Zhōng Yì decided immediately and booked a plane ticket to the Bay Area for next Monday.
This trip was on behalf of Jinghe.
【If we can get Yán Tínglín on board, what terms can the company offer?】she asked her cousin.
Mín Tíng replied: 【As long as he’s willing to come, he can name his price.】
Zhōng Yì: 【OK】
Mín Tíng: 【Don’t get your hopes up. Jinghe has tried to recruit him before, but he rejected them outright without even discussing terms.】
Zhōng Yì was aware of the situation. The deputy chairman personally reached out, making more than one trip to California, showing enough sincerity, but Yán Tínglín remained unmoved.
The deputy chairman had joked bitterly, saying, “If he submitted his resume himself, not many big companies would even consider hiring him.”
Because Yán Tínglín only had an undergraduate degree.
He had dropped out mid-way during university to start a business, then barely finished his undergrad after his startup succeeded. He even quit halfway through his graduate studies.
Both of his ventures were successful, and his initial company was bought out by a major Bay Area tech giant for a hefty sum.
At an alumni reunion, Yán Tínglín even advised her not to follow his path.
She had once seriously considered it, but Baba wanted her to enjoy her campus life, so she gave up on the idea.
“I told cousin about it,” Zhōng Yì put away her phone. “He can name any terms he wants.”
Zhōu Shíyì said, “No terms would attract him.”
Yán Tínglín was extremely difficult to recruit. Even his own father had asked him to return to China, but he refused.
“Have you booked the ticket?” he asked.
“Yeah. Flying out Monday at noon.”
Arriving at noon as well.
Kuncheng and Ruichi were in the heat of a price war, and Zhōu Shíyì was tied up. He said, “Once things settle down, I’ll accompany you back to Boston.”
Zhōng Yì glanced at him: “Alright.”
Boston was a place of heartbreak.
But it held their memories from four years.
The hydrangeas by the front door were in full bloom; it was the perfect time to visit.
She put her phone back into her canvas bag, suddenly realizing that at home in Boston, only those flowers remained; the house had long been empty.
“Where do you want to eat tonight?” Zhōu Shíyì asked, noticing her long silence.
Snapping back to reality, Zhōng Yì said, “Tonight’s on me, you choose.”
They had planned a restaurant lunch to celebrate, but a last-minute company meeting forced him to cancel.
Zhōu Shíyì suggested, “How about seafood? They have your favorite pan-fried fish.”
Zhōng Yì replied, “I know a place that’s pretty good.”
Baba had recently treated Ma there.
She didn’t know the exact name, only that it was a Michelin-starred restaurant where all seafood was flown in fresh daily, and the chef’s team served only twelve guests each night.
She messaged Baba to book a table for tonight.
Back home, Zhōng Yì skipped her nap and headed straight upstairs to the study, but Zhōu Shíyì grabbed her wrist: “Go take a nap.”
She looked back at him, “I’m not tired.”
He saw through her: “You keep monitoring Ruichi twenty-four-seven, but it won’t change the fact that Kuncheng’s high-end cars can’t beat theirs. Get some rest first.”
He took her hand and led her back to the bedroom.
“What about you?”
“I’ll be at home this afternoon.”
Zhōu Shíyì didn’t have time for a nap—he still had a pile of meeting resolutions to sign.
Once the bedroom door closed, he returned to the study.
Zhōng Yì changed into her pajamas; her waist and legs still ached faintly.
They’d been apart too long. Zhōu Shíyì hadn’t restrained himself these past two nights—deep, deeper than ever.
He even asked her last night if she thought about him during these years apart.
How could she not?
Zhōng Yì pulled up the blanket and lay still for twenty minutes without feeling sleepy.
She grabbed her phone, opened the photo album, selected a few good shots from today, and sent them to him.
Zhōu Shíyì saw they were pictures of himself, glanced at them briefly, but didn’t save any.
Zhōng Yì scrolled through his chat window, where they rarely talked. She quickly swiped back to the day he added her.
Hesitating for a few seconds, she asked: 【Do you still have our chat history?】
Zhōu Shíyì was on a call with a lawyer, telling the lawyer to pass the phone to Sister Cen, as he had something to say.
At that moment, the meeting room at the talent agency was filled. The Boss sat with tightly pressed lips, silent, his gaze flickering between Lù Chéng and Sister Cen.
He even suspected that Sister Cen and Lù Chéng had conspired in this whole affair.
They both benefited from the deal.
That woman’s mind was too deep; since starting the company together, she hadn’t shared many sincere words with him.
Sister Cen looked at the lawyer puzzled: “What’s going on?”
Lawyer: “President Zhou wants to speak with you.”
“Afraid I’d hold someone back?” Sister Cen scoffed but still took the phone, unwilling to ruin things with Zhōu Shíyì—it wasn’t in her interest.
“President Zhou, how can I help?”
Zhōu Shíyì: “Hand over all business affairs to Jì Fánxīng. The sooner you’re done, the sooner I can be.”
It was the first time in her life Sister Cen was so tightly controlled—angry but afraid to speak up.
But thinking about Kuncheng’s product launch being overshadowed by Ruichi, she felt some relief.
Zhōu Shíyì got to the point: “The concert on the 27th, you show up as usual, with Jì Fánxīng. Let the public know that your cooperation with Lù Chéng ended on good terms.”
Sister Cen sneered: “President Zhou, isn’t that a bit much?…” Then she relented, “That’s asking too much.”
“I said, the sooner you’re done, the sooner I can be.”
Sister Cen didn’t understand the full meaning of that phrase.
She agreed only because she dared not openly offend him.
Zhōu Shíyì was blunt: “Kuncheng is on the back foot in this price war with Ruichi. I don’t want any distractions or even a hint of negative impact from our spokesperson.”
Sister Cen was surprised the man would admit their disadvantage so openly.
Zhōu Shíyì hung up and saw Zhōng Yì’s message. He replied: 【Why ask that?】
Zhōng Yì: 【I lost our chat history and want to see old messages I sent you.】
Zhōu Shíyì: 【Then why delete me?】
Zhōu Shíyì: 【How much space would I take up?】
He sent two messages in a row.
He’d never mentioned the deletion before, but Zhōng Yì knew he kept that score in his heart.
She didn’t respond, asking again: 【Do you have it?】
Zhōu Shíyì countered: 【Do you think I do or don’t?】
***
At first reunion, she was unsure, but now Zhōng Yì was 90% sure: 【You don’t even delete my photos; surely you wouldn’t delete WeChat.】
Zhōu Shíyì: 【If you hadn’t deleted me, we’d be married by now, maybe with kids about the same age as Chénchen.】
Back then, when he found out she had deleted him, it wasn’t about whether she was reconciled with Lù Chéng. It was that their path was over.
She initiated the breakup and deleted him; no matter what, he couldn’t bring himself to try again.
Zhōng Yì: 【Can I borrow your phone to look?】
She immediately sent him the video of his wedding vow as the officiant.
Zhōu Shíyì:
She was reminding him to love her properly.
Zhōu Shíyì: 【Okay, come over and give me a proper hug. Don’t be half-hearted.】
No more than a few seconds after sending the message, the study door opened.
He didn’t look up, continuing to work.
Zhōng Yì walked behind him, leaned down, resting her head on his back, wrapping her arms around his neck, her cheek pressed against his.
Zhōu Shíyì remained silent, but his Adam’s apple moved slightly.
She couldn’t recall how long it had been since she’d leaned on him like this. Before their breakup, during fights, she rarely got this close anymore.
Zhōng Yì hugged him not just to get the phone but because she wanted to hold him properly.
Zhōu Shíyì picked up the phone next to his computer and handed it to her.
Zhōng Yì didn’t immediately pull away but stayed leaning on him, checking the chat history.
The past two months’ chats were sparse. She scrolled back to the day he added her.
Before he added her, there was an unsent message dated February 29th, two years ago at 9 PM:
【I saw Lù Chéng’s acceptance speech. What’s going on between you two? Reconciled or still not over him? If you can reconcile with him, why not with me? Didn’t you say you love me too?】