Tan Xiao wore a formal outfit to the celebration too, though he didn’t wear a tie.
Zhang Xingchuan loved Tan Xiao in his ‘elite professional’ skin. When they got home and had barely entered the door, Zhang took off his own tie. Tan Xiao thought he was going to change, but instead he looped it around Tan Xiao’s neck.
“…” Tan Xiao looked down as Zhang began tying the knot.
The CEO had naturally had some drinks at the celebration. His usually deft fingers were a little clumsy, and he managed to tie a crooked, ugly knot.
“Do you even know how?” Tan Xiao said. “That looks terrible.”
Zhang knew exactly how. He hooked a finger into the knot, pulled Tan Xiao toward him, and kissed him.
They were at Tan Xiao’s apartment, closer to the celebration venue than Zhang’s house. No one else was home. In that spacious flat, they could embrace one another passionately with even fewer inhibitions.
Celebrating a victory involved more than alcohol. Naturally, there was sex too.
Zhang had spent much of the past month and more in the Yangtze River Delta. WenCheng wasn’t an especially powerful platform, and the success of its alliances with several domestic hotel groups owed something to good timing and favorable circumstances. Zhang still had to swallow his pride and personally handle many of the arrangements.
Tan Xiao stayed in Beijing, going to work at WenCheng while also writing his postdoctoral research proposal. At times like these, he envied Zhang terribly. How could someone actually enjoy making plans so much?
Though the process was hectic, he managed to submit his application on time.
Zhang had only returned this week, and the two of them had hardly had a chance to be intimate. The last time they’d let loose like this was in Hangzhou the previous month.
Back then Secretary Feng had abruptly fallen ill with a fever and had to take sick leave right before the business trip. Tan Xiao replaced him as Zhang’s traveling assistant to Hangzhou.
WenCheng’s response strategy had been sound, and its measures worked. The crisis was stabilizing, with everything moving in a positive direction.
M Group hadn’t expected WenCheng to stand so firmly against it. The public backlash was severe, and some Chinese consumers called for boycotts. Other travel platforms, unwilling to be caught in the crossfire, restricted traffic to M Group properties or temporarily delisted them. M Group eventually issued an apology, declaring it held the Chinese market in the highest regard and had never intended to suppress Chinese platforms maliciously.
On the surface, WenCheng had won. The company had even turned adversity into a historic leap in performance. Its employees had gained valuable experience and reasonably generous bonuses.
But the aggressor had suffered no more than a few scratches. M Group was a gigantic hotel operator with innumerable properties worldwide. Consumer boycotts in a single market would soon lose momentum, and the negative publicity surrounding its brands would eventually fade.
As for the shipping conglomerate and the Doria family, this had affected them not at all.
For the first time, Tan Xiao realized he wasn’t an absolute optimist. Without noticing, he’d begun growing pessimistic. As long as Tan Yun wanted to, she could casually make moves like this again and again. Zhang and WenCheng would never know peace.
The thought filled him with despair.
Zhang had only fallen in love with him. Why should he have to go through this?
WenCheng’s employees were even more innocent. They were simply trying to do their jobs. Why should they be tormented this way?
Everyone was under tremendous pressure. After Feng got sick, much of the work fell to Tan Xiao. During those days he often wondered whether he was becoming depressed. He wanted to cry but had no tears, and smiling was out of the question. Every day he went numbly from task to task. There was always more work.
For the Hangzhou trip, he became part of Zhang’s traveling staff, taking over Secretary Feng’s coordination work. It was the unhappiest journey the two had taken since meeting.
While they waited at Capital Airport, another colleague traveling to Hangzhou, a technician responsible for the interfaces, asked Tan Xiao about a coordination detail. Feng hadn’t mentioned it, so Tan Xiao hurriedly messaged him even though Feng was receiving an IV infusion. Feng didn’t see the message immediately and couldn’t reply.
The matter wasn’t urgent. They could easily improvise after arriving in Hangzhou, and with Tan Xiao’s social skills, it wouldn’t have been a problem. But that day he was unusually anxious. He began messaging every person in the President’s Office who might know the answer.
As he was asking the third person, Zhang took the phone out of his hand.
Tan Xiao exploded. “I’m working! What do you think you’re doing?”
Zhang looked at him with concern. “Take a break, all right?”
He knew something was very wrong and wanted Tan Xiao to go home and rest rather than accompany him on the trip. But he didn’t dare send him away. He couldn’t be sure what might happen if Tan Xiao was somewhere he couldn’t see him.
Fortunately, Tan Xiao quickly realized he’d lost control. “I won’t ask anymore… I was getting worked up. I’m sorry,” he said awkwardly.
He didn’t insist on getting his phone back. Instead he sat there, exhaled deeply, and tried his hardest to collect himself and shift his thoughts away from work.
They were going to Hangzhou. Hangzhou held special memories for him.
Before being taken to Europe, when he was three or four, he had lived in Hangzhou for a little over a year with his maternal grandparents while his parents were fighting over custody. He’d been too young to remember much of the city. Vaguely, he remembered the breadth of his grandfather’s back, the sweet aroma of pastries on the wind, and gathering osmanthus blossoms for his grandmother until his little hands were stained yellow.
Later he was taken to Europe, and his mother moved to work in another city in Zhejiang. The whole family left Hangzhou. When he visited his mother in recent years, he went to her new city and hadn’t returned to Hangzhou.
Now, twenty years later, he was coming back with Zhang to meet a hotel alliance partner.
From the moment they landed that day, he felt lost. Did this count as returning to his hometown? Could a place that felt completely foreign be home? Did he even have a hometown?
Work left him little time to contemplate these questions of departure and return. They began work as soon as they landed. The interfaces were still being built, and Zhang, with his technical background, even took part in some of the development symbolically.
They worked until evening. The partner company hosted a simple dinner, which Zhang had to attend. Tan Xiao changed clothes and prepared to go too, but Zhang asked him to stay in the room and rest. “Get some proper sleep.”
Tan Xiao hadn’t wanted to go in the first place. He nodded and saw Zhang out.
Zhang came back a little after nine.
Tan Xiao wasn’t in the room. Neither were his phone and charger, shoulder bag, or identity card.
Zhang stood in the middle of the room, his mind blank.
What was happening?
Had the thing he feared most finally happened? Had Tan Xiao decided to end everything, going back to his family to apologize and submit, so that Zhang and WenCheng could finally live in peace?
…
No, that wasn’t right. If Tan Xiao really intended to do that, he wouldn’t vanish without a word. He wasn’t someone who left people without an explanation.
Zhang looked around in confusion and, for a moment, couldn’t even remember where he’d put his own phone. At last he found it by the television and immediately called Tan Xiao.
Thank goodness Tan Xiao answered quickly. He’d taken an evening high-speed train to a port city in Zhejiang, only a few dozen minutes away from Hangzhou.
“I’m already at my mom’s,” Tan Xiao said cheerfully. “I’ll take the earliest train back tomorrow.”
Zhang was silent.
Tan Xiao heard something wrong with his breathing and realized what he’d done. He explained at once, “I left you a note. It’s right on the desk. Didn’t you see it?”
Zhang hadn’t looked at the desk. There really was a note there: Gone to see my mom. Back tomorrow morning.
Tan Xiao had decided on the visit spontaneously. He hadn’t messaged or called Zhang because he knew that if Zhang heard about it during dinner, he’d tell Tan Xiao to wait and come back to accompany him. But Zhang was already so busy he was doing the work of several people. Tan Xiao didn’t want to make him split himself into yet another person.
“You…” Zhang began.
He wanted to scold him. Only heaven knew he’d nearly had a heart attack just now.
“Since you’re there, spend a proper day with your mother,” Zhang said, forcing himself to sound calm. “Come back later tomorrow. There isn’t much happening here.”
At half past midnight, Tan Xiao returned. There were no more high-speed trains, so he’d taken an intercity ride-hailing car.
Sure enough, Zhang hadn’t slept. He was sitting in a daze at the desk, with Tan Xiao’s note before him.
“…”
Zhang looked at him from behind the desk.
Tan Xiao came in like a child who’d done something wrong, at a loss for what to do. “I’m sorry.”
“I just suddenly missed her,” he said. “I’m sorry. I’m really sorry.”
Zhang stood and walked over. He said nothing, simply pulling Tan Xiao into his arms.
Tan Xiao continued apologizing, until he noticed something that made the words die in his throat.
“You…” He grew nervous. He thought Zhang might be crying.
He tried to look at Zhang’s face, but Zhang held him tightly and wouldn’t let him see.
“Don’t be afraid,” Zhang said. “I’m not angry.”
“I’m not afraid you’re angry. I… I’m just so sorry.”
“Do you love me?” Zhang asked.
Tan Xiao assumed he was so upset he’d lost his senses. “Why are you asking me that?”
Zhang had never been more clear-headed in his life.
He’d been bracing himself for another move from Tan Yun. Was cutting off M Group really all she’d planned?
Now he understood: there was no need for another move. All she had to do was keep them in constant dread of what might happen next. Tan Xiao was already feeling guilty. If Zhang began blaming him too, they could start torturing and resenting each other. However much love they had, it would eventually be worn away.
If the queen’s tactic worked, it might make her brother lose faith in human nature and love for the rest of his life.
Zhang was glad he wasn’t that kind of person. He never blamed fate or others. He kept looking for the next path forward.
“Don’t make me angry now,” he said. “When you apologize to me, it’s like slapping me in the face. What have you done to wrong me? Is falling in love with me a mistake?”
Tan Xiao had no answer. Of course it wasn’t a mistake, but he still felt sorry toward Zhang.
He’d traveled back and forth in the heat, and Zhang urged him to shower. He helped him wash and, in the process, made him messy again. The mingling of soap suds and desire reminded Zhang of that sad story about the little mermaid.
“Tan Xiao,” Zhang said, holding him close, “don’t leave me.”
“I won’t,” Tan Xiao said, overcome with emotion.
“Say it again.”
For reasons he couldn’t explain, Tan Xiao felt terribly sad and began to cry. “I’m yours. I won’t leave you.”
Once their hair was dry, both felt refreshed. Zhang was still holding him. “Did seeing your mom make you feel any better?”
Tan Xiao knew he’d frightened Zhang with his unscheduled excursion, so he was especially obedient now. “Yes.”
After Zhang left for dinner, he’d suddenly wanted to visit his mother. He let her know before buying his train ticket. When he got off, she and his stepfather were waiting at the station. His grandparents were already at home and had cooked a sumptuous meal. He’d originally planned to stay the night; they’d made up a bedroom for him and placed the comfort toy he had as a child on the bed, an old, hand-sewn little cloth horse.
Zhang suddenly regretted not letting him stay there for a good night’s rest, surrounded by his family’s love.
Tan Xiao loved Zhang so much that the moment he heard something wrong in Zhang’s voice, he’d parted from relatives he rarely saw and rushed straight back. He was always like that. He seemed carefree, but quietly looked after Zhang’s feelings in the smallest ways.
“I’m not a good kid,” Tan Xiao said, feeling sorry toward his family here too. “I spend so little time with them.”
After he’d been allowed to return to China from Europe, he’d been placed in a school in Beijing. Two white household stewards looked after him and oversaw every aspect of his life. He only had a few chances each year to see his mother, and even those visits were very brief.
He knew she loved him, and he felt an instinctive bond with her, even though the time they’d actually spent together was fleeting as smoke.
Some people had told him his mother abandoned him. He’d never seen it that way. From a very young age, he understood what had driven her decision.
Back then she’d left her child with her parents, crossed the ocean alone, and gone to Europe in person. She hired local lawyers and sought out the press. The Doria family initially thought she wanted a larger property settlement, but her aim was to stir public opinion, not for herself. She wanted her child to be fully recognized by the Doria family.
At the turn of the millennium, she was a highly educated professional who could have had a much brighter life. Instead, trusting the wrong man had nearly cost her the first half of it. Once love died, her wits came alive. Tan Xiao had still been a helpless little cub. As the adult who loved him most, she had to make the best strategic decision on his behalf.
He’d told Zhang about these things before. After getting into university, his household stewards left and he could travel wherever he wanted. During the first year, he visited his mother’s home whenever he had time, several times in succession. Their hearts were close, but after so many years apart, spending time together could feel awkward. And his visits made his stepfather uncomfortable. Gradually, Tan Xiao took the hint and restrained himself, trying not to disrupt their life.
“When this busy period’s over,” Zhang said, “we’ll go together. You spend time with your mother, and I’ll take care of your stepfather.”
Tan Xiao thought about it, then smiled and nodded. His stepfather worked for Customs. He was serious but gentle, rather like Zhang.
“I love you,” Tan Xiao said, guessing Zhang needed to hear it right now. “I love you so much I could die. I’ll never leave you in this lifetime.”
“That’s right. Love me,” Zhang said. “And next time you go out, tell me. I… I was honestly afraid your family had kidnapped you.”
Tan Xiao thought that was hilarious. “This is China. They can’t just do whatever they want here.”
“And don’t make these decisions alone.”
Tan Xiao couldn’t resist exposing him. “There it is. You’re really afraid I’ll sneak away.”
“I’m not,” Zhang said. “If you run, I’ll chase you.”
Tan Xiao leaned in to kiss him. Zhang turned him over and held him down. Tan Xiao was exhausted but tried his hardest to cooperate.
Ordinarily Zhang would never behave like this. Their relationship had never been about taking from each other. But today he couldn’t help himself. He needed to confirm over and over that Tan Xiao wouldn’t leave him, that Tan Xiao, like him, was prepared to go all in for this relationship and wouldn’t give up easily.
Tan Xiao understood what Zhang was feeling. Yet at the time he was a little lost himself, unsure how much longer he could hold on.
He’d thought then that if WenCheng really was dragged into endless harassment, perhaps… they would have to break up after all.
He truly loved Zhang, and the prospect of separation hurt terribly. But for Zhang’s and WenCheng’s freedom, he believed he ought to be able to endure that pain.
From that night in Hangzhou until the day after the celebration, they hadn’t been so intimately entwined again. They’d seen each other a few times during the intervening month, but time was short and neither was in good condition, so their encounters were brief and hurried.
Tonight felt different to both of them. Tan Xiao wasn’t merely cooperating with Zhang. He was urgently demanding more from Zhang. That was the kind of intimacy Zhang loved most. They’d experienced it often before, but tonight was exceptional.
With the crisis resolved, Zhang had used the whole experience to rebuild and stabilize his inner order.
He didn’t know what the future would bring. There might be many more challenges. But he was confident that he had both the determination and support to face the unknown. That strength came from his own resolve, from the entire WenCheng team, and from the enormous changes shaping the world.
“What’s gotten into you?” Zhang asked. “Why so wild tonight?”
“Wasn’t I wild enough before?”
“It’s different. Have you been drinking too?”
Tan Xiao challenged him. “I was the one who drove us home, remember?”
Zhang experienced extraordinary pleasure.
“Zhang Xingchuan,” Tan Xiao suddenly said.
Zhang hadn’t even caught his breath when Tan Xiao used his full name again. His Adam’s apple bobbed. Pretending nothing was wrong, he turned to look.
Tan Xiao had been lying on the other side of the bed, lost in thought. He rolled halfway toward Zhang, wrapped an arm around his waist, and pressed his face to Zhang’s chest.
“I really can’t live without you anymore,” Tan Xiao said.
… It’s just burying your face in my chest, Zhang thought. Do you really have to be this dramatic? Calling me by my full name again. Are you trying to frighten me to death?
“Then never leave me,” Zhang said.
“When I die, I want to be buried beside you.”
Zhang was startled again and quickly studied his expression. Had the kid really become depressed? Was that why he was talking so morbidly?
But Tan Xiao was confessing his love in complete earnestness. “Will your family even let me into the ancestral graveyard?”
“Who cares what they say?” Zhang found the topic ridiculous. “If they won’t, then we won’t go. We’ll have our ashes scattered at sea together.”
Tan Xiao laughed. “Into Shichahai.”
“…” Zhang said, “I’m about to cry from how moved I am, and you’re making memes.”
But he really was happy. He could feel the shadow that had hung over Tan Xiao throughout the crisis finally lifting.
“Brother,” Tan Xiao said cheerfully, announcing what he’d just been thinking, “let’s get married.”
Zhang looked at him, laughter and happiness rippling through his eyes.
“We don’t need the law or our ancestors to approve,” Tan Xiao said. “Heaven knows, earth knows, you know, and I know.”
He leaned in and kissed Zhang’s lips, smiling. “Let’s get married. From now on I’ll be your husband, and you’ll be mine.”
Fu had told him about Zhang’s worst-case plan. If Zhang failed, he’d willingly give up the work of his life and take Tan Xiao to live differently, wandering the world with no fixed home. It sounded like a story from a parallel universe. Its freedom and poetry had enchanted Tan Xiao utterly.
Now, in Zhang’s presence, Tan Xiao discarded every last doubt. The scheming old-money aristocrats, the queenly sister with ruthless methods, the chaotic international business war: he didn’t care. None of it mattered anymore.
He was going to stay with Zhang forever. If WenCheng survived, they’d toil as corporate beasts of burden together. If WenCheng disappeared, they’d become a pair of wandering little dogs together.
Zhang had long considered them bound to each other in this way, but he’d known Tan Xiao wasn’t quite there yet. The kid still wanted to play and hadn’t settled down. That was normal.
Now Zhang looked at him in astonishment. What had happened? Had his kiddo’s love-and-marriage module suddenly updated itself?
Tan Xiao said, “If you don’t want to, forget it.”
“Of course I want to.”
Zhang embraced and kissed him repeatedly, wishing he could summon a wedding venue on the spot.
When Tan Xiao heard him agree, he smiled. He’d never imagined he would propose marriage like this. His face and ears flushed.
He looked as he had when they’d first fallen in love.
When Zhang had come to his dorm and flirted with him. When Zhang told him at the bistro that he liked every part of him. When he’d sat in the guest room at Zhang’s house with his bare legs unselfconsciously showing. When he’d perched on Zhang’s lap in Shangri-La and said, Am I not allowed to sit here? Then I’ll go… Those moments.
This was the real Tan Xiao. He blushed and grew shy, sometimes felt sad, but he never lost his brightness. His eyes were always smiling. He loved the world, and he was full of courage.
No difficulty would be allowed to crush his joy again.
“Tell me something,” Zhang said, finally daring to ask as he kissed Tan Xiao. “Did you ever think about leaving me?”
“…” Tan Xiao didn’t deny it. But he surrendered. “I was wrong, brother.”
“What did you call me?”
“Husband.”
Zhang loved it. Tan Xiao usually called him that only when referring to him in conversation. It was the first time he’d directly addressed him that way.
Tan Xiao didn’t go to work the next day.
Feng needed to ask him about a minor work matter and sent him a message. Tan Xiao was sleeping too soundly to reply.
So Feng had to ask the CEO instead.
After resolving the issue, the CEO told him, “Tan Xiao drank too much last night. He has a headache and needs to rest.”
Most people had drunk at the celebration. The only two members of the President’s Office who hadn’t were Assistant Tan and Secretary Feng. Feng had only just recovered from being ill, while Tan Xiao had said he needed to drive the CEO home.
Feng knew perfectly well his idol was lying through his teeth. What could he do, expose him? Besides, he and Tan Xiao had become good friends. At work he admired the CEO, but in private Tan Xiao was his real friend.
Tan Xiao had kindly driven the CEO home, and now couldn’t come to work the next day… Tan Xiao was the good one. As for who was bad, well, everyone knew.