Chapter 5

Hao Shuyou was resigned. “Did my Little Junior Martial Sister say something to you? Her temper… can be rather fierce. Don’t take it to heart.”

Ji Xiunian shook her head. “She didn’t. This is my own decision.”

Hao Shuyou studied her for a good while. “Truly voluntary?”

Ji Xiunian smiled. “Yes. I happen to have time lately.”

Hao Shuyou asked no more. “Then I’ll have a word with Zhou Lang too. Thank you for the trouble, Teacher Ji.”

After bidding Ji Xiunian farewell, Hao Shuyou called Zhou Lang. “Zhou Lang, explain yourself. What exactly is going on between you and Teacher Ji?”

Zhou Lang deflected. “What’s wrong, Senior Martial Brother? You open with an interrogation—have I offended you?”

Hao Shuyou walked back into his office and shut the door. “You haven’t offended me. I’m asking: what is going on between you and Teacher Ji? You claim you’re close, yet you show her no face at all… And just now she told me she’d take over the liaison. What did you say to her?”

Zhou Lang was a little surprised herself. “She agreed?”

Strange. She hadn’t even done anything yet.

“You didn’t know?”

“…Mm. Now I do.”

“You two—”

“Shh.” Zhou Lang lowered her voice. “Keep it down, Senior Martial Brother. I’ll tell you next time we meet, all right? You’ve always been one to fuss. We’re adults—do you think I’d eat her?”

Her words were pure deflection, top to bottom. Normally Hao Shuyou would have argued the point properly, but he’d been too exhausted lately, willing but out of strength. “Fine, we’ll talk when we meet. Oh—and about that specialist you were supposed to refer: have your assistant confirm with them for me.”

“All right, I’ll have Le Cheng make a trip later. Whose friend is this you’re working so hard for?”

“Just… a friend’s child,” Hao Shuyou said vaguely. Other people’s privacy wasn’t his to share. “Don’t ask. I’m hanging up.”

Zhou Lang didn’t notice his pause. “Fine, bye-bye, Senior Martial Brother.”

She hung up and flopped back behind the sofa, kicking her slippers into the air.

I knew it!

Just then Zhou Duo came downstairs and nearly took a slipper to the cheek. “Zhou Lang! What are you doing? Can’t you sit properly? Up!”

Zhou Lang’s tone turned light without her meaning it to. “Not getting up. I’m home. Playing President Zhou out there is tiring enough. Why don’t you go take your walk, old man—out of sight, out of mind. But no flirting allowed! Those square-dancing aunties watch you like the demons in Journey to the West eyeing Tang Monk’s flesh.”

Zhou Duo stared at her—a man of action over words—and hauled her up off the sofa. “Nonsense. Out this late, and your mother would think this old tree was blossoming and drive herself mad wondering. Shut your mouth.”

Zhou Lang dropped the teasing and thumped his back. “Fine, fine, I’ll stop. Loosening your joints for you.”

“Loosen them for me? I exercise more than you do.”

Zhou Duo was past sixty, retired last year, and filled every free day with running, ball games, mountain climbing, rock scrambling—his health was excellent.

Decades ago, Zhou Enterprises had been caught in a financial crisis at home while rivals colluded to squeeze its market share abroad—plus, crushed from every side by a certain powerful figure, it had teetered on the edge of bankruptcy. Zhou Duo had made the swift call: relocate the factories to Southeast Asia, where labor was cheaper, and push the market overseas. Riding the wave of the internet boom, seizing the moment, the company mastered key core technologies and pivoted to electronics.

Zhou Lang had been running the European and American markets and had only returned to the country this year to take over Zhou Enterprises.

Zhou Duo rarely touched company matters these days, but he still asked after them now and then.

Like now—he was vaguely worried… Even he had only just learned that Zhou Lang intended to donate a building to Ning University. This child hadn’t consulted him; by Le Cheng’s account, she’d made the decision after a single visit to the campus. Far too hasty. Far too sudden.

Zhou Duo asked, as if casually, “Your mother goes on about you all day. What have you been busy with lately?”

Zhou Lang paused two seconds. “Recently? Donated a building to Ning University.”

Her tone was a well-restrained calm—and yet somehow off.

He softened his voice. “Is it because…”

Because of that person again?

“No.” Zhou Lang cut him off, sitting up abruptly, her tone earnest. “Big corporations have to mind their social responsibility. Ning University has high visibility, and it’ll smooth the way for future school-enterprise cooperation.”

Zhou Duo swallowed his worry. “Mm. You have your reasons. Dad understands.”

Zhou Lang exhaled in relief. “I’m going up to sleep.”

Zhou Duo gave an “mm.” “Go on.”

His gaze followed her retreating back. He couldn’t shake the feeling… his daughter’s attitude was strange, impossible to read.

—Like someone desperately craving something, and desperately forcing it down.

Hao Shuyou chose four people for the liaison group: besides Ji Xiunian, the Dean’s assistant Cen Yao, plus two senior teachers.

Fang Xun got wind of it and volunteered to help, taking on the communications work and tagging along.

The next day, the group met at Ning University’s gate and set out for Leheng Group.

The atmosphere in the car was delicate, because one of those two teachers was Meng Xiaoying, no friend of Ji Xiunian—their feud dated back to the battle over professor titles. The other teacher, Zhao Leming, was a man of few words.

An awkward silence settled over the car. Fortunately, they soon arrived.

A short-haired woman in a white shirt and black skirt stood waiting by the roadside. When the car stopped, she came over and shook Ji Xiunian’s hand. “Professor Ji, I’m Xue Yining from Leheng. President Zhou asked me to receive you.”

Ji Xiunian returned the handshake. “Thank you.”

Xue Yining smiled and nodded to the people behind her, leading the way at the front.

Leheng Group was highly efficient: a dedicated task force, a concrete proposal drawn up, a secretary waiting outside the meeting room to usher them in.

The task force lead presented the proposal, confirmed the timeline, explained the financial questions, and a short meeting was soon wrapped up.

At the end, the accompanying teachers asked to tour the company.

Xue Yining smiled. “Of course. Welcome, everyone.”

They had barely left the meeting room when they ran into Zhou Lang.

Zhou Lang wore a blue shirt and white trousers, her long hair loosely tied, as if she’d just happened to be passing. “Yining, is the proposal presentation finished?”

Xue Yining nodded. “Yes, President Zhou. I was just about to show Professor Ji and the others around.”

Zhou Lang’s eyes narrowed slightly, her gaze settling on Ji Xiunian before withdrawing. “Is that so… You go on back—I have work for you. I’ll show them around myself. Professor Ji, after you.”

Perfectly ordinary words, yet from her mouth they carried some strange undertone.

Ji Xiunian couldn’t refuse her publicly, and murmured her thanks.

Zhou Lang exchanged a few pleasantries with the others and turned to lead the way.

Zhao Leming and Meng Xiaoying walked ahead, chatting with Zhou Lang; Fang Xun and Cen Yao walked in the middle, the two young women finding everything novel.

Ji Xiunian walked last, and slowest.

As if deliberately, or not, widening the gap.

She didn’t look at the silhouette ahead, head lowered, lost in thought.

“Professor Ji?”

That cool, pleasant voice sounded abruptly.

Ji Xiunian looked up and met Zhou Lang’s gaze—she had stopped specifically to wait for her.

Everyone else followed her line of sight too.

Zhou Lang’s lips curved. “Professor Ji, are we walking too fast for you?”

Ji Xiunian shook her head and walked up slowly.

The corridor narrowed to two abreast. Since Ji Xiunian was, after all, the liaison lead, Meng Xiaoying and Zhao Leming dropped back, clearing the way for them.

The distance between them was very close.

Their elbows brushed now and then; the touch of skin on skin startled Ji Xiunian, and she drew back in restraint—only to brush against her again seconds later.

Zhou Lang watched the path ahead, the picture of obliviousness, yet quietly touched the spot that had been brushed… where something of a silk-smooth texture seemed to linger, and a trace of warmth about to fade.

Leheng Group’s building had twenty-three floors; by the time the tour ended, half an hour had passed.

Zhou Lang saw them down.

In the sealed elevator, Zhou Lang turned her head. “Professor Ji, the proposal will be revised per your feedback. Come by anytime.”

Ji Xiunian’s lashes were lowered. “All right. Thank you.”

The attitude was courteous and remote.

Then the little elevator sank into silence.

Fang Xun and Cen Yao exchanged a covert look: So awkward.

Meng Xiaoying, hoping to watch a show, said nothing either. Even the taciturn Zhao Leming was forced to make small talk on Ji Xiunian’s behalf. “President Zhou, your company’s proposal is already excellent. Thank you for your support.”

Zhou Lang held the elevator button. “Professor Zhao is too kind—it’s only right. We’re here.”

The doors opened.

Zhao Leming, ever a man of few words, didn’t attempt more conversation.

Fang Xun breathed a sigh of relief.

Thank goodness. The awkwardness was finally over.

Zhou Lang walked them out, but passing through the lobby, someone called her from behind. “Zhou Lang?”

A short distance away stood a woman in a pale rose gown, handbag in hand, loosely curled hair over her shoulders, fair-skinned, dark hair and dark eyes, a tender smile at the corner of her lips, calling across the space. “Are you busy?”

Zhou Lang turned her head and said to Zhao Leming, “One moment. I’ll be right back.”

She walked over to Duan Jiaru. “What brings you here?”

Duan Jiaru tucked back a strand of hair, her snow-white slender neck bending slightly. “That project from before—came to meet the person in charge. Also, President Zhou puts on such grand airs; couldn’t talk you into dinner over the phone, so I had to ask in person.”

The two of them talked off to the side.

Fang Xun whispered to Cen Yao, “That woman looks so familiar… Oh! I remember—isn’t that President Duan Jiaru, the one on the cover of 《Women》 magazine recently?”

Cen Yao nodded. “That’s her.”

The Duan Group was famous in culture and entertainment—no stranger to anyone in the arts.

Fang Xun watched and appraised. “She’s even prettier in person than in the photos. Such presence.”

Cen Yao, a woman of few words: “Mm.”

Fang Xun turned back to Ji Xiunian. “Professor Ji, do you know her?”

Ji Xiunian shook her head.

In the dream, the Priest’s smile had been kind and warm; the two in white wedding dresses gazed at each other with sweet, deep affection, exchanging rings.

In that moment, she had stood in the sunlight while rain began to fall inside her.

She knew her.

She was—Zhou Lang’s wife.

Zhou Lang exchanged a few words with Duan Jiaru and checked the time. “Go on up. I’ll come along shortly.”

Duan Jiaru nodded with a smile. “Busy?”

Zhou Lang gave an “mm.” “You could say that. All right, I’ve kept them waiting long enough. I’m off.”

“See you in a bit.”

“Mm.”

Zhou Lang walked back with an apologetic smile. “Sorry for the wait.”

She saw them out. The secretary had arranged a driver; the car waited outside.

The other teachers were returning straight to Ning University, but Ji Xiunian was going straight home.

Ji Xiunian kept her eyes lowered. “I can get back on my own. Thank you, President Zhou.”

Zhou Lang looked at her, smile not reaching her eyes. “Professor Ji. I’ll drive you.”

“No need, President Zhou.”

“It’s hard to get a cab here—you’d have to walk to the intersection ahead.”

“It’s fine, I’ll walk. I won’t take up any more of President Zhou’s time.”

“Professor Ji. Why so courteous? We go back such a long way, after all.”

Fang Xun, halfway into the car, jolted.

Such a long way… What way, exactly?

Ji Xiunian waved Fang Xun off, signaling her to go ahead. Only when the car was far away did she say, coldly, “President Zhou, I’m leaving.”

The refusal was unusually hard-edged.

Zhou Lang said nothing, the corners of her eyes drawn tight. Only after a few seconds did she smile. “Fine. Then I won’t see you off—the company has things to do anyway.”

Ji Xiunian gave her a nod by way of farewell and went on waiting by the roadside.

Unexpectedly, someone called her from behind. “Professor Ji?”

Ji Xiunian turned and saw the woman in the pale rose gown, handbag in hand, approaching with unhurried grace.

Duan Jiaru stopped before her and extended her hand. “Hello. I’m Duan Jiaru.”