Can't Help You Evade Taxes

Until dinner, Yun Qian Meng tried to wrap up all her appointments. She received email briefs from her executive staff and her phone had been filled with missed calls, notably quite a few from her biological mother.

She ignored the calls for the most part and concentrated on her work. Come dinner, she went out of the room and called the butler, who she now called Kevin. Yes, she was on a first-name basis with the butler who was, no doubt, adamant not to associate with her.

Mo Qingchen was already at the dining table, his laptop in front of him. He was typing at lightning speed and Qian Meng was a little scared of sitting down across from him lest she disturbed his flow.

He paused mid-typing and looked up. "Give me a couple of minutes." Qian Meng nodded. The look in his eyes said that he was inspired. He took thirty more minutes and dinner was already served.

Qian Meng had already finished dinner by the time he was done.

"You're done already?" he asked, displeased.

"Did you want me to wait around for you?" she asked in a bored voice.

"I thought you would be polite enough to do that, at least," he contradicted.

"Well, I am not. What were you working on?" she asked. That was what she was interested in.

"The cybersecurity software you know about. The estimated finishing date would have been two more years and then testing, but I think I am mostly done with it." His eyes sparkled.

"Why is it taking this long?" Qian Meng asked, confused. Mo Qingchen was a go-getter and he jumped into things.

"There is nothing like it on the market and I need to make it perfect before it goes out into the world."

Qian Meng frowned. "It's been a couple of years since you put out new software. You've been basically working on software updates than anything new." She paused and looked at him. "Is your perfectionist side not letting you put out what you have on your hand?"

Mo Qingchen shook his head. "It needs to be perfect to get out there."

"That is what software updates are for. Are you trying to compete with some image in your mind? You can perfect it with updates!" she fought.

"You don't know my company. If people get wind of this, they will produce it before me. Just like you said that day. So I need to hush it up and make my technology irreplaceable."

Qian Meng understood this. It was the need to beat the market. But in her field, it was easy to copy and put out.

"And with you doing the legwork, how long will you take?" She looked pointedly at the laptop. "I'll need a couple more months to finish processes and with testing, maybe a year."

"That's a long haul, but it comes with the industry, I suppose." She shrugged. "Consult me for marketing, though," she teased. She didn't expect him to respond in kind.

"Maybe, I will. I took your advice into consideration about the design. My design team is very happy about this." He looked at her with intent. "Why are you so intent on marketing, though? You're a creative person."

"It's the sad truth of the world, Mo Qingchen. You're a creator, as well. But most people create because they want their art to be seen or consumed. To do that, you need to market. No one gets famous for nothing. Measured steps are taken to achieve that. In that sense, to fulfill the dream of artists and me, I need to market my products and help them reach a maximum number of people." She thought about what she was saying next. "The whole working for exposure is bullshit. Money motivates artists. They can only continue to work and do what they love if they have money, so I try to make as much as I can."

He nodded in understanding. "Reminds me of that scene from Wolf of Wall Street. The one about selling pens," he smirked.

"Exactly. What is successful marketing and sales? Knowing your customer and their needs. That's why some products do so well while others fail." She looked surreptitiously at her phone and flipped it over. The motion caught Mo Qingchen's eye.

"Someone's been calling you for a long time and you have been avoiding it," he said matter-of-factly.

"You're interested in my private affairs," Qian Meng retorted. "It's my mother."

"And you aren't on good terms." She nodded. "Pick it up and see what she wants. I doubt it is money. She'll probably ask you about the wedding or something. You can just say you aren't getting married and send her away."

"I hate talking to her," she replied blandly but also saw the wiseness of his words. She turned the phone and picked it up.

"Hello," she breathed into it. She hadn't spoken to her mother in a year or so. Her mother kept to herself and her immediate family and had never really cared for Yun Qian Meng. So, months went by before she would call. Qian Meng had no expectations from her.

"Qian Meng!" her mother replied, excitedly. "Why weren't you picking your phone?" she asked breathlessly.

"I was busy with meetings. I am in Paris at the moment." She paused. "What did you want to talk about?" she asked immediately.

"Right, I have twenty minutes before I go into surgery," Sun Li told her. "I have been getting calls from the bank and my financial advisor about something and I needed to talk to you about it."

"I can't help you evade taxes, mother," Qian Meng grunted.

"Oh, no. It's something else." The words were waved away. "Remember I made you that minor's joint account when you came to stay with me during your summer vacations?" she said.

Qian Meng had to remember about that. Her summer vacations during her teenage years hadn't been pleasant, so she didn't think much about it. "Yes?" she responded tentatively.