That afternoon, the rain that had fallen for days finally stopped. A thin veil of mist still covered Lake Geneva, but Mont Blanc, unseen for so long, stood once more at the far end of the lake.
After having lunch with Tan Xiao, Zhou Ruofei went away for a while. Tan Xiao thought he had left. Before long, however, Zhou returned.
“I’m taking you out,” Zhou Ruofei said. “We’re not staying here anymore.”
“Are they moving me somewhere else to lock me up?”
“No.” Zhou Ruofei felt miserable. His affection for this younger brother was genuine, not merely a reflection of his feelings for Tan Yun. “You can go home.”
The previous week, after learning that one of its students had gone missing, a top Chinese university had activated its emergency response process. Through the Ministry of Education, the matter entered diplomatic channels, and the university sent an official letter to the Chinese diplomatic mission in Switzerland.
This was different from Zhang Xingchuan requesting help as a private individual. It was a formal letter from an institution with legal standing. The Chinese diplomatic mission in Bern responded extremely quickly. Once Tan Xiao’s Chinese citizenship was confirmed, it contacted the Swiss Federal Department of Foreign Affairs and demanded a substantive investigation into whether a Chinese citizen had been deprived of his personal liberty after entering Switzerland.
Zhang Xingchuan quickly submitted supporting documentation to the diplomatic mission: a timeline of Tan Xiao’s disappearance, the private aircraft’s flight itinerary from Beijing to Geneva, records of Tan Xiao’s final WeChat message, the address of the Cologny estate, and background information on the Doria family.
Finally, there was the police report receipt issued two weeks earlier. Presented with such clear evidence, the local police had given them nothing but a receipt, refusing for all that time to formally take the matter up.
Under diplomatic pressure, the Geneva police had no choice but to begin an investigation.
Even with its back against the wall, the Doria family remained unyielding. Just yesterday, the lawyer who was so adept at twisting words had engaged in another fierce confrontation with Lawyer Hua. But the situation had changed. Lawyer Hua was steadily gaining the upper hand.
Alexandra Doria’s predicament could be summed up in a single expression: she had mounted a tiger and could not get off.
Her original plan had been to teach her brother Julian a real lesson through confinement.
Her earlier measures against that little Chinese company had not been ruthless enough to scare off the Chinese man. But he was merely an insignificant outsider, capable of a few clever tricks and not worth taking seriously.
Alexandra had several younger brothers and sisters, but Julian was the only one she was willing to recognize in her heart as her brother. Partly it was because she had raised him herself for a time during his childhood. Partly it was because the children of those supermodels and beauty queens were just like their mothers: attractive on the outside and hopelessly empty-headed within.
Twenty years earlier, she had met Julian’s mother: a beautiful, gentle Chinese woman who spoke fluent German and possessed extraordinary courage and decisiveness.
Julian had inherited his mother’s beauty and intelligence. Unfortunately, he had also inherited some of her tendency to lose his head over love. Like his mother, he ought to suffer a devastating lesson. Only then would he understand that love was ephemeral, while money and power were real.
Alexandra had chosen his field of study for him precisely so he would return to the shipping company after graduating and become her capable right hand. Later, she intended to choose an appropriately aged female cousin from her maternal uncle’s family for Julian to marry. Their child would be cherished by both families, just as she herself had been. Alexandra would devote everything she had to raising Julian’s child into the next leader of their centuries-old maritime dynasty. She had even chosen the child’s name.
She had never imagined that the Chinese man who had seduced Julian would be willing to go this far for so-called love.
The old man was still alive, so Alexandra had not formally become head of the family. News of the turmoil in Geneva had reached certain ambitious relatives. Like vultures gathering around carrion, they coveted a position Alexandra had not yet fully secured and had begun spreading rumors to undermine her authority.
Meanwhile, the doctors told Alexandra that her brother Julian was on the verge of becoming ill.
He was stronger than she had imagined. Since coming to Geneva, he had never begged for her forgiveness. Yet he was also so fragile that a mere twenty days had nearly broken him.
Of course she did not want Julian to wither away like this. But she was also deeply unwilling to yield. She was Alexandra Doria now. How could there still be things in the world that refused to go as she wished?
She summoned Zhou Ruofei from the United States because she did not want to test Julian herself to see whether he was pretending to be ill. Real or feigned, one thing was already clear: she could not keep this younger brother.
That afternoon, Zhou Ruofei called her back. “Let him go. He’s turned into a little lunatic.”
Zhou Ruofei, of course, was exaggerating to frighten her.
Only when Tan Xiao was no longer useful to her could he possibly gain his freedom.
“Tell him to get lost,” Alexandra said. “And never come back.”
Zhou Ruofei did not know whether he was still viewing the woman he loved through a romantic filter, but once again he thought she sounded as though she were crying.
More than anyone, he knew that the person he had loved for so many years had changed long ago. He simply did not want to admit it, still dreaming that the sunset of their youth might never fade.
Bewildered, Tan Xiao let Zhou Ruofei lead him out of the house and into the back seat of a car. Zhou got in from the other side and told the driver to leave.
The Rolls-Royce moved slowly between the two rows of plane trees, passed through both iron gates, and drove out along the private road.
The sun broke through the clouds. Lake Geneva shimmered beside the road, and the glittering snow mountains still stood beyond it.
At last, Tan Xiao had left the century-old estate that had imprisoned him for twenty-one days.
As if awakening from a dream, he seized Zhou Ruofei’s arm. “Where’s my phone?!”
“You’re still worried about that? Buy yourself a new one when you get back.”
“Then let me use yours. I have to make a call.”
“No need. He knows you’re coming back soon. He’s probably waiting for you already.”
Tan Xiao’s mind was still somewhat sluggish. “Waiting where? In China?”
“Well… in a manner of speaking.”
They reached the other side of Lake Geneva. The car turned onto a quiet, tree-lined avenue, also planted with orderly rows of plane trees. Beyond a black iron gate stood a modern white building with distinctly Eastern touches in its upturned eaves.
Tan Xiao had never been here before, but he guessed what it was: China’s Permanent Mission to the United Nations Office at Geneva.
After the 1954 Geneva Conference, China established a consulate general in Geneva, housed here. In 1988, the consulate general moved to Zurich, and the building became the dedicated premises of China’s permanent mission in Geneva.
The car stopped before the main building. Without waiting for Zhou Ruofei, Tan Xiao climbed out. A young man waiting at the foot of the steps approached and introduced himself in Chinese. He was a diplomat.
Tan Xiao shook his hand. Knowing how much diplomatic effort had gone into rescuing him, he thanked the man over and over.
The diplomat noticed that Tan Xiao did not seem mentally well and watched him with concern.
Another car drove in. Everyone turned to look. Tan Xiao noticed a vaguely familiar figure in the front passenger seat. Was that Lawyer Hua’s assistant?
The car had barely stopped when the back door opened. Tan Xiao saw someone stepping out and idly thought, Those legs are long. They could give my husband’s a run for his money.
Zhang Xingchuan emerged. Tan Xiao’s gaze was still fixed on his legs and traveled slowly upward, only reaching the buttons of his coat when Zhang Xingchuan rushed over and wrapped him in his arms.
Caught off guard by the fierce embrace, Tan Xiao hesitantly confirmed, “…Gege?”
Zhang Xingchuan said nothing. Tan Xiao felt him trembling and hurriedly embraced him in return. “I’m fine. Don’t cry.”
“I’m not crying,” Zhang Xingchuan said through his tears. “Say it again. Call me that again.”
“Gege, I really came back.”
Tears rolled down Tan Xiao’s cheeks too. He thought it was embarrassing to cry in front of everyone and tried to stop, but failed. So he buried his face in Zhang Xingchuan’s shoulder to muffle his sobs.
Lawyer Hua greeted the diplomat and shook his hand. Hearing Tan Xiao’s suppressed crying, everyone present was moved.
Senior Sister Hua even took out her phone and photographed the two junior schoolmates, embracing and weeping as they reunited. She would treasure the picture for the rest of her life.
Zhou Ruofei hesitated in the Rolls-Royce for quite a while before getting out. He did not greet anyone, simply standing quietly and waiting for Tan Xiao to finish crying so he could say goodbye.
But after a while Tan Xiao’s sobbing died down, and he stopped moving. Zhang Xingchuan called to him and shook him gently. There was no response.
Zhang Xingchuan panicked. What had happened? In just a few seconds, countless worst-case scenarios raced through his mind.
He turned to Zhou Ruofei. Zhou saw the murderous look flash across his face. “I only found out what happened last night,” he said hurriedly. “I didn’t reach Geneva until this morning.”
“Then what has happened?” Zhang Xingchuan demanded.
“…” Zhou Ruofei said, “I think he’s just fallen asleep.”
The diplomat asked a nearby doctor to examine him. The doctor looked him over and delivered the same verdict: “He’s asleep.”
“Why would he suddenly fall asleep like that?” Zhang Xingchuan asked.
“Because he’s exhausted.”
Zhang Xingchuan finally started behaving like a normal human being again.
When Zhou Ruofei left, Zhang Xingchuan even said a polite goodbye.
The night before, Tan Xiao had taken medicine and finally managed one full night of sleep. But he had gone so long without resting properly. Now, in a place that belonged to his own country and held safely in Zhang Xingchuan’s arms, he felt at peace and simply drifted off.
After that he floated between sleeping and waking, almost sleepwalking. Occasionally he was dimly aware of being helped into a car or led a few steps by the hand. He was too tired to think straight. As long as he knew Zhang Xingchuan was the one guiding him, he did not care where they were going. Anywhere was fine.
By the time his brain began functioning again, he was aboard a flight back to Beijing.
Outside the window lay another expanse of deep night, but this was clearly a commercial aircraft. He was lying in a fully reclined business-class seat, having slept for ages.
He sat up in a panic, terrified that everything had been a dream. “Zhang Xingchuan!”
The plane had a reverse-herringbone seating layout. From the seat diagonally behind him, Zhang Xingchuan answered, “I’m here.”
Tan Xiao turned. Zhang Xingchuan sat properly upright, watching him.
Only when their eyes met did Tan Xiao feel his heartbeat settle.
“I’m going to sleep a little longer,” he said. “You should rest too.”
“All right.”
Tan Xiao lay down. A few minutes later, he popped up and looked diagonally behind him. Sure enough, Zhang Xingchuan was still watching. A few more minutes passed. Tan Xiao looked again, and Zhang Xingchuan was still there, like a stone statue of a wife waiting for her husband’s return.
At last Tan Xiao felt a little more reassured and drifted back to sleep.
When he next woke, the plane was about to land at Beijing Capital International Airport.
As they landed smoothly, the winter darkness over Beijing was slowly retreating. Everyone got off the plane and made their way out of the airport. Only then did daylight begin to appear.
They had flown from a gloomy Geneva afternoon into a clear Beijing morning.
Only when their feet touched that familiar ground did everyone finally feel secure and at ease.
The eastern sky turned pale, and the morning sun began to rise. This time, it was a real sunrise.