Her hair moved gently with the breeze.

Several residents walking past couldn’t help but glance at her.

She looked beautiful without even trying.

Chloe spotted the car and immediately walked toward him.

Her smile widened.

Miles stepped out.

For a few seconds they simply looked at each other.

Neither saying anything.

Just enjoying the moment.

Then Chloe folded her arms.

A playful expression appeared on her face.

"So."

Miles raised an eyebrow.

"So?"

Chloe pointed toward the car.

"Did the landlord come to collect rent?"

Miles stared at her.

Confused.

"You are calling me the landlord now?"

Chloe nodded seriously.

"Of course."

"You own this place as well don’t you?."

"I am just a poor resident."

Miles almost laughed.

"Poor?"

"The co founder of Tulip Corporation?"

Chloe shrugged.

"Still paying rent."

Miles opened the passenger door for her.

"Get in."

"Before I really ask you for it."

Chloe gasped dramatically.

"I knew it."

"The landlord is threatening me."

....

[A/N : Just ignore, nothing important

Today, I feel deeply depressed and unable to focus; my mind is a complete mess. At 23, I am the same age as Miles. I graduated last year and now work full-time in the corporate world while writing at night. To be honest, I do not earn much, yet my family, like a typical Asian household, has very high expectations for me.

Earlier today, my younger sister called me a failure after an argument.

Because I spent most of my life at residential schools and college, I never truly got to know her. We only saw each other during vacations or when my parents visited me at school, so she likely views me as little more than a guest. Even though I am the older one, her words have stirred me all day, even throughout my time at work.

I have many friends, but I was always that quiet boy in class, so I never built the kind of deep friendships where I could share my true feelings. It seems the world rarely tries to understand you today; when you share a struggle, people often respond with their own problems just to compare who is suffering more. I do not understand this.

I know, I sound like a child and I am wasting your time, but perhaps you are the only ones who will truly listen and I am not really expecting a reply. I am honestly laughing at myself for this, and I am sorry, but I really have no one else to talk to. Ignore this, Thank you for listening my friends]