Chapter 2

“Finished briefing her?”

Jiang Xuezi trailed a few steps behind them, catching up at a leisurely pace, and teased with a smile, “You really are all bark.”

Jiang Min snapped back, unamused. “This is me conducting business. Reminding a new hire not to be late.”

“Yes, yes, of course, President Jiang,” Jiang Xuezi drawled, then pivoted. “But there’s still something I want to ask. What did you two actually fight about, back then?”

Jiang Xuezi didn’t really remember how things had stood in those days.

She only remembered that Lin Xuqing had been in her junior or senior year, and that she had once accompanied Jiang Min to Mingchuan University. Then, all of a sudden, Jiang Min simply stopped mentioning Lin Xuqing. Pressed, she would only say they’d fought and stopped speaking.

But what the fight had been about — bad enough that they’d cut contact entirely — she had no idea. She had no wish to pry into her friend’s private affairs, but with Lin Xuqing about to become a colleague, she finally asked.

The two walked side by side toward the parking lot.

Jiang Min said nothing for a long while. All around was quiet except for the crunch of snow underfoot.

“It’s nothing. Ancient history — who could sort it out now? What’s past is past.” At last Jiang Min exhaled a puff of warm breath and spoke. “You don’t need to come tonight. You’ve worn yourself out these past two days.”

“Fine. Drive safe tonight, all of you.” Seeing that she didn’t want to talk, Jiang Xuezi didn’t press. “I’m off. Bye.”

Jiang Min waved, opened the car door, and started the engine.

She lived in the suburbs; the drive home took over an hour.

After graduating from Mingchuan University, she had stayed in this city. Over the years she’d cycled through plenty of jobs — foreign firms, banks, she’d done time in them all.

Her current job had started three years ago, and she genuinely liked it. The drawbacks were obvious too — Jiang Xuezi had once joked that it was long hours, low pay, and endless worry. But being able to do work you loved was hard enough to come by; nothing in life could go smoothly in every respect.

The evening rush had already passed and the roads were clear. Past the city center the traffic thinned further. She rolled down the window; the night wind poured in, cold and clean.

Her phone buzzed. An incoming call — Ning Rou. Jiang Min answered.

“Sister A-Min, are you busy?” Ning Rou’s voice was soft. “There’s something I want to tell you.”

“Let me guess — Lin Xuqing has come to Mingchuan?”

“Hm? Did she call you?”

“I met her.” Jiang Min smiled. “She called me President Jiang, no less.”

Ning Rou laughed too. “Little Lin runs cold outside and warm inside. Don’t take it to heart.”

“As if I don’t know her personality?” Jiang Min had no desire to keep discussing this. “If it’s nothing important, I’ll hang up. I’m driving.”

Ning Rou laughed. “All right, all right. Let it go — what’s past is past. I already called her; let’s all have dinner together sometime. I’ll have her apologize to you properly.”

“We’ll see. Don’t fuss over this sort of thing. Just take care of yourself.”

Jiang Min hung up.

By the time she got home it was past eight. Suburban housing was cheap and the environment pleasant. Back then Jiang Min had set her heart on the little garden here, and was willing to spend the extra time commuting.

At home she watered the flowers first; by the time she finished it was nine, and only then did she check her phone.

A new friend request.

No greeting attached. The requester’s username: LXQ

Jiang Min hit decline.

Almost at once, a new request popped up: Sister Jiang Min, it’s me, Lin Xuqing.

Jiang Min stared at the screen for three seconds, tapped accept, then tossed the phone aside. She switched on the floor lamp by the window; the light was warm and drowsy-making.

Work started at eleven-thirty tonight. She did need a short nap.

She lay staring blankly at the ceiling. When had she last seen Lin Xuqing?

She couldn’t seem to remember.

When the alarm went off, Jiang Min realized she had drifted off at some point. Driving over now, the timing was comfortable.

Mi Wei @-mentioned everyone in the work group chat, instructing all to report “departed” once on the way.

Driving, Jiang Min heard the notification chime and dropped a reply in the group. She waited a while — no reply from Lin Xuqing. After a moment’s thought, she opened their private chat.

“Have you left yet?”

The woman hadn’t said a word in the group chat, yet now replied instantly: “On my way.”

Jiang Min didn’t respond and kept driving.

When she reached the agreed location and got out, she saw Mi Wei counting heads — nearly everyone had arrived. The enterprise’s liaison was there too; Xu Yang from the project team was chatting with him and waved her over at once. “Sister Min, over here.”

Jiang Min went over, and together they confirmed the night’s shooting arrangements.

After finishing the specifics with the person in charge from the enterprise, Jiang Min returned to her team. “Yun Shu rides along with the vehicles; Lin Xuqing shoots outside. Just follow the plan from before. Remember to get multiple takes — it’ll make editing easier later.”

The shoot began quickly. Vehicles, equipment, personnel — all in place.

At first everything went smoothly. The cars pulled out, got on the road; every step of the rehearsal proceeded normally.

But halfway through, the unexpected happened. The temperature was so low the road surface had iced over, and after one car stalled, it broke down entirely. Everyone could only wait outside.

Snow had fallen just that day, and past midnight the temperature hit its lowest. Everyone else wore thick, long down jackets. Only Lin Xuqing still had on that smoke-gray coat, her figure thin and spare.

Jiang Min frowned and stopped Mi Wei. “There’s a hand warmer in my car. Go bring it to Lin Xuqing.”

Mi Wei agreed at once. “Got it, Senior Sister.”

She trotted off to fetch the hand warmer, then ran it over to Lin Xuqing. “Here — hand warmer. Your hands will freeze up when we start shooting. Warm them first.”

Lin Xuqing shook her head. “Thank you, but no need.”

“Oh, just take it.” Mi Wei wasn’t having any of it, pressing the hand warmer firmly into her palm. “Senior Sister gave me a task, and I’m going to complete it.”

Lin Xuqing had been about to hand it back, but at those last words she froze, her fingers tightening around it, a little at a loss. “Oh. All right.”

A moment later, she pressed her lips together and smiled. “Thank you.”

When she smiled, she was like a clivia first blooming amid ice and snow — gentle and lovely.

Mi Wei grinned back. “Don’t mention it. It’s nothing.”

She was warm and easygoing by nature, and never quite knew how to deal with cold-seeming people; now it seemed this new colleague was merely reserved, and reasonably amiable besides.

Lin Xuqing thought for a moment, then asked, “Are overnight shoots like this common?”

“No, no.” Mi Wei shook her head. “Don’t worry, we don’t do that much overtime. It’s just that Sister Min does the most of it.”

Lin Xuqing said nothing more, her gaze drifting somewhere far away.

“Well, I’d better get back!”

Lin Xuqing made a sound of acknowledgment, following the direction of Mi Wei’s departing back with her eyes. In the middle of the crowd, that person stood with a pen in hand, jotting something down, focused and earnest.

She lowered her eyes, gaze settling on her own palm, fingers closing around the warmth she found there.

By the time the shoot wrapped and the equipment was packed away, it was four in the morning. The filming unit’s work was done. After Jiang Min finished discussing follow-ups with the enterprise’s person in charge, she looked up to see everyone already in their cars — everyone except Lin Xuqing, who still stood in the thick of the night.

“Mi Wei, arrange carpools home for whoever’s on the way.” Jiang Min walked over, her breath white in the air. “Everyone worked hard tonight. You can all rest tomorrow during the day. One person each stays from filming and post-production. Also…”

Yun Shu yawned, looking troubled. “President Jiang, I’ve got some things at home…”

“I’ll go back,” Lin Xuqing cut in, as if it hardly mattered. “I don’t have any plans.”

Yun Shu shot Lin Xuqing a grateful look — she hadn’t expected the new colleague to be this decent.

Lin Xuqing gave her a small nod, nothing more.

There were only a few people in the car. Mi Wei, fighting sleep, insisted on driving herself home and volunteered for the wheel; Jiang Min refused. “I’ll drive.”

Lin Xuqing pulled open the door first and climbed into the passenger seat. The people in the back fell fast asleep in no time, but she stayed wide awake, saying hardly anything the whole way — only offering one warning just before a lane change: “The intersections are iced over too. Careful.”

“Mm. I see it.”

The drive back from the suburbs was a good twenty or thirty kilometers, the roads iced, the car crawling along.

At first a handful of cold stars studded the deep-blue night; as time passed, a faint crab-shell green crept into the sky. A yolk-gold rising sun spilled golden light that slanted through the car window and landed on Lin Xuqing’s profile.

At a red light, Jiang Min turned her head and glanced at her.

Light and shadow fell across her deep-set brows and eyes; long lashes swept downward. From the high bridge of her nose to her jaw, the lines were taut and clean.

Jiang Min looked away and blinked hard, shaking off her fatigue and drowsiness.

By the time the car reached the office park gate, it was exactly seven.

After working through the night, everyone was dead on their feet.

“You’re buying breakfast for everyone today, plus a round of coffee.” Jiang Min was instructing Mi Wei when her eye caught how thinly Lin Xuqing was dressed, and she paused. “Get Little Lin a hot milk.”

Mi Wei was noting it all in her phone’s memo and looked up grinning. Jiang Min, uncomfortable under that gaze, was about to add something — but Mi Wei beat her to it. “Can I get milk too? And I’d like to request a beef bun as well!”

Jiang Min: “…Fine, fine, fine. Go on. After breakfast, go home and sleep.”

Done with Mi Wei, she looked toward the filming unit.

Lin Xuqing sat at her workstation, exporting the night’s footage, so absorbed she didn’t even notice Jiang Min’s approach — she had probably missed the earlier conversation too.

Jiang Min had only just sat down in her office when Jiang Xuezi knocked and came in, handing over breakfast and coffee. “Nothing urgent on your plate today? Why not go home and rest?”

“There’s nothing waiting for me at home anyway. If I’m not here, no one’s in much of a mood to work.” Jiang Min accepted the breakfast. “To what do we owe the honor of Director Jiang delivering breakfast personally?”

“Ran into Mi Wei at the door. Saw those two dark circles under her eyes and sent her home.”

“Yeah, she was about to drop.”

“You’ll lecture others but won’t spare your own health.” Jiang Xuezi suddenly sighed softly. “The state you’re in — I hardly dare tell you about this year’s finances.”

“Show me the statements.”

She didn’t really need the statements to know, roughly, how bad this year had been.

Lingyin had grown out of support from the civil affairs authorities and in recent years had begun operating independently, its theme the “people” caught up in urbanization.

Since going independent, its operating revenue came from several streams: project funding from the civil affairs authorities, social donations, public-service ad productions in recent years, and paid corporate shoots.

“Project funding has thinned out, and commercial shoots aren’t plentiful either. We’re running entirely on President Jian’s support. But she isn’t running a charity.”

“Right. I’m going to see her to report next week.”

Both fell silent for a stretch.

Jiang Min set the financial statements aside. “When the others are back, we’ll set next year’s direction.”

Jiang Xuezi nodded. “I’ll head out.”

After she left, Jiang Min picked the statements back up and opened her earlier work summary. The thought of facing President Jian soon gave her a headache.

At four in the afternoon, a new message popped up in the group chat: the first cut of the video was done; post-production still needed a bit more time.

Jiang Min went out and found Lin Xuqing slumped over her desk, utterly spent. She stopped, watched her for two seconds, then lightened her steps to move past — and Lin Xuqing abruptly woke.

She had only dozed for a moment, but she still looked half-asleep, not yet recovered, blinking blearily as she simply looked at Jiang Min, saying nothing for several seconds.

Unlike her usual cold restraint, right now she looked faintly dazed.

Jiang Min gazed at her, lashes lowering.

But Lin Xuqing quickly came back to herself, her voice a little hoarse. “President Jiang.”

Jiang Min made a sound of acknowledgment. “Good work.”

Lin Xuqing stood. “It’s my job.”

Mi Wei came out just then, and Jiang Min stopped her. “Tell everyone to head home early and rest.”

With that, the others all sighed in relief.

Jiang Min went back to pack her bag, and right then her phone rang. She glanced at it — Ning Rou.

She didn’t need to ask what Ning Rou was calling about.

This person loved playing Peace Ambassador more than anything; she couldn’t bear the slightest conflict or discord.

She answered on speaker while tidying her desk. “What is it?”

Ning Rou laughed. “Come out to dinner. I’m at your park gate. I just called Little Lin — she said she has something to take care of at home first and will come by later.”

Jiang Min smiled. “Are you that afraid I’ll refuse? Ambushing me at the gate itself?”

She rubbed the space between her brows. Her drowsiness was considerable.

But since Ning Rou had already come all this way, she didn’t refuse. “Give me a few minutes, then. Let me ask if Xuezi wants to come.”

The person on the other end gave a soft, gentle yes, and hung up.

By the time Jiang Min finished gathering her things and came out, only Jiang Xuezi was left in the office. Lin Xuqing had gone too — off to deal with who knew what.

“Ning Rou invited me to dinner. Are you coming?”

“Invited you — and Little Lin?”

“How did you know.”

“Guessed.”

Jiang Xuezi spread her hands. “I’ve got a personal training session tonight. You two go. Don’t be too hard on Little Lin, all right?”

“Am I really that bad?” Jiang Min said, exasperated, and laughed. “Am I that petty?”

“Yes yes yes, of course not, not at all. Please, go eat already.”

“Oh, stop.”

After a round of banter, Jiang Min pushed open the door and went out.

The cold wind hit her face wrapped in wind and snow, and she shivered in it — only then belatedly thinking that yes, it truly had been many years since she’d seen Lin Xuqing.

The last time they met, they had fought.

Jiang Min had found out that Lin Xuqing had given up her recommended postgraduate slot without saying a single word to her, and it had infuriated her. Yet when she demanded a reason — demanded to know why Lin Xuqing hadn’t told her — Lin Xuqing wouldn’t say a word either, until at last she forced out one stiff sentence: it was none of her business.

At that, Jiang Min had laughed coldly, turned, and walked away.

No — that wasn’t right. That still wasn’t the last time.

She finally remembered now.

The last time was at the station. The girl who had vanished for months had appeared at the station without warning.

After the goodbyes were said, Jiang Min saw her eyes go red.

That heartless thing.

Eight years without a single word to her.