When Zhang Xingchuan got into woo-hoo mode, he really was a natural talent. Sometimes Tan Xiao found fault with him somewhere, but after a good woo-hoo session, everything seemed fine again.
Today Tan Xiao had disliked the way Zhang put on an act, but once they were finished, he felt it didn’t matter. They weren’t saints. Who could make sure every word they spoke came directly from the heart?
Besides, when Zhang first got together with him, Zhang had no idea the relationship would involve such a complicated family. Strictly speaking, Tan Xiao had won Zhang’s heart first. Zhang had fallen so deeply in love that he lost his senses and showered him with money, only to discover afterward that this wasn’t an ordinary student.
So much had happened since. A less devoted partner might have lost his entire fortune over a relationship like this, run away long ago, and prayed never to meet Tan Xiao again even in another lifetime.
If Tan Xiao now took offense just because Zhang had said one thing he didn’t mean, it wasn’t very fair to him. Zhang had never set out to date a young master. He’d fallen for a pure-hearted, poor university student. Tan Xiao was neither pure-hearted nor poor.
If the legal system were progressive enough, Zhang could sue him for marriage fraud. What an unlucky CEO.
“What are you thinking about?” Zhang asked. “Your mind’s wandered all the way to the Southern Hemisphere.”
“If I don’t think about something else, I’m going to cry.”
“Then cry louder.”
Tan Xiao duly began whimpering. This felt too wonderful to be real.
“My pillowcase is silk,” he suddenly remembered, thinking of his coming poverty. “It’ll be ruined if it gets wet.”
Zhang lifted him up and let him sit while he cried.
“You’re actually a pretty nice person,” Tan Xiao said.
Zhang couldn’t take it. “I’m going to kiss you to death, you little chatterbox.”
“Don’t just say it. Come on.”
Zhang proceeded to kiss him as though he meant to do exactly that.
Their compatibility was beyond question. These were two fortunate men who had found their destined partner on the very first try.
Lawyer Hua’s case was progressing, and Tan Xiao peacefully waited for updates. He still had more than half a month before beginning his postdoc, so he could keep playing. During the day he read books or played games at home. When he got bored, he went to campus to play ball games. If he couldn’t find anyone at Qing University, he went next door. Once he started eating at two universities, he naturally began making friends at both.
One day while visiting the neighboring campus, he ran into Chen Shu, the great king of outrageous ideas, who’d come to see his girlfriend.
The king had moved into his fourth undergraduate year. Architecture was a five-year program, so he still had two more years to endure. He’d gone to watch the autumn recruiting fair and felt as if his entire worldview had collapsed.
“People are practically fighting to the death for offers from design institutes,” Chen said. “What the hell are they fighting for? The monthly salary is less than the red envelope you sent me! Are they fighting for the right to starve?”
“What are your plans?” Tan Xiao asked. “Going to graduate school?”
“I’ve already been recommended for admission,” Chen said, spreading his hands. “Can’t really not do it now.”
Tan Xiao asked with perfect seriousness, “May I murder you?”
Chen burst out laughing.
He sat on a rock on his girlfriend’s campus while Tan Xiao remained astride his bicycle.
There were even more tourists here than at their own university. A family by the lake was taking photos and asked Chen to help with a group shot.
Only after Chen returned did Tan Xiao ask, “What does your girlfriend say?”
They were an older-girl, younger-boy couple. By the time Chen finished his undergraduate degree, his girlfriend would have completed her computer science master’s.
Chen abruptly turned glum. “Her parents are in Shenzhen. Once she graduates, she’s going back there to work.”
Tan Xiao didn’t know what to say. He’d always liked hearing and seeing how other people fell in love. Over his years of study he’d heard of many love stories that ended badly when reality intervened. With two years still left before graduation, he already felt sad for these poor lovers who seemed destined to part.
“Senior, can I try your bike?” Chen asked. “It’s so cool. Every time I see it, I want to ride it.”
Tan Xiao normally treasured the bike to death. He chose parking spots with great care so no one would touch it, let alone ride it.
But Chen seemed so miserable now. What a pitiful king of bad ideas.
“Fine. You can try it.” Tan Xiao dismounted and made room. “Be careful.”
Chen joyfully took the bike. He knew his senior would worry, so he only rode one loop around the lake before returning it.
“So cool.” Chen liked it even more after the ride. He envied Tan Xiao for having such a good husband, though his own girlfriend was nothing to sneeze at. “Actually, I’ve married pretty well myself. My girlfriend got a provisional offer in the Crow Factory’s early recruitment round. She’s the only one in her cohort who got one.”
That really was impressive. But Tan Xiao didn’t dare say anything. He feared Chen might be talking nonsense because a breakup was imminent.
“She’ll move there first and wait for me,” Chen said. “After I graduate, I’ll go join her. Have you been to Shenzhen? I went with her to visit her family. The sea is beautiful, there are flowers everywhere, the city is new. It’s a great place.”
Tan Xiao suddenly laughed. “I’ve been. It really is a great place.”
Huh? Wait a minute.
“Then why were you sad just now?” he asked. “Were you just trying to get my sympathy so you’d be allowed to ride my bike?”
“Yep. I told you I have lots of ideas. How was that? Senior? Senior, don’t go!”
Zhang was in his office with nothing urgent to do, looking for something to occupy himself, when a message from Tan Xiao arrived.
Tan Xiao: Someone just played with my feelings.
Zhang: Oh? Tell me everything.
Seeing the instant reply, Tan Xiao knew he wasn’t busy. He immediately stopped talking about unimportant people and asked: Can I come mooch the CEO’s boxed lunch at the office?
Zhang: Come quickly.
But by the time Tan Xiao arrived, a senior executive had come to see Zhang unexpectedly, and the two had moved to a small meeting room to discuss business.
Tan Xiao greeted Secretary Feng and the others, then looked through the CEO’s office doorway. Their little orchid was beginning this year’s flowering cycle. Its roots were plump and healthy, and it had sent up a fresh flower spike, though no buds had formed yet. Under Zhang’s care, the plant was lush and glossy.
Tan Xiao merely looked, without going inside, then peered toward the meeting room to see how long Zhang might be.
Zhang had already noticed him. After a while he finally finished his discussion and saw his colleague out. He remembered Tan Xiao was waiting for lunch, but Tan Xiao wasn’t waiting at all. He’d already gone to the staff canteen with Feng.
It had been almost a month since Tan Xiao left WenCheng. Oddly enough, he missed the employee buffet, though it really wasn’t tasty. What he missed was the comradeship of working shoulder to shoulder with everyone.
“That’s the taste I remember,” Tan Xiao said. “So awful. How can it still be this awful?”
Feng, the bodybuilder, had put nothing on his plate but greenery. He went moo and began grazing.
Tan Xiao ate his dreadful meal with relish. When he saw familiar colleagues, he waved from across the room. They waved back or smiled and nodded.
There was only one exception. When Tan Xiao waved, Vice President Sun picked up his tray and came straight over.
Feng had been quietly grazing; now he looked as if he’d swallowed a fly.
Tan Xiao was seated opposite him. Sun also wanted to sit across from Tan Xiao, which left him no choice but to sit beside Feng.
Tan Xiao hadn’t wanted to eat with Sun, but since he’d come over, Tan Xiao greeted him. “Hello, President Sun.”
“You’ve come back?” Sun assumed Tan Xiao was working at WenCheng again. “Didn’t get into the postdoc program?”
There’s that familiar flavor, Tan Xiao thought. Still so awful. How can he keep saying such awful things?
“President Sun,” Feng suddenly opened fire like a sniper with a huge rifle, “didn’t anyone ever teach you how to speak to people?”
“I wasn’t talking to you,” Sun said. “I’m Tan Xiao’s superior. Can’t I show concern?”
Feng sneered. “How many centuries ago were you his superior?”
“Can’t be bothered with you.” Sun turned back to Tan Xiao. “Don’t go to the President’s Office. You’re a finance specialist. You belong in my division. Why do errands and odd jobs?”
It was the first time Tan Xiao had seen Feng’s face go red. He was absolutely furious.
“Stop!” Tan Xiao said. “If you keep arguing, I’ll tell Zhang Xingchuan on you.”
“What are you reporting?” Sun said. “Is there a company rule against arguing?”
“Not that I know of. But I can make up a false accusation and tell him you’re both secretly in love with me.”
Sun and Feng nearly fainted.
When Tan Xiao had been working there during the united struggle against M Group, he’d finally worked out that these two didn’t have any substantial conflict.
When Feng first joined WenCheng, he went straight into the President’s Office, caught Zhang’s eye, and quickly won his confidence.
Meanwhile, once Tan Xiao had finished his winter internship and left Finance, the mediating presence between Sun and Zhang was gone. Sun once more began to brood suspiciously about Zhang. By bad luck, Zhang’s newly dispatched messenger, Feng, was a blunt and straightforward person. Their first meeting erupted into an argument. Sun could say unpleasant things without intending to; when he really fought, he couldn’t win, and Feng drove him into a fury.
They developed a small grudge, and the WenCheng gossip groups gained their legend of Noble Lady Sun versus Attendant Feng.
“Stop arguing,” Tan Xiao said. “Harmony brings prosperity. We’ve all been colleagues through hardship. Whatever misunderstandings you had before, forget them.”
Sun and Feng still looked as though they couldn’t be bothered with each other.
Tan Xiao added, “My postdoc application was accepted. I’m starting next month.”
“Congratulations.” Sun finally smiled a little. “Kids from wealthy families can afford to focus on academic work. No need to join us wage slaves.”
Feng’s expression made it clear he wanted to blast him again.
“There’s some truth in that,” Tan Xiao said. “Although I’m about to have no money.”
Now Feng looked at him in confusion too.
“What happened?” Sun asked.
“It’s complicated. Briefly, I’m cutting ties with my family. From now on I’ll support myself. And I won’t have to be hung from a lamppost anymore.”
Feng’s jaw dropped. But… how could someone be so blindly devoted to love?
Sun was even more incredulous. “Just for Zhang Xingchuan? Have you lost your mind?”
Feng’s jaw snapped shut again. If it was for the CEO… well, maybe that wasn’t entirely unreasonable. Zhang was his idol, after all. No. Still not reasonable. Far too love-struck.
“Have you already cut ties?” Feng asked. “Why don’t you think it over again?”
“Think it over,” Sun agreed.
They shot each other dirty looks.
Feng was Tan Xiao’s friend. Sun had no friends in the company. Tan Xiao didn’t worry about either man spreading the story.
“I’ve considered it thoroughly. It’s my own decision.”
“Are you worried the CEO might feel inferior because he can’t match your family’s finances?” Feng asked.
Sun looked between the two of them in confusion. He only knew Tan Xiao was a rich second-generation heir who drove an expensive car. He didn’t know exactly how rich.
“Of course not,” Tan Xiao said. “He’s not that shallow. I just don’t want to go on like this. I can’t demand this, that, and everything else. There’s no such perfect arrangement. I want freedom and a self of my own. Someone who gets everything for nothing doesn’t deserve either of those, does he?”
“…” Feng was silent for a while. He simply couldn’t relate to a young master’s troubles.
But as a friend, he had a question he genuinely wanted answered. “The money you already have was distributed by the trust too, right? After you leave, do you have to give it back?”
Now Sun understood something and cut in. “Past distributions are gifts. Of course you don’t have to repay them. How much is it?”
Tan Xiao smiled sheepishly without answering.
Feng cast Sun a sideways look. “How much money do you have?”
Sun pressed his lips tightly together.
Zhang called Tan Xiao. He said goodbye to both men and went to find the CEO.
While Tan Xiao had been there, Sun and Feng hadn’t minded trading barbs. Alone together, they found they couldn’t even summon up a good argument. They sat awkwardly for a moment.
“What does Tan Xiao’s family do?” Sun asked. “How did a trust fund enter the picture?”
“You don’t know?” Feng said. “Then why are you sticking your nose in?”
Sun snorted. “I can go tell Zhang a lie too. I’ll say you’re secretly in love with Tan Xiao.”
“… What the hell is wrong with you?”
Believing he now possessed a nuclear weapon, Sun picked up his tray and strode off with the grand air of a tyrant.
Tan Xiao returned to the CEO’s office. Hearing he’d eaten in the cafeteria, Zhang had no choice but to eat his boxed lunch alone.
Tan Xiao began complaining the moment he entered.
“WenCheng employees suffer too much. They work so hard and can’t even get a decent meal. How can the cafeteria food be this awful?” he protested. “It’s like you cooked it yourself.”
The arrow struck Zhang right in the knee. “All right, all right. I get exactly how terrible it must be.”
“Once you know, you need to do something about it.”
Zhang would, but still: “Who’s the CEO here, you or me?”
“Who’s Tan Xiao here, you or me?”
Zhang didn’t quite follow.
“Tan Xiao has worked in marketing operations at WenCheng, been a financial-business specialist, assisted the CEO, and served as an all-in-one administrative coordination machine in the President’s Office. I’m asking you: doesn’t Tan Xiao have the right to request better cafeteria food on behalf of WenCheng’s staff?”
Zhang froze with his chopsticks halfway to his mouth. He broke out in a sweat. “Do we really need to frame it at that level?”
“It’s really awful.” Tan Xiao sat beside him and patted his shoulder. “Little Zhang, it needs fixing.”
“Understood, Tan Xiao. Little Zhang will take care of it.”
He then asked, “Who played with your feelings this morning?”
“That friend of mine, the architecture undergraduate. He wanted to ride my bike, so he tricked me into believing he was about to break up.”
Zhang chuckled. “You really are easy to fool.”
“Finding out he’d fooled me was a good thing too,” Tan Xiao said. “At least he’s not actually breaking up. Lovers should never have to separate.”
After Zhang ate, he switched the partition glass to opaque, and the two began playing games.
Actual games.
Since leaving WenCheng, Tan Xiao had had lots of small pockets of spare time. Everyone needed entertainment. He watched short dramas and opened mystery boxes, switching between a lover of trashy stories and a gambler for half a month. Recently he’d taken up an online social mobile game involving skills and werewolf-style deduction. Zhang could play with him when he wasn’t busy.
They played three rounds. When lunch break ended, Tan Xiao turned the glass transparent again. “I’m going.”
“Coming to pick me up from work tonight?” Zhang asked.
“I’ll decide later. Right now I’m going back to play with your parents.”
Zhang held up his phone. “Don’t teach them this game. Some younger players really will bully them.”
“Not this. Perler beads. Ms. Jiang loves them. She’s planning to make a bead portrait of you.”
“What’s that?”
“I can’t explain it to you. Bye.”
You haven’t even tried to explain. How do you know I won’t understand? Zhang thought. Never mind. Little Zhang is good at teaching himself.
By November, the house was full of bead creations. Ms. Jiang had made portraits of Zhang and Tan Xiao. Old Zhang made one of Ms. Jiang and one of himself. The housekeeper made one of her daughter, who was studying back in her hometown.
Tan Xiao made a pile of absurd meme faces.
Zhang taught himself the craft, made a WenCheng mascot, and then made another… what was it?
“What’s this? Did you write code with the beads?” Tan Xiao couldn’t decipher it from either direction. Chocolate-brown beads spelled the words if and else, while beige ones formed a handful of simple words and symbols.
When Zhang made it, he’d thought it rather romantic. It wouldn’t matter if Tan Xiao didn’t understand. Zhang could explain.
A conditional expression of love: if Tan Xiao entered happy, Zhang would output laugh with you. If he entered sad, Zhang would output hug you. Tan Xiao’s state determined the response. In short, he loved him very much.
“It’s just…” Zhang suddenly understood Tan Xiao. Sometimes Zhang asked about some Gen-Z thing, only for Tan Xiao to tell him he wouldn’t understand. Well, yes. This really was impossible to explain.
He tossed the coded bead art aside. “Doesn’t matter. I love you.”
Tan Xiao rummaged through his own pile and held one up. It was a beaded Zhang Fei declaring, Same here!
“…”
What nonsense. There wasn’t a shred of romance in these beads.