Tomorrow as Bright as Day – Chapter 22
Chapter 22
So Liang Jiancheng actually seeing someone!
Ming Xi immediately understood what the professor’s deliberate question really meant. Her eyelids dropped quickly, hiding the fluster and guilt that surged up from her guilty conscience…
What is “embarrassment”? One second, you couldn’t control yourself, and the next you felt mortified. The feeling had not even rise, and she’d already made a fool of herself. Fortunately, only she knew what had just crossed her mind.
And thankfully, they didn’t notice anything unusual about her.
Liang Jiancheng calmly stood up to cut some oranges. He placed a plate of bright, juicy slices in front of Ming Xi, then turned to his father and said evenly: “Actually, that’s what I came to tell you today. Zhang Min and I are on the same page. Our families had planned to have dinner together on the fifth day after New Year’s, but on New Year’s Eve her grandfather suddenly had a cerebral hemorrhage. He’s still in the hospital, so we’ll have to postpone.”
He said it all very clearly—not only did he dating someone, but they were already discussing marriage.
Ming Xi’s heart sped up, then slowed down again, beating in strange, uneven waves. She felt like a guilty criminal, her head hot beneath her cashmere hat. Was her face red? She reached out and brushed her cheek with one finger.
Fortunately… she had thick skin. It didn’t feel hot.
She pulled out her phone, opened a simple built-in game, and started stacking Tetris blocks.
She wasn’t really playing with focus, but as long as she kept herself from listening, she truly didn’t hear what Liang Jiancheng and the professor were saying anymore.
She really hadn’t meant to offend anyone. She was just the kind of petty person who couldn’t help staring a few seconds longer at something—or someone—pleasant to look at. She had bold eyes but no hidden intent! Surely Liang Jiancheng wouldn’t think she’d been staring too much and deliberately bring up his relationship just to make things clear…
But Liang Jiancheng, of course, didn’t think that way at all. He wasn’t like Maggie—he wasn’t narcissistic, and he rarely gave thought to matters between men and women. If it weren’t for Maggie’s outright nonsense about wanting to sleep with him, even if he had suspected she had feelings for him, he wouldn’t have bothered to confirm it. A man only exposes that kind of tension for two reasons: either he wants the woman too—or he wants to draw a line and keep her away.
As for Ming Xi, even though he saw her as a young woman, his mind placed her firmly in another category. Given her connection with his father, to Liang Jiancheng she was like constantly growing young poplar tree. He admired her, yes, but it was the kind of admiration without any romantic thought.
Then again, Liang Jiancheng had never truly admired any woman in that way. Otherwise he wouldn’t have gone on blind dates to find someone suitable. He wasn’t vain, but he was confident—if he ever met a woman who genuinely caught his eye, he’d have the courage to pursue her directly.
…
In the living room, Professor Liang and Liang Jiancheng didn’t continue the conversation.
Professor Liang had always been cold and detached about such matters. Since he wouldn’t be attending the postponed dinner anyway, he simply let it drop.
His earlier question had been nothing more than an offhand reminder, not meddling.
But the professor couldn’t help thinking that ever since Jiancheng had been dealing more with his mother, Gu Shuangyang, he hadn’t picked up her decisive, commanding style—instead, he’d become smoother, more diplomatic, with a delicate intuition that made him popular with women. That certainly wasn’t inherited from him… nor from Gu Shuangyang. So where had he learned it?
Probably from Yang Minwen!
As for his ex-wife Gu Shuangyang found herself a younger man, since they were already divorce, Liang Yuzhi would not comment much? But if his son were to follow that man’s example? Professor Liang no longer considered things in terms of good or bad.
The professor’s home was quiet and bare, not even a single-family photograph on display. Ming Xi set down her phone and glanced around. When she turned back and saw the professor’s usual stern face, she couldn’t help but smile faintly.
Because it wouldn’t be appropriate for Ming Xi to leave too late, around four o’clock, Professor Liang went to the kitchen to boil the dumplings.
A plate of twenty boiled dumplings—at four in the afternoon. Even with a good appetite, finishing them all was difficult, but she didn’t dare leave any.
Seeing her struggle more and more with each bite, Liang Jiancheng said, “If you can’t finish, it’s fine. I have a dog—I can bring it to him.”
Ming Xi immediately asked, “What’s your dog’s name?”
Liang Jiancheng: “Xiaoxiao.”
That made it easier for her to stop forcing herself. If she ate any more, she might not even make it out the door. When six dumplings were left, she said, “Then I’ll give them to Xiaoxiao.”
Liang Jiancheng: “Okay, I thank you on Xiaoxiao’s behalf.”
Ming Xi laughed awkwardly. Aside from feeling uncomfortably full, she had no other thoughts left. To live with a clear conscience, she didn’t want her feelings to get complicated.
So—no, she hadn’t really fallen for Liang Jiancheng. She’d just looked twice too long. Admiring someone’s face wasn’t the same as liking them.
Come in politely and leave gracefully. Ming Xi stood up and said goodbye to the professor. The professor wanted to pack two boxes of dumplings for her to take away, but Ming Xi refused on the grounds that there was no stove in the dormitory.
“I’ve been transferred back to Haigang University of Economics and Trade from Yicheng this year. You can come to attend classes when you’re free. I’ll send you the schedule when it’s out.” Professor Liang said to her.
So this was the reason why the professor invited her to visit. Ming Xi felt very ashamed: “Thank you, Professor.”
When she said she was heading back, Liang Jiancheng, ever courteous, naturally offered to drive her. But Ming Xi found a way to refuse again: “I saw a lot of nice places nearby. I’d like to walk around a bit—and I’m meeting a coworker later to see the Minpu River night view.”
Since that was the case, Liang Jiancheng didn’t insist. He simply told her how to get to the metro—Line 1—and that it would pass by the Longmao Parkway.
It turned out that there was a subway… She had never taken a subway before! Ming Xi said goodbye to them with a shy smile. Before leaving, Professor Liang gave her six books. She glanced at the titles, a bit puzzled.
“The spring college entrance examination is now being introduced in China, which is very suitable for you. You might consider giving it a try.” Professor Liang said.
Ming Xi didn’t promise anything, but expressed sincere gratitude. “…Thank you, Professor Liang. I’ll think about it seriously.
“Goodbye Professor… Goodbye Mr. Liang.” Ming Xi left with the books.
—
Following the direction Liang Jiancheng had described, Ming Xi really did find the subway station. It was her first time ever taking the subway, and the experience felt fresh and exciting.
As the train sped through the tunnel, gusts of wind rushed in through the gaps of the subway doors. Ming Xi looked down at the book in her hands and fell into deep thought:
She had always believed that finding a good job was already a great achievement—but was getting a good job really the final stop? The subway stopped at one station after another, yet kept plunging back into the tunnels again and again, as though it would never emerge into the light of day.
Her life couldn’t stay still. She didn’t want to keep running through underground tunnels, never seeing the bright sky.
But if she got into a better university, earned a higher degree—would life really become brighter? Sitting on the long subway bench, Ming Xi flipped open the book and stared at the pages filled with cultural knowledge. Gradually, her mind became clear—
Professor Liang, of course, had no ill intentions toward her. But as for her, she simply had no time. She had no family to fall back on. She couldn’t afford to waste time chasing after knowledge for its own sake—everything she learned had to be useful.
On the road of life, what she wanted was not to catch up, but to climb higher.
Ming Xi decided not to think about the spring college entrance exam anymore. Instead of returning to her dorm, she went straight to the Anteng Internet Café. It was the Spring Festival season, so business was booming—she had to wait until evening before a seat opened up.
She went online to research how to become a foreign trade sales representative, and she carefully took notes about the certificates she needed to earn and their exam dates.
While she was browsing, her phone rang—it was Cai Ni. Ming Xi leaned back against the leather chair, pressed the receiver to her left ear, and answered.
Upon learning that she was also online, Cai Ni excitedly urged her to quickly register for an OICQ account (OICQ—later renamed in November 2000 into QQ.)
Ming Xi had always known that OICQ was used for online chatting, but had never signed up. At the moment, she still considered online chatting as mere entertainment, so she wasn’t very interested. Unexpectedly, Cai Ni said to her with urgency, “Six-digit IDs are almost gone! If you register now, you’ll probably only get a seven-digit one! Hurry before it’s too late—wait till it’s eight digits and it’s too late to regret!”
Cai Ni rarely used idioms in her conversation… Ming Xi reacted to Cai Ni’s words and felt a bit impulsive. It wasn’t that she was anxious about registering only for a seven-digit account, but rather that once this communication tool became widely popular, it could completely change how people lived, studied, and worked.
In this rapidly changing world, people need to keep up, both in their thoughts and actions.
Ming Xi immediately opened the OICQ website and quickly registered. As Cai Ni had predicted, it was a seven-digit ID.
Cai Ni sighed in regret, but also felt happy that the number she registered last month was one digit lower than hers.
Ming Xi laughed and came up with a wicked idea: “Why don’t you register a few more? With the current number of registrations, even seven figures will be very valuable in the future. Scarcity makes things valuable—maybe they’ll even be worth money someday!”
Cai Ni interrupted her, “Ming Xi! Since when do you care so much about making money?”
Well—what else was she supposed to care about? Ming Xi looked at the square computer monitor. She wasn’t obsessed with money itself—she was thinking about how to gain the ability to earn it. If she could find something that allowed her to focus wholeheartedly on making money, then she was sure she could make plenty.
“I miss you, though,” Ming Xi said sweetly—and sincerely.
Cai Ni melted, replying in the same tone, “Aww, me too!”
Girls need friendship. Beyond companionship and mutual encouragement and support, friendship between girls was like a mirror that allowed them to see aspects of themselves they normally couldn’t. Both Cai Ni and herself needed such a mirror.
Now that they had OICQ, Ming Xi quickly hung up the phone and switched to chatting with Cai Ni online.
Cai Ni, as it happened, was also at a newly opened internet café in Yicheng.
[I have something to tell you.]
Cai Ni sent a message via OICQ. The chat window beeped twice, which was quite interesting.
[What?] Ming Xi replied. [Liu Xinjun contacted me and said he really wants to find you.]
Seeing Cai Ni’s message, Ming Xi’s heart tightened. She typed:
[Ignore him. Next time he contacts you, tell him to contact Ming Decheng. The money was owed by Ming Decheng, it has nothing to do with me.]
Cai Ni typed slower than Ming Xi ; after a while, another message popped up—with a typo.
[He not want money. He like pursue you.]
Ming Xi was speechless and typed three words: [Tell him scram.]
Five minutes later, Cai Ni sent another long message:
[So, Ming Xi, I asked Dezhi—he said Liu Xinjun used to run the casinos in Macau, brought back a lot of money. The two entertainment halls in Yicheng are his. He also owns the internet cafe I’m at right now.]
Cai Ni’s message was packed with information. Ming Xi read it line by line, then, with a touch of humor, typed a reply.
[You wouldn’t sell me out for a bit of internet fee, would you?]
Cai Ni’s little cat avatar blinked, and she quickly replied:
[Of course not!!!]
Ming Xi believed Cai Ni wouldn’t do that.
Cai Ni sent another message: [It’s just money makes people look handsome. Actually, Liu Xinjun is not bad-looking, except for the scar on his forehead—it makes him look a bit fierce.]
Reading that, Ming Xi sensed something was off. She typed back teasingly: [This matter is mainly because my problem.]
Cai Ni, no doubt curious, replied quickly: [What problem]
Ming Xi typed four words:
[“I can’t take a beating.”] ()Finally, Cai Ni fell silent. The chat window stopped popping up.
If Ming Xi were in the same internet cafe in Yicheng right now, or if she could see Cai Ni through the camera, she would’ve seen her friend trying desperately not to laugh
Her lips twitching, her face muscles cramping from holding it in. After taking a few breaths, Cai Ni pretended to turn around weakly and looked at the three people behind her with embarrassment.
Liu Xinjun, Dezi, and Han Junjun.
That’s right—from the moment Cai Ni started chatting with Ming Xi, the three men had been standing behind her, watching every word appear on the screen.
All those flattering lines—“Brother Liu’s rich,” “Brother Liu’s doing great”—had been typed under Liu Xinjun’s watchful, intimidating eye…
And now the conversation had stopped at those four words: [I can’t take a beating].
For a moment, the air went dead silent. Then Dezi and Han Junjun burst out laughing—high-pitched, squeaky, like mice. Dezi, the bolder one, nearly collapsed laughing. Han Junjun, more restrained, just turned beet red from trying not to.
Coincidently, after Dezi and Han Junjun graduated from the TVU, they applied together to work as network administrators at a newly opened internet café in Yicheng—only to find out on their first day that the owner was Liu Xinjun. They’d come to know him over time, and realized he had a small following in town—and some money in his hands.
So they stayed on, working for him for the time being.
Today, when Cai Ni came to find Dezhi to use the computer, Liu Xinjun caught her immediately.
“Brother Liu…” Cai Ni licked her lips nervously, hastening to explain herself. “I’ve said everything you told me to say, and done everything you told me to do. You promised—if Ming Xi’s not interested, you won’t give her trouble or demand the money from her.”
Liu Xinjun’s expression was dark. He didn’t bother replying, just stared at the screen, at those words—I can’t take a beating. His fists clenched tightly. Then, still unwilling to let it go, he asked the others, “Do I really look that mean? Like the kind of guy who beat women?”
He did beat people—but only men, not women.
Cai Ni said nothing, didn’t dare. She only glanced at the scar across Liu Xinjun’s forehead. If she were honest… she didn’t know whether he beat women—but if he did, it’d probably be bad enough to put them in the hospital.
…Oof.
“Just forget it, Brother Liu.” Han Junjun said, trying to sound comforting—though in truth, he was just trying to calm him down.
“Yeah, Brother Liu, what can we do if she can’t take a beating?” The bolder and more thick-skinned Dezi chimed in, imitating a Northern accent.
Liu Xinjun glared at Dezi and said with great authority: “You think you’re funny?”
Dezi shook his head: …Not funny, not funny.
Cai Ni decided it was the perfect moment to make her escape. Before leaving, she hurriedly logged out of OICQ, pulled her chair back, and slipped out of her seat.
“Goodbye, Brother Liu. Thanks for the internet session! My mom’s calling me home for dinner—I’ll get going first…” She waved, and before Liu Xinjun could react—while Han Junjun and Dezi were busy holding him back—she dashed out of the internet cafe.
Oh my god, she’s amazing! She had actually managed to settle half of Ming Xi’s debt!
Here’s how it happened, Dezi and Han Junjun worked as network administrators at Mingtian Internet Cafe, and Cai Ni also became a regular customer there. After a few visits, she got to know Liu Xinjun.
She also learned that Ming Xi’s family owed Liu Xinjun 200,000 yuan, which was not a small amount. Even if Ming Xi earned a high salary outside, she couldn’t repay the debt. Cai Ni thought to herself that if the Ming family could pay back the money, Ming Xi could return to Yicheng without shame. So when Liu Xinjun came to her asking for help, Cai Ni immediately jumped on it. She told him not to be delusional unless he was ready to show sincerity.
One kind word was worth fifty thousand.
If she reluctantly said two kind words… that would be a hundred thousand!
Cai Ni flew back home happily, like a happy sparrow that had eaten a fat worm.
Unfortunately, upon entering the house, Cai Ni found her parents arguing in the kitchen—
Her dad: “Nini’s careless attitude is just like you.”
Her mom: “Isn’t that empty-headed brain of hers just like you?”
Her dad: “…Who are you calling empty-headed?”
Her mom: “…Who are you calling careless?”
Her dad: “I’m talking about our daughter.”
Her mom: “…Me too.”
Cai Ni: “…”
If she could help it, Cai Ni wouldn’t want to stay in this house anymore…!
Truth be told, her brain really was a bit muddled. That hundred-thousand-yuan “deal” she made with Liu Xinjun was just verbal agreement—he could easily deny it later and claim it was a joke. If Ming Xi had handled it herself, she would’ve made him sign a written note on the spot.
…
During the three-day holiday, Ming Xi made no plans and mostly spent her time at the Anteng Internet Cafe surfing the internet. She brought her own snack and asked the pretty boss lady for water whenever she needed it.
Honestly, Ming Xi rarely allowed herself to drift like this—but this time, she felt she had found her own spiritual world.
At the year-end party, a sales associate recommended a forum called Tianya, saying there was a lot to learn there. She found this forum, specifically looking for information on the foreign trade industry. Recently, she’d been following a thread titled “Analysis and Forecast of the Current Global Trade and Economic Situation,” authored by the name “.”
Ming Xi took notes while reading the posts, learning while surfing the internet, almost staying up all night, with the internet fees blazing away.
But she thought it was worth every yuan. She carefully read every post, word by word, and followed every new update from “Jiangliu Dadao.”
Many others, like her, appreciated his candid sharing and respectfully addressed him as “Young Master Jiangliu.”
This “Young Master Jiangliu” posted insightful and engaging articles, showcasing his extensive knowledge, having traveled to forty or fifty countries. In his posts, he not only shared his perspectives on the foreign trade and economic situation but also shared insights on different communication practices in various countries—
From religious beliefs to culinary culture.
Ming Xi would raise questions when she saw something puzzling, and offer compliments when she saw something captivating. Her sincerity and enthusiasm had impressed Young Master Jiangliu.
In one reply, he politely addressed her as “Brother Ximen.”
Umm…
Did he think she was a man?
Ming Xi glanced at the name she’d typed in when she registered, “.”. She’d chosen it because she adored the white-clad, sword-wielding hero of that name—elegant, aloof, and unmatched in skill.
“Young Master Jiangliu, may I add you as a friend?”
Meeting someone this brilliant was a rare stroke of fortune. Nervously, she left her OICQ number under the post.
What moves people more than knowledge is understanding, and what’s even harder to reach than knowledge is also understanding. Although Ming Xi left her OICQ number, she didn’t expect anything.
Someone as accomplished as Young Master Jiangliu wouldn’t add a nobody like her. She had left many replies to the post, and her comments were quite naive. The only thing that might have caught Young Master Jiang Liu’s attention was her chatterbox nature.
She was young, inexperienced, but bold and curious, and she also had a charming name—Ximen Chuixue.
When Ximen Chuixue drew his sword, snowflakes flew; when Ming Xi typed, sparks seemed to fly from her fingertips.
Maybe because it was the holiday, Young Master Jiangliu was often free and frequently went online to update content. After a few exchanges in the forum, he actually added her on OICQ.
Remembering Cai Ni’s silly remarks, Ming Xi counted the digits in his OICQ ID… and gasped. It was a five-digit number!
Could it be that he went surfing the Internet as soon as the domestic network was available?
Young Master Jiang Liu’s OICQ avatar was the system’s default Donald Duck, but his OICQ name was not Jiangliu Dadao. It was— “Xiao Er Bu Yan” (Smiling Without Talking).
Ming Xi chuckled.
He talked freely on the forum, but was called Smiling Without Talking on OICQ. It seemed that Young Master Jiangliu himself was quite a reserved yet secretly passionate person.
The next second, Ming Xi saw a note under his avatar: Does not add female accounts.
She was shocked, but immediately sighed with relief.
… Fortunately, Ximen Chuixue was a man!