His thoughts returned to the present.

Jing Hong knew that having started with a disadvantage from the offset, their team’s ability to achieve that final outcome meant they were by no means inferior to the opposition.

Inside the venue, the China Entrepreneurship and Innovation Competition pressed on. Fewer and fewer teams remained, until finally, all twenty roadshows came to an end.

Based on the scores, the competition determined the top three places. An official delivered awards, handed over trophies, and offered congratulations. Meanwhile, the young man whom the judges had greatly admired ended up ranked dead last—all because of the two “1-point” ratings from Jing Hong and Zhou Chang.

After the competition concluded, CEOs from several venture capital firms chatted with a few participants, while the rest of the judges gathered in small clusters to exchange further pleasantries.

Every participant approached by the big shots asking, “You’re XX/XXX, right? Care to chat?” was flattered and thrilled. The only notable exception was a young woman—the moment the competition ended, she clutched a stack of printed materials in her arms and handed them out one by one to the judges and guests. As she distributed them, she pleaded, “I am genuinely developing this product, and our company is already incorporated! Inside, you’ll find more detailed introductions, as well as…”

Jing Hong accepted a copy. While Chinese people prioritized saving face above all else, Jing Hong was actually far more fond of this type of proactive founder who actively created opportunities. He planned to ask Zhao Hanqing to evaluate her project.

The crowd gradually dispersed. Because Jing Hong stayed behind to chat a bit longer with a former subordinate of Jing Haiping who had later started his own business, he was among the last group to leave the venue.

Stepping out from the main hall, he first headed to the restroom. As he walked out of a stall, Jing Hong noticed Zhou Chang standing in front of the mirror washing his hands. He was dressed in a tailored black suit, his tall, imposing figure seen from behind.

Their eyes met in the mirror for a brief moment, neither of them uttering a single word.

In public versus in private were two entirely different matters.

Jing Hong also walked over to the vanity and extended his hands, cool water gushing out smoothly.

After wetting both hands, Jing Hong waved his palm in front of the automatic soap dispenser, yet… nothing came out. The soap dispenser offered zero response.

Jing Hong’s brow creased almost imperceptibly, and he held his right hand under the sensor a bit longer. The damn thing remained completely unresponsive.

Beside him, Zhou Chang glanced at Jing Hong and suddenly let out a quiet chuckle: “This soap dispenser has a mind of its own. I was trying it for ages just now, too.”

Jing Hong looked over through the mirror once more.

Zhou Chang took a step closer, stopping right beside the faucet next to Jing Hong’s. Holding one hand steady in front of his sensor, he said to Jing Hong, “Hand.”

For a moment, Jing Hong didn’t quite catch on: “…Hmm?”

Zhou Chang glanced at Jing Hong, then pointed to a specific spot: “Hand. Put it right here.”

“…” Jing Hong paused for two or three seconds, then leaned his upper body over, placing his hand palm-up at the spot Zhou Chang indicated. Zhou Chang’s gaze landed on it—Jing Hong’s palm lines were remarkably clean, his fingers long, slender, and lean, with a slight deformation on his middle finger from holding pens too much, bearing a thin callus. Beneath the skin at his wrist ran faint green veins and taut, firm tendons.

Zhou Chang waved his hand over the sensor, and a dollop of milky-white, translucent liquid soap fell right into Jing Hong’s palm.

Zhou Chang added, “You gotta do it like this… The sensor isn’t in the middle.” Instead, it was positioned unusually low on the casing.

Amused by the absurd design of the contraption, Jing Hong let out a quiet laugh: “Thanks.”

“No problem.”

Afterward, Jing Hong washed his hands thoroughly—palms, between his fingers, back of his hands, thumbs. Turning the faucet back on, he lowered his gaze, rinsing his hands inside and out with the cool running water.

Zhou Chang walked over to the paper dispenser near the restroom exit, pulled out a paper towel, and watched through the mirror while wiping his hands.

During the process, Jing Hong sensed something; without interrupting his handwashing, he lifted his eyes. Spotting this, Zhou Chang’s gaze slid smoothly across the polished mirror from Jing Hong’s hands up to his face.

The two stared at each other recklessly through the mirror for a long moment.

Neither said a word.

When face-to-face, people rarely stare directly into each other’s eyes—it would appear far too aggressive. Yet Jing Hong realized that when separated by a mirror, one somehow could.

In the end, it was Zhou Chang who first tossed his paper towel into the trash bin, turned around, and walked out ahead.

…

After stepping out of the restroom, upon reaching the central lobby on the first floor, Zhou Chang’s phone chimed.

Answering it, he stepped into an adjacent hallway.

It was the president of the Cloud Computing division. Zhou Chang spoke a few words into the receiver when he spotted Jing Hong entering the lobby.

Jing Hong walked straight ahead without turning his head, clearly unaware of Zhou Chang’s presence.

Yet just as Jing Hong reached the entrance, he abruptly stopped in his tracks. He crossed his arms, the thumb and forefinger of his left hand lightly pinching the shirt cuff at his right wrist. Bending his neck, he looked around, searching the ground. When he failed to find what he was looking for, he turned around and walked straight out the main doors.

The entire time spent searching took no more than five seconds; he gave up swiftly—his time was far too valuable.

“…” Once he hung up the phone, Zhou Chang took a few steps to the mouth of the hallway, lowered his eyes, and saw a cufflink resting quietly on the floor tile right in front of his leather shoes.

He picked it up, holding it between two fingers to inspect it closely at chest level.

An indigo stone, framed by a delicate halo of pavé diamonds.

Zhou Chang recalled that Jing Hong seemed to be wearing a traditional French cuff shirt today with folded cuffs. While seated on the judging panel, a section of pristine white shirt had peered out from his dark blue suit sleeves, fastened with a cufflink.

This was it.

Hearing footsteps approaching from behind, someone called out, “Mr. Zhou, haven’t left yet?”

“Got held up for a moment,” Zhou Chang replied. As he spoke, he wiped the cufflink using the hem of his expensive suit jacket, pulled back the pin, and casually slipped it into his pocket. Turning back with a smile, he said, “Just waiting for my driver. He parked quite a distance away.”

…

Jing Hong was still heading back to Jing Haiping’s home today, so his driver hadn’t come.

The moment he stepped through the front door, dinner was already nearly ready. Jing Haiping was reading a newspaper, while Jiang Mei was listening to an audiobook about an overbearing CEO. Jing Hong faintly caught a line: “When XX arrived at the company, several secretaries rushed to stand up, bowing in unison as they chimed, ‘Good morning, CEO Xie!'” Thinking to himself, that CEO must be severely out of his mind.

Aunt Fu greeted Jing Hong, and the family gradually gathered around the dining table.

“Jing Hong,” Jiang Mei said, “Aunt Fu told me you barely ate a proper bite last night, only to sneak into the kitchen in the middle of the night to open the fridge looking for food?”

Jing Hong: “…”

Only after a few seconds did he reply, “I got hungry from studying professional books.”

“Acting just like a child,” Jiang Mei looked at her son, intending to scold him, but ended up laughing instead. “Not eating proper meals, then hunting for food in the middle of the night.”

Jing Hong said helplessly, “…I only ate a few lychees, that’s all.”

“Alright,” Jing Haiping’s tone, on the other hand, was entirely stern. “Jing Hong, I just heard that you reassigned Old Chu?”

“Yes.” Jing Hong took a bite of a braised lion’s head meatball. “I used to turn a blind eye to him, but this year, he’s been forcing Fanhai’s distributors to hoard inventory to an increasingly severe degree. He crossed the line.”

Fanhai also manufactured physical hardware, such as VR headsets.

Jing Haiping sighed: “Old Chu is a founding veteran after all. He followed me decades ago, from my very first company to the second, and then helped me establish Fanhai… You could have given him a subtle warning first… You’ve only been in charge for a year; if you wipe out the old veterans without mercy, I’m worried about your reputation.”

“He lacks the capability.” Jing Hong cut off his father. “The products are all handled by those below him; Old Chu doesn’t even understand the basics. Before every product launch, purely out of his own anxiety, his design department is forced to work overtime making constant revisions—simply because design is the only thing he thinks he can evaluate. In the end, they always revert to the original version anyway—a total waste of effort. To make his sales figures look pretty, he forces Fanhai’s distributors to purchase a mandatory quota of inventory every single time, causing inventory backlog to grow more and more severe, breeding deep resentment. Company employees, business partners—which of them isn’t more important than Old Chu? Oh right, did you know? Last month, a quality inspector at Fanhai was abruptly fired simply for raising quality defects to a supplier, deeming the supplier’s quality substandard. As to whether there were kickbacks involved, you can figure that out yourself. Quality issues are our baseline; if he can’t bear the consequences, he shouldn’t play with fire.” Jing Hong let out a cold sneer. “Now that he’s placed in a low-responsibility role to live out his retirement in peace, he should count his blessings. Why is he still filing complaints with you? He got what he deserved. Besides, my reputation genuinely doesn’t matter; people nowadays are pragmatic—who would turn away from money?”

Jing Haiping froze slightly: “He…”

“He changed long ago,” Jing Hong said. “Dad, someone like you who can show soft-hearted mercy and still achieve great success is an absolute miracle. If I go around showing leniency at every turn, won’t that Zhou Chang from Qinghui swallow me whole?”

“Fine, fine…” Jing Haiping washed his hands of the matter.

After a short while, Jiang Mei brought up some industry gossip: “Do you know? The founder of ‘XX Tech’ was led away in handcuffs from his company.”

“I heard,” Jing Hong nodded. “It has something to do with his ex-wife, right?”

“Exactly,” Jiang Mei elaborated. “First, the ex-wife discovered a mistress, and then went on to discover a fourth, a fifth, a sixth… practically enough to form a reinforced company. Then she discovered several illegitimate children—the husband bought villas for those women and luxury cars for those kids, while she and their son were living frugally and enduring hardship, which finally drove her to get a divorce! But the startup capital for ‘XX Tech’ was actually provided by the wife’s brother! After the couple turned against each other, the wife’s brother wanted to audit the books, but the husband refused! Well then, the ex-wife’s brother promptly sued him in court, alleging that an investor and major shareholder of XX Tech was denied access to company accounts! Naturally, he won the lawsuit. Who would have guessed—as they were auditing the accounts, the founder ended up being led away in handcuffs, apparently for embezzlement of corporate funds.”

Jing Hong echoed his mother’s sentiment: “Then he truly got what he deserved.”

“There’s another recent incident,” Jiang Mei continued gossiping. “The wife of that CEO from XXX.com previously filed for divorce and division of property. Guess what happened? The court discovered that the two of them had already been granted a divorce by the court 15 years ago! Back then, the wife had gone abroad for her PhD, while XXX.com was just showing signs of taking off. So that CEO took advantage of his wife being overseas—where court documents couldn’t be served directly—to rush through a divorce lawsuit! Supposedly, once a notice exceeds 60 days of being dispatched, it’s deemed served? Meaning the trial proceeded even though the wife wasn’t present? That is far too scheming.”

Jing Hong laughed at Jiang Mei: “Where do you pick up these gossip details? How come no one ever tells me?”

Jing Hong realized that Manager Jiang was by no means uninterested in gossip—she simply used to lack the time for it.

Jiang Mei curled her lip: “You guys naturally wouldn’t know. In short, plotting against one’s own spouse like that is truly tragic.”

Yet in reality, pre- and post-nuptial maneuvers designed to ensure a wife walked away with not a single penny after a divorce were as common as hair on a ox.

At this moment, Jing Haiping suddenly chimed in: “Alright, stop babbling about these things in front of our son. Jing Hong should start considering his own lifelong milestone. If you keep going on and on like this, Jing Hong is going to lose faith in romance and married life altogether. Most first-marriage couples—like us, for instance—aren’t we doing perfectly fine?”

“That’s true.” Jiang Mei looked at Jing Hong. “Jing Hong has reached the age for it, too.”

“Forget it,” Jing Hong said with little enthusiasm. “No rush. I haven’t met anyone suitable yet. If I happen to cross paths with someone in this lifetime, we’ll see; if not, then so be it.”

Parents of the older generation always wished for their children to establish a family. Hearing Jing Hong say this, Jiang Mei naturally disapproved: “No rush, you say… What kind of person do you even like? Even that Zhou Chang from Qinghui has been going on blind dates recently.” As she spoke, she dropped yet another piece of gossip.

Jing Hong’s chopsticks paused mid-air, as if he had just heard a joke: “…Zhou Chang? Blind dates? Zhou Chang would obediently go on a blind date?”

Jiang Mei countered: “…What’s wrong with that?”

“Nothing,” Jing Hong maintained the same expression. “I just find that format incredibly tedious—not something Zhou Chang would ever go for.”

“What’s wrong with that format?” Jiang Mei said. “A couple with matching family backgrounds won’t scheme against each other as much. Besides, rumor has it the lady is gorgeous and has a gentle personality, very suitable for someone like Zhou Chang. I wonder which family’s daughter she is; we could ask around. If the two of them don’t hit it off, you two could give it a try.”

Jing Haiping nodded in agreement as well.

“A gentle personality?” Jing Hong’s expression looked even more as if he had heard a joke. “Then it’s even less likely Zhou Chang would like her.”

“You make it sound as if you know him so well…” Jiang Mei wasn’t particularly pleased. “Then tell us, what kind of person should he like?”

Jing Hong felt he could actually guess Zhou Chang’s taste accurately. Thinking it over, he smiled and said: “I reckon… he likes them wild.”