With Fanhai powerless to reverse the situations regarding Xindong Media and Feichi Motors, Jing Hong naturally put them out of his mind.

A few days later, Jing Hong had to travel to Chongqing to attend a highly important event—the China International Intelligent Industry Expo, commonly known as the “Smart China Expo.”

The Smart China Expo was jointly hosted by over a dozen ministries and commissions, including the Ministry of Industry and Information Technology, the National Development and Reform Commission, the Ministry of Science and Technology, the Cyberspace Administration of China, the Chinese Academy of Sciences, and the Chinese Academy of Engineering. Its official partners included agencies from various foreign countries, such as Singapore’s Ministry of Trade and Industry. This year marked its inaugural edition, with Sichuan Province as the sole guest province of honor.

Rather than a mere symposium, this was a trade show centered around exhibitions and commercial displays, alongside conferences, forums, and competitions such as an autonomous driving challenge and a drone racing grand prix.

The organizers hoped the Smart China Expo would help carry China’s intelligent products abroad onto the global stage. Consequently, this year’s Expo would feature a centralized contract signing for major projects, complete with a formal ceremony.

The head of Fanhai’s marketing department had long since led a group of elite subordinates to bustle over and set up the exhibition. At the Expo, Fanhai Group’s “booth” would be positioned dead center in the venue, right next to Qinghui Group’s, boasting a massive area and a gorgeous setup. The heads of the AI Business Group and the Cloud Computing Business Group had also departed the previous evening, accompanied by Senior Vice Presidents of Marketing, Senior Vice Presidents of Sales, Senior Vice Presidents of Key Accounts, the Vice President of Hong Kong, Macao, Taiwan & International Operations, as well as general managers in charge of various exhibiting products—among whom were SVPs and VPs. Naturally, a number of product managers, front-end managers, and back-end managers across various product lines had also gone along. They would be stationed at the booth to explain the core selling points of each product and answer questions from clients, while the elites from Key Accounts and the International Department within the Sales Division would be primarily responsible for outreach and client relations.

Fanhai was simply immense.

The last two people to set off were Jing Hong and his assistant.

For this trip, Jing Hong was only scheduled to deliver a brief keynote speech at the main forum, look at the exhibited products of other companies, check on his own company’s contract-signing status, and finally attend the signing ceremony. The overall itinerary was relatively relaxed.

In the VIP lounge of Beijing Capital International Airport, Jing Hong was waiting for news regarding his boarding call.

The flight was scheduled for 6:00 PM and would land in Chongqing around 9:00 PM. After a good night’s sleep, he would be well-rested for the main forum the following morning.

Jing Hong leaned against a window, sitting in a single-seater sofa with his long legs crossed, reading a report.

In between, two people walked past. Jing Hong raised his eyelids slightly and happened to meet Zhou Chang’s gaze.

Zhou Chang offered a slight nod, and Jing Hong nodded back in turn, acknowledging the greeting. Jing Hong knew in his heart that the other man was almost certainly taking the same flight.

With the greeting out of the way, Jing Hong’s eyes returned to the document in his hands. Out of the corner of his eye, he caught sight of Zhou Chang and his entourage walking past behind him and taking a seat in a row somewhere out of view, after which the atmosphere quieted down once again.

Jing Hong kept waiting for the boarding announcement, but after a while, he couldn’t help but feel that the wait was taking a bit too long.

Before long, Jing Hong was proven right once more—an airport announcement broadcasted that due to a slight issue during pre-flight routine checks, China Southern Airlines Flight 2704 would be delayed, with an uncertain departure time.

The VIP lounge ground staff came over to inform Jing Hong personally as well.

“…” After thinking it over, Jing Hong instructed his assistant, Tan Qian, to ask the lounge staff if they could transfer him to another upcoming flight, as he didn’t want to wait around indefinitely.

Beijing was not China Southern Airlines’ main hub; under these circumstances, whether it came to repairs or aircraft dispatch, it was inconvenient and could take a substantial amount of time.

The assistant complied.

A short while later, the ground staff member returned and told Jing Hong and his assistant, “There are several upcoming flights, but business class and economy class are both completely fully booked. However, the 10:15 Sichuan Airlines flight still has a few seats available, with a landing time of 1:30 AM.”

“10:15?” Jing Hong checked his watch. “That means waiting nearly four hours?” His eyes shifted upward, revealing a touch of the lower whites of his eyes.

Without any embarrassment, the staff member answered openly, “Yes, sir.”

Jing Hong nodded. “Alright, thank you. Let me think about it.”

“Very well, sir.”

Once the ground staff member left, Jing Hong closed the document and tapped his right fingers gently against the armrest of the sofa.

Then, just as Jing Hong was hesitating, a gentle male voice reached his ear: “President Jing.”

“…?” Jing Hong turned his gaze and found that the speaker was Zhou Chang’s assistant.

“President Jing,” Zhou Chang’s assistant bowed slightly and said, “Mr. Zhou asked if you would like to come with us. Mr. Zhou’s private jet applied earlier for a domestic route to Chongqing, and it can take off shortly. Mr. Zhou wants to know if you’d like to join us?”

“…” Jing Hong glanced back. Zhou Chang was sitting on a beige sofa behind him. Seeing Jing Hong look over, he offered a polite smile.

Jing Hong turned his neck back, pondered for a moment, and ultimately said to the assistant, “Alright. My thanks to Mr. Zhou, then.” If the next commercial flight ran into issues as well, his schedule would be completely ruined.

The assistant nodded and said to Jing Hong, “We’ll set off in five minutes.”

“Sounds good.”

Jing Hong flipped through a few more pages of the document when he felt a large hand gently squeeze his right shoulder, followed by a familiar, magnetically resonant voice right by his right ear: “President Jing… is heading to Chongqing, I see.”

It tickled his ear.

Jing Hong hadn’t expected Zhou Chang to walk over in person.

He handed the document to Tan Qian to pack away, stood up, and caught up with Zhou Chang, who had intentionally slowed his pace. With one hand tucked into his trousers pocket, Zhou Chang held a phone in his other hand, seemingly checking his emails.

So Jing Hong followed silently.

By the time Zhou Chang led Jing Hong out of the airport terminal, Zhou Chang’s driver was already waiting.

Jing Hong took a look—well, well, yet another Rolls-Royce.

The previous Rolls-Royce had been handed over to Chris Wells, and here was another one.

He wondered which lucky employee would be handed a Rolls-Royce key next.

Zhou Chang and Jing Hong sat together in the rear seat of the Rolls-Royce.

Zhou Chang had put away his phone. As soon as the car doors closed, he let out a soft laugh: “Good thing I applied for a domestic route earlier.”

Jing Hong smiled as well and asked, “Then why did you switch to a commercial flight in the first place?”

Zhou Chang tapped his fingers on the door’s control panel beside him and said, “I saw the news that a private jet crashed in Las Vegas last night. Scared the life out of me.”

“…” Jing Hong couldn’t tell whether this claim was real or fake, so he stayed silent.

“Though there’s no other choice now anyway,” Zhou Chang smirked slightly, asking Jing Hong as he buckled his seatbelt, “Does President Jing still dare to go? If we die, we die together.”

“Let’s go.” Jing Hong felt that the man beside him was truly far from serious. He clicked his seatbelt firmly into place and replied to Zhou Chang, “I believe Mr. Zhou isn’t that unlucky, and neither am I.”

“Of course,” Zhou Chang joked, “President Jing is a dragon among men, one of those most favored by Heavens above.”

The atmosphere between the two lacked any of the tension from recent times—where one had repeatedly rejected the other’s investment in Feichi, while the other had racked his brains to force his way in.

They soon arrived at the business aviation terminal.

After passing through security, Jing Hong looked out toward the tarmac and suddenly remarked, “Peng Zheng is here too.” Peng Zheng was the CEO of Hangyuan, one of the Big Four. Right then, his private jet was parked conspicuously in the first spot on the left; Jing Hong recognized it.

Jing Haiping and Jing Hong actually owned private jets of their own, but if a direct commercial flight was available, Jing Hong generally preferred commercial—the flight tended to be smoother. Thus, Jing Hong naturally knew that when not in operation, these aircraft were managed by charter management companies. The fact that this jet was parked here meant Peng Zheng was also departing tonight. Jing Hong had seen the guest list for the Expo; Peng Zheng was attending as well.

Knowing that the relationship between the Jing father and son and Hangyuan was far better than their relationship with Qinghui, Zhou Chang asked Jing Hong—whether in earnest or in jest: “In that case, are you going with him?”

Jing Hong really couldn’t figure out what Zhou Chang was playing at. Looking over in that direction, he said, “Peng Zheng didn’t invite me.”

Zhou Chang confirmed once more: “So you’re still coming with me?”

“Could it be…” Jing Hong paused briefly in his step, teasingly asking, “…that Mr. Zhou is having second thoughts?”

“Don’t wrong me like that,” Zhou Chang chuckled softly. “I was just afraid President Jing might have second thoughts.”

Zhou Chang’s private jet was a Gulfstream G650, a model only approved by the Civil Aviation Administration of China early last year; the previous one belonging to Zhou Buqun had presumably been retired.

Jing Hong recalled Jing Haiping’s evaluation of the Zhou father and son: “Identical in their extravagance and self-indulgence.”

Jing Hong pondered that the next time he saw Jing Haiping, he ought to report: Zhou Chang had not only changed his car, but also upgraded his plane.

The Gulfstream G650 featured the largest interior space among business jets of its class. Jing Hong glanced around: the door to the private stateroom was closed, which typically housed a double bed and an LED TV. Outside were four single-seater armchairs, also in beige, with the wooden tables folded away. Between the single armchairs and the stateroom door was a conference area that could seat six.

Zhou Chang said, “Take any seat you like.”

“Thank you.” Jing Hong didn’t stand on ceremony either, picking a single armchair by the window and telling his assistant, Tan Qian, to sit opposite him, sharing a single table.

There were only four seats in this section, so Zhou Chang’s seat was separated from Jing Hong’s by the aisle.

This arrangement was the most reasonable—or rather, the only reasonable one: the two corporate titans faced forward in the direction of flight, while their respective assistants sat facing backward.

Jing Hong and Zhou Chang weren’t on familiar enough terms to chat face-to-face for the entire journey. Jing Hong was merely hitching a ride today to get to Chongqing. The aisle of the Gulfstream G650 wasn’t narrow, allowing both of them to mind their own business throughout the flight, exchanging pleasantries and farewells only before disembarking—a setup that suited them perfectly.

Once everyone was settled, the business jet took off.

The aircraft was equipped with a pressure control system that matched the cabin pressure with the exterior, ensuring no discomfort during the ascent.

A dozen minutes later, the plane entered a relatively stable cruise phase. Jing Hong originally intended to continue reading the proposal from earlier, but after picking it up, he reconsidered and decided against it.

What if Zhou Chang’s private jet had cameras or something similar? This proposal was confidential.

So Jing Hong laid the document down gently on the table, crossed his arms, and quietly looked out the window.

Zhou Chang raised his eyes and asked, “Done working, President Jing?”

“Done working.” Jing Hong gestured toward the window. “The clouds tonight are quite beautiful.”

Jing Hong wasn’t actually a romantic person; these words were purely an excuse.

Hearing this, Zhou Chang also looked out at the scenery, then closed the document on his lap, stowed his table, tossed the file onto the table, and said, “In that case, I might as well stop working too.”

Outside the window, it was dusk.

The cloud deck was bathed in orange-red, gently rolling beneath them as if the plane were floating through a soft field of cotton in the morning light. The sun rested right on the horizon, a full, round orb casting two broad bands of golden light to either side. Above the gold lay a dark, deep blue; below, a brilliant yellow. Peering down through the gaps in the clouds, the earth looked like a massive oil painting, thriving block by block, stretching boundlessly into the distance.

Under such a twilight, everything took on a warm orange-yellow hue, including Jing Hong’s face by the window.

Zhou Chang quietly observed Jing Hong’s face, bathed in that warm glow, for a moment.

Like a pearl in the evening light, quietly waiting for human hands to retrieve it.

Jing Hong naturally noticed the gaze and silently asked with a look: “?”

Zhou Chang smiled: “President Jing’s skin is so pale it looks like a fluorescent light.”

Jing Hong: “…………” What a terrible analogy.

Zhou Chang glanced back out the window and remarked casually, “Back when I was doing consulting in the States, I traveled on business constantly.”

Jing Hong’s interest was piqued.

Zhou Chang continued, “Once, the plane was just about to take off when a Black man in the cabin suddenly started clawing at his own face until it was a bloody mess—he probably had a psychological breakdown. The flight crew worried he might be a terrorist and ordered everyone off the plane, then conducted an immediate security sweep. The inspection took over four hours, making that the first time I ever spent an entire night at an airport hotel.”

Finishing his story, Zhou Chang shifted his gaze back, and their eyes met.

“Speaking of which…” Facing his assistant, Tan Qian, as well as Zhou Chang beside him, Jing Hong shared an experience with flight delays of his own. He smiled and said, “There was one time in Argentina when the plane had already taken off, but it suddenly struck a bird. Word was that a crack formed on the window, so the plane landed immediately, delaying us by several hours as well.”

Zhou Chang: “Sounds pretty dangerous.”

“It was actually alright.” Their eyes met again, and Jing Hong said to Zhou Chang, “That was also when I learned that bird strikes usually happen during takeoff and landing. But commercial airliners are large enough that they can arrange an immediate landing.”

Zhou Chang nodded: “I see.”

After a moment, Zhou Chang asked Jing Hong, “Have you two had dinner yet? I can have the galley prepare something.” The plane had a galley onboard.

“No need,” Jing Hong replied, facing Zhou Chang. “The two of us grabbed a bite before boarding. We’re not hungry.”

“How about something to drink then?” Zhou Chang asked further. “I have some fine wines here, though I don’t know if they’d be to your taste, President Jing.”

“Don’t trouble yourself,” Jing Hong said. “Ice water is fine, thank you.”

Zhou Chang then asked Jing Hong’s assistant, “And Assistant Tan?”

Tan Qian replied, “Ice water for me as well, thank you, Mr. Zhou.”

Zhou Chang then directly asked the flight attendant for four glasses of ice water.

Quite to Jing Hong’s surprise, the flight attendant here was not a young, glamorous girl, but a seasoned woman in her mid-forties who looked highly experienced. In China, female flight attendants typically transferred to ground roles before the age of 35, or at the latest by 40. Jing Hong deduced that this flight attendant had likely worked in commercial aviation in the past.

Jing Hong took a few sips, resting the glass in his lap, and suddenly remarked, “The last time I came to Chongqing was actually 20 years ago.”

“Oh?” Zhou Chang was somewhat surprised. “In your seven or eight years at Fanhai, you’ve never been to Chongqing?”

Jing Hong shook his head, looking at Zhou Chang: “No. Quite strange, isn’t it?” After saying that, he turned back around. “Though perhaps because of a childhood filter, I have a very good impression of Chongqing.”

Zhou Chang looked at him without speaking, so Jing Hong continued, “Beijing is a vast plain, you see. Back then, I found Chongqing’s constant ups and downs—going uphill one moment, downhill the next, up a building, down a building, walking across high footbridges connecting roads or buildings—to be particularly fascinating.”

Zhou Chang nodded in agreement.

“And then there’s the Chongqing night cruise,” Jing Hong added. “The Yangtze and Jialing Rivers. The sight of sight-seeing boats gliding through the river waters, flanked by dense clusters of glowing lights from high-rises lining both banks, was extraordinarily beautiful.”

“The Two Rivers Night Cruise in Chongqing?” Zhou Chang said. “I actually haven’t tried that.”

Jing Hong told Zhou Chang, “In my memory, it was exceptionally beautiful.”

“When you were a child…” Zhou Chang mused for a moment, “Hongyadong hadn’t been built yet, right? It should be even more beautiful now.”

“Is that so,” Jing Hong took a sip of ice water. “Then I should take another look if the opportunity arises.”

Pausing briefly, Zhou Chang asked again, “Does President Jing have any other memories? Of Chongqing, I mean.”

“I do,” Jing Hong smiled at Zhou Chang. “I remember eating at an incredible hot pot place.”

“Oh?” Zhou Chang asked, “Which one? Is it still around?”

“It was called ‘Shancheng No. 1’.” Jing Hong had an excellent memory; he traced the character for ‘mountain’ in the air with his finger toward Zhou Chang. “As for whether it’s still open… I wouldn’t know.”

Zhou Chang leaned his body to the side, pulling out his phone: “‘Shancheng No. 1’, right?” He searched for it, raising an eyebrow a few seconds later. “Found it. It’s actually still around. A time-honored brand, and currently one of the most recommended Chongqing hot pot restaurants.” Since this was Zhou Chang’s private jet, the Wi-Fi connected automatically.

Jing Hong nodded: “Given the taste of that place, it’s well deserved.”

Because they were sitting side by side, it was impossible to keep their necks twisted at an angle constantly. So Jing Hong and Zhou Chang chatted idly like this—facing their respective assistants or gazing aimlessly at the scenery outside, occasionally meeting each other’s eyes, and speaking a word or two to one another from the lingering sunset to a sky full of stars.

They covered a wide range of topics. At one point, while flying high above the clouds, they even brought up the movie Up in the Air.

At the time, Jing Hong asked Zhou Chang: “Have you seen the movie Up in the Air, Mr. Zhou?”

“I have,” Zhou Chang answered. “The story itself seems boring on the surface, but the theme is quite profound, and I agree with it. A modern person’s desire for freedom and desire for companionship are inherently contradictory. Fortunately, I’m not particularly attached to ‘companionship’.”

Up in the Air, a 2009 drama directed by Jason Reitman and starring George Clooney, received Oscar nominations for Best Picture and other categories the following year. The protagonist was a corporate downsizing expert who traveled through major airports worldwide day after day, year after year. Later, he met another “frequent flyer,” and from then on, a beautiful woman joined the other side of his luggage. Facing the female lead, Ryan Bingham wanted to change his lifestyle, settle down, marry, and have children. The film’s ending was quite unexpected—his girlfriend was already married with a family; she merely wanted freedom alongside her domestic life. In the end, Ryan embarked on his travels once more.

“I agree as well,” Jing Hong said. “Though in my heart, I still harbor a subtle hope that these two things aren’t forever in conflict.”

Could there be a person who would allow him greater growth and even broader freedom?

Zhou Chang smiled and said, “President Jing has always been quite idealistic.”

“Thank you,” Jing Hong smirked slightly. “Personally, I don’t consider ‘idealistic’ a bad word.”

The two hours went by unexpectedly fast.

Finally, as Chongqing’s bustling night view slowly unfolded beneath them, Zhou Chang’s initial thought was that he was somewhat reluctant to land.

It was a strange thought, but he truly was somewhat reluctant.

The plane finally landed smoothly.

Perhaps influenced by Zhou Chang’s line about seeing the news of the Las Vegas private jet crash and being “scared to death,” when the plane’s wheels touched the ground, Jing Hong genuinely let out a sigh of relief.

It suddenly occurred to him: he had heard that many wealthy couples rarely took the same flight to avoid catastrophic risks. The same applied to certain major enterprises—company executives almost never shared a flight. Looking at it this way, his and Zhou Chang’s approach of “if we die, we die together” was quite against the rules—if the plane had crashed, two of the “Big Four” leaders would have been wiped out in one go.

Unbuckling his seatbelt, Jing Hong stood up, tall and long-legged. Zhou Chang stood up alongside him.

Zhou Chang smiled: “Two hours of having nothing to do, taking it easy, looking at the sky and clouds… I haven’t experienced that in at least 20 years. I can’t even find it in my memory—no idea when the last time was.”

For people like them, the most precious commodity was “time.”

The poor strove to trade time for money, while the rich strove to trade money for time. To some, time was the most valuable asset, whereas to others, time was the cheapest thing they had.

Hearing Zhou Chang say this, Jing Hong searched his own memory and realized he was the same. So he replied politely, “The feeling is mutual. Though having a turn at ‘doing nothing’ doesn’t seem half bad, does it?”

“It really isn’t bad,” Zhou Chang said, one hand in his pocket. “How does that line go again? Passing by a bamboo-lined temple, I conversed with a monk…“

“Right,” Jing Hong smiled unconsciously, completing the second half of the couplet: “…and stole a half-day of leisure from a floating life.“

“Mm,” Zhou Chang said, his gaze suddenly locking onto Jing Hong’s eyes. “I never would have thought before that the only time I’d ever ‘do nothing’ and ‘take it easy’ would be with President Jing.”

Locked in his gaze, Jing Hong felt a subtle flutter in his heart, yet remained unruffled on the surface as he said, “Once again, the feeling is mutual.”

Just then, the cabin door slid open, letting in the mountain city breeze. Jing Hong checked his personal belongings, especially his phone and documents, shook hands with Zhou Chang once more to say goodbye, and thanked him again: “Thank you for the ride, Mr. Zhou.”

“You’re welcome,” Perhaps having spent a long time in the US, Zhou Chang replied in English—a phrase not particularly common in America, yet delivered naturally: “It’s my pleasure.”