Mu Wen couldn't stop running.
She desperately wanted to see Xie Chong, not even a second later than necessary. She sprinted out of the residential complex, dashed across the pedestrian bridge, not even pausing to take in the night scene before rushing toward him.
He stood there, at the same spot where they had met last time.
Late September nights already carried a cool breeze, stirring the hem of his black trench coat and tousling his hair. He stood straight, eyes fixed ahead, waiting for her. Passersby blurred past like fleeting shadows—only he was in sharp focus.
The "handsome man" drew sidelong glances, though he remained completely oblivious.
Mu Wen stood on the bridge and waved at him happily: "Mr. Xie!"
Xie Chong looked up and saw her standing above, the glittering night behind her. He waved back, telling her to come down quickly.
Mu Wen ran to him, the hem of her coat chasing after her; only when she stopped did it "stop" too.
"The gift was so beautiful! Who painted the lacquer art on the box?" Mu Wen asked with a smile.
"I did," Xie Chong said. "A few casual strokes from me and it's a work of art."
"And the calligraphy? Who wrote that?"
"Why would I need to find someone for that? Isn't that something anyone with hands can do?" Xie Chong said smugly.
"Those things must be expensive, right? How much did they cost?" Mu Wen wanted to estimate the price so she could return the favor to Xie Chong someday.
"That whole pile was two hundred." Xie Chong was talking nonsense.
Mu Wen naturally didn't believe him. She let out a "pfft" and asked Xie Chong what he wanted to eat—today, she absolutely had to treat him.
"How should we count this meal? Does a plate of fried rice count as one meal? What if I eat something else too?" Xie Chong deliberately teased her, wanting to see how much money this little miser would be willing to fork out today.
"Today at the back alley, no matter what you eat, it counts as one meal. As long as you can eat it, I can pay for it." Mu Wen pointed at herself. "Mu Wen, city professional, has a bit of spare cash now."
"Then I won't stand on ceremony."
They walked one after another toward the back alley.
Xie Chong wanted to try the things he'd almost never eaten. Fried stinky tofu—he took one bite and nearly threw up, it was so rank; big lamb skewers—he complained the meat quality was poor; a small bowl of hot and sour noodles—he said the vermicelli felt like plastic… Mu Wen said, either stop eating, since you don't even like it, or stop shoving it in your mouth out of fear of wasting it—you take a bite of stinky tofu and gag with every bite, why put yourself through it? Why not just give it to me?
"How about I cook at my place instead?" Xie Chong's eyes were moist, his lashes damp from the tears brought on by his dry heaving, looking rather "delicate."
"Cook at your place? That meal has to count too." Mu Wen said. "You're the one who asked to come to the back alley, and every item was something you wanted to eat…"
"This meal counts." Xie Chong said. He really couldn't eat anymore, so he bought an old-fashioned popsicle instead.
The popsicle was actually good—it cut through the greasiness and made him feel a bit better.
The two strolled along the road to digest their food, and Mu Wen asked Xie Chong about Jingdezhen. She wanted to hear about his "business wisdom"—it must be as fun as her drawing designs.
"So eager to hear?" Xie Chong asked.
"Yes."
"Then I'll tell you."
Xie Chong had produced a batch of goods in Jingdezhen, planning to sell them to America. That crafty merchant surnamed Chen got wind of it and tried to cut in. He found a factory that had a personal connection with his father—coincidentally, that factory had already signed a production contract with Xie Chong. This caused a delay in Xie Chong's production, but the factory was willing to pay breach penalties according to the contract.
Once the goods were produced, they needed to be shipped out of Jingdezhen. Xie Chong pulled a little clever trick—perfectly legal and legitimate—that held up his goods for a few days. If he'd gone by sea, his original schedule wouldn't have made it. But Xie Chong's goods, though leaving a few days late, went through without a hitch.
Mu Wen listened intently and asked, "What was the clever trick that was perfectly legal and legitimate?"
Xie Chong smiled smugly. "Tit for tat. He hijacked my factory, so I outbid him and hijacked his freight. Freight services in that area have been in high demand these past two years—he needed to book trucks in advance. I snatched them up, and he couldn't find any trucks at the last minute."
Mu Wen's eyes went wide. "You can do that?"
"Mhm." Xie Chong said. "Business is a battlefield. But even though I call that man Chen the crafty merchant, he's got some backbone—the type who accepts defeat gracefully. I offered to ship his goods out for him, but only under my name. He refused. Said he'd rather dump them all into the Huangpu River than give them to me."
Xie Chong burst out laughing after saying this.
Mu Wen also found the man amusing and laughed along.
She felt that Xie Chong's work was different from what she'd imagined.
She'd originally thought his job would be more glamorous—like sitting in a spacious office casually directing things, having a secretary or assistant handle matters when something came up. But she hadn't expected Xie Chong to handle everything himself, even having to scheme against others.
"People are nasty!" Xie Chong said. "Do you know who's the easiest to bully in business?"
"Who?" Mu Wen asked.
"People like you are the easiest to bully," Xie Chong said. "In other words, the old me was the easiest to bully. We all want to make money, and we're very respectful to anyone who can help us do that. Sometimes, we overlook things that make us uncomfortable, thinking, 'Screw it, as long as the money lands in my hand, that's what matters.'"
"Isn't that right?"
"No. First of all, money that costs you your dignity is already devalued. Do you understand what I mean? Today, you swallow your pride for this deal—even if you make the money, you'll feel a little wronged, and that's psychological damage. And the other party? They'll see that you can be pushed around, so they'll keep pushing… That kind of money is devalued. It has a chain reaction."
Xie Chong waved his hand. "Forget it, let's not talk about this." He gave her a thumbs-up. "You're impressive—giving up such a big deal just like that."
"What else could I do? That guy was disgusting," Mu Wen said. "How dangerous would it be to decorate his house?"
Xie Chong smiled at that.
Mu Wen was a very smart person. After the incident with that bastard, if she wanted a client, she'd first "investigate" their background. She'd be extra cautious with male clients who were secretive and unwilling to reveal their true information.
They walked down the street together, both rarely having such a leisurely night. It was a late-September evening in Beijing, eleven or twelve degrees Celsius, with a gentle breeze blowing as they strolled into the Renmin University track field.
There were plenty of people walking and jogging on the track, and a few scattered groups chatting on the bleachers.
"Have you watched Friends?" Mu Wen asked Xie Chong. "I mean… that café at the East Gate is just like Friends. I went there once with my roommate—I loved it."
"So why don't you go now?"
"Because it's about to close at this hour," Mu Wen said.
"Where else do you guys usually go?" Xie Chong asked. "Is there anywhere around here to sit and hang out?"
"Bi Feng Tang, Carving Time… we go there occasionally. It feels like going back to our student days."
"So you like Friends?" Xie Chong asked.
"Who doesn't like Friends!" Mu Wen put her hands on her hips and imitated Phoebe singing "Smelly Cat": "Smelly cat, smelly cat, what are they feeding you…"
She couldn't help but laugh as she sang, remembering how her roommates used to imitate Friends together in school. Xie Chong widened his eyes and mimicked Joey's tone: "Oh my god!"
"You've watched it!" Mu Wen pointed at him. "I knew you had!"
"Why do you say that?"
"Because you look a lot like Joey—you're both 'pretty boys,' both totally random, and you…"
Mu Wen was about to say "you're both big goofballs," but Xie Chong was already glaring at her. She didn't dare say another word and looked away.
Someone ran up from behind and nearly collided with Mu Wen. Xie Chong stretched out an arm to block, then slid it across her back and guided her to the innermost lane of the track. The night was growing deeper, and the track had quieted down a bit. They walked up to the bleachers and sat down, leaving one seat between them.
Mu Wen took out her earphones and handed Xie Chong one earbud. The cord wasn't long enough, so Xie Chong moved over one seat closer to her.
Mu Wen played a song for Xie Chong.
The music trickled softly through the earbud:
I see trees of green, red roses too
I see them bloom for me and you
~~
Life was so mysterious. The song she listened to—he'd been listening to it for years too.
He always sat quietly by the window on silent nights, feeling the breeze, listening to this song. If he was lucky enough to catch a bird flapping its wings into the sky, adding imagery to the music, he'd definitely say, "What a wonderful world."
"Play it again," he asked when the song ended.
"You like it too?" Mu Wen asked in surprise. "This is the first time I've met someone who likes this song."
"Maybe you just don't know enough people," Xie Chong teased. "Now you've got me, haven't you?"
Mu Wen took out her phone and played the song again.
Her phone was already quite old. Technology was advancing so fast, with phones iterating rapidly, but her 5300 still looked as good as new. When the song finished, Xie Chong watched her wind up the earphone cord: the white cord looped neatly around the phone, one circle after another, before she tucked it into her canvas bag.
Right—when she went to work, she carried a heavy backpack containing an even heavier laptop. People who "draw" needed those kinds of computers; regular systems couldn't handle their software.
On nights like this, she'd casually sling a single-strap canvas bag over her shoulder, carrying a few essentials.
Her phone would be slowly dropped into the canvas bag.
Mu Wen noticed Xie Chong watching her and asked, "What's up?"
"Mu Wen, I don't have many friends," Xie Chong said. "What about you? Do you have many friends?"
"Me…" Mu Wen counted on her fingers. Not too many, actually. In high school, she was so focused on studying that college entrance exams came before she had time to make friends. She got along well with her classmates in university, but after graduation, some went to grad school and others went to work—only four classmates came to Beijing, and two of them she wasn't close to. At work, she only dealt with clients. Xiao Gu counted as a good friend, and there was Chu Ling.
That was it.
"I don't have many friends either," Mu Wen said. "What a shame. I'm such a great person, but I never have time to make friends."
"Do I count as your friend, Mu Wen?" Xie Chong looked at her seriously. He wanted to know her answer. There had been a time when he was certain she liked him, admired him, but she never reached out to him on her own.
They'd had a falling out, he went to Jingdezhen, and she went silent. Xie Chong began to wonder if he'd misread that look.
Mu Wen didn't answer him right away.
She wasn't good at lying.
How she wished she could say, "You're not my friend—you're the person I like." But she felt that if she said that, Xie Chong would get up and leave.
He was truly someone who hated complications. At least, that's what Mu Wen believed.
"Of course you count!" Mu Wen said, feigning lightness. "I consider you my best friend! You know I don't have many friends in Beijing. I really enjoy spending time with you, Mr. Xie."
"Xie Chong," he corrected her. "Xie Chong. Have you ever seen anyone call their friend 'Mr.' or 'Miss'?"
Mu Wen laughed. This time, she could say his name slowly: "Xie Chong."
"Xie Chong."
"Xie Chong."
"Finally got it right!" Mu Wen stood up and turned to him. "How about we race?"
"Race what?"
"Running!" Mu Wen said. "Do you dare?"
"How far?" Xie Chong asked.
"Three kilometers!" Mu Wen said. Three kilometers, just like that—as if a hundred meters, five hundred meters, or eight hundred meters didn't even count as running. Xie Chong pursed his lips. He'd trained in middle-distance running in middle school and had placed in city-level competitions. He'd stopped professional training due to sports injuries, but the foundation was still there.
Xie Chong wasn't one to brag, but finding someone on this track who could outrun him would be tough. He decided to show Mu Wen what he was made of.
"Tell you what—I'll give you a twenty-second head start," Xie Chong said. "So you don't think I'm bullying you. Also, a race needs a stake, or it's no fun."
"What's the stake?" Mu Wen asked.
"Two hundred yuan," Xie Chong said. "Any more and you'd start to feel the pinch."
"Fine." Mu Wen hung her canvas bag on the horizontal bar and took off her jacket, placing it there too. Seeing she was serious, Xie Chong didn't hold back either. He took off his trench coat and set it next to Mu Wen's jacket. Underneath, he wore a dark T-shirt of excellent quality that showed off his build—not too thin, not too bulky, just the right kind of healthy and upright.
Mu Wen walked over and covered his trench coat with her jacket, saying, "Hiding it for you. Your clothes are too expensive—it'd be a shame if they got lost."
Xie Chong glanced at her, then nodded toward the track. "Let's go."
He let Mu Wen run first, and she didn't stand on ceremony—she shot off in an instant. The moment Xie Chong saw her first stride, he started to regret his decision: Batu Lu's running form was beautiful and professional. That twenty-second head start might be hard to make up.
So he counted to nineteen seconds and took off after her.
Xie Chong hadn't felt this competitive in years.
The school track was different from roads or stadiums. As he sprinted, he felt free. His "friend" Mu Wen was like a long-legged antelope, bounding along with pure joy.
Xie Chong kept chasing her.
Chasing her was no easy feat. She was a formidable opponent—strong and swift—her legs churning furiously in the night, overtaking one person after another.
Xie Chong kept chasing her.
Chasing her was no easy feat. She was like a creature returning to familiar pasture, running with abandon beneath a sky full of stars, caring about no one.
Her hair came loose, and she didn't bother with it. Mu Wen was so happy—she loved running so much, as if she could leave everything behind as long as she ran fast enough.
Including Xie Chong.
But Xie Chong was not to be underestimated.
Mu Wen noticed he'd been following her at a steady pace. She glanced back and saw that every step he took bore the mark of training—no less impressive than the school's long-distance runners.
Oh my god.
No wonder he gave me a twenty-second head start! The old fox!
Mu Wen's competitive spirit flared even stronger, and she pushed herself harder. Xie Chong quickened his pace to keep up with her, and with the last hundred meters to go, he drew up beside her.
He didn't want to win, and he didn't want to lose. He thought running like this was just fine. The old things weighing on him, the bad emotions—they all seeped out through his pores as he ran. Like an old ailment suddenly cured, he felt light all over.
Neither of them spoke.
Sometimes they would take turns looking up at the sky. On nights when the city lights blazed brilliantly, the stars were hidden. The sound of each other's breathing was clearly audible, and they almost kept the same rhythm of breath.
They ran all the way to the finish line, glanced at each other, and then burst into laughter at the same time. Their hair was all messy, as if they had just crawled out of a sheep pen.
Mu Wen, just as she had done with her roommates after every run before, went up to them and gently put an arm around their shoulders to celebrate having persevered.
This time was no different. She hopped in front of Xie Chong, wrapped her arms around his, and gave him a gentle hug.
Xie Chong froze in place.