Until Ning Que returned from the exhibition site, she still found it hard to believe that Yan Tinglin had agreed to join Jinghe.
It felt like a dream.
“You were still afraid I’d run away, huh? Grabbing me so tightly!”
Ning Que only then realized she had held onto Yan Tinglin’s arm too hard. After he got in the car, excited, he patted her a few times. Unexpectedly, in his excitement, once his hand grabbed hold, he didn’t let go.
“Are you sure you want to stay? This isn’t just a momentary impulse?” He released his grip.
“When have I ever been impulsive?”
Ning Que thought it over carefully—it was true, he never had been.
Even back then, when he asked Zhong Yiwuxin for her WeChat, he picked a lucky day to wait for her in the library.
Though he was still rejected.
Since he was willing to stay, the next step was to discuss terms.
“Think over your specific conditions these next couple of days. I’ll report them to Min Zong.”
Yan Tinglin smiled: “You show enough sincerity first; then I’ll talk conditions. Conditions matter least to me, but I won’t accept any less.”
“After we finalize everything, don’t announce it externally. I’ll handle it myself.”
Ning Que gave an OK gesture: “Sounds good.”
His return this time was sure to cause an industry earthquake.
Shen Chi, who had been sleeping soundly, would now find it hard to rest even with a pillow two meters high.
Yan Tinglin glanced at Zhong Yiwuxin, who had been quiet since getting in the car. Her canvas bag rested on her lap, and she kept staring out the window—her happiness paradoxically plunging her into silence.
He couldn’t fully empathize but understood somewhat. It was like he had realized his wish to collaborate with her.
He looked again at her canvas bag—it had finally been replaced with a new one.
He remembered discussing it with Zhou Shiyi once: she always carried the same canvas bag, had no branded items on her anywhere, should they buy her something?
Zhou Shiyi said: If we’re going to buy, I’ll buy it. Why do you care?
He laughed in reply: Didn’t you just get rejected too?
In youth, even heartbreaks have their own joy.
Back then, who would have imagined that the two of them would be rejected—by the same person, no less.
Unlike Zhou Shiyi, who got her WeChat, he didn’t. Later, he forgot about it until a school reunion.
Separated by distance at the long table, she sat nearly at the other end. Glancing at her silhouette, he thought she looked familiar. Looking closer, it was indeed Zhong Yiwuxin, the one who had rejected him.
***
Seven or eight months later, her hair had grown longer, styled differently.
When he first saw her, she was only in the first semester of her freshman year, with pretty short hair, slightly curled at the tips—much like her current hairstyle.
He had come to know her through a professor they both knew, who mentioned in passing that there was a particularly smart Chinese girl among the new students this year, who had already self-studied more than half of the major’s courses.
At first, he found it hard to believe, but after learning more, it wasn’t surprising.
She had zero social life, spending all her time either in class, the library, or the lab.
She was nearly obsessed with professional books. Once, he sat across from her all afternoon; she never lifted her head and didn’t even notice someone opposite her.
Yan Tinglin’s memories were interrupted as the car stopped at the hotel entrance.
Zhong Yiwuxin snapped back to reality and turned her head to smile at the other two: “Dinner’s on me tonight—let’s celebrate.”
Having moved Yan Tinglin was a joy hard to express.
“Have you told Zhou Shiyi yet?” Yan Tinglin asked.
“Not yet. I’ll surprise him when we get back.”
The group got out and headed to the hotel’s terrace restaurant.
This dinner was originally a farewell for Yan Tinglin, but fate had other plans.
Yan Tinglin gazed at the sunset, thick and rich like tomato sauce, smearing the western sky in brilliant hues.
Dazzlingly beautiful.
Zhong Yiwuxin toasted him: “Thank you.”
“You should thank yourself first.” Yan Tinglin lowered his glass and clinked it with hers. “Jinghe owes you, and Kuncheng even more. Shen Chi will probably never forget you in this lifetime.”
Ning Que joked: “Then you might become a dark moonlight.”
They all laughed.
Zhong Yiwuxin shared the good news with her cousin and Zhou Sujin, thanking them for their support with business data.
It was precisely this data that allowed Yan Tinglin to see the future of the domestic semiconductor industry chain.
Tonight she had two glasses of red wine—more than she had at her wedding.
At last, the effort paid off; Yan Tinglin stayed.
Ning Que toasted Zhong Yiwuxin: “I’ve finally come out of the hard times. I used to bow low in front of you; now the tides have turned.”
Yan Tinglin raised his glass. The three clinked, and he cut in: “That’s not necessary. Zhong Zong should never bow in front of me. If there’s disagreement, I’m the one who bows.”
Then he turned to Ning Que: “If you see me bow, pick me a plate of fish for lunch right away.”
Ning Que: “That won’t do. If you bow every day just to eat fish, I’d be picking fish bones until I die.”
Yan Tinglin couldn’t hold back a hearty laugh: “You’ve seen right through me.”
Zhong Yiwuxin sipped her wine, unable to help but smile.
In college, she hadn’t understood why at reunions when they and Zhou Shiyi were around, their side was always filled with laughter.
Now she understood.
Yan Tinglin stifled a smile and downed his glass of red wine.
Zhong Yiwuxin’s phone rang—it was Zhou Shiyi’s call. She stood to take it in a quiet corner.
Only the two of them remained at the table.
Yan Tinglin asked: “Tang Nuoyun is at Jinghe too, right?”
Ning Que nodded: “You know her?”
“Yeah.”
Ning Que had seen Tang Nuoyun’s resume—she had worked in the Bay Area for two years. “Have you worked together?”
“No.”
“Don’t say Tang Nuoyun rejected you too, becoming the white moonlight in your heart.”
Yan Tinglin looked at his friend: “Does your sky have two moons?”
Ning Que caught on immediately, bursting out laughing: “You’re the one guarding the lone bright moon, huh?”
“Absolutely guarding it alone. If there were another moon, it’d have to be shot down.”
“Alright.”
Ning Que held her forehead, nearly laughing tears.
He poured her half a glass of wine again, curious: “You said no person or thing could make you stay?”
Yan Tinglin: “It wasn’t a person or event that made me stay. It was the future and the challenges that made me decide.”
He took a sip: “You could also say it was Zhong Yiwuxin’s certain steadfastness that moved me.”
Few things ever touched him.
Having a like-minded person to walk this difficult, uncertain path together means you don’t feel alone.
This kind of loneliness has nothing to do with feelings—it’s a kind of conviction.
“How did you meet Tang Nuoyun?” Ning Que asked.
“At an industry conference. She asked me for guidance, troubled over whether to stay in the Bay Area or return home. I told her to follow her heart; as long as she didn’t regret it.”
Just like himself—the moment he reached out to Zhong Yiwuxin at the expo, he had no regrets.
At the corner of the terrace, Zhong Yiwuxin’s call hadn’t ended.
Zhou Shiyi heard she had a flight back to Beicheng tomorrow morning and wondered how to comfort her.
She had planned to attend the exhibition for two days but left after one; she must have completely lost hope.
“What time will you arrive? I’ll pick you up.”
Zhong Yiwuxin: “Aren’t you busy?”
“No matter how busy, I can spare two or three hours.”
Zhou Shiyi added: “Haven’t seen me for two whole days, don’t you miss me?”
“Wasn’t paying attention.”
No need to tell the truth.
Zhong Yiwuxin smiled.
Zhou Shiyi was currently at a dinner gathering. Worried about her mood, he stepped out of the private room to make this call.
“Yan Tinglin rejected you? Well, there’s still me.”
Zhong Yiwuxin wasn’t rejected, but this warmed her.
“No matter how hard it gets, I’ll make your Large Model project succeed and make your dream come true,” Zhou Shiyi said apologetically. “It might take some time.”
He turned and noticed the waiter had stopped and was about to turn away, probably seeing he was on the phone and didn’t want to disturb him.
“What would you like?” he asked the waiter.
“Your usual, Vice President Zhou.”
“Alright.”
He had the habit of eating a bowl of Fish Soup Noodles after drinking. He never broke it even after their breakup.
Actually, Fish Soup Noodles was her favorite dish.
At first, he couldn’t get used to it, but later he gradually did.
“Are you out socializing?”
Zhong Yiwuxin’s voice came from the other end.