Zhou Chang didn’t say any more, as the bride and groom had already stepped in front of the pastor, who began reciting a long passage that Jing Hong couldn’t hear clearly from where he stood.

Next came the couple exchanging their vows following the pastor’s lead.

They turned around, facing each other, holding hands, and gazing into each other’s eyes.

Only then could Jing Hong clearly see what the newlyweds looked like. The man was handsome and the woman beautiful—a match made in heaven.

Perhaps because the crucial moment had arrived, the spectators on the wooden bridge moved silently toward the chapel, drawing closer to them without causing any disturbance. Jing Hong and Zhou Chang followed behind them.

The soft vows floated over with the wind. Perhaps because he already knew the wording of marriage vows, even though he caught only a few scattered words, Jing Hong was able to piece together the complete passage in his mind.

They said: “I… take you… to be my lawful wedded wife/husband, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better for worse, for richer for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, till death do us part. I will love you and honor you all the days of my life.”

For richer or poorer, in sickness and in health, to love you and honor you every day of my life.

When they finished speaking, the onlookers were all visibly moved, for they were witnessing the single most beautiful moment in those two people’s lives.

The pastor opened a box, took out the rings, held them up, and said a few words before carefully handing one ring to the groom. The groom took it and slipped it onto the bride’s outstretched, slender finger. The bride wore long white gloves adorned with intricate, exquisite patterns.

With the ring put on, the pastor declared them husband and wife, his voice once again drifting over faintly: “Now that you both have committed yourselves to one another… through the sacred vows that you have taken and by the giving and receiving of these rings… I now pronounce you husband and wife.”

They had spoken the sacred vows aloud; from this moment on, they were husband and wife.

The pastor then turned to the man and said, “You may now kiss the bride,” and the newlyweds leaned in for a kiss. It was no perfunctory kiss for the sake of the ceremony—the groom lowered his eyes while the bride closed hers, wrapping her arms around her husband, fully feeling this tender, soft kiss brimming with love beneath the blue sky and amidst the turquoise sea.

As the kiss ended, the family, friends, and onlookers erupted into applause.

Jing Hong and Zhou Chang were no exception.

Only then did the bride and groom wave to the spectators, arm in arm, looking closer than anyone else in the world.

The wedding drew to a close, and the newlyweds began taking group photos with their families as the onlookers gradually dispersed.

Jing Hong and Zhou Chang walked down the wooden bridge. As lunchtime had just arrived, Zhou Chang asked Jing Hong, “Care to grab a bite together? There are a few very good restaurants on the main island.”

“Sure.” Jing Hong didn’t refuse, instead savoring this rare time when he and Zhou Chang were not standing as competitors. “Which one?”

Zhou Chang pondered briefly: “Deelani, perhaps. Seafood.”

Jing Hong replied again, “Sure.”

Any place was fine. When it came to “food,” Jing Hong wasn’t particularly particular—he was simply too busy.

The two walked together into Deelani Restaurant and found a table by the window facing the ocean.

A fresh rose sat on the table; after all, the vast majority of guests here were couples.

“Why don’t you head to the restroom first, CEO Jing?” Zhou Chang smiled. “I’ll hold the table.”

Jing Hong didn’t stand on ceremony either. He stood up, pushed back his chair, cast a faint glance around, and walked toward the restroom.

After Jing Hong returned, Zhou Chang went to wash his hands, checking his corporate email en route to handle a few urgent matters.

A couple of issues were somewhat tricky, so Zhou Chang stepped outside the restaurant to make two voice calls.

He had originally felt quite apologetic about leaving Jing Hong sitting there by himself, but to Zhou Chang’s utter surprise, when he returned to the restaurant, he saw a woman sitting right across from Jing Hong!

The woman was gorgeous and warm, speaking fluent English. However, she didn’t look to be of European descent, but rather Middle Eastern—with black hair and dark eyes, paired with a high nose bridge and deep-set eyes, exuding immense charm. She had likely immigrated to North America at a very young age, or was a second- or third-generation immigrant. Quite young, she was probably here on vacation with her parents.

Right now, the two were chatting happily. The girl was showing Jing Hong something on her phone, and Jing Hong was listening intently, occasionally chiming in with a few words. Zhou Chang stood there for a moment, yet Jing Hong didn’t notice at all that he had actually returned.

Zhou Chang watched silently for a brief moment, then walked over and sat down at an adjacent table next to Jing Hong’s.

He picked up the wine list, flipped through it, and ordered a glass of whiskey.

As luck would have it, right after he sat down, a girl sitting near the window directly ahead suddenly looked back. She bore a resemblance to a certain celebrity in her younger years. When their eyes met, Zhou Chang suddenly offered a subtle smile.

He knew his own charm, and sure enough, after a moment’s hesitation, the girl picked up her drink and walked over.

Jing Hong noticed this time, casting a glance over at Zhou Chang, their eyes meeting for a brief second.

Yet Zhou Chang suddenly felt bored.

As the girl reached him, Zhou Chang stood up and said, “Apologies, my companion is over there, and it looks like he just finished his conversation. I must head over now.”

The girl stopped in her tracks, her face a complete picture of “Excuse me?” “What on earth is wrong with you?” “Are you asking for trouble?” “I’m definitely complaining about this to my girls.”

Nearby, facing the stranger, Jing Hong also said, “Pardon me, my companion is back.”

“Ah…” The girl looked over at Zhou Chang, then asked Jing Hong, “Then… would you like to stroll around here together tonight?”

“No, thank you,” Jing Hong said. “Have a wonderful vacation.”

Jing Hong was no fool. The girl’s romantic interest had been painfully obvious, and it just so happened her brother was pursuing a Ph.D. at P University—she had shown Jing Hong photos and other things.

After the girl left, Zhou Chang sat down in the seat across from Jing Hong.

As he sat down, Zhou Chang kept his eyes fixed on Jing Hong’s, and Jing Hong did the same. Their glances carried hooks, capturing and probing one another.

Zhou Chang felt as though Jing Hong had already seen right through him, yet at the same time hadn’t.

After sitting down, their gazes remained intertwined for a few more seconds before Jing Hong lowered his head, half-looking at the menu, and asked Zhou Chang: “What are you having? This restaurant is quite famous.”

Zhou Chang opened his menu as well and said, “Being famous doesn’t prove anything. The last time I was at Post Ranch, I even ate something moldy.”

Jing Hong laughed: “What was moldy?” Post Ranch was the most famous luxury hotel along California’s Highway 1, hugely favored by Hollywood stars and Silicon Valley tycoons, with its restaurant boasting Michelin stars.

Zhou Chang said, “Blueberries. When brought out, they were covered in white fuzz, looking just like balls of yarn.”

This time Jing Hong let out a genuine laugh and asked, “Did you eat them?”

“Of course not,” Zhou Chang chatted idly. “I’m not blind.”

“Impressive,” Jing Hong teased. “I really didn’t expect CEO Zhou to be able to recognize moldy things.”

Zhou Chang asked, “…Why wouldn’t I recognize it? What kind of person do you think I am in your eyes?”

Jing Hong tilted his head and looked at him through slanting eyes: “Legend has it that the British butler at young Master Zhou’s family home practiced carrying trays with ping-pong balls, being meticulous to a fault. I thought young Master Zhou had never seen anything moldy in his entire life.”

Zhou Chang raised his eyelids from the menu and gave Jing Hong a somber, deep look, saying, “By the time the British butler arrived, I was already in college.”

The meal turned out to be remarkably pleasant.

Outside the window, waves crashed continuously.

The sunshine over the Indian Ocean was intense, bright to the point of appearing almost surreal. A vast, surging, tumultuous expanse of white light felt as though it might submerge the entire island.

Jing Hong looked out through the floor-to-ceiling window toward the sun, finding it dazzling and blinding. Millions of golden and silver arrows seemed to shoot out all at once, charging recklessly through heaven and earth, as if piercing through the entire space and raining directly into the restaurant.

It gave him a faint sense of dizziness and trance-like lightheadedness.

In the afternoon, the two hired separate small boats to return to their respective private islands, having no further contact.

Yet that very night, Jing Hong failed to restrain himself once again. This time, soaking in the bathtub’s foam, leaning his head back against the marble behind the tub, his skin turned flushed pink all over—partly from the temperature, partly from something else. At the very peak, the image of Zhou Chang’s body from that day resurfaced before his eyes once more.

Early the next morning, after getting up, Jing Hong prioritized handling a few approvals before heading to the tennis courts on the main island to play a few matches with others. Since he was finally on vacation, exercising was naturally a great choice.

He hadn’t expected to run into Zhou Chang yet again.

Zhou Chang happened to pass by the tennis court after coming out of the gym. Catching sight of Jing Hong by chance, he stood by the edge of the court for a while, a flash of admiration passing through his eyes.

When Jing Hong stepped off the court, Zhou Chang said, “CEO Jing, you play at a professional level.” This was no mere flattery—Zhou Chang played tennis himself, but Jing Hong was clearly superior. Zhou Chang had always held an accurate assessment of both himself and others.

Jing Hong corrected him: “Just call me Jing Hong.”

Zhou Chang said, “Apologies, habit took over.”

Jing Hong picked up on the earlier thread: “Actually, tennis is the only sport I can really show off. I’ve been practicing it for over twenty years.”

“Did you play semi-professionally in college?”

Jing Hong nodded: “I made the Stanford varsity team and won the NCAA national championship, but my teammates were far too strong, so I almost never played as a starter. The only time I competed was during my junior year, playing doubles with someone else and riding the team’s coattails to a championship.”

“Naturally,” Zhou Chang understood tennis to some degree. “Stanford’s tennis program has always been powerhouse level—the starter players probably all went pro after graduation, right?”

“Not necessarily,” Jing Hong said. “There are too many talents out there. Some realized their limits and went on to become software engineers instead. In fact, our seed player back then… his career-high ATP ranking over all these years was 141.” After a pause, Jing Hong added, “When I first found out, I felt a bit moved. The opponents I could never beat back then couldn’t even break into the world’s top 100. There’s always someone better.”

“…Mm.” Zhou Chang understood what Jing Hong was referring to.

There were simply too many talented individuals—true in tennis, and equally true in IT. They indeed occupied high positions, but that didn’t mean their capabilities were truly unmatched; they needed to recognize that luck played a part in everything they currently held.

A rare moment of lucid self-awareness.

Staying “lucid” was by no means easy. In this industry, successful people loved to attribute their success entirely to themselves, pontificating endlessly about secrets to success while consciously or unconsciously ignoring what might be the most crucial factors.

Once again, their minds met on the exact same page.

Jing Hong then asked Zhou Chang: “I don’t know much about swimming. But your butterfly stroke—does that also reach a professional standard?”

Zhou Chang said, “I can occasionally break 2 minutes 05 seconds in the 200m fly—extremely occasionally. Cutting down even a single second in that sport requires paying a massive price, and I don’t have the time. So I let it be.”

Jing Hong nodded: “Understandable. I get it.” Over these years, tennis had also gradually turned into a pure hobby, with dopamine being released elsewhere.

After Jing Hong left, Zhou Chang looked at Jing Hong’s departing figure.

He truly hadn’t expected Jing Hong to play tennis like that.

Usually dressed in a sharp suit, he had been wearing a T-shirt and shorts just now, his movements fluid with every stroke. Even so, through stroke after stroke, Zhou Chang could still discern much of Jing Hong’s underlying character—immensely patient, engaging in battles of attrition, but the moment an opening presented itself, he would strike with fierce, ruthless precision, biting down until the opponent had no chance to turn the tables.

After playing tennis and bidding farewell to Zhou Chang, Jing Hong returned to his suite. He didn’t venture out again, opting to sit at the round table in his study, flipping through the book in his hands while gazing at the ocean view outside the window. It was actually a light read—a director’s autobiography—that Jing Hong had been reading for half a year already, having precious little leisure time to spare.

Judging by his pace, however, he would be able to finish it this afternoon, putting him in a exceptionally good mood.

Jing Hong hadn’t rushed through any itinerary. He hadn’t participated in any of the Maldives’ most common activities like snorkeling, scuba diving, surfing, or deep-sea fishing—he simply wanted to relax, even though he could participate in most water sports to varying degrees.

He had merely taken a few walks over these past few days. But he had already explored the entire main island, even visiting the two wine museums and the jewelry museum.

It proved that given a bit of uninterrupted time, a light book could easily be read to its very last paragraph.

The director expressed gratitude to his wife, saying that were it not for her, his hostile, bitter self would likely be in prison right now rather than on a film set—his wife had saved him.

Having finished reading, Jing Hong set down the book, savoring the thought for a while, before walking over to the study’s floor-to-ceiling window, pulling it open to let the sea breeze blow in.

How should he spend the upcoming evening?

Just then, the room telephone rang right on cue.

Thinking it was the hotel service team, Jing Hong picked it up, only to find Zhou Chang on the other end.

“Jing Hong,” Zhou Chang called him by his name as agreed, “you know there’s a bonfire party on the main island tonight, right?”

Jing Hong asked back, “A bonfire party?” Clearly, Jing Hong had no idea.

“Yeah,” Zhou Chang answered, “organized by the hotel, considered an event. A few famous musicians will be here as accompaniment, playing guitars and such. The hotel will also open a few fine bottles of museum-grade red wine tonight.” There was a wine museum on the main island, housing a collection of exquisite wines.

Jing Hong felt a spark of interest and asked, “What time?”

“8:00 PM.”

“Alright. I’ll go check it out,” Jing Hong agreed. “Not like I have anything else to do anyway, and I’m flying back to Beijing tomorrow. What about you?” Waves, beach, bonfire, red wine, guitars, and dancing—it made for a fitting side dish for the final day of this vacation.

Zhou Chang replied, “I’ll go take a look too.”

“See you then.”

“See you then.”

At eight o’clock, the beach on the main island looked completely different from how it did during the day.

On the soft sand by the sea, dozens of bonfire pits outlined a vast circular open area. The pits were filled with local firewood, and bonfires burned fiercely. The metal walls of the bonfire pits were decorated with hollowed-out patterns of moons and clusters of stars. Through those moons and stars, the bright orange flames inside leaped and danced continuously. In the very center of the grounds sat an even larger bonfire pit.

Above the open space, dozens of yellow light strings stretched from beside the bonfire pits to converge high up in the air, with a string of lights suspended between every two bonfire pits. The lights formed a gentle, soft canopy draping down over the dance floor in the middle. The entire area was lit up as bright as day, bordered on one side by the pitch-black ocean.

Moonlight reflected off the water, carving out a long, narrow silver path across the sea, the ripples shimmering like fish scales. The moon shone bright, with occasional clouds drifting past, making the moon appear bashfully veiled. Waves crashed in rhythmic beats beneath the blowing sea breeze.

A bar stood along the edge of the grounds. The bar was three-sided, lined with chairs on the outside, while the innermost side allowed servers to step in and out to serve guests.

Beside the bar, a band was playing acoustic and bass guitars, alongside musicians on the piano and accordion.

In front of the bar, Jing Hong found Zhou Chang. Zhou Chang was still wearing a casual shirt, with a patch of dark gold pattern on his left chest that resembled an eagle. He sat on one side of the bar, facing the dance floor with his back to the bar counter, holding a drink in his hand, his long legs resting lazily on the ground in a relaxed posture.

Jing Hong walked over and said, “Hi.”

Zhou Chang raised his eyelids: “You’re here?”

“Mm.” Jing Hong sat on the stool next to Zhou Chang, pulled over the drink menu to glance at it, and placed an order. On this vacation island, two people who knew each other certainly wouldn’t sit apart.

Zhou Chang glanced over, chuckled softly, and said, “That drink is strong. They call it a cocktail, but it’s packed with tequila inside.”

“Doesn’t matter.” Back in the day, drinking glass after glass of baijiu to entertain clients hadn’t bothered him either.

Zhou Chang smiled without saying another word.

The drink arrived—a clear, beautiful purplish-pink, offering a sweet fragrance beneath its spicy kick, tasting quite good.

The dance party officially commenced shortly after.

The band struck up a dance tune, brisk and lively. People by the bar and across the distant beach headed onto the floor one after another.

Stepping forward, stepping back, sidestepping, spinning, lifting legs, raising arms, swaying hips, turning around. Men held women’s waists, and women placed their hands on men’s shoulders. Hands were tightly intertwined, reluctant to part.

After one song, people froze in place, slowly relaxing after two or three seconds, waiting quietly for the next track.

Soon the next dance tune struck up, and people began dancing once more.

With smiles on their faces, two hearts operated in complete harmony, two pairs of feet moving in perfect sync.

After a few drinks, Jing Hong’s face felt somewhat warm.

He hadn’t realized that one’s alcohol tolerance could actually decline. Having refrained from business entertainment and drinking over these past few years, his head felt faintly dizzy, his nerves numb, and his thoughts seemingly frozen in place.

Zhou Chang seemed to have drunk quite a bit as well; the service team had already cleared away several of his empty glasses.

Jing Hong used the icy glass in his hand to cool his face and asked Zhou Chang, “Want to go closer and watch?”

Zhou Chang set down his glass, nodded, and said, “Sure.”

And so they walked to the edge of the floor, facing the sea, watching the men and women on the dance floor through the lively, jumping flames of a bonfire pit.

All of them danced remarkably well.

The ladies wore beautiful evening dresses, exposing smooth arms and healthy calves, showcasing their beauty to their hearts’ content.

Several among them were exceptionally skilled dancers, their bodies sensual and hot like dancing spirits, far more vivid while dancing than in everyday life.

“The mortal world, filled with foolish lovers and tangled desires,” Zhou Chang suddenly remarked. “Yet, there are times when they dance together like this.”

He had also consumed a fair amount of alcohol—whiskey just as potent as tequila.

As time gradually slipped by, some stepped off the dance floor to drink and rest, returning after a while, then resting again in wave after wave.

Gradually, as everyone drank some alcohol, the atmosphere turned alternately passionate and lingeringly tender.

Pheromones slowly infused the air.

Outside the dance floor lay the gentle thermal waves of the Indian Ocean.

Dense, continuous, full of unspoken words.

One particular tune felt extraordinarily sticky and slow.

The melody dragged languidly, sounding like scattered dream fragments in the tropical evening breeze.

The air seemed to draw out fine threads of emotion, winding and branching out. Couples’ intertwined hands gradually loosened; women rested both hands on men’s shoulders, while men’s hands settled lightly on their partners’ waists, pair by pair swaying softly with the music.

Amidst the slow, gentle song, some couples began kissing while dancing, their eyes fixed on one another, brimming with admiration. The entire world fell away, leaving only each other in their eyes.

Swaying along, two pairs of South American couples in the corner grew even bolder and more unrestrained. The men’s hands sank lower as the couples swayed gently to the music, their gazes locked solely on their partners—thick, heavy, and lingering—kissing each other every now and then.

The Maldives had always been a holy land for honeymoons, packed with newlyweds, filling the air with the salty, heavy scent of hormones.

Affectionate eyes, silent lips, sensual waists, backs, legs, and high-heeled feet stepping to the rhythm of the music.

Jing Hong was already dizzy to begin with, and blowing in the night sea breeze seemed to make him dizzier still.

Echoing in his mind was Zhou Chang’s line: The mortal world, filled with foolish lovers and tangled desires.

Having spent so many days as “CEO Jing,” those words had felt so distant.

Before him, amidst the thick, sticky music, a couple extremely close to Jing Hong finally began kissing as well. They savored the taste of each other’s lips bit by bit, their movements gentle and their eyes tenderly intertwined. Unmindful of anyone else, it was as if only the two of them existed in the entire universe.

Without knowing why, Jing Hong and Zhou Chang looked toward each other at the exact same moment.

Jing Hong could clearly see the bonfire flames reflected in Zhou Chang’s eyes.

They weren’t standing extremely close—both were outside the circle, beyond the rounded arc line, separated by a few paces.

A string of lights hung horizontally between them, looking utterly in the way.

Still without knowing why, Jing Hong curved his lips at Zhou Chang and offered a faint smile.

It was no polite smile, but a direct, unblinking gaze paired with a curved lip.

Why smile? Jing Hong asked himself in his heart. He actually knew deep down that this smile of his was likely going to spark trouble.

Sure enough, seeing this smile, Zhou Chang immediately walked over, his voice scattering into the evening breeze as he took the initiative to ask: “CEO Jing… Jing Hong, care to dance a song too?”

Jing Hong nodded.

Zhou Chang added, “Shall we change locations?”

The dance floor was filled entirely with opposite-sex partners. Though Jing Hong’s brain was sluggish, he still barely managed to realize that as prominent figures, the two of them shouldn’t be recognized by anyone.

So Jing Hong nodded once more.

Behind the dance floor ran a long, narrow sandy path. Zhou Chang remembered that following it wouldn’t take long to reach a small, circular clearing equipped with a swing set.

Zhou Chang walked ahead while Jing Hong followed behind. Jing Hong knew he could still back out, yet he didn’t, merely following silently behind.

Time seemed to pass very quickly, yet very slowly.

Reaching the clearing, Zhou Chang asked Jing Hong, “Is here alright?”

A small circular clearing, pure beach sand underfoot, surrounded all around by tall, grand coconut trees, with a small swing set hanging between two of them. This spot was very close to the sea; just beyond a few layers of coconut trees lay the bonfire and dance floor from earlier. They could still hear the lush music from the musicians, the faint chatter near the bar, and the ceaseless washing of the night waves.

Jing Hong wore only a simple white shirt. He looked to both sides and nodded, meaning “this works.”

Perhaps at the request of the guests, the melody from earlier began playing again, its notes flowing lingeringly like a lover’s whisper.

Zhou Chang wanted to hold Jing Hong’s hand, but Jing Hong dodged. Both of them only knew how to lead, yet with extraordinary tacit understanding, each placed one hand on the other’s waist while resting the other on their shoulder—an awkward posture, yet strangely harmonious.

Clear rustling sounds echoed beneath their feet.

They swayed their bodies gently to the music, and then, consciously or unconsciously, both of their gazes landed on each other’s lips.

Both had drunk quite a bit. The cocktail Jing Hong drank contained fruit juice and syrup, and beneath tonight’s moonlight, his lips were vivid red and moist. A lip peak defined his upper lip while his lower lip was full and supple, standing out as the most striking feature under the bright moonlight.

Meanwhile, Zhou Chang’s lips were tightly closed—two thin planes with a perfect curve that usually looked excessively cold and distant, though not tonight. Having consumed plenty of wine, they stood out intensely in the moonlight.

They simply swayed, watching, with only each other’s deep eyes and vivid lips left in their vision.

Then, without knowing who took the initiative first—likely at the exact same moment—they began kissing passionately.

At first there was tentative probing, making contact and breaking away time after time, but soon the kisses grew dense as raindrops, uninterrupted one after another. Every touch carried a deep suction that drew out soft, wet sounds, before escalating into a deep, passionate tongue kiss.

They swept through the residual alcohol in each other’s mouth—spicy yet sweet, just like the person.

Instinct preceded logic.

Whether spurred by alcohol or enticed by the crashing waves, they felt the restlessness in each other’s hearts almost simultaneously, responding to one another instinctively.

The music neared its end. Embracing in the grove, they kissed wildly, inseparable and fierce. Moreover, as if vaguely sensing that this kiss was coming to an end, they pressed even harder and clung closer instead, their tongues sweeping wildly to catch this final release of restraint. The temperature in the air kept rising, and their breathing grew increasingly fervent with the rhythm of the kiss.

They kissed until the music stopped, their tongues numb and breathing ragged, before Zhou Chang finally asked Jing Hong: “Want to go to my room for another drink?”