Mai Ding could not even remember how the whole day passed. Before, they had only pretended to be strangers. Now it felt as though they had truly become strangers. He could no longer tell whether he was avoiding An Zi Yan or An Zi Yan was avoiding him. They kept brushing past each other. Every time they argued in the past, Mai Ding could feel An Zi Yan’s frightening coldness. This time, he felt nothing.
He was fine. He was doing perfectly well. Mai Ding’s leaving had not affected him at all. Even with the truth sitting right in front of his eyes, Mai Ding did not want to accept it. So he had overestimated his own importance after all. Was An Zi Yan waiting for him to give in? Waiting until Mai Ding could not stand it anymore and crawled back to him? He always wanted to be the winner. Fine. Mai Ding was sick of always being the loser.
Their wounds were in different places. How were they supposed to resonate with each other?
Feng Fei Meng walked into the office carrying a gift box. Fan Shao Jun studied it curiously. “What’s that? From your boyfriend?”
“I wish it was from a boyfriend.”
“Then what is it?”
“Human Resources just gave it to me. Apparently Company Z, the one we worked with last time, had custom gifts made for every department manager.”
“Open it and see what it is. Yan won’t care anyway.”
“You’re hopeless. The second you hear something is custom-made, your eyes start glowing.” Feng Fei Meng opened the box. Inside was a pure-silver letter opener, beautifully made with a slightly vintage look. Feng Fei Meng grabbed it by one end and waved it around with disgust. “What’s the point of giving this? They might as well have just given money.”
“You don’t understand. That’s called taste. Put it on a desk and the whole office looks more sophisticated.” Fan Shao Jun spoke like someone who understood fashion completely. Feng Fei Meng could not agree. “More sophisticated? Looks more like something for killing people. The tip is ridiculously sharp.”
“As a woman, you’re tragic. You need some aesthetic sense. Do you know what aesthetics are?”
“As a man, you’re tragic too.” Feng Fei Meng ignored Fan Shao Jun, walked into An Zi Yan’s office, and found it empty. She casually placed the letter opener on his desk.
Mai Ding kept his head down and worked without leaving himself a single gap to think. After printing a document, he handed it to Gao Shuang. Less than two minutes later, Gao Shuang handed it back.
“What’s wrong?”
“I was about to ask you the same thing. Look at it yourself. It’s full of mistakes.” Mai Ding hurriedly opened the document. Gao Shuang was right. He quickly apologized. “Sorry. I didn’t notice.”
“You don’t need to apologize to me.”
Mai Ding stared at the document and crumpled it in one hand. He had desperately tried to use work to calm his mind, but even his work was being affected. Arrogant. Useless. He hated this version of himself who could not stop being affected by An Zi Yan.
An Zi Yan, who had gone out at noon, did not come back until almost the end of the workday. When Guo Ping saw him, he said, “Yan, all the documents that need signatures today are on your desk. I’m leaving first. Oh, Mai Ding,” Guo Ping turned toward Mai Ding, who was still correcting his document, “after Yan signs everything, organize all the files. We need them first thing tomorrow morning.”
“But…”
“What?”
“Nothing.” Mai Ding shook his head. Bringing personal emotions into work would be pathetic. He and An Zi Yan worked in the same department. They could not avoid each other forever. Mai Ding deliberately dragged out the time, hoping An Zi Yan would finish signing and leave before he went in to collect the documents. One by one, everyone else left. The empty, silent Public Relations Department was reduced to only the two of them. The sound of the keyboard slowly faded. Finally, Mai Ding walked toward the office. An Zi Yan was looking down and signing documents. His eyelashes moved lightly with his eyelids as he calmly flipped through the pile on the desk and signed one after another. Mai Ding clenched his hand. He wanted to rush forward, grab An Zi Yan by the collar, and demand to know how he could be so unaffected. Care about me a little more. He wanted to shout it. Instead, he merely walked to the desk, set down the document in his hand, and said, “There’s one more. Please sign this too.”
An Zi Yan did not look up. The scratching of pen against paper floated between them until his voice covered it. “What is this tone you’re using with me supposed to mean?” He did not sound angry, only questioning.
“You don’t like it? Do you want me to be even more humble?”
“Did you come here to fight with me?” An Zi Yan ignored Mai Ding’s question and asked calmly instead. His attitude acted like an exit pulling Mai Ding’s emotions toward it. Mai Ding was almost unable to suppress himself. “You think too highly of me. What right do I have to fight with you? I…” An Zi Yan raised one hand and cut him off. “Enough. I’ve signed it. Take it away.” In the end, Mai Ding still could not hold himself together. He was not An Zi Yan. He could not bury things so deeply. Dig even a little and everything came out. “I always have to do what you say. I always have to listen to you.” He pressed one hand onto the messy pile of documents. “Can you, just once, think about things from my side!!” Mai Ding shoved all the documents across the desk toward An Zi Yan with all his strength. Some struck An Zi Yan’s body, while others scattered onto the floor. An Zi Yan did not react. “Get out.” Mai Ding bit his lower lip. Tears overflowed from his wide eyes.
“Didn’t you hear me? Get out. Now!” An Zi Yan’s breathing grew rough. Mai Ding turned and walked to the doorway, forcing his trembling voice under control. “If possible, please come home later. I need to go back and get some clothes, and I don’t want to run into you.” Then he fled in humiliation. At the elevator, he kept jabbing the button and refused to look back. That feeling returned, the sensation of a knife stabbing inside his chest. When he entered the elevator, he clutched the fabric over his chest tightly. It hurt too much. He wished, desperately wished, An Zi Yan could feel this once. Then he gave a bitter smile. Impossible.
The office was empty and silent. Documents lay scattered over the floor, their corners marked with thin streaks of blood. The forgotten letter opener that had been hiding beneath the papers now lay greedily against An Zi Yan’s chest, drinking the blood he had given it. An Zi Yan lifted his right hand, gripped the handle, and pulled it out in one motion. The wound was neither very deep nor shallow. Bright red blood bloomed across his shirt like a flower, staining the fabric into petals. An Zi Yan leaned his head back against the chair again. His left hand rested on the armrest; in his right, the beautiful silver blade shone strangely with blood. That idiot had almost seen it. Luckily he had not. If Mai Ding had seen, with his personality, he would have felt guilty and restless for a long time over such a trivial little thing.