Chapter 40

 

“Since someone has already treated me to coffee, Mr. He, why don’t you treat me to something else?”

The other person had already been so frank and clear.

He Yuan also asked directly: “Ming Xi, what do you want?”

Since she was circling around before asking, he naturally didn’t think she only wanted a simple treat—

There must be another purpose.

Was she hoping for a job from him? or something else?

In business, what businessmen fear least was someone making requests. Because once a request was made, any conversation became a negotiation, and any negotiation became a benefit.

He took the candy she had worked so hard to find for free, so it was inevitable that she would ask for some benefits in return.

What worried him was if she would suddenly open her mouth too wide and ruin the friendliness.

He Yuan had seen plenty of “open-your-mouth-like-a-lion” women over the years. So for a moment he just stared at Ming Xi’s fresh, lively face, instinctively assessing her value.

Before a woman ask for something, a mature man would always do a quick evaluation.

He was far past the age of being impulsive. No matter how beautiful a woman was, if her only value lay in her face then it was nothing but hollow—regretful, even.

But for someone who was beautiful and smart, even if she was still young, He Yuan couldn’t help but admire and looked forward to what she would become.

While he was making all these guesses, Ming Xi blinked twice, totally indifferent to the possibilities running through his head. Although she would sometimes go with the flow, she would never take advantage of others.

What she wanted was something He Yuan could give effortlessly—even something he would happily give. Rather than “getting a benefit,” she was really just asking for a bit of face.

Ming Xi picked up a flyer on the table and pointed to the bold title at the top: “Haigang Import and Export Grand Expo”. She glanced at the date and found that this fair would last longer than the networking event.

“I heard from the big sister in Longmao that this expo requires tickets to enter. Mr. He, can you give me a few tickets?”

Ming Xi made a serious request, which was so small that it couldn’t be any smaller.

He Yuan, as a foreign trade boss, was partly responsible for distributing expo tickets. A few tickets? Not only trivial—giving them away was actually a good PR.

When He Yuan was mentally prepared that Ming Xi might push too far, she actually made her request just right, which made him both happy and surprised.

He Yuan still had a stack of tickets for the expo in the briefcase he was holding!

He Yuan hurriedly opened his briefcase, took out half a stack of tickets and handed them over: “Here, I happen to have some here. Don’t say a few—take the whole stack.”

Setting up tickets for the expo was just a gimmick. Even if Ming Xi didn’t ask him for them, tickets could be bought outside. Ordinary people only needed ten yuan.

He Yuan gave out dozens of tickets at ten yuan each, as if they were worthless.

Ming Xi only took four and didn’t want any more. After counting them out, she handed the rest back to Mr. He and said with a faint smile, “Mr. He is very generous, but giving me more would just be a waste.”

After saying that, she returned the extra stack to He Yuan.

He Yuan secretly admired her—she knew how to fight for a benefit, but never got greedy. Her mind stayed clear, her manners were impeccable, her grasp of human nature was sharp, and she knew exactly how to handle men.

A girl like this was perfect for foreign trade sales.

Since her goal was achieved and she had received so many flyers, Ming Xi did not stay any longer. She could not finish the afternoon tea dessert set Liang Jiancheng ordered for her, so without a hint of embarrassment she called a waiter to pack them up.

She had eaten two mini cakes—one dense, one soft. The chocolate Black Forest was especially rich and mellow, pairing amazingly with the lemon mousse cake—sweet, full-bodied, fresh, and surprisingly delightful.

She left half a piece to take back for Cai Ni to try.

After the waiter handed her the packed dessert, Ming Xi stood up to say goodbye.

He Yuan stared at her and blurted out his words without thinking carefully: “Ming Xi, I still say the same thing. If you’re interested in being a foreign trade sales rep, I will give you the best conditions when you come to Haiou this time.”

Ming Xi: “Thank you, Mr. He, for your kindness. I will consider it carefully.”

“Then think fast. I’m getting anxious waiting.” He Yuan said, pausing before complaining half-jokingly about the interview last year: “Last year you also said you’d consider Haiou, and you still didn’t come.”

Ming Xi smiled politely and said calmly, “Last year I wasn’t mature enough. If I had joined your company then, I would’ve just been a burden—I wasn’t capable enough. If I ever come work for you, I hope not to just earn the salary and pass the days, but to be a good employee who brings substantial profits to you.”

He Yuan genuinely admired such frankness and courage.

“It’s a deal then,” He Yuan said. He was already eagerly waiting for the day Ming Xi might be join Haiou.

Ming Xi nodded, without giving a complete commitment, but also roughly expressing her attitude.

During their conversation, neither of them mentioned Xinghai Foreign Trade. But something didn’t make sense—If she had known Liang Jiancheng beforehand, and she wasn’t satisfied with Haiou’s offer last year, why didn’t she go to Xinghai?

From what he observed earlier, Liang Jiancheng valued Ming Xi quite a lot.
Xinghai was known for treating staff well and giving employees client resources. There was no reason for Ming Xi not to choose Xinghai.

Unless……

He Yuan thought of Maggie. After she resigned from Xinghai, he looked for her and hoped that she could come to Haiou. However, Maggie said arrogantly that she was not interested in making that little money from foreign trade and having to put on a smile at people all day long.

Then she went to work at the Import–Export Customs Bureau.

It turned out that Maggie chose Xinghai not for its development prospects, but for its handsome boss.

Girls from well-off families have more choices, while those from ordinary or poor families valued opportunities more—they treasured chances, and didn’t act on impulse.

And also—

If Ming Xi wanted expo tickets, Liang Jiancheng had plenty. Why didn’t she ask him instead?

Ming Xi’s inner answer was:

For small favors and trivial matters like this, she didn’t want to owe Liang Jiancheng too much. Between men and women, if feelings are involved, then when it comes to taking advantage, she only wants big advantages.

As for the small ones—she was not interested;

Even if they were free, she had to weigh them carefully and see whether that man has any designs on her.

Liang Jiancheng was acting as though he had no ulterior motives for now. But she felt that was just an act.

She could feel that every time he looked directly at her, there was a kind of condescending concern and restrained compromise. Even though he was very good at concealing it, and concealing it cleanly and appropriately.

The more a man seems proper and well-dressed, the less likely he is to express affection openly and generously.

…

Ming Xi walked out of the Scully Hotel. Only by keeping her eyes set far ahead that she could go a long way.

As a child, she had been sent by Ming Decheng and Yang Yumei to be fostered in the countryside. She hadn’t studied properly, but she loved reading. Most of the books she could read back then were pirated wuxia novels. Perhaps it was those reading days that made her yearn to become a wandering young swordsman of the jianghu—drawing her blade as snow fluttered.

That’s why she named herself Ximen Chuixue on the forum.

Walking from the hotel lobby toward the exit, she passed a metal trash bin. Since she hadn’t been able to give the candy to Mr. Mills in her name, the English note she had written in her pocket was useless.

Ming Xi casually tossed it into the bin. Then, taking her right hand out of her pocket and lifting her left hand that held the boxed-up afternoon tea desserts, she strode toward the bus stop, full of energy—her steps light and firm.

At the same time, Liang Jiancheng had just received a client and was about to start his engine and head to the factory. Just then, he happened to see someone leaving with her usual breezy ease. He noticed the afternoon-tea box she carried from the Scully Hotel, and also saw her toss the written note into the trash without the slightest regret.

Her effortless freedom—he had experienced it deeply.

Suddenly, he understood why she called herself “Ximen Chuixue” on the forum. The one who draws the sword has already parried every move and sheathed the blade; the one struck by it doesn’t even know the edge has already skimmed across his heart.

…

[Many of the dazzling figures in this world survive merely by borrowing “power.” Beneath the glory, they are often undeserving. Instead, it’s the struggling people at the bottom who show the most resourcefulness and vitality.]

Excerpt from a post by Jiangliu Dadao on Tianya Forum.

In the evening, Ming Xi stayed in Anteng Internet Cafe to follow the latest posts from Jiangliu Dadao.

He seemed quite busy lately, so he hadn’t updated much, though the quality remained high. He usually posted around midnight.

Browsing his earlier posts, Ming Xi noticed that even though he joined the forum early, he wasn’t someone who posted constantly just to maintain presence. Ever since she followed him, every few days Jiangliu Dadao would make a high-quality update.

By diligently following this rhythm, the number of Jiangliu Dadao’s fans was increasing day by day.

Although whenever Ming Xi went online she showered him with vivid, enthusiastic praise, she was no longer the most flattering fan.

Recently, many people liked him as well, calling him different names—she called him “Brother Jiangliu,” others called him “Young Master Jiangliu.” Quite a few female users even openly expressed admiration for him.

Because of this, she now understood his OICQ status “Not adding female accounts” from a new angle: maybe he wasn’t gay—just busy.

He simply had no time or interest to engage in emotional exchanges outside of professional discussions.

Ah—she was smart indeed for registering a male account back then.

Originally it was to avoid harassment, but by accident she managed to add Jiangliu Dadao on OICQ. Compared with ordinary fans, she naturally received more attention and closeness from him. As long as she posted in the forum, he answered almost every question she asked.

Over time, “Brother Ximen” also received a lot of attention under Jiangliu Dadao’s posts.

Perhaps this was another form of leveraging influence and drawing traffic?

If she were someone selling products, she would definitely promote herself online this way. The internet era was just beginning; commercial ecosystems weren’t mature yet. If online traffic could be converted into sales orders, it would certainly be easier than Dezi and Junjun yelling on the street. And once the traffic took off, the momentum would be unstoppable.

Sure enough, even though Jiangliu Dadao hadn’t updated these past two days, the thread page count had multiplied. When she first opened it, she thought he had mass-updated, but it turned out—they were fighting.

The cause of the fight was the above sentence.

A person named “Chen Jia Shaoye” (Young Master Chen) mocked lower-class vendors for being excessively greedy and ugly-faced. He even used literary, classical Chinese to ridicule them, leaving the line: “When a craftsman makes a coffin, he does not hate death. When he sees profit, he forgets what he hates.”

There was no such sentence originally, and Jianliu Dadao responded very objectively.

The essence of his response was this: “Business is, by nature, a self-interested act and often runs counter to human sentiment. But those who chase profit like flies to filth are never the small vendors at the bottom ”

Different ideas can be exchanged, but contradictory values ​​cannot collide. Unexpectedly this “Chen Jia Shaoye” seemed to be triggered. He suddenly went crazy and turned into a master arguer, every comment dripping with arrogance—calling everyone “people at the bottom,” “rural folk,” “country bumpkins.”

From beginning to end, Jiangliu Dadao stayed elegant and never replied again. But his fans were many—most were book-lovers trying to improve themselves, young netizens learning economic trends from him, and people like Ming Xi, an “ambitious lower-class struggler.”

Everyone united—not only could they roast, they could debate.

In no time, they collectively attacked “Chen Jia Shaoye of S City,” and easily pushed the thread up by more than ten pages.

Ming Xi spent two hours and still couldn’t finish reading it.

So lively, so exciting!

It was practically a battle between a high-and-mighty capitalist landlord’s spoiled son and the wild, tough masses growing up from the bottom. Even after reading the whole exchange, Ming Xi felt a bit stunned—this “Chen Jia Shaoye” was clearly in the wrong, so how could he still act so self-righteously?

Even though many people were attacking him together, “Chen Jia Shaoye” was a genius in sophistry—able to take on a hundred by himself, killing one person every ten steps, leaving no trace a thousand miles away.

Because whenever he couldn’t win an argument, he would drop two words— “poor bastard”.

And many honest netizens immediately fell into the trap of trying to prove they weren’t poor bastards.

In a world where ordinary people still make up the majority, “Chen Jia Shaoye” began to criticize the “fake” Jiangliu Dadao saying that Young Master Jiangliu might just be a poor man pretending to be rich, that he couldn’t have visited so many countries, and that a real rich man would never say things harmful to his own interests.

“At most, he’s just a migrant worker who read a few more books and then comes to the forum to show off and give advice to others.”

Then Chen Jia Shaoye began to divert the conflict, determined to use this “exposé tactic” to drag Jiangliu Dadao down from his pedestal.

… Was this Chen Jia Shaoye jealous of the huge popularity Jiangliu Dadao had?

Chen Jia Shaoye became furious again!

How could he be jealous of a migrant worker? Chen Jia Shaoye began to reveal his identity. He claimed to be the young master of a domestic corporate group, boasting that he had many relatives abroad. To prove that Jiangliu’s descriptions of the U.S., U.K., and even Arab countries were wrong, Chen Jia Shaoye dug into Jiangliu’s earlier articles, searching for inconsistencies.

In summary, the so-called Americans, British, and even Arabs mentioned in Jiangliu Dadao’s posts were his personal one-sided words and do not really exist.

Perhaps—

“Maybe he just watched a few foreign movies and randomly fabricated what rich foreigners are like.”

Chen Jia Shaoye analyzed.

But no matter how Chen Jia Shaoye attacked him, Jiangliu Dadao never showed up to defend himself—not even once.
He let the accusations stand, allowing the other side to call him a pretentious fraud.

Many people in the forum wanted Jiangliu Dadao to come out—preferably forcefully, ruthlessly, slamming Chen Jia Shaoye back into the ground with a satisfying counterattack.

Supporters of Jiangliu Dadao included fans, but even more were pure spectators—spectators who loved drama and wished the situation would get even bigger. They wished Jiangliu Dadao would reveal his real name, which big city he was from, whether his family own luxury homes or cars.

Best of all, they wanted him to show his passport for verification.

Because Chen Jia Shaoye had already posted the size of his home and the brand of his cars… To the spectators, more than seeing Jiangliu Dadao clear his name, they wanted him to prove his power.

However, no matter how fierce the online argument was, Jiangliu Dadao seemed to have disappeared without a single response online.

Several people had already begun to shift their views, thinking that perhaps Chen Jia Shaoye was right, and Jiangliu Dadao was just an intellectual who went online to show off.

Then Ming Xi got angry.

Originally she didn’t want to participate in the debate, but now she couldn’t sit still. Not because she was Brother Jiangliu’s No. 1 fan, but because she worried that Brother Jiangliu would be driven away by all the insults and stopped updating.

How could she continue to learn from this foreign trade post in the future!

The many ideas shared by Brother Jiangliu clearly never involve showing off wealth, not even the slightest hint of worshipping wealth.

He was simply an objective observer sharing foreign trade insights. Since foreign trade required expanding international markets, he drew on his years of experience to analyze the customs and cultures of different countries.

Some things he’d even said came from translated foreign books.

She also couldn’t understand how someone like Chen Jia Shaoye, a Chinese person, could say so many things that fawned over foreigners.

In short, this entire thread made Ming Xi understand one truth: People’s backgrounds and circumstances differ. Their understanding of the world—and of social class—differs too.

Perhaps each class has its own rules and hierarchy.

Jiangliu Dadao was willing to speak aloud the kinds of “things” that couldn’t be openly discussed within certain classes, posting them on a public forum—and that, she realized, must have offended Chen Jia Shaoye.

This heated forum battle wasn’t really about Chen Jia Shaoye disliking Jiangliu Dadao—it was a clash caused by class conflict.

Once Ming Xi saw the essence of the problem clearly, she easily found a one-move killing blow—

She targeted a section of Chen Jia Shaoye’s comment and replied underneath:

“I don’t know what country you think you belong to, but Chairman Mao said that the enemies of the Chinese people and of all the world’s people are the same—American imperialism and capitalism. So which nationality are you, looking down on the Chinese people like this? Oh wait—you’re not the people. You’re a running dog.”

After posting this, Ming Xi felt a bit fired up, a bit angry—and a bit nervous.

Then—

The long-absent Jiangliu Dadao suddenly appeared, specifically replying to her comment.

He gave her a sentence like an official seal of recognition: “Brother Ximen is a member of the people.”

Young Master Jiangliu had finally come online!

Was he going to enter the battle?

In an instant, the thread’s heat exploded again.

Amid all the comments taking sides with him, Brother Jiangliu had only replied to her. Ming Xi couldn’t help feeling a little proud, and a strange, sweet emotion gently spread through her chest.

At the moment, Ming Xi was still sitting inside the Anteng Internet Café.

One hand rested on the desk, holding the mouse; her other elbow propped on the table as her palm supported her cheek. Light, buoyant feelings flowed through her heart as she stared at the square computer screen, blinking unconsciously—almost like she had caught some mysterious feeling of online romance.

She lightly scrolled the mouse, eyes settling back onto the forum page. One familiar ID after another—all fans of Young Master Jiangliu—were leaving comments under her post:

“If being poor was the fate I was born with, then becoming rich will be the ability I cultivate later in life.”

“I arrived with no path; I’ll leave with riches overflowing.”

“Destiny lies at the edge of a cliff, yet I grow in the cracks of stone.”

Whether in real life or in the online era, there was never a shortage of high-spirited young people. Deep in the bones of Chinese people still lies that bold sentiment: “Why shouldn’t nobles and generals be born among us?”

Online friends are different from real friends.

In real life, she and Cai Ni knew each other because of shared experiences and companionship. Online, people meet more because their thoughts and states of mind resonate.

After thinking for a moment, Ming Xi began typing:

“They say no two leaves in the world are identical, yet there must exist ones whose veins run in the same direction. Even if we are scattered across different places, each with our own faces and identities, we walk our own bridges in life. Yet if our souls resonate, then between our hearts an invisible bridge can still rise high. Even if we hold different ideals, one day we will meet on the same bridge…

At that time, our gazes will meet and our breaths will blend.

Similar frequencies deep within our soul will resonate in a tacit understanding.

Though the world may be a surging torrent, we strive forward in the riverbed of time. The bridge built over the world will surely guide our souls to their final destination.

The torrent is merciless, but my heart is eternal.”

This was the long passage Ming Xi spent five minutes typing—dedicated to herself, and to the like-minded people she met today on the forum.

She posted it under Brother Jiangliu’s post, then read it twice carefully. She hadn’t studied much, but her writing… wasn’t bad at all.

Turns out reading more books was more useful than going to school.

About half an hour later, Ming Xi was getting ready to log off and return to the dorm. Suddenly, her phone on the desk buzzed with a message.

It was from Liang Jiancheng.

Just one simple sentence—

“Can we meet tonight?”

—

These past few days, Liang Jiancheng had truly been busy—so busy he had no mind to pay attention to the forum quarrels online.

Today, after finishing his final product discussion with Mr. Mills, he was too tired to drive back, so he booked a room at the Scully Hotel.

After taking a shower and finishing the work at hand, he rubbed his eyes.

As if prompted by some unseen force, he opened the forum and scrolled through a few pages of the arguments.

His recent posts were slandered, doubted, even accused of attention-seeking. None of it bothered him—his sharing was never meant for those people.

Truth itself can’t withstand endless questioning, let alone human words.

Liang Jiancheng had neither the need nor the interest to respond to all the slander. So, he only responded to one person.

He never thought that all the things he shares were profound—just shallow thoughts. If they could be useful or interesting to others, that alone was the meaning of his sharing online.

If someone asked why he bothered opening an account on a forum to write these things…

Maybe because he found real-life socializing dull. Maybe because he’d never dated and felt lonely. Or maybe because of some inner longing he himself didn’t fully understand.

Then, he refreshed his page and saw the newest message written by Brother Ximen (Ming Xi) under his post:

Each with our own faces and identities, we walk our own bridges in life. Yet if our souls resonate, then between our hearts an invisible bridge can still rise high. Even if we hold different ideals, one day we will meet on the same bridge…

Liang Jiancheng had always been an extremely rational person. But as his eyes, framed by cool glasses, fell on this delicate passage, in that instant, his emotions were almost completely overtaken by something softer.

Within a few seconds, he felt a surge of tangled emotions.

First came a sudden fear—of losing control. Then, replacing it, came a vast flood of joy, overwhelming and all-consuming, filling the space where his rationality had been pulled away.

He was both anxious and ecstatic.

Both out of control and acutely clear-headed.

He felt like he was going crazy, even though he hadn’t done anything yet.

Taking a deep breath, Liang Jiancheng lifted his hands from the keyboard and leaned back slightly from the desk. Both hands slowly covered his face; his long, well-defined fingers tightened toward his brow. The slightly rough pads of his middle fingers brushed his eyelids, eyelashes lowering quietly.

At this moment, his mind seemed to be covered by an invisible white mist—and behind it, a silhouette grew clearer and clearer.

“If Mr. Liang plans to be petty with me over this, I then I can only treat you like a child and coax you with a candy.”

Ming Xi’s bright, smiling face appeared vividly in his mind.

“Our gazes will meet and our breaths will blend…. Similar frequencies deep within our soul will resonate in a tacit understanding.”

After a while, Liang Jiancheng couldn’t help but recite softly. His eyes slowly closed, warm breaths escaping through the gaps of his slender fingers.

His heart clenched—then sped up.

And his breathing, naturally, began to heat.

At this moment, the hotel room was silent, and only Liang Jiancheng himself knew how hot his heart was and how fast his heartbeat was.

It seemed as if there was a spark deep in his body that had been sealed for many years but had always been existed. In recent times it had flickered occasionally, swaying with the wind—sometimes appearing, sometimes fading.

Who would have thought that the flame he assumed would die out would suddenly ignite again—unexpectedly yet inevitably—awakening the fire buried deep in his heart, a fire even he had never noticed.

Finally, Liang Jiancheng stood abruptly, accidentally knocking documents to the floor.

Clatter—

The air around him seemed to tremble, like a butterfly that was suddenly frightened and fell out of control.

Previous     TOC     Next