The last project had wrapped, and the next one hadn't taken shape yet. For once, Zhong Qing didn't have to burn the midnight oil.
She caught the Friday evening bus straight from the office, packed in so tight her feet barely touched the floor, riding it all the way out to the suburbs. By the time she reached the courtyard, the sky had faded from pale grey to deep dusk. She assumed Yi Chengcheng would have already eaten.
She assumed wrong.
Yi Chengcheng was sitting perfectly still at the dining table, chopsticks untouched, ignoring every gentle coax from Aunt Liu. The moment Zhong Qing stepped through the door, Aunt Liu let out a relieved breath.
"Thank goodness you're back. This child knew you were coming today and refused to eat a single bite. Just sat there waiting."
Yi Chengcheng's face lit up. She crossed the room and wrapped both hands around Zhong Qing's arm without a word.
Zhong Qing changed out of her work clothes and transferred Aunt Liu's fees for the week ahead, a little more than usual thanks to the bonus. Aunt Liu protested that it was too much. Zhong Qing looked at Yi Chengcheng's face, fuller than last time, color in her cheeks, and decided it wasn't enough.
After dinner, she brought Yi Chengcheng out to the yard. They sat under the open sky and Zhong Qing washed her hair by moonlight.
Yi Chengcheng loved this.
Afterward she stretched out with her head in Zhong Qing's lap, her damp hair fanning out slowly in the night air. She lay completely still, like a cat that had finally found somewhere safe.
Zhong Qing kept her voice low and easy, trying to draw her out. She asked small things, gentle things, leaving room for any answer at all.
None came.
Zhong Qing didn't push. The doctor had said the same thing more than once: this couldn't be rushed. Yi Chengcheng's silence wasn't a wall that could be broken down in a night. It had to be worn away, slowly, with patience and time.
The moon moved across the sky. When it reached the middle of the night, Zhong Qing patted Yi Chengcheng's head and brought her inside to bed.
Yi Chengcheng inched across the mattress until she reached Zhong Qing's side, then curled her fingers around her arm and went still.
Zhong Qing stared at the ceiling.
Such a small, soft person. And such a brutal amount of damage done to her.
Her parents gone overnight. Everything she'd known stripped away in an instant, the carefree life, the safety, all of it. That alone would have been enough to shatter someone. But then a man had come along and taken advantage of what was left of her, and whatever remained of Yi Chengcheng had simply closed shut. She stopped speaking entirely after that.
In the dark, Zhong Qing pulled the blanket up over her and leaned close.
"Chengcheng. Everything passes. You don't have to carry it forever." She kept her voice barely above a whisper. "Mom and Dad are watching over you. And the person who hurt you, I'll make sure he pays for it."
She stayed the whole weekend. Sunday night, once Yi Chengcheng was asleep, she said goodbye to Aunt Liu, reminded her of the usual things, and took the long-distance bus back to the city.
It was past ten when she reached Jinjia Apartment.
The elevator at this hour was usually empty. Tonight it wasn't.
Three men stood inside, all tall, all in suits, all carrying the unmistakable looseness of people who had been drinking. One of them stopped her the moment she walked in. He had a full beard covering his jaw and cheeks, thick and unruly, but the suit he wore somehow made it work, rough and polished at the same time. He had a large bottle of Royal Salute tucked under his arm like it was perfectly normal.
Zhong Qing forgot to press her floor.
The lean man standing closest to the panel turned to her. His face was clean and sharp, composed, the kind of face that reminded her a little of Qiao Mingxuan.
"Which floor?"
She told him. He didn't press anything, just smiled at her.
She glanced at the panel and realized they were going to the same floor. That explained the smile. Coincidence, it said.
She smiled back. Yes. Quite a coincidence.
The elevator climbed.
Zhong Qing ran through it quickly in her head. The apartment building had a two-unit layout per floor. They wouldn't be visiting Shi Yani, who was out of town for the night. That left one door.
Qiao Mingxuan's.
The elevator opened. She stepped out first, pressed her thumb to the fingerprint lock, and went inside. The apartment was dark and quiet. Shi Yani wouldn't be back until tomorrow, going straight to the office from her parents' place.
Zhong Qing pressed her eye to the peephole.
The three men walked straight to the door across the hall. The bearded one raised his fist and knocked, loud and shameless.
"Qiao Mingxuan! Stop pretending you're not in there. I know you're home. Open up!"
Zhong Qing blinked. So this was what he was like off the clock.
The knocking escalated to full theater. "Open sesame! Open sesame right now!" The bearded man was grinning the entire time.
A long pause. Then the door across the hall finally opened.
Qiao Mingxuan stood in his bathrobe, hair still dripping, glasses off. He wasn't shouting. He didn't need to. His expression said everything with perfect economy: You are out of your mind.
He'd clearly been pulled out of the shower mid-rinse. He planted himself in the doorway, clearly not planning to let anyone through.
The bearded man looked right past the expression, grabbed Qiao Mingxuan by both shoulders, grinned wide, and physically moved him aside. The group filed in. Qiao Mingxuan's face cycled through irritation, disbelief, and something close to tired resignation before he turned and shut the door behind them.
Zhong Qing pulled back from the peephole.
So Qiao Mingxuan's fortress had weak points after all.
She pressed her lips together, privately amused. Suits and ties. Past midnight. Bottle of whiskey. Very respectable behavior.
On Qiao Mingxuan's side of the door, things were not going well.
He had finished his workout, started a shower, and gotten halfway through it before the banging started. He'd had to cut it short, wrap himself in his robe, and answer the door, only to find Zong Yong standing in the hallway looking extremely pleased with himself.
Not just Zong Yong. His assistant and driver as well, plus Xue Yuantang.
Zong Yong and Xue Yuantang had both been his dormitory roommates in college. He and Xue Yuantang shared the same major and had ended up working in the same industry after graduation, though at different firms. Xue Yuantang was now at Tonghui Capital, a rival FA organization.
Zong Yong had studied design and walked straight into his family's clothing business after school, taking over as successor.
Back in university, Qiao Mingxuan had been exactly the kind of person people kept a respectful distance from. Polite to everyone. Close to no one. His boundaries were clear and he enforced them without effort, mostly because no one dared test them.
No one except Zong Yong.
Zong Yong had spent years cheerfully ignoring every social signal Qiao Mingxuan sent, offering warmth even when it was not returned, pushing past the cold shoulder through sheer stubborn persistence until something eventually gave way. By the end, they were closer than anyone would have predicted. Zong Yong had then dragged Xue Yuantang into the circle by force, and Xue Yuantang had stayed.
It was a friendship that had felt uncomplicated once. Less so now, since they were competing for the same clients.
Zong Yong found the glasses himself, poured drinks for everyone, and commandeered the sofa without being asked. He even assigned Qiao Mingxuan a seat.
Qiao Mingxuan stared at him. "What exactly are you planning to do at this hour?"
Zong Yong's grin was undeterred by his own beard. "Look out the window. You see how round that moon is? Full moon means reunion. The three of us haven't sat down together in ages. Come on, drink."
He was already pulling the cork.
Qiao Mingxuan looked past him at the assistant. "What set him off today?"
The assistant, wilting slightly under Qiao Mingxuan's attention, answered immediately. "Well... the company held an anonymous design competition today. Zong Zong entered something. The whole company voted it the ugliest submission. He realized that all the praise he'd been getting before was because everyone knew he was the general manager..."
He didn't get to finish. Zong Yong slammed the bottle down and rounded on him.
"How did I end up with an assistant who talks like this? Out. Go on, get out." He waved him off, then turned on the driver as well. "You too. All of you, out. I'm staying here tonight."
The assistant and driver didn't need to be told twice. Accompanying Zong Yong into Qiao Mingxuan's apartment always made them feel vaguely criminal. Qiao Mingxuan looked perfectly pleasant on the surface, but that was a trap. His presence was dense in a way that was hard to explain, the kind that made you want to apologize for taking up space. Sitting across from him for too long made a person want to excuse themselves for no reason at all.
They fled.
Qiao Mingxuan watched them go.
He almost felt sorry for making the effect so obvious.
The three roommates sat in the living room alone, the way they used to.
"How did you two run into each other?" Qiao Mingxuan asked Xue Yuantang.
"He was at the bar drinking off the ugliest design award. I happened to be there. We crossed paths."
Zong Yong pointed at him. "You were drowning sorrows too. Don't make it sound like you were just passing through."
Xue Yuantang smiled and corrected him easily. "She and I both knew it wouldn't last. Her family had expectations I couldn't meet. I went in with clear eyes, so coming out wasn't particularly painful. Drinking because I wanted a drink, not because I needed one."
He paused, then looked at Qiao Mingxuan. "How about you? Things seem good on your end. Big project closed. Nice bonus, I hear."
Zong Yong distributed the glasses. Xue Yuantang raised his and tilted it toward Qiao Mingxuan with a smile that stayed a beat too long.
"Truly impressive. I had the Cangshi Medical project locked down, or so I thought. I'd been talking with Qin Feiyang and his son for months. Tonghui had it. And then somehow you went over their heads directly to the chairman and walked away with the deal." He drank. "Respect."
The word landed clean, but the edges were not.
Qiao Mingxuan swirled his glass. Ice clinked against crystal, slow and deliberate.
"Good lesson for next time," he said. "If you can reach the chairman, don't settle for the general manager. If you can talk to the master, don't waste time on the apprentice. The apprentice can't override the master anyway."
Xue Yuantang's smile held for exactly one second longer than it should have. He set his glass down, said something had come up, and left.
Qiao Mingxuan walked him out.
The door closed. Zong Yong straightened up from the sofa like a different person entirely. The unfocused eyes, the swaying walk, the dopey grin, all gone. He was sharp and alert, had probably been the whole time.
"You weren't drunk," Qiao Mingxuan said.
"Of course not." Zong Yong settled back comfortably. "You just cornered Lao Xue in front of everyone. If I'd looked sober, he'd have felt even worse. Better for him to think I was too gone to remember any of it. You know how much he cares about face."
He exhaled. "And you knew that, which is exactly why I don't understand why you did it. I brought him tonight so you two could talk it out, clear the air. You've been in the same dormitory, gone through the same years together. Competing for business is one thing, but you don't have to make it personal."
Qiao Mingxuan took a slow sip. "He's been pulling my clients for two years. Not once, not twice, a pattern. The Cangshi project was an open competition. I won it cleanly. If he wants to resent someone for that, there's nothing I can do about it."
"Old Qiao." Zong Yong's voice dropped, genuine. "We all came from the same four walls."
Qiao Mingxuan looked at him with a faint, flat smile. "Did you come over tonight to play priest?"
Zong Yong recognized the edge in that. He knew exactly where the line was with Qiao Mingxuan, and he had just stepped close to it. He backed off.
"No," he said, shifting in his seat with sudden indignation. "I came over to complain. Do you understand what my company did to me today? I pour my heart into a design, enter it anonymously so people judge it on its own merits, and they vote it the ugliest thing they've ever seen. Every single one of them, smiling at me every day, calling me a visionary, a genius, and the whole time they thought my work was garbage." He pressed a hand to his chest. "It hurts. It really, genuinely hurts, Old Qiao, woooo..."
Qiao Mingxuan looked at him. Dense beard, rough jaw, grown man making crying noises.
He reached over and shoved him firmly in the face.
"Pull yourself together. You're making me nauseous."