Fu Yanqing was awakened by the sunlight. He squinted at the beam and then glanced at his phone—7:12 a.m. He had actually slept nearly nine hours last night.

That was highly unusual. Over the past few years, he rarely got more than five hours of sleep each day. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to sleep; it was just that he could never seem to fall asleep because of one thing or another. And even when he finally did drift off, he would invariably be plagued by all sorts of dreams, sometimes waking up unable to go back to sleep.

But last night, as soon as his head hit the pillow, he fell fast asleep and slept straight through until morning, without a single dream.

He lay in bed for a while, staring at the ceiling, then sat up and stretched his neck. His cervical spine didn’t hurt, his shoulders weren’t sore, and his back felt supple—probably the best he’d felt upon waking in nearly three years.

He looked down at his hand. The gauze was still there, but it had loosened a bit. Su Xingyu had wrapped it so perfectly yesterday—neither too tight nor too loose—and it hadn’t shifted during the night. He tried clenching his fist; the wound at the base of his palm still stung slightly, but much less than before.

While washing up, he looked at his face in the mirror. The dark circles under his eyes were still there, but they seemed a little lighter? Or maybe it was just the lighting. He turned off the faucet, dried his face with a towel, and went downstairs.

Zhou Shen was busy in the kitchen and poked her head out when she heard footsteps. “Young Master, you’re awake? Breakfast will be ready soon.”

“Mm.”

He walked into the dining room and saw Su Xingyu already seated. In front of her were a bowl of plain congee, a small dish of pickled vegetables, a boiled egg, and a tiny plate of sliced apples. She was tapping an egg against the table, trying to crack it open. After two unsuccessful taps, she gave it one more, a bit harder this time, and the egg rolled right under the table.

“Oh dear,” she said, bending over to pick it up.

Fu Yanqing pulled out a chair and sat down. He took an egg and gently tapped it against the edge of the table; a crack appeared, and he handed it over.

Su Xingyu straightened up, stared at the egg in front of her for a moment, then smiled. “Thank you.” She took it, began peeling the shell, and said, “You’re up pretty early today.”

“So are you.”

“I’m used to it. Back in the village, I’d get up as soon as it was light.” She finished peeling the egg, took a bite, and her cheeks puffed out again.

“Any plans for today?” Su Xingyu asked.

“Going to Fu Yanqing’s company office.”

“Oh.” She nodded, didn’t press further, and only murmured, “You must be having good luck today.”

After breakfast, Fu Yanqing changed clothes, grabbed the car keys, and headed out. He walked to the garage, opened the door, got in, and started the engine.

The car started up normally. No strange noises, no warning lights, and the tires were properly inflated. He drove out of the garage and onto the road.

At the first intersection, the light was green.

At the second, green again.

And at the third, still green.

He held the steering wheel and looked ahead. As he watched those green lights, he suddenly felt as if something was wrong with the world.

When he arrived at the office, he parked the car and entered the building. The elevator happened to stop on the first floor, the doors were open, and he stepped inside, pressing the button for the twenty-second floor.

The elevator doors closed and began ascending. No stops along the way, no unusual noises, no sudden power outages. When the doors opened, he stepped out.

The hallway was quiet. He walked to his office door, swiped his card, and pushed it open.

The door swung open. It didn’t jam, nothing was blocking it—it opened effortlessly.

He walked in, sat down at his desk, and turned on the computer. The machine booted up normally, the system was stable, and the network was working fine. He opened yesterday’s file, and everything looked normal.

Fu Yanqing settled into his office and began handling work. He opened a quarterly report and read it from cover to cover; the numbers were all correct, the logic was clear, and there were no mistakes. He opened another file, and that one was fine too.

He saved the files, shut down the computer, and sat in his chair for a while.

Then he picked up his phone and dialed a number.

“Lu Ci.”

“Mr. Fu? What is it?”

“Please check whether the traffic signal system is malfunctioning.”

There was a two-second pause on the other end of the line. “...What?”

“This morning, I drove through eight intersections, and every single one had a green light. I suspect there’s a problem with the signal system.”

“Eight intersections all with green lights?”

“Yeah.”

Lu Ci paused for a moment on the phone, as if checking something. “Mr. Fu, I can’t access real-time data on the traffic signal system here. But I can tell you one thing—on the route I just drove down yesterday, at least four out of seven intersections had red lights.”

End of Chapter 12: A Sudden Stroke of Luck