Chapter 41

 

Liang Jiancheng suddenly stood up, making the pure-black, high-end swivel chair behind him lift off the floor for an instant before wobbling in a full turn.

Soon, the chair gently rotated back, returning to its original position.

Tonight, Liang Jiancheng was also staying on the 18th floor of the Scully Hotel. Outside the sealed floor-to-ceiling windows, a forest of towering buildings glowed beneath brilliant city lights.

In front of him was a sleek, adjustable fishing-lamp.

The downward-falling light carried a faint cold sheen, sliding along the bridge of Liang Jiancheng’s straight nose, illuminating his tightly pressed lips and sharply defined features. His face—controlled, young, and sensual—was like white jade polished by moonlight. Yet his chest rose and fell ever so slightly, stirred by emotion.

His feelings surged like a tide, but everything around him reminded him to stay calm.

Liang Jiancheng gazed at Haigang’s nightscape below. In the end, he pressed down his emotions, turned his back, and stood silently before the window.

He could still control himself—stay disciplined, composed, quiet, focused… Maybe if he took a shower, he could restrain everything once more and return to work with full concentration.

There should be no problem.

Just then, his gaze drifted to the exquisite gift box on the coffee table—something Mr. Mills had entrusted to him an hour earlier.

Even if he didn’t go look for her tonight, he still needed to see her.

He had to deliver the gift that Mills had asked him to pass along.

But…

From both a reason and courtesy, even if he was going to see her, he shouldn’t do it tonight.

So—

Why did he send that text message—”Can we meet tonight?”

What was he doing? Had he lost his mind?

His chaotic, surging emotions roared inside him—his laughably foolish soul shouting.

Shouting what?

Shouting that he was an idiot.

The silver-white mechanical wristwatch he had taken off before he shower was also on the desk.

Liang Jiancheng glanced at the watch: 8:30 PM, neither early nor late.

Judging from the time of Ming Xi’s message about having the day off, she should still be at the only internet café near Longmao—Anteng Internet Café.

After changing back into his clothes, at 8:40, Liang Jiancheng walked out of the Scully Hotel, carrying the gift Mr. Mills had given him.

These past few days, Liang Jiancheng had mostly been attending meetings and meeting clients at the Scully Hotel, so the clothes he prepared were all rather formal. However, tonight he wasn’t dressed so formally; not in a sharp suit and elite attire, but since there was only shirts in the hotel, he wore a blue stand-up collar shirt under a brown trenchcoat.

Below, he had on beige slim-fit casual trousers and a pair of pure-black handmade French Oxford shoes.

With long, quick strides, as Liang Jiancheng stepped out of the hotel lobby, a gust of wind blew from the opposite high-rise building, sweeping his coat backward; the flaring hem of the trench coat whipped upward, carving a sharp arc through the air.

The parking attendant opened the car door for him, and Liang Jiancheng placed the gift he was carrying on the passenger seat.

Once the door closed, he started the engine and drove toward Anteng Internet Café.

Even if Ming Xi still hadn’t replied.

He knew where she was.

…

An hour earlier, Liang Jiancheng had been using his laptop to introduce Xinghai’s sample products to Mr. Mills from Germany. His price was indeed two percent higher than Haiou’s, and Mr. Mills hoped he could lower it by one point, but Liang Jiancheng didn’t agree.

A two-percent price difference wasn’t much, but the products were not the same.

On Mr. Mills’s desk sat the crispy candy He Yuan had brought.

The two sat facing each other, Mr. Mills looking troubled, and spoke frankly: “Byron, I do trust you more and am more interested in your product, but Mr. He is also a good choice. The fact that he specifically found this candy for me shows that he’s a conscientious person and won’t be careless about product quality. I’ve also seen his sample design, and it’s not bad.”

Liang Jiancheng’s gaze remained calm as he glanced at the bag of candy on the table. He wasn’t one to speak ill of others behind their backs. Even in the face of business competition, even cutthroat competition, he preferred to let his abilities speak for itself.

But as for this candy, whoever actually put in the effort… should be acknowledged.

“I saw Lamia in the hotel lobby today. The girl you also asked to buy the candy the other day,” Liang Jiancheng said deliberately, though without spelling things out. His clear, composed gaze lingered briefly on the candy bag.

He didn’t elaborate further.

Nor would he mention the method by which He Yuan had gotten that candy.

Mr. Mills was an excellent client—and an excellent client would have his own accurate judgment.

As he rose to leave, Liang Jiancheng said, “Mr. Mills, I look forward to your reply.”

“Can you contact that Lamia?” Mr. Mills asked.

Liang Jiancheng: “Yes, I can.”

“Wonderful,” Mr. Mills said, his face showing relief and gratitude.

Mr. Mills was a devout follower of a certain religion—one whose believers fell into two extremes: terribly troubled souls waiting to be saved, or extremely kind ones yearning for universal harmony. Mr. Mills was clearly the latter; he couldn’t bear to owe anyone even the smallest favor.

The contract was not finalized, but before Liang Jiancheng left, Mr. Mills entrusted him with a gift—to pass along to Ming Xi.

“I’ll make sure it’s delivered, and personally convey your thanks,” Liang Jiancheng promised with certainty.

—

“Can we meet tonight?”

Ming Xi held her phone. After reading every word of the text message, her heart trembled twice, and her mind buzzed loudly—like a sudden surge of electricity shot through her entire body.

Honestly speaking, seeing that Liang Jiancheng had sent her a message asking to meet tonight did stir something faint and unfamiliar in her. But her mind did not forget to think. In fact, she thought even more carefully than usual.

Didn’t the two of them just see each other today?

Could it be that he regretted it and needed her to give him the address to buy the candy?

Impossible. Liang Jiancheng wouldn’t regret something like that, much less ask to meet her in the evening for such a small matter.

Thinking this, Ming Xi instinctively glanced at the bottom-left corner of the computer screen. Nearly nine o’clock. Normally, unless something extremely urgent happened, a man as measured and restrained as Liang Jiancheng would never ask to meet her at this hour.

A flood of thoughts poured through her mind—yet the only thing she refused to speculate was that he might have sent this message because of some kind of man-woman intention.

Love doesn’t hurt; what hurts is the emotional turmoil caused by one’s own imagination.

She would never let herself get tangled up over a feeling that hadn’t even begun to develop.

Therefore, even though Ming Xi saw the text message and felt a slight hesitation, she wouldn’t reply. Rather than guessing why Liang Jiancheng sent this text, she knew perfectly well—

If she replied “yes,” their relationship would instantly become unclear.

A young, handsome man with a fiancée, sending a text message to a young girl late at night asking to meet.

Isn’t that inappropriate?

She was just a young woman from out of town, struggling in this glamorous metropolis, already facing countless temptations, the road ahead long and filled with traps. She had no one to rely on, and in anything she did, she first had to protect herself.

She didn’t know whether Liang Jiancheng’s message was a test of some sort, nor did she know what kind of temperament his fiancée, Zhang Min, had, or what their relationship was like. What if Zhang Min checked Liang Jiancheng’s phone?

Either way, a text message—outside of holiday greetings—was far more suggestive than a phone call. And she only used her 30 free monthly texts to message her closest friend, Cai Ni.

Ming Xi logged off the computer and went to the cashier to pay for her session.

The owner, who already knew her well, handed her change and teased with a laugh: “You’ve been Haigang for so long and still haven’t found a boyfriend? Youth is expensive—you need to date a few to break even.”

Ming Xi curved her lips and chuckled softly. “Youth is expensive. Why waste it on boyfriends?”

The owner shrugged, amused. “How much time does it take? If you like him, go out; if you don’t, dump him. Meeting different kinds of men is like taking a crash course in sociology.”

It actually made sense. Life did need bold and carefree people to serve as guiding lights. Ming Xi nodded lightly—half believing, half not—and sincerely complimented her: “Experienced people really do know how to do things!”

The owner looked smug and nodded.

Ming Xi put her hands in her pockets and walked out of the internet cafe with composed ease. The gentle night breeze brushed past her as she stepped down the stairs.

The Anteng Internet Cafe wasn’t far from her dormitory, only about one kilometer.

She always walked home at night. Haigang had good security—nowhere near as many troublemakers as Yicheng—so she wasn’t nervous walking alone. Occasionally cyclists whizzed by on the sidewalk, their bells ringing as they passed.

Like a gust of wind brushing her ears.

Ming Xi still had a mint in her pocket. She unwrapped it and put it in her mouth.

Then, right before she reached the dorm building, she found a quiet corner and pulled out her phone. Even if she didn’t intend to reply to Liang Jiancheng’s text, she couldn’t avoid him passively either.

Leaning against a lamppost at the mouth of a small alley, under the dim halo of the streetlamp, Ming Xi caller Liang Jiancheng herself. Head slightly bowed, she covered her mouth lightly with her hand and spoke in a deliberately sleepy, groggy voice: “Um… Mr. Liang… did you need something? I was just about to sleep.”

On the other end of the line, Liang Jiancheng answered Ming Xi’s call, and upon hearing her words, fell silent.

Ming Xi kept her voice deliberately relaxed, a little dull, a little lazy—she sounded truly as if she were about to fall asleep. She even made herself yawn softly, followed by a slow sigh.

“Hello, Mr. Liang… I can’t hear you… Is your signal bad?” Ming Xi asked, puzzled, sounding completely genuine.

Liang Jiancheng finally responded, his voice slightly faint and restrained: “Are you in your dorm?”

“Of course, where else would I be at this hour? I’m definitely in my dorm,” Ming Xi replied matter-of-factly, her languid voice tinged with a hint of a smile.

Why was she lying like this?

It wasn’t to deliberately manipulate Liang Jiancheng, but rather she wanted to control herself. She couldn’t, and wouldn’t, meet Liang Jiancheng tonight. Even if deep down, she did look forward to seeing him—that improper, shameless little desire had no place at night.

Things always seemed to go wrong at night.

Just like that day at the clay-pot night stall. She had already told herself: avoid seeing Liang Jiancheng at night as much as possible.

The streetlights glowed in warm, cool rings of overlapping light. The night wind curled around her, lifting her dark hair into soft waves.

In just a few months, her previously short hair had grown past her shoulders.

No matter his attitude or his reasons for contacting her, she had to restrain that tiny, unreasonable spark of expectation she felt every time she saw him. Her mind was clear—clear enough not to tremble while lying.

…

A kilometer away, Liang Jiancheng’s black sedan was parked on the side of the street. He had already stepped out and was leaning slightly against the door—though not really resting on it.

He looked so composed, so self-controlled—and yet so utterly disheveled inside. He lifted an empty hand, intending to grab a cigarette from his pocket. But since he rarely smoked, of course there wasn’t one.

He could only take a deep breath to calm himself.

In the past five minutes, as he held his phone and listened to Ming Xi’s feigned sleepy voice and fake yawn, claiming she was already in bed, it felt as though someone had carved a hole straight through his chest and filled it with the cold wind of the night.

It wasn’t just a belated realization; he realized—again and again—just how presumptuous and ridiculous he’d been tonight.

He needed to patch over his foolish behavior.

Even though, in his heart… he felt he did have a legitimate reason tonight.

“It’s nothing. Just running an errand for Mr. Mills—delivering a gift to you,” Liang Jiancheng said. He was indeed holding the gift bag right now.

“Because of the candy, Mr. Mills asked me to pass this on to you. He’s very grateful for the help from the kind Chinese girl,” he added, his chest tight. With each word, his heart, hidden deep within, beat with a feigned yet powerful thud.

“Oh, I see…” Ming Xi let out an embarrassed little laugh, then continued in a warm, familiar tone: “When I saw your text earlier, I was wondering whether it was something good or bad. Thank goodness—it’s good news. Please thank Mr. Mills for me… and thank you too, Mr. Liang.”

“No need to thank me…”

“Of course I have to thank you. Thank you for running errands for me this late at night,” Ming Xi said lightly, her voice bright and open despite the suppressed breath beneath it. “And thank you for putting in a good word for me—there’s no way Mr. Mills would’ve known otherwise. So really, thank you so, so much, Mr. Liang.”

Her repeated gratitude was simply her way of drawing a clear line between them.

How could Liang Jiancheng not understand? He pressed his lips together, swallowing back the words he had been about to say. The wind from the same street ruffled his hair, lifting the fringe off his forehead and exposing his clean, elegant temples.

He lifted his head to look at the night sky; the wind brushed through his thinly trimmed sideburns, revealing the smooth, defined lines of his temple bones.

Voice came through the phone again.

Ming Xi’s polite yet tentative question reached his ears once more.

She asked him—

“Mr. Liang, you haven’t come out yet, have you?”

The night breeze lightly brushed through every street and alley, stirring the sycamore leaves by the roadside. Even the streetlights seemed to waver gently.

On such night, Liang Jiancheng told a rare lie.

“No.”

“That’s great, otherwise I’d have to apologize.” Ming Xi’s words were playful and considerate, but not apologetic.

“No need to apologize. Since you’re going to rest, I’ll bring it to you next time when you’re free,” Liang Jiancheng said.

“Thank you, Mr. Liang, sorry to trouble you.” After she finished, a deliberately concealed yawn drifted through the phone.

“Good night, get some rest.”

“Mr. Liang too, get some rest. Oh, I forgot to congratulate Mr. Liang on securing the big order from Mr. Mills.”

“The contract hasn’t been signed yet.”

“It’s only a matter of time. Congratulations, Mr. Liang.”

“Thank you.”

“…”

Finally, after finishing all the polite exchanges, Ming Xi decisively hung up the phone.

She exhaled slowly, slipped the phone into her pocket, and continued walking forward. After turning a corner, she reached the dormitory compound.

As she went upstairs, she quickened her pace, her figure quickly disappearing into the dim corridor.

In the car, Liang Jiancheng kept his headlights on, illuminating the stretch of road ahead. He started the engine and drove back toward the hotel.

The gift on the passenger seat—how he brought it, and now, how he had to take it back.

This phone call made Liang Jiancheng clearly aware of something: Ming Xi was different—different from what he had previously understood, different from what he had imagined.

—

For some reason, this week seemed to pass faster than last week. In the blink of an eye, another week was nearly gone.

Cai Ni’s training would soon be over, and she would officially start working.

On Friday morning, Ming Xi was working at the imported goods counter when she saw a man in a suit, with slicked-back hair and a face that looked like a rich second-generation boss, come into the imported goods section to browse.

Though he looked young and full of vigor, he carried a briefcase under his arm with a practiced ease.

He lingered in the import area, glancing around, pacing back and forth with an air of authority.

Behind him followed a tall man, dressed in the latest trend of a pragmatic businessman—a shirt paired with an old-fashioned jacket—his hair styled with mousse into a neat side part.

In short, both men looked quite sophisticated.

However, Ming Xi observed them calmly, without the slightest intention to greet them.

Finally, the slick-looking young boss approached the counter, tapped twice on the glass with one finger, then lifted his sharp, smiling eyes to sweep over her.

“Miss, let me ask you something—who’s the manager in charge here?”

Ming Xi raised an eyebrow slightly, her expression unchanged.

The young boss lifted his chin a little, his tone holding a touch of youthful boldness as he said, “Well, I have some business I’d like to discuss with him.”

Ming Xi’s reaction was indifferent, her brows remaining unchanged: “Oh, really?”

“Yes, so could you kindly point us in the right direction?” the young boss said with a polite, almost refined smile—like someone who had come from a place ten times bigger than Haigang.

Ming Xi tilted her head slightly, then turned back, and said seriously, “Take the elevator in the lobby to the third floor, turn left, it’s the second office.”

“Thank you, Miss.”

“Take care.”

—

After the two left, the sales associate who worked with Ming Xi approached her, asking curiously, “Those two young bosses looked quite impressive. Why weren’t you more enthusiastic?”

Ming Xi was always warm and welcoming at work. Compared to how she treated other customers—even if someone was only asking for directions—she shouldn’t have been that cold.

Ming Xi didn’t explain. She couldn’t.

“They must be those rich kids doing business for fun. They definitely don’t look like the self-made type,” the sales associate continued, offering her experienced analysis.

“…”

Yes, yes. Ming Xi pulled up a faint smile to agree. In her heart, she still thought: most people judge by appearances. Clothes make the man, and gold makes the Buddha.

Turns out that if you put on a suit, you’re immediately seen as nobility; call someone ‘young master,’ and they’re automatically a second-generation rich kid.

Seeing Dezi and Han Junjun like this… she had to admit; it was an eye-opening. She didn’t expect that in just a few days, the two of them had managed to transform their image and aura to at least fifty percent of the real thing.

And the clothes they were wearing… somehow looked familiar.

That was because—

A few days earlier, Dezi had shamelessly contacted the Yang family’s golden connection, Yang Minwen.

Even though he was bold and outspoken, Dezi was still shrewd when it came to crucial matters. He wasn’t trying to sell Yang Minwen his clothes; he was asking to borrow a few outfits.

Faced with such a humble request from a fellow townsman and relative, even a villain would’ve agreed, let alone someone as kind and gentle as Yang Minwen.

With the few sets of clothes provided by Yang Minwen, Dezi and Han Junjun really managed to dress up like “General Manager Yang” and “Factory Director Han.”

The idea Ming Xi suggested that day was indeed this: package yourselves before packaging the product. She just didn’t expect Dezi to be this daring—actually coming to Longmao Parkway to negotiate business.

How daring!

Her original suggestion was for Dezi to target major clothing outlets instead. For the common working class in Haigang, the places they bought clothes weren’t Longmao Department Store, nor the night market stalls.

But various clothing stores and supermarkets.

Sales were fast, and the bargaining power was low. As long as they showed a bit of sincerity, out of ten outlets, two would surely be willing to carry Dezi and Junjun’s goods on consignment. Their stock would be gone in no time.

They wouldn’t need to stockpile until next year; they might even sell out before summer.

Of course!

The reason Dezi came to Longmao today was that he and Junjun had already negotiated with four clothing stores. All were willing to adopt their consignment model.

Clothing shop owners weren’t fools. Dezi’s prices were low, the quality was good, the styles were unlike the common factory-made clothes seen around Haigang. Anyone with retail experience could glance at them and know whether they’d sell.

And with Dezi’s cooperation model, the outlets took almost no risk—they simply provided rack space. It greatly reduced their inventory burden. And since the clothes sold at about their usual prices, the profit margin per piece was higher than other items in their stores.

Any business owner with a modicum of sense would take this deal. Those who didn’t were only suspicious because Dezi and Junjun’s act had slipped during negotiation, making them seem like scammers.

Anyway, Dezi and Han Junjun went shop to shop, negotiating one by one. From their early clumsy pretending to now showing up at Longmao to find Ming Xi, they actually looked quite convincing.

Of course Longmao wouldn’t sign with them.

And Dezi knew that well.

But—since they were already here… going upstairs to meet the manager, having a cup of tea, practicing their confidence and negotiation lines—wasn’t that pretty good too?

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