The Billionaire Businesswoman Searches for Her Lost Son: I acquire my mother’s billion-dollar enterprise

Wang Sicong didn’t dare disobey his father’s orders. Begrudgingly, he called Qin Yuan to set up a meeting.

“Remember, you have to be humble,” Wang Lin had emphasized. “Qin Yuan is a first-generation entrepreneur. You could learn a lot from him.”

Wang Lin, busy with corporate affairs, hadn’t been keeping up with the latest gossip on the internet. He only knew that his old friend Song Yazhi had recently found her long-lost son, who turned out to be a highly accomplished businessman. Inspired, Wang Lin used the opportunity to scold his son.

“Fine, Dad, I get it,” Wang Sicong replied, suppressing his irritation. He endured his father’s lecture for a full ten minutes before finally hanging up.

“This is ridiculous!” Wang Sicong grumbled under his breath. Frustrated, he pulled up information about Qin Yuan. The more he read, the more he felt his irritation morph into reluctant admiration.

“Damn it,” he muttered, his face flushed. “This guy is almost stealing my title as the nation’s eldest son.”

Still, he couldn’t help but respect Qin Yuan’s accomplishments.

“If it weren’t for his mother, he’d still be worth a few billion on his own,” Wang Sicong muttered, his eyes narrowing. After some thought, he allowed himself a small smirk. “Luckily, I can still barely hold my ground against him.”

Wang Sicong reflected on his own ventures. He had used the 500 million yuan his father had given him to invest in gaming, live streaming, and other lucrative fields. Although some ventures, like Guobao Live, had flopped, he had managed to make a considerable profit overall. At his peak, a financial institution had estimated his net worth to be around six billion yuan.

Of course, Wang Sicong didn’t know how much of that wealth was liquid and how much was inflated. But he was skeptical of Qin Yuan’s rumored billions.

“No way he has that much cash on hand,” he scoffed. “Even the top tycoons can’t pull ten billion in liquid assets out of thin air.”

Still, Sicong recognized the value of forming a connection. “It’s good to make friends,” he thought. “But first, I’ll make sure he knows to call me Brother Sicong.”

At the IFC Building, Qin Yuan hung up his phone.

“Mom, I’ve made an appointment with Sicong,” he said, a note of reluctance in his voice.

Song Yazhi smiled warmly. “Good. Don’t take it too seriously; I just want you to make more friends.”

Her voice softened. “I’ve met Sicong before. The things people say online are exaggerated. Deep down, he’s a decent kid. Get to know him.”

“Alright,” Qin Yuan agreed with a nod.

“You don’t need to stick around today. Ziwei, Caifu, and I are going to a concert after work,” Song Yazhi added with a smile.

“Got it. I’ll head out now,” Qin Yuan said, taking his leave.

Song Yazhi watched him go, a thoughtful expression on her face. She briefly considered asking if he needed money but dismissed the idea with a smile. “He’s running a major company; how could he be short on cash?” she thought. “This child is so self-sufficient.”

Returning to Courtyard No. 1 of Tan Palace, Qin Yuan was greeted by Uncle Zhong.

“Sir, the renovation of Courtyard No. 2 has passed all legal procedures,” the housekeeper reported respectfully.

That was the power of wealth. In Ninghai’s exclusive villa district, renovations were typically prohibited. But for Qin Yuan, the rules had bent without resistance. Even the developers of Tan Palace had eagerly approved his request.

“In addition,” Uncle Zhong continued, “I’ve arranged for Mr. Liang Yikun—a world-renowned art and garden design master—to handle the renovation. He’s also the vice president of Shuimu University’s School of Architecture.”

Qin Yuan glanced at the information and nodded. “Perfect. Have him prioritize speed.”

“Understood,” Uncle Zhong replied, bowing before leaving.

Later, Qin Yuan spent time playing with his pet before preparing for his meeting. He bathed, dressed, and headed to his garage. Surveying the lineup of luxury cars, he ultimately chose the Bugatti La Voiture Noire.

This masterpiece of engineering, with only one in existence, was the pinnacle of automotive luxury. Its handcrafted carbon fiber body, W16 engine, and unparalleled design made it the most expensive new car in the world. Qin Yuan had never driven it publicly before.

As the engine roared to life, he sped through the streets of Ninghai, the sleek black car turning heads at every corner. By the time he arrived at Pudong Wanda, the astonishment of passers-by trailed him like an echo.

Parking the car, Qin Yuan walked into the shopping mall. Spotting Wang Sicong in the open-air section of a coffee shop, he approached.

Wang Sicong, wearing sunglasses, was sipping coffee and watching the crowds. As Qin Yuan sat down, he removed his glasses, his face betraying momentary surprise.

“Oh, you’re Qin Yuan,” Wang Sicong said, recovering quickly. Recognizing the man who had been making waves lately, he offered a cigarette. “Here, have a smoke.”

“Thank you, but I don’t smoke,” Qin Yuan replied with a calm smile, ordering an espresso instead.

The two regarded each other in silence for a moment, sizing each other up.

“You know, our families have quite the history,” Wang Sicong began, breaking the ice. “Your mom and my dad go way back. When your mom needed 500 million yuan, my dad transferred it immediately without hesitation.”

“Boss Wang is a righteous man,” Qin Yuan acknowledged, his tone even.

“That’s how he is,” Sicong said proudly. “But let’s set that aside. In our circle, we have our own rules.”

He leaned forward slightly. “I don’t care if my friends are rich or not—they’re all poorer than me anyway,” he added with a smirk. “But you… you might be an exception.”

Qin Yuan chuckled softly.

“Still, there are rules. I was born in 1988. How about you?” Sicong asked.

“1991,” Qin Yuan replied.

Wang Sicong grinned. “Then I’m older. You should call me Brother Sicong.”

Qin Yuan’s lips curved into an enigmatic smile. After a pause, he said calmly, “Your father once offered me tea.”