A few days after returning to Beijing, Jing Hong was scheduled to attend a relatively large IT conference held in Chengdu, one which Zhou Chang would also be attending.

Jing Hong’s first reaction was that he didn’t want to go; his second reaction was why on earth shouldn’t I? He thought he could bring everything back to its original state.

The night before the IT conference, Jing Hong told his assistant, Tan Qian, to head to the conference venue earlier, instructing: “Check the name cards on the tables. If my seat is arranged right next to Zhou Chang’s, swap the name cards around. Make sure there are at least two people seated between me and Zhou Chang. Also, don’t let anyone see you when you swap them.”

Tan Qian wore a face of complete bewilderment: “…Why?” In the past, even though the two of them didn’t get along, they had at least maintained a surface-level courtesy.

Jing Hong kept a stern face: “Just do as you’re told. Why so many questions?”

Tan Qian: “…Oh.”

Of course, Jing Hong could have asked the organizers to change the seating arrangements directly, but he didn’t want to make headlines or invite outside speculation. Otherwise, if it were leaked, journalists from all sides would undoubtedly write all sorts of sensational nonsense—things like “A Look Back at the History of the Feud Between Jing Hong and Zhou Chang.” When that happened, Jing Haiping, Jiang Mei, and even Jing Yu would come over to interrogate him, and he wouldn’t have anything he could tell them.

By swapping the cards secretly like this, even if the organizers noticed later, they would only assume the few of them had agreed upon it privately because Jing Hong wanted to chat with whoever was seated next to him.

On the day of the IT conference, Jing Hong wore a dark gray suit, a color cold and austere.

Upon arriving at the venue, Jing Hong immediately glanced at the guest name cards on the table and found that Tan Qian was indeed reliable. In the center of the long row of seats designated for “Industry Guests” were the CEOs of Xingyuan and Weilai; he himself was on the left of Xingyuan’s CEO, Peng Zheng, while Zhou Chang was on the right of Weilai’s CEO.

“…” Jing Hong stepped forward and walked over.

A moment later, the CEOs of Xingyuan and Weilai both arrived, followed finally by Zhou Chang.

Zhou Chang was dressed entirely in black, with a silver-gray tie around his collar, shiny leather shoes, and flawlessly styled hair—looking every bit the calm and indifferent figure Jing Hong was thoroughly accustomed to.

The indulgence and passion of that night felt as though it had been nothing more than an illusion.

Seeing the seating arrangement, Zhou Chang froze briefly, but he didn’t react further. He walked straight behind his chair, pulled it out, sat down, adjusted his position, and then opened the brochure in front of him to coolly check the schedule. Throughout the entire process, Jing Hong didn’t even lift his head once.

Xingyuan’s CEO was somewhat bewildered to find himself sitting in the “C-position” center seat among the “Big Four”—he hadn’t received this kind of treatment in years. He looked left at Jing Hong, then right at Zhou Chang. Seeing the CEO of Weilai casually playing on his phone next to him, he decided to just let it be.

While waiting for the opening, Jing Hong spoke quite a bit with Peng Zheng beside him, just as he usually did. He even politely exchanged two sentences with Weilai’s CEO—whom he habitually found tiresome—inquiring about his father’s health. But he did not spare a single glance for Zhou Chang.

Zhou Chang didn’t look up, either.

After flipping through the brochure, he leaned back against his chair and held his phone with one hand to check his emails.

In the distance, Zhou Chang’s assistant caught sight of Zhou Chang’s slightly cold expression; unable to fathom what he was thinking, the assistant sat there as if on pins and needles.

After the IT conference officially opened, Jing Hong and Zhou Chang each gave their speeches on IT, and at noon they had lunch at the restaurant beside the venue.

A small section inside the restaurant had been partitioned off for the executives and guests, while the area outside offered boxed lunches to regular attendees much like a cafeteria—two vegetable dishes and one meat dish. However, the number of meal vouchers was fairly limited on a first-come, first-served basis, so everyone else had no choice but to find food elsewhere.

Jing Hong and several executives from Fanhai were the first to sit down. Later, Qinghui’s group came over, and the tables of the two companies were separated by only a single center aisle.

Zhou Chang cast a faint glance over and took a seat at the spot furthest from Jing Hong. Jing Hong was right by the aisle, whereas Zhou Chang sat at the furthest point from that aisle.

Yet in between, Zhou Chang’s gaze still drifted over several times. Jing Hong maintained a posture straight as a ramrod throughout; no matter what he ate, he handled it immaculately, with his usual meticulousness.

Despite the distance, Zhou Chang could still hear bursts of laughter from that table. The general manager of the marketing department whom he had met last time was full of witty remarks; Jing Hong listened while sporting a subtle smile, occasionally interjecting a word or two.

After a while, the staff served a plate of spicy rabbit heads. Jing Hong said to several of his executives, “I’ve never quite understood how one is supposed to eat this thing.”

The general manager of the marketing department happened to be a Chengdu local and possessed a very hearty personality. She immediately said, “Come, come, let me dismantle one for you, President Jing!”

Jing Hong originally wanted to decline, but after a brief pause, he ultimately said nothing and tacitly permitted it, smiling faintly as he watched quietly.

In less than two minutes, the marketing general manager had disassembled the rabbit head—placing the two lower jaw pieces at the bottom, the cheeks on either side, and lifting off the skull to reveal the brain on top. She handed the plate back to Jing Hong and said, “President Jing, that’s all there is to it. First eat the two jaw pieces here, and then…” She explained the steps in meticulous detail.

“Alright,” Jing Hong pulled the plate toward himself. “Thanks. I thought I’d never figure out how to eat this thing in my lifetime.”

The other party bragged about herself: “I am a master among masters, after all!”

Zhou Chang: “…”

He casually glanced at the executive sitting across from him. Perhaps because the look he had cast over there just now was too obvious and lasted a bit too long, the executive immediately whispered, “I’m from the Northeast.” Though he was only 165 cm tall, he was a Northeasterner.

Zhou Chang again: “…”

For the final staple dish, the organizers served Sichuan cold noodles.

Zhou Chang found it a bit bland, so he picked up the small vinegar bottle from the condiment tray on the table and tipped it over, but only two or three drops came out—the vinegar bottle was practically empty.

Everyone present possessed keen eyes and high emotional intelligence. An executive sitting near the aisle immediately asked the Fanhai table, “Pardon the intrusion, but do you have any vinegar at your table?”

Jing Hong took a look and passed the small vinegar bottle at his hand over. The executive took it and passed it along to Zhou Chang.

Receiving it in his hand, Zhou Chang remained expressionless.

Vinegar. And handed over by Jing Hong himself.

…Heh.

That afternoon, after the IT event concluded, Jing Hong intended to return to the company. There was a closed-door dinner in the evening, but Jing Hong had no intention of attending.

Unexpectedly, right before leaving the venue, Jing Hong bumped straight into Zhou Chang in the restroom.

While Jing Hong was washing his hands in front of the mirror above the sink, he faintly heard the door of a cubicle open. Looking through the mirror, his eyes locked straight with Zhou Chang’s in the reflection.

Their eyes collided for two or three seconds before Zhou Chang retracted his gaze. He walked over to another sink and turned on the faucet, sending ice-cold water splashing out with a loud rush.

In his peripheral vision, Jing Hong could see Zhou Chang’s movements as he washed his hands. Zhou Chang’s hands couldn’t be described as elegant or noble; rather, they were full of strength. They were very large, with broad palms, long and slightly thick fingers, and distinctly defined knuckles.

Certain images surfaced in his mind.

It was these very hands that had… ignited the fire, ripped open his buttons with a single tug, and afterwards, held him up with one hand to bear his weight while the other… tossed him onto crest after surging crest of passion.

Yet right now, those hands were spotless and clean.

Jing Hong forced himself to stop thinking about it.

He shook both hands to flick off the water droplets, then walked over to the hand dryer mounted on the wall nearby. Turning his palms upward, the hand dryer immediately blew out a warm, gentle breeze.

Dozens of seconds later, Zhou Chang came over as well.

He stood to one side, waiting for Jing Hong. There was only one hand dryer in this restroom.

Zhou Chang’s gaze fell first upon Jing Hong’s handsome side profile. Jing Hong’s skin was pale and fair, and the area just below the outer corners of his eyes carried a touch of red, softening the cool detachment in his pupils.

As he watched, Zhou Chang’s eyes dropped, drawn toward a hickey tucked inside Jing Hong’s collar.

Jing Hong’s skin was fair and thin. Although several days had passed since that night, the mark had not fully faded. Right now, though faint, it remained conspicuous against his fair neck.

Hidden within the collar, it would normally be impossible to see. But Zhou Chang was standing very close, positioned to the side, and at nearly 190 cm tall, he was looking down from above—which happened to give him a clear view of that hickey.

In Zhou Chang’s impression, Jing Hong, as the CEO of Fanhai, always wore suits or dress shirts—cool, austere, and carrying the dust of the battlefield all over him. Yet Zhou Chang now knew exceedingly well what lay beneath that suit.

Scenery after scenery.

Jing Hong naturally felt Zhou Chang’s gaze as well. He originally intended to feign ignorance, but after just two or three seconds, he decided to lay that night’s matter out clearly once more and put it behind them for good.

When the hand dryer stopped and the cramped space returned to silence, Jing Hong asked Zhou Chang faintly, “What are you looking at?”

Zhou Chang shifted his gaze upward and teased, “Take a guess?”

“…” Jing Hong turned to leave, pushing open every single cubicle door in the restroom one by one as he walked, confirming that no one else was there.

Zhou Chang noticed a paper towel dispenser hanging on the other wall. He roughly pulled out two sheets, wiped his hands dry, crumpled them into a ball, and tossed them into the trash can.

Having finally finished checking, Jing Hong turned back around and said, “It was already made clear last time: what happened during the holiday stays in the holiday.”

Clearly this was for the best, yet Zhou Chang’s heart sank. He gave a cold laugh: “You certainly move on freely, President Jing. What an impressive attitude toward life.”

Jing Hong let out a gentle sigh and asked, “President Zhou, then what exactly do you want?”

Hearing this, Zhou Chang actually froze.

Indeed, what did he want?

To continue it? He knew that wasn’t appropriate either.

Could it be that he wanted to kiss him once more? To indulge and be reckless with him night after night after night?

In truth, it could only ever be this much.

They were still the helmsmen of Fanhai and Qinghui.

If those words were uttered aloud, Jing Hong would probably say, “President Zhou had better find someone else.”

And so, Zhou Chang stuffed both hands into his trousers pockets, remaining silent.

Seeing Zhou Chang temporarily rendered speechless, Jing Hong knew the matter was settled. He turned around and walked toward the door.

Spurred by this, Zhou Chang didn’t have time to think. Spontaneously, he took two steps forward, grabbed Jing Hong’s wrist in a firm grip, and blurted out his name: “Jing Hong.”

“…” Jing Hong’s heart trembled slightly. He pulled his wrist back and said, “President Zhou, conduct yourself with dignity.”

With that, Jing Hong pulled open the heavy door and strode out.

Stepping out of the venue, Jing Hong’s car was already waiting by the roadside.

Jing Hong pulled open the car door and stepped inside.

In the car, he tried to hold meetings, review documents, and reply to emails as usual, but his mind was in a considerable state of disarray.

The car passed by a flower shop.

Business at the flower shop was booming; the ground outside its entrance was strewn everywhere with fallen leaves and snapped stems.

Jing Hong thought: A rose is certainly large and gorgeous, but after it has been picked, there remains a scattered mess on the ground that needs cleaning up after all.

He only hoped that this time, he had truly finished cleaning it all up.

He couldn’t afford to provoke Zhou Chang, but Zhou Chang couldn’t afford to provoke him either.

Jing Hong recalled the way Zhou Chang had stared so earnestly at his neck just now.

The red hickey on the side of his neck felt slightly hot, as if ready to spark a prairie fire. Jing Hong unconsciously touched the mark with his fingertips, but even his fingertips seemed to burn from the contact.

He let out a sigh and closed his eyes inside the car.