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

Qin Yuan sat on the plush sofa in the grand living room, feeling the warmth of his newly discovered family radiate around him. Across from him, Song Caifu leaned forward with a mischievous sparkle in her eyes, her tone teasing yet affectionate. “Brother, what do you think of our family? Pretty nice, huh?”

“It’s incredible. And knowing Mom is doing so well now, I feel a lot more at ease,” Qin Yuan replied, his voice steady but tinged with emotion.

Song Caifu’s playful demeanor softened. “Our mom’s amazing, but she’s also a workaholic,” she sighed, her voice growing wistful.

Song Ziwei, her tone quieter and more serious, added, “Mom hasn’t really liked being at home for the past thirty years. She said it always reminded her of you, of losing you.” Her elegant face clouded with concern. “So, she poured herself into work, staying late at the office every day to try to bury her pain.”

Qin Yuan nodded, his chest tightening at their words. The love and yearning his mother had carried all these years now sat heavily in his heart, intertwining with his own memories of solitude and searching.

Before the silence could stretch too long, Song Caifu grinned and pulled a small box from behind her back like a magician revealing a trick. “By the way, brother, this is for you—a gift I prepared!” she chirped, her voice lilting with excitement.

The gesture caught Qin Yuan off guard, and for a moment, he was speechless. He hadn’t expected such thoughtfulness, and his heart warmed with a rush of familial affection. A tinge of guilt followed—it had never even crossed his mind to bring gifts for his newfound sisters.

Still smiling, Song Caifu continued, “Actually, my sister also has something for you.” She tilted her head toward Song Ziwei, who sat composed and graceful, a stark contrast to her younger sister’s bubbly demeanor. Without a word, Song Ziwei produced a small box, her delicate hands betraying no emotion.

“Thank you,” Qin Yuan said, accepting both gifts with genuine gratitude.

“Open mine first!” Song Caifu said, barely able to contain her excitement.

Qin Yuan chuckled and obliged, carefully undoing the wrapping. Inside was a set of Fonderie 47

Song Caifu’s eyes danced with amusement as she explained, “These are made from recycled AK-47 rifles. I figured you’re thirty now, so it’s time to start dressing like a proper gentleman!”

“I’ll do my best,” Qin Yuan replied with a laugh, appreciating the cleverness of her choice.

“Now open my sister’s gift!” Song Caifu urged, her curiosity as lively as her personality.

Qin Yuan turned to Song Ziwei, who gave him the faintest of nods before raising her teacup to her lips. Her calm, composed demeanor didn’t falter, but her cheeks seemed to flush ever so slightly. Qin Yuan opened the box, revealing a razor of unparalleled craftsmanship.

“Zafirro…” he murmured, recognizing the brand immediately. His expression shifted to one of surprise.

“You know it?” Song Ziwei asked, her tone light but laced with intrigue.

“Yes,” Qin Yuan replied, nodding. “Zafirro razors are among the most expensive in the world—crafted with sapphire blades finer than a single strand of hair. They’re incredibly rare. Only ninety-nine were ever made.”

Song Ziwei lowered her teacup, her eyes narrowing in suspicion. The Zafirro razor was no ordinary gift, and she’d chosen it specifically because she believed her brother wouldn’t recognize its value. Yet here he was, identifying it with precision. “How do you know that?” she asked.

Qin Yuan realized his slip and quickly smiled, deflecting her suspicion with a casual excuse. “I read about it in a magazine once,” he said lightly.

“Oh…” Song Ziwei’s response was crisp, but she couldn’t entirely mask the thoughtful look in her eyes.

The weight of their thoughtfulness settled deeply in Qin Yuan’s heart. The sisters had met him for the first time that day, yet they had gone out of their way to choose such meaningful gifts. Their sincerity left him profoundly moved.

“These are beautiful gifts,” he said, his voice warm. “But they’re too much, aren’t they?”

“They’re not much at all!” Song Caifu interjected with a grin. “Mom spoils us with pocket money, and we both have our own jobs. We can afford it.” Her tone turned stubborn, leaving no room for argument. “You have to accept them, brother. They’re our meeting gifts!”

Faced with her determination, Qin Yuan could only smile and nod. But he wasn’t one to leave gestures of kindness unreciprocated. Without hesitation, he slipped off the bracelet he had been wearing—a seemingly ordinary piece that, to the untrained eye, held no particular value.

The truth, however, was quite the opposite. The bracelet was made of Kynam agarwood, a rare treasure often called the “gold among woods.” Its natural fragrance, warm and complex, was said to be a blessing that few in the world ever encountered. Sourced from extinct Laotian agarwood trees and purchased at a Christie’s auction for over two million US dollars, it was a priceless heirloom.

Qin Yuan adjusted the bracelet’s knot to fit Song Caifu’s wrist and handed it to her with a gentle smile. “Here, Caifu. This is for you. It’s nothing special, but I hope you’ll like it.”

Song Caifu’s face lit up as she held the bracelet, the smooth wood warm against her skin. “It’s beautiful, brother! Thank you!” she exclaimed, slipping it onto her wrist with delight.

Next, Qin Yuan turned to Song Ziwei. She began to protest, shaking her head slightly. “That’s unnecessary…”

“It wouldn’t be fair if I didn’t give you something too,” Qin Yuan said, his tone firm but kind. From around his neck, he removed a necklace adorned with a nine-eyed dzi bead.

The bead was steeped in legend, a symbol of great power and fortune. With origins tied to Tibetan mysticism, the finest nine-eyed dzi beads were priceless. Qin Yuan’s was one of only two such beads known to exist, the other enshrined in the Jokhang Temple in Tibet.

“Brother, what is that?” Song Caifu asked, leaning closer to inspect it.

“It’s called a nine-eyed dzi bead,” Qin Yuan said. “It’s not much, just something I’ve had for a while. I hope you don’t mind, Ziwei.”

Song Ziwei’s sharp eyes widened slightly, but she quickly composed herself. The rarity of a genuine nine-eyed dzi bead was unimaginable. Yet Qin Yuan spoke as if it were nothing more than an old keepsake. “If you insist,” she said, accepting it with her usual poise. “Thank you.”

As the sisters admired their gifts, Qin Yuan’s heart swelled with warmth. These tokens of gratitude were nothing compared to the bonds they were beginning to form. For the first time in years, he felt the intangible richness of family, a wealth far greater than any material treasure.