Wen Rui closed his flip phone and said in a perfectly calm voice, “Song Xiuzhu, come to the computer room with me.”
Song Xiuzhu stood up. “All right.”
He knew Wen Rui wanted somewhere quiet to speak with him privately. What he had never imagined was that they would have barely reached the ground floor, standing in the open space outside the dormitory amid students coming and going, when Wen Rui would begin to speak.
“I can give you five reasons.”
Song Xiuzhu went white with nerves. How could Wen Rui talk about something like this in public? Did people with money and power care so little about what happened to others?
With both hands thrust into his trouser pockets, he clenched his fists so tightly his knuckles cracked. Song Xiuzhu felt profoundly uncomfortable, even resentful, but dared not show it.
He lowered his voice. “What five reasons?”
He couldn’t show weakness. He couldn’t beg Wen Rui to go somewhere else. He couldn’t behave like someone bound by all the invisible shackles of mundane society. Wen Rui was proud and extraordinarily difficult to get close to; Song Xiuzhu had gone to great lengths to win his special regard.
Besides, this was a critical moment in the company’s founding. He had no intention of being thrown off a train destined to deliver an immense fortune.
Wen Rui looked at him seriously. “First, I find you physically attractive.”
Mockery flickered through Song Xiuzhu’s eyes. He hadn’t expected Wen Rui to be so shallow as to care that much about looks. To tell the truth, he was a little disappointed.
Wen Rui continued, “Second, in my senior year of high school I realized my sexual orientation was different from other people’s, and I was terrified. You didn’t know what I was going through, but you made an effort to comfort and counsel me every day. You appeared when I was at my most confused and helped lead me out of it. I’m grateful to you.”
“Third, you have a good personality and are easy to get along with.”
“Fourth, once the company is established, I’ll be very busy and won’t have time to deal with romantic matters. If I’m going to find a stable partner, now is the best possible time.”
“Fifth, you’re an orphan, and I sympathize with you.”
Song Xiuzhu: …
Could there possibly be a more ridiculous confession? So Wen Rui really was a robot. Apart from calculating benefits, he apparently had no personal feelings at all. He wasn’t looking for a partner because he’d fallen in love. He simply thought the time was right, and Song Xiuzhu happened to be the most suitable candidate.
Inexpressible anger and humiliation rose inside Song Xiuzhu, but his eyes only reddened slightly as he said softly, “None of those things means you like me.”
Wen Rui replied calmly, “Whether I like you isn’t important. Compatibility is the foundation of a stable relationship. Given my circumstances, stability is all I need.”
Song Xiuzhu stepped backward, lowering his voice further. “Have you ever considered that I might not be like you? Maybe I don’t like men?”
For the first time, Wen Rui looked surprised. His gaze on Song Xiuzhu shifted from warm to inscrutable. Once his rational mind took over, he became extraordinarily cold and incisive.
“You’re not gay?” he asked bluntly.
Song Xiuzhu wanted to cover his mouth. Please, don’t say those words outside the dormitory! If anyone heard, it could be used to ruin him!
Wen Rui spoke again. “But you’ve behaved like a gay man around me. When ordinary male friends look at each other, they don’t constantly blush and get embarrassed, nor do they keep acting like they have something they want to say but can’t. Your care for me goes beyond being attentive. You even involve yourself in what color thermal underwear I wear every day. That’s crossing a line.”
Song Xiuzhu feigned bewilderment. “I thought I wasn’t. But after spending so much time with you, I’ve started to realize there’s something different about me. I’m frightened. Could you give me some time to think? Not everyone can be as certain as you are.”
Wen Rui slowly nodded, though his deep, unreadable gaze continued to search Song Xiuzhu’s face.
Unable to guess what he was thinking, Song Xiuzhu finally pulled a hand out of his pocket and reached for Wen Rui’s sleeve.
Wen Rui lowered his eyes and paused. On the outside of Song Xiuzhu’s palm was a nail mark, angry red from how hard he’d dug into his flesh. He was terribly frightened.
They were only discussing a relationship. There was no need for such a reaction.
“I understand. I’ll give you time to consider it.” Wen Rui had the magnanimity not to grow angry at being rejected.
Song Xiuzhu relaxed inwardly, yet he couldn’t shake the feeling that he’d lost an important opportunity. His future was tied to Wen Rui’s. Perhaps he shouldn’t have pushed him away.
From a distance, Lu Congzhi spotted two familiar figures.
Song Xiuzhu had pretty, delicate features and a gentle disposition, almost like a young woman. In Lu Congzhi’s previous life, he’d inexplicably fallen out with Wen Rui and joined several major shareholders in taking Xinglian’s most profitable mobile-phone division away from the company.
From orphan to billionaire, Song Xiuzhu had done very well for himself in that life. But in Lu Congzhi’s view, he lacked vision and was mediocre in ability.
The mobile-phone business was profitable, certainly, but Xinglian had later developed electric vehicles, 6G networks, artificial intelligence, advanced semiconductors, and computing centers… Which of those wasn’t a money-printing machine? Which wasn’t a market worth trillions?
Besides, Song Xiuzhu was a terrible manager. His mobile-phone company had folded within five years.
If Lu Congzhi had been in Song Xiuzhu’s shoes, he would have held tightly to Wen Rui in this life. Heaven had given the man an opportunity, and he’d been too useless to make the most of it…
As he approached, Lu Congzhi didn’t greet them. His relationships with his roommates were awkward and strained. Apart from Yu Binbin, he’d scarcely exchanged a few words with any of the other four.
Wen Rui stopped speaking when he saw Lu Congzhi coming. The setting sun shone in his deep-set eyes, turning them a brilliant pale gold. He was extraordinarily handsome, cool and distinguished, every gesture imbued with elegance. His carefully trimmed hair, distinctive and tasteful clothes, and courteous, assured way of dealing with others all set him apart from people his own age.
Even without knowing his background, anyone could see that he’d grown up with money and an excellent upbringing. He stood out so sharply that the sensitive Lu Congzhi had noticed it early on, and had kept a respectful distance.
Only when he came closer did Lu Congzhi realize that, although he himself was 188 centimeters tall, Wen Rui stood another half head above him. Wen Rui had broad shoulders, a narrow waist, and long legs; blue-purple veins stood out on the backs of his fair hands, making them look powerful yet as finely sculpted as jade.
Lu Congzhi couldn’t imagine what door God had closed on Wen Rui. How could someone be so completely perfect, wanting for absolutely nothing?
He pretended to give Wen Rui a distant glance and walked past.
But Wen Rui called him back. “I heard from someone in the next dorm room that you fainted. What happened? Low blood sugar again?”
He was class monitor and dormitory head. Naturally, it was his responsibility to ask.
“Mm. Low blood sugar again.” Lu Congzhi started upstairs without looking back.
Wen Rui followed him. “Are you feeling better now?”
“Much better.”
The conversation ended, and both men fell silent.
Song Xiuzhu caught up and tugged on Wen Rui. “Didn’t you say we were going to the computer room?”
Wen Rui replied, “I forgot my notebook computer. I’m going upstairs to get it.”
“We weren’t finished talking just now. Wait a moment; I’ve still got a few things to say.”
Wen Rui and Song Xiuzhu dropped behind, and Lu Congzhi paid them no attention. As he walked, he considered his options. He had to get on good terms with Wen Rui, but how? Suddenly striking up a conversation and abruptly changing his attitude was a poor strategy. Fawning over Wen Rui and trailing after him like a lackey would be worse still.
What, then, was the best strategy?
Lu Congzhi couldn’t think of one immediately. He’d have to take tomorrow off and draw up a proper plan. Besides, his body was barely holding up.
Back in the dormitory, he took out his phone to call his academic counselor, but all he heard was a repeated busy signal. Suspecting his phone had run out of credit, he said to Yu Binbin, who was lying on his bed, “Let me borrow your phone.”
Yu Binbin gave a lazy wave. “It’s on the desk. Help yourself.”
There were two phones on the desk, one ordinary and one expensive.
Naturally, Lu Congzhi picked up the expensive one. He first called the counselor to request sick leave, then called his own phone to see whether its service had been suspended. A recorded message sounded. Sure enough, he was out of credit.
He took a top-up card from the drawer and was about to recharge his phone when he noticed a missed call on the borrowed handset. The number began with 139, and it was painfully familiar. That wasn’t Yu Binbin’s number. It was Brother Yan’s! Yet he’d clearly borrowed Yu Binbin’s phone!
He looked up sharply, pointing at the desk. “Binbin, isn’t this your phone?”
Yu Binbin shook his head. “Mine’s the other one. I think that belongs to Wen Rui. He’s got two phones.”
Lu Congzhi sat on the edge of his bed, staring at the number in a daze. Li Yan, his only financial sponsor, had paid his tuition over the course of four years and helped him out whenever he was in desperate need.
Later, Lu Congzhi had wanted to repay Li Yan’s kindness, but he’d never found a way. The man’s background was extremely mysterious.
Now, as he stared at this intimately familiar number, a storm rose in his heart.
This was Wen Rui’s phone number! He would never have dreamed that Wen Rui was Li Yan!
After graduation, he and Li Yan were no longer connected as benefactor and student, but he kept sending Li Yan text messages, telling him about every little thing that happened in his life. Only when that phone grew so old that it could no longer be switched on did those one-sided confidences finally end.
He’d thought it was one of those partings everyone must eventually face in life. But now that he had another chance, a twist of fate had revealed that the person who had helped him most had been beside him all along.
He and Wen Rui should never have been so distant. They shared a much closer connection. If he could hold on to it tightly…
Thoughts of every kind whirled through Lu Congzhi’s mind. What was the best strategy? In a flash of inspiration, he understood. A term from psychology sprang into his head: the Aronson effect.
In simple terms, it was the “art of making mistakes.”
Deliberately create an enormous misunderstanding, then appear to clear it up by accident, leaving the other person to wake in the middle of the night, slap themselves twice, and curse, “You really are a fucking bastard!”
A profound sense of guilt would send Wen Rui’s opinion of Lu Congzhi soaring from below zero straight to a hundred.
At that point, Lu Congzhi wouldn’t have to strike up conversations, ingratiate himself, or act like a lackey. Wen Rui would watch him in secret, take the initiative to approach him, and gradually come to admire and trust him.
What Lu Congzhi did best was manage relationships between people, a skill he’d honed in the workplace. In that respect, he was the polar opposite of his younger self.
He selected the number and sent a text: [Brother Yan, could you lend me three thousand yuan?]
Asking someone for three thousand yuan in this era was making a very bold demand. Wen Rui would undoubtedly think him greedy and lacking in boundaries.