Over the next few weeks, Jing Hong spoke with Jing Tianping twice more—once on Jing Hong’s initiative, and the other on Jing Tianping’s—yet they still failed to reach an agreement.

The occasion Jing Hong initiated was a round of golf at an upscale club, but they didn’t come to terms on business. Instead, a college senior nearby recognized Jing Hong as a so-called “mogul” and actually handed over his resume. Jing Hong actually liked people who knew how to seize opportunities, so he had the company’s HR arrange an interview for him.

During these few weeks, Jing Hong ran into Zhou Chang once again, still at a certain IT event.

As usual, Jing Hong and Zhou Chang were arranged by the organizers to sit side by side. Jing Hong actually found it a bit strange: everyone knew they didn’t get along, yet every organizer insisted on putting them together.

Jing Hong had taken his seat first, and Zhou Chang walked in later. Dropping into his chair, Zhou Chang straightened the name card on the table and let out a casual laugh: “Is President Jing not avoiding me anymore?”

Jing Hong glanced at Zhou Chang, knowing he was referring to the time he swapped his name card at the previous conference, and said indifferently: “You’re overthinking it.”

Zhou Chang gave a soft chuckle and said nothing more.

With about ten-odd minutes to go before the conference opening, the two chatted casually.

Zhou Chang asked: “Saint Games delisted from the LSE (London Stock Exchange) last week?”

“Yes,” Jing Hong said. “It was privatized by Fanhai. Fanhai now holds a 100% stake.”

“Congratulations.” Even though he had lost that business war, Zhou Chang displayed grace at this moment: “Mark Greenberg tried to be clever, but in the end, it’s easy to invite the gods over and hard to send them away. Fanhai is hardly someone so easily dismissed.”

Jing Hong said with distaste: “Mark Greenberg is such a fake, manipulative guy.”

Zhou Chang agreed: “He is.”

Not long after, the forum began.

The first half of that morning’s session was somewhat dull and boring. Having worked until 4 AM last night, Jing Hong felt a bit sleepy, so he headed to the break room during the midday recess.

As it turned out, Zhou Chang was actually there as well.

Stirring a cup of instant coffee, Zhou Chang said: “The ones earlier were far too boring.”

“A bit, yeah.” Jing Hong had always been cautious by nature, yet facing Zhou Chang, he unexpectedly uttered a critique that wasn’t quite suitable to share.

Then Jing Hong also pulled out a small packet of instant coffee, tore it open with his long, slender fingers, poured it into a plain paper cup, and filled it with boiling water from the water dispenser beside him. Next, the index finger of his right hand tapped across the storage rack in front of him, sliding gently across the coffee and tea bags at a slight distance, before finally pulling out a packet of sugar.

Jing Hong tore open the sugar packet and poured the contents inside into the coffee. As if feeling it wasn’t enough, he shook his hand slightly, leaving not a single grain behind.

Jing Hong pulled down a small carton of milk, pinched the opening with two fingers, peeled it open, and poured that into the coffee as well.

Having done all this, Jing Hong looked at the cup of coffee, hesitated for a moment, pulled out a second sugar packet, tore it open to pour inside, and held a small steel spoon to stir it.

Leaning gently against the table, Zhou Chang held a ceramic coffee cup in his hand, drinking while watching.

He watched Jing Hong’s fingers tear open the sugar packet, open the milk, and stir the coffee—exceedingly nimble, and exceedingly beautiful.

Jing Hong naturally sensed it and glanced toward Zhou Chang: “?”

Zhou Chang’s gaze slid from Jing Hong’s hands up to his face. He didn’t speak, taking a sip from his coffee cup without dropping his eyes.

“…” Ignoring him, Jing Hong took two steps to the water dispenser and added a bit of cold water. He simply wanted to stop feeling sleepy; the taste of the coffee didn’t matter.

After drinking more than half of it in a few gulps, Jing Hong poured the rest into the sink, tossed the paper cup into the trash can beside him with a clack, and left without looking back.

Not long after, the second half of the morning session began.

The first speaker was Zhou Chang. Zhou Chang’s speech was on Large Language Models (LLMs), and the audience present finally stopped feeling sleepy.

It was packed with valuable insights.

Coming down from the stage, Zhou Chang’s throat felt a bit dry, so he cleared it softly.

Peng Zheng, sitting on the other side of Jing Hong, heard it. He nudged Jing Hong with his elbow and whispered something to him.

“…” Jing Hong nodded, then leaned in toward Zhou Chang on his other side, asking with a slight smile: “Peng Zheng wants to know if you need some Pangdahai (boat-fruited sterculia)? He brought a pack.”

Zhou Chang: “…………”

Meeting Jing Hong’s playful gaze, Zhou Chang said: “No need, thank President Peng for me.”

“Alright.” With the corners of his lips still turned up in a smile, Jing Hong gestured for a conference volunteer to come over with a thermos flask. He then turned over the ceramic cup resting upside down on his table, saying: “Then I’ll take some.” The ceramic cup, saucer, and bottled water were all prepared in advance by the conference organizers.

Zhou Chang once again: “…………”

The volunteer came over and poured boiling water. Jing Hong said a “Thank you,” then leaned toward Peng Zheng’s side. Peng Zheng lowered his head and opened a red package; Jing Hong took a look, picked through them, and pulled out a piece of something, dropping it into his teacup.

The item quickly steeped and expanded, unspooling into delicate threads.

Jing Hong pinched the cup, brought it to his lips, and feeling it was hot, blew a few gentle puffs of air toward the water before carefully taking a tiny sip.

After one sip, he took another.

“So this is what it tastes like,” Jing Hong smiled softly. Having been teased so many times before, Jing Hong consciously made a move to tease Zhou Chang back with a line or two this time. Returning the teacup to its saucer, he casually used the tip of his middle finger to trace half a circle around the rim, lightly covering the rim with his five fingers as he asked: “Sure you don’t want to try some? It soothes the throat and clears the voice—doesn’t President Zhou have a cloud computing roundtable discussion this afternoon?”

Zhou Chang shot a glance at Jing Hong, suddenly leaning forward while extending his right hand. Slinking over in a somewhat lazy manner toward the top of Jing Hong’s teacup, he said: “Let me take a sip first.”

Jing Hong’s hand instinctively pulled back, dodging away.

Zhou Chang had large hands; if not for that dodge, Zhou Chang’s hand could have completely covered Jing Hong’s, with his fingers fitting right into the spaces between Jing Hong’s fingers.

Without pausing his movement for even a fraction of a second, Zhou Chang picked up the teacup in a completely natural, perfectly composed manner. With his other hand, he turned over his own empty ceramic cup and poured a bit of Jing Hong’s tea, the liquid making a crisp splashing sound. Holding both sides of the ceramic cup’s rim with his left hand, Zhou Chang brought it to his lips, took a sip, and said: “Let me taste what this stuff actually tastes like first—don’t let it go to waste.”

Jing Hong looked at him, saying nothing.

Jing Hong knew that once again, Zhou Chang’s “intimacy” was flawless—he hadn’t drunk from it directly, but had poured it into his own cup instead.

Zhou Chang finished it in two sips and set the ceramic cup back onto its saucer.

That water had just bathed the philtrum bump of Jing Hong’s upper lip moments ago.

And the side of the rim used for pouring was the exact same side Jing Hong’s finger had just slid across.

Seeing this from the side, Peng Zheng felt a bit strange in his heart, yet still assumed his Pangdahai had met two true appreciators. He hastily opened the bag again, pulled out another one, and asked Zhou Chang across Jing Hong: “President Zhou, I still have more here. Would you like one?”

Zhou Chang looked at him out of the corner of his eye and said: “Keep it for yourself.”

…………

Jing Hong also delivered a speech on edge computing for autonomous driving, after which it was time for the conference lunch. Fanhai and Qinghui sat at two separate tables with no interaction throughout. By the time Zhou Chang walked back to the entrance of the conference hall, he found Jing Hong chatting casually with the head of a PE firm.

Zhou Chang slowed his pace. Thinking Zhou Chang had something to discuss with Jing Hong, the PE head bade farewell to Jing Hong and returned to the conference hall first.

Jing Hong glanced at Zhou Chang, turned around, and was about to leave as well.

“President Jing,” Zhou Chang suddenly called out to him.

Jing Hong turned back: “…Mm?”

Walking up behind Jing Hong, Zhou Chang suddenly reached out, grabbing Jing Hong’s far-from-slender wrist with one hand, while using his other hand to pat the back of Jing Hong’s left sleeve, asking: “Where did you get a whole armful of dust from?”

“Hmm?” Jing Hong recalled briefly: “Earlier when I was chatting with President Gao Ying, several people tried to walk past, forming a wide line, so I stepped to the side. It must have brushed off then. Suit jackets catch dust easily, nothing can be done about it.”

“Mm.” Zhou Chang still held Jing Hong’s wrist very meticulously. Once most of the dust on the sleeve was patted away, he checked again, continuing to clean off the remaining faint streaks.

Jing Hong didn’t move either.

“Jing Hong,” as he was nearly finished, Zhou Chang suddenly spoke from behind: “The question I asked before… about whether or not to be together—it’s still valid now. Just so you know.”

“…” Jing Hong knew that question referred to “whether to be together.”

The fingers of Jing Hong’s left hand instinctively wanted to curl inward slightly, but he stopped himself, not wanting to display any emotion, merely saying: “Okay. I got it.”

Zhou Chang looked at Jing Hong. Seeing Jing Hong like this, he leaned forward slightly, suddenly leaning in close to say in a volume at Jing Hong’s ear that only the two of them could hear clearly: “If I had known earlier… I wouldn’t have listened to you that night.”

Jing Hong asked silently: “…?”

“‘No more’ or ‘I can’t take it anymore’ or whatever,” Zhou Chang continued at Jing Hong’s ear, his voice low and mature, sounding almost like a gentle coax: “I should have insisted on going all out. How could once be enough? It had to be twice, three times, four times, or even more.”

“…” Hearing these words, his fingers once again wanted to curl inward slightly, but Jing Hong maintained his restraint.

“And things like ‘you go use the guest bedroom’ or whatever,” Zhou Chang’s words didn’t stop as he continued, “If I had known earlier, no matter what happened that night, I would have held you to sleep.”

Jing Hong: “…”

Jing Hong himself was still able to maintain an air of composure, but right at this moment, the Apple Watch on his left wrist began to vibrate.

Buzz, buzz, buzz, one pulse after another.

Jing Hong froze for a moment, but quickly realized—his heart rate had exceeded his pre-set threshold.

He had gotten nervous.

Perhaps because the two statements Zhou Chang had just uttered were actually the faint inner desires he himself had felt during this period.

In meetings, on speech platforms, no matter how grand the occasion or how big the spectacle—even when accompanying top state leaders on official visits to foreign countries—this thing had never issued an alert before.

Precisely because of that, the upper limit had actually been set very low.

Yet right now, because he was patting off dust, Zhou Chang’s hand was holding the very wrist wearing the watch. Through a layer of a suit jacket and a layer of a dress shirt, Zhou Chang’s palm could absolutely feel its vibration.

Sure enough, Zhou Chang asked: “President Jing…?”

“…” Jing Hong composed himself and said: “A call is coming in.”

If a call came in, this thing would naturally vibrate continuously as well.

Zhou Chang gazed deeply at the patch of Jing Hong’s exposed cheek, and only after a long pause did he say: “Alright then, take it. I’ll head into the venue first then.”

Jing Hong said: “Okay.”

After Zhou Chang left, Jing Hong took a deep breath and pushed open a corridor window to soothe the inner restlessness he felt at this moment.

The phone suddenly rang. Jing Hong pulled out his phone to check—it was Peng Zheng.

He picked up: “Hello, President Peng?”

“President Jing,” Peng Zheng asked, “The session is about to start, where are you?”

Jing Hong said: “In the corridor, coming back right now.”

When he took his seat again, Zhou Chang glanced at Jing Hong without saying anything, but that single look carried a sense of intimate teasing.

…………

After listening to the first half of the afternoon session, the two went to different sub-forums to participate in other activities—one attending a roundtable discussion, the other engaging in a debate between two sides.

Once finished, neither Jing Hong nor Zhou Chang saw each other again, each departing the venue with their respective drivers.

On the way back to Qinghui Group, Zhou Chang received another phone call from his cousin, Zhou Qingyuan.

“Bro,” Zhou Qingyuan started right away with gossip, “I heard another top-tier star showed interest in you? And they weren’t even asking to marry into a wealthy family, just asking for a one-night fling? You’re incredible, my dear cousin—in just two years, it’s said that both male and female top-tier stars have expressed that intention.”

Zhou Chang said: “They don’t have the standing for a one-night fling with me.”

Zhou Qingyuan asked out of curiosity: “Then who has the standing for a one-night fling?”

Zhou Chang said nothing.

It was far more than wanting just a one-night fling.

Taking stock last night, he realized he didn’t actually possess anything that could attract Jing Hong—his family background, status, position, and wealth were all obstacles instead. He had never anticipated this state of affairs.

“Forget it, forget it, let’s not mention that.” Zhou Qingyuan asked again: “What have you been up to lately? Haven’t heard a peep from you in a long time.”

Zhou Chang casually loosened his tie, saying in a relaxed manner: “Unrequitedly in love with someone.”

Those words were far too terrifying; the other end of the line instantly fell so quiet that a pin drop could be heard.

Even Zhou Chang’s driver in the front seat suddenly shrank down a bit.

Only after a long while passed did Zhou Qingyuan click his tongue: “Bro, you’re joking, right?”

Zhou Qingyuan thought he would hear the familiar “What else?”, but to his surprise, Zhou Chang actually confirmed it to Zhou Qingyuan once more: “Right, unrequitedly in love with someone. And I was even told by that person that I ‘have no self-respect’.”

Zhou Qingyuan asked: “Who?”

Zhou Chang said: “Afraid it’ll scare you.”

“Scare…” Zhou Qingyuan made a few guesses, but couldn’t figure it out. He asked: “Told by that person that you ‘have no self-respect’… Bro, it seems you have a long road ahead of you. What do you plan to do?”

“What do I plan to do?” Zhou Chang let out a low chuckle and said: “Be even more lacking in self-respect.”