Ten Years Later.

Ten years later.

The hall was dim, filled with light and shadow. Rows of semi-circular seats tiered upwards, neither sparsely nor densely occupied. As the screen flickered, specks of light reflected on everyone's faces.

In a seat in the fourth row by the center aisle, a man sat upright, his upper body ramrod straight while his lower body was relaxed, one leg crossed over the other. His well-tailored three-piece suit had only a few creases. From head to toe, he was so handsome he looked like a celebrity attending an awards ceremony.

Two seats away, someone passed him a business card. “Mr. Gu, it’s an honor to be at this conference with you. I look forward to your guidance.”

Gu Zhuoyan accepted it, took out his card holder to offer one of his own, and replied, “I’m flattered to be included, you’re too kind.” They spoke in low voices, and then the lights suddenly came on. The conference would resume after a fifteen-minute break.

He got up to go out for some fresh air, holding a pack of Marlboro as he searched for the smoking room. At the entrance, he ran into Lian Yiming, who was lying in wait for him. “Smoke less,” Lian Yiming said, putting an arm around his shoulder as they walked down a long corridor. He then asked what time it would end.

“How would I know,” Gu Zhuoyan retorted, with a hint of a young master’s temper.

Lian Yiming said, “You’re in the meeting and you don’t know?” He gave him a light punch. “Give me a time. Don’t leave after it’s over. Some Romanée just arrived today, wanna try it?”

Gu Zhuoyan’s expression remained sour. Before graduating from university, he and Su Wang had started a company together, Bain Capital, doing private equity. It had been developing quite well, but in recent years, he had been dragged back to GSG by Gu Shibo and Xue Manzi—to put it bluntly, to inherit the family business. It was too tiring to handle both ends, so he had always wanted to sort out the shares and rights and transfer everything to Su Wang. But Su Wang refused, telling him to just focus on managing GSG and not worry about a thing on this end, just collect the dividends.

Su Wang had been cunning since childhood, his calculations were sharper than a firecracker’s bang. He refused to let Gu Zhuoyan go, so any risks were still shared between them. He said there was no need to manage it, but in reality, he was always calling on Gu Zhuoyan to take responsibility. Take this three-day conference, for example. Su Wang was supposed to be the one to attend, but the night before, he went out to sea with Lian Yiming and got drunk as a skunk, so he called on Gu Zhuoyan to rescue him again.

Lian Yiming felt guilty too. Luckily, the conference was held at the Sofitel Hotel, so he used the convenient location to come and apologize. Gu Zhuoyan wasn’t buying it. He scoffed, and with an air of moral superiority, cursed, “Debauchery.”

“It wasn’t that bad,” Lian Yiming argued. “I said before we went out, we were just going to eat some seafood and taste some wine. But the guys managing the yacht for me, one from Qinghai and one from Russia, damn, can they drink.”

Gu Zhuoyan said, “How come you two didn’t drink until you got gout?”

“Damn, don’t be so harsh on your brother.” Lian Yiming feigned a sweet demeanor, reaching out to brush Gu Zhuoyan’s shoulder. “Anyway, don’t leave after the meeting’s over. I’ll be waiting for you.”

Gu Zhuoyan was quite disgusted. He didn't even have the time to smoke anymore and returned to the conference hall. All the lights were on, making the room bright. The district leader was making the final appearance, just going through the motions to say a few words, and then it would be over.

He'd been at this conference for three days, and hadn't shown his face at GSG for three days. The emails from his assistant were as numerous as junk mail. Gu Zhuoyan sat in his seat, his expression cold and indifferent, not hearing a word the leader was saying. He just wanted to silently curse that bastard Su Wang.

The meeting ended a little after five o’clock. As soon as it was over, the elites in their suits and leather shoes began to stir, the lower-ranking looking to climb up, the strong looking to prey on the weak. The moment it concluded, they all busied themselves arranging their next appointments.

Gu Zhuoyan had no time to entertain them. When others extended olive branches and invitations, he declined them all with the excuse of not feeling well. Then he turned and went straight to the French restaurant on the fortieth floor to find Lian Yiming and look at the wine.

In the wine cellar inside, Gu Zhuoyan hadn’t been very interested at first, but when he discovered a batch of Pinot Noir, he couldn’t bring himself to leave. Since this was an apology, he specifically picked out the finest bottle of them all. After opening and tasting it, he said, “This won’t do. I don’t like the blackcurrant flavor.”

Lian Yiming found him to be a handful and declared with a pained heart, “Three bottles at most. You’re not going to blow over a million of my money in one night, are you?”

“Who wants to screw you?” Gu Zhuoyan picked a bottle himself, chatting as he did so. After growing up, they were all busy; when they met up, it was only for a meal or a drink. It wasn't like when they were kids, so bored their balls ached, when on a whim they could get on a plane and cross more than half of China.

The signal was bad in the wine cellar. After he finished picking and returned to the restaurant, Gu Zhuoyan’s phone rang instantly. He saw the caller ID and had a feeling it was nothing good. Reluctantly, he answered, “Hello? Mom.”

“You haven’t been to the office for three days?”

Ms. Xue Manzi was fifty-three this year. She had stepped down from her position as CEO, claiming it was to return to the family and get a taste of being a quiet little woman, but in reality, she was ruling from behind the scenes. There was no way her own son could hide the fact that he'd skipped work for three days.

Gu Zhuoyan fabricated an excuse, “Su Wang suddenly fell ill, so I’m attending the conference in his place.”

Xue Manzi didn’t press the issue. “Where are you now?”

“Still at the Sofitel, having dinner with Ming-zi,” Gu Zhuoyan said. He lived by himself in an apartment, enjoying his freedom, and usually wouldn’t bother going home unless he was summoned. Xue Manzi calling at this hour likely meant she was summoning him for an audience.

“You’ve been drinking, haven’t you?” Mothers know everything. “What time will you be done? I’ll have the driver come pick you up.”

Gu Zhuoyan checked his watch. “Around nine.”

She wouldn’t call him home for no reason. Xue Manzi was different from other parents. Other parents, worried their children were working too hard, would call them home to comfort them. Xue Manzi’s philosophy, however, was that if nothing was wrong, there was no need to worry about home, lest it interfere with work. In a past life, she was probably Yu the Great, who passed his own home three times without entering.

'I hope it's not a trap,' Gu Zhuoyan thought, and asked, “What’s this about?”

Xue Manzi replied, “It’s good news, of a sort.”

So vague. It really wasn’t like Xue Manzi. Gu Zhuoyan frowned. He put down his phone and went back to his wine. Outside the window was the high-rise nightscape. It was only seven o’clock, but it was already pitch black. That's just how northern winters were.

A light flashed in the distant night sky—the navigation light of an airplane.

Gu Zhuoyan drained the last of the Pinot Noir in his glass and started telling Lian Yiming about his business trip to Chongqing last month. From his hotel room in the International Finance Centre, he had looked down on the Yangtze and Jialing Rivers, and the view had been beautiful. Lian Yiming scoffed at him. “Duh, that’s Chongqing. Go to Shanghai and you’ve got the Huangpu River; go to Hangzhou and there’s West Lake, my dude.”

"The green waters and lush mountains of the south are nice," Gu Zhuoyan said.

Lian Yiming said, “I think Rong City is the fucking greenest.”

The words hit a sore spot. For a moment, there was a silence broken only by the soothing sound of a cello. Even the waiter who brought their food didn’t dare to speak. Lian Yiming poured another glass for them both and apologized, “My bad, drunken ramblings. Tomorrow I’ll pull some strings and have a river dug for you.”

Gu Zhuoyan smiled. “Let’s eat. I’m starving.”

The plane landed at the international airport. After a flight of nearly ten hours, arriving at night, almost every passenger wore a weary expression. After taxiing to a stop, the passengers began to disembark one after another. Gradually, only one person was left in first class.

He had been suffering from a stomach ache for five or six hours and had already thrown up. The flight attendant asked, “Student, do you need us to contact ground services and call for a doctor?” The person refused in a hoarse voice. After resting for a moment, he wrapped himself in his down jacket and stood up to leave. A boarding pass fell from his pocket. The name on it was Zhuang Fanxin.

The 'Fan' of 'extraordinary,' the 'xin' of 'happy.'

The moment he stepped out of the plane, a biting cold swept over him. Zhuang Fanxin’s empty stomach twisted painfully, and his steps became unsteady and weak. In a moment of carelessness, he stumbled and fell with a thud onto the jet bridge.

He scrambled up, dusted himself off, and forced himself to walk into the terminal. The moment his feet touched solid ground, he felt a sense of relief, and his heart settled. Only then did it register what the flight attendant had called him. Student?

Zhuang Fanxin would be turning twenty-seven in just over ten days; he really couldn’t be called a ‘student.’ However, he was self-aware. When people called you ‘student’ or asked if you were still studying, it wasn’t because you looked particularly young, but simply because you dressed in a plain and simple manner.

For him, comfort came first when flying: sweatpants and a hoodie. When he slept, he even wore a goofy Monchhichi eye mask. He probably looked like an international student.

There was a decent number of people waiting for arrivals, easing the loneliness of those returning in the dark of night. The moment Zhuang Fanxin emerged, he heard someone call his name. Glancing around, he spotted Pei Zhi waving in the crowd.

If his stomach wasn’t still aching, he absolutely would have made a hundred-meter dash over to him.

Once they were face to face, the close friends looked at each other for a moment, a prickling sensation in their eyes and noses. They embraced tightly, and Pei Zhi stroked the nape of Zhuang Fanxin’s neck, calling out “Sweetheart” several times, his voice a mix of heartache and pity.

Zhuang Fanxin feigned intolerance. “If anyone hears you, they’ll think there’s something going on between us.”

“What?” Pei Zhi let go. “Would it be so awful for you if there was?”

The two of them chuckled foolishly. A faint flush appeared on Zhuang Fanxin’s pale face. His eyes were bloodshot and filled with exhaustion, yet his underlying features remained, naturally delicate and defined no matter how battered he was. The combination created the frail aura of a sickly beauty.

After his smile faded, Zhuang Fanxin rested a hand on Pei Zhi’s shoulder as they headed outside, his feet shuffling against the floor. Amidst the warmth of the surrounding reunions and hugs, and the endless loop of airport announcements, he said lightly, “I’m doing fine now.”

Pei Zhi hummed in acknowledgement. True or not, that ‘fine’ was a clear sign not to bring up the past. He put an arm around Zhuang Fanxin’s waist as they left the terminal and stepped into the cold wind, turning over a new leaf. “It’ll be even better in the future!”

As they drove away from the airport, Zhuang Fanxin kept his eyes fixed on the world outside the window. The towering buildings and flashing neon lights, the city’s prosperity was so intense it felt uncanny, its unfamiliarity so vast it was frightening. Paired with the howling, dry December wind, it made his heart pound.

Zhuang Fanxin had been in London for a competition and had flown here directly after it finished. The sudden release after a period of intense nervousness had triggered a stress-induced stomach ache that left him half-dead. Now that he had landed and seen his old friend, the feeling of being adrift began to fade, and the pain slowly subsided.

He paid attention to the road signs. “Are we going to the hotel?”

“Yes,” Pei Zhi said. “I told you to stay at my place, but you refused. What’s the fun in staying at a hotel?”

Zhuang Fanxin said, “I was afraid of disturbing your grandmother’s rest.” He took out his phone to let his family know he’d arrived safely, adding, “I’ll pay a formal visit once I’m settled. After all, your grandmother is my idol, you know.”

“Idol, my ass,” Pei Zhi cursed, then immediately asked if he was hungry and what he wanted to eat. Zhuang Fanxin hadn’t eaten for a full day before getting on the plane, and he’d almost thrown up bile during the flight. But as he took in the fleeting sights of this city he had longed for for so many years but never visited, he felt palpitations and a deep chill. Aside from the bitter taste in his mouth, he didn’t have the slightest appetite.

During the second half of the drive, his weariness returned. Zhuang Fanxin leaned listlessly against the car door in silence, his eyes closed. He was only jolted awake by the sharp screech of tires as they pulled into the hotel’s parking garage.

He got out of the car. A sign on the wall read: Sofitel Hotel.

Zhuang Fanxin was in a completely unfamiliar place; Pei Zhi had booked the hotel for him. They made a few turns and entered the lobby. After checking in, while waiting for the elevator, he watched the promotional video playing on a screen on the wall.

It was the history of the Sofitel Hotel, spanning nearly a century. The entire film unfolded at an unhurried pace, with a sophisticated color palette and a slow, gentle rhythm, comparable to some of the most acclaimed promotional films from both home and abroad.

Two elevators on either side were descending at the same time. The one on the left paused at the fortieth floor for a moment. By the time it reached the ground floor, the doors of the right elevator had opened, and people were filing out.

Zhuang Fanxin stepped inside. At the same moment the doors closed, Gu Zhuoyan stepped out of the elevator on the left.

It was nine o'clock sharp. The French meal had been filling, and the wine satisfying. Gu Zhuoyan carried an unopened box of wine, planning to find some time to give it to Gu Pingfang as a gift.

The driver was waiting by the road. Gu Zhuoyan settled into the back seat and closed his eyes to rest. Once the engine started and the car was on its way, he asked, “Did my mom go out today?”

“To the Wanyue Group,” the driver replied, understanding the unspoken question. “Chairman Wen’s eldest daughter held her engagement banquet.”

She attends someone’s engagement banquet during the day, then calls him home at night. 'Surely she isn't so envious that she's going to pressure me to get married?' Gu Zhuoyan pondered.

He himself found the thought laughable. He’d been out for ten years. As for the fact that he was gay, his parents had long ago become completely imperturbable, taking it all in stride. Sometimes when they saw an older, unmarried male actor on TV, they would even speculate if that person was gay too.

'So what kind of “good news, of a sort” could it be?'

Gu Zhuoyan couldn't figure it out, so he simply lowered his head to look at the wine. You really couldn't judge the future by the present. He used to drink milk tea and eat popsicles, and now he had picked up the two major vices of smoking and drinking—and couldn't seem to quit.

In the hotel suite, Zhuang Fanxin took a hot bath, leaving his skin flushed and pink. Wrapped in a bath towel, he searched for his pajamas in his suitcase and, while he was at it, pulled out the Monchhichi doll that had been squashed for more than ten hours.

Pei Zhi saw it and said, “You’re not actually going to sleep hugging that doll, are you?”

“What’s wrong?” Zhuang Fanxin retorted. “We single men can’t even hug something to snuggle with?”

Pei Zhi looked pained. “That thing’s pretty old, isn’t it? I’m telling you, dolls collect bacteria like crazy. You should get a new one.”

Zhuang Fanxin ignored him, put on his pajamas, and got into bed. He’d been hungry for so long that he saw stars the moment he lay down. He placed the Monchhichi beside his pillow and turned on his side to look at it. As his knee brushed against the bedsheet, a sharp pain shot through it.

It was from his fall getting off the plane; the spot was already turning black and blue.

He curled up, his palm covering his knee.

Pei Zhi turned off the light for him. Before leaving, he muttered, “Why are you always falling? That year, you also fell flat on your face.”

Zhuang Fanxin lay in the pitch-dark, his eyes wide open. He wasn't 'always falling.' In his entire life, he had only fallen on a jet bridge twice. The first time was ten years ago, because at that time, he had been full of joy and couldn't wait to see someone.

In the blink of an eye, it had been ten years.