Xie Chong kept the milk tablets in his car and would occasionally eat one while waiting at red lights. They weren't sweet, just carrying a faint milky aroma.
When his friend Qian Song caught a ride with him and saw the few remaining tablets, he was quite surprised. Xie Chong never liked these kinds of snacks—he always said that anything with preservatives was ruined.
"Isn't this ruined?" Qian Song picked up a tablet and examined it. "Did Jiang Wu give these to you?"
"No. A friend's hometown specialty."
Qian Song clicked his tongue a few times. "Bold of them to give you that. Didn't even bother asking if you'd eat it."
"They're pretty good." Xie Chong said as he put the remaining tablets into the storage compartment, not offering any to Qian Song.
"Like I'd want any."
"Then I'm definitely not sharing."
After parting ways with Mu Wen that night, he had entrusted all the renovation work to Lin Weisen, with a specific instruction: "Your assistant has been running around tirelessly. I'll give her a separate 5,000 yuan project bonus—please pass it along to her."
Mu Wen had been working overtime without a single complaint during the period when Lin Weisen's family had welcomed a new child. Xie Chong wanted to pay her separately, and Lin Weisen was delighted. He told Mu Wen about it that very day, using the opportunity to curry favor.
When Mu Wen heard the news, her eyes lit up. "How much? How much?"
"5,000!" Lin Weisen said. "Mr. Xie is reliable."
Mu Wen gave a thumbs up to the air. "Mr. Xie, I'll pray for you. Good people live long and safe lives."
"Remember to thank him," Lin Weisen said. "Clients like this don't come around often."
"Don't worry, Master. His house—I've got it covered!" After saying this, Mu Wen sent Xie Chong a text message: "Mr. Xie, I've received the 5,000 bonus! From now on, you don't need to make trips to the building materials market—leave it all to me!"
Xie Chong replied: "Special cases call for special handling. Keep up the good work." Quite the official air about him.
With 5,000 yuan, Xie Chong had "bought" the "wholehearted" devotion of Mu Wen, and he completely washed his hands of the renovation. He didn't visit the site, didn't go to the building materials market, and focused on his own work. He felt this was the most worthwhile money he'd ever spent in his business career.
By year's end, he started chasing down final payments.
Chasing final payments inevitably meant business dinners.
That was the nature of foreign trade—upstream connected to midstream, midstream connected to downstream, and no one was permanently the client. So one dinner he'd play the subordinate, the next he'd play the boss, dressing up like a "social butterfly" every day, flitting through all kinds of venues across Beijing.
Xie Chong didn't like drinking, but he had a high tolerance. He could keep going all night and rarely got drunk. Sometimes when the alcohol went to his head, Qian Song would call Jiang Wu and ask if she'd be willing to come pick Xie Chong up. He was hoping to play matchmaker.
The group had known each other since their horse-riding lessons, growing up together. Qian Song was well aware of the ambiguous feelings between Xie Chong and Jiang Wu.
Jiang Wu definitely wouldn't come.
She'd say: "Feeling awful from drinking too much? Then learn your lesson next time and don't drink." Jiang Wu's personality was that sharp, thorny. But Xie Chong would say: Those are righteous thorns. Haven't you noticed? Jiang Wu is a pioneering woman.
When Jiang Wu didn't come, Xie Chong had no one else to contact.
He was a strange one. Sometimes at business dinners, women would take an interest in him and exchange phone numbers. He'd add them on the spot, then delete them the moment he turned around. In his words: too much trouble.
This was trouble, that was trouble—Qian Song called him a damn "freak."
One day during a business dinner, Mu Wen called him. He needed to pick the wall paint.
He told Mu Wen to decide. Mu Wen laid out the facts and reasoning: "I really want to decide for you, but you know what? This isn't a rational question anymore—it's an aesthetic one. I can help you with furniture dimensions, but wall paint has way too many colors, and they look different under different lighting. One extra coat or one fewer coat changes everything…"
"Then what should we do?" Xie Chong had been drinking, and his voice carried a slight nasal quality. He was asking a question, but there was a clingy, soft edge to it—different from his usual self.
"You pick it yourself," Mu Wen said. "Go pick tomorrow? Tell me once you've chosen."
"I have plans tomorrow, plans the day after, and plans the day after that…"
Mu Wen was a bit troubled. "Mr. Xie, I need to go back to my hometown for the New Year. After I return, I'll be heading straight back to school to work on my graduation… You gave me such a big bonus, and I want to get everything handled before I leave. I can't take your money for nothing…"
"Then what should we do?" Xie Chong asked again. "I don't have time. Do you have color swatches? Can you describe them?"
"I do!" Mu Wen said. "I'll have someone bring them to you tomorrow…"
"I'm near your company anyway. I'll stop by your office later. Are you working overtime?"
Mu Wen detected something slightly off at this point. "Have you been drinking?"
"Yeah, I have."
"Then forget it—don't go to all that trouble. Where are you? I'll come find you once I'm done here."
"I'll have my driver pick you up…"
"No need." Mu Wen quickly refused. "Really, no need. I could use some fresh air anyway."
"Alright."
After Xie Chong hung up, no matter how much anyone urged him, he refused to drink another drop.
It so happened that this day he was playing the "grandson," and the "grandfather" was displeased, saying: "President Xie, it's rare for us to get together—why won't you show me some face?"
Xie Chong clutched his chest, looking pained: "My heart hurts…"
He didn't dodge the drink, but after those words, no one pressed him to drink anymore. When the banquet broke up, Xie Chong sat in his car waiting for Mu Wen.
Mu Wen, who had worked overtime, jogged over from a distance.
The night was deep and cold; as she ran, her breath puffed out in white mist. When she reached his car, she was panting: "Long… wait… huh?"
Xie Chong just looked at her.
How ridiculous—the only person who came to see him after drinking was Mu Wen, someone unrelated to him. She carried her backpack with the bulky computer, coming after a late-night shift to deliver color swatches for him.
At that moment, Xie Chong thought: The red envelope really was too small—he should have wrapped ten thousand, twenty thousand. He should reward this person who wholeheartedly thought of him.
Xie Chong leaned over and stretched his arm to open the passenger door for her, saying: "Get in and talk." Before getting in, he had rinsed his mouth and sprayed breath freshener; years of upbringing and habit wouldn't allow him to meet a member of the opposite sex reeking of alcohol late at night.
But his voice was hoarse.
"You have a cold and you're still drinking?" Mu Wen thought he was sick. In her hometown, after drinking, people would sing, make a racket, and their voices could lift the roof. No one's voice went hoarse after drinking. Even if it did, it was a "gongs and drums" kind of voice.
Xie Chong looked puzzled, then understood: "Oh, my voice gets like this after drinking."
"Do you have pharyngitis? You should go see a doctor." Mu Wen chatted casually while opening the bag to take out the color swatches. The car was dark; when she handed them to Xie Chong, she noticed he was gazing at her in a dim, unfathomable way.
How could she describe that look?
Mu Wen couldn't articulate her exact feelings, but an uneasy sensation spread through her body. She withdrew her arm, clutched the color swatches tightly with both hands, and leaned back against the seat.
"When are you leaving?" Xie Chong suddenly asked her.
Mu Wen was a bit surprised that Xie Chong would ask her that, but she still answered seriously: "At the latest, next week. I haven't bought the train ticket yet."
"Where's your school? Where will you work after graduation? Not planning to go to grad school?"
"School's in Tianjin. After graduation, of course I'm coming back to Beijing—back to this company!" Mu Wen said proudly: "This company is so hard to get into."
She always had this attitude of never having been beaten down by reality, and Xie Chong had long seen it. He picked up his thermos and drank, gulping it down. Only after drinking did he turn on the car's interior light, leaned over, and took the color swatches from Mu Wen's hands.
He flipped through them casually and asked Mu Wen: "What color do you think looks good? White? There are so many kinds of white here."
"If it were me, I'd pick this one." Mu Wen leaned in and pointed: "Look at this color—when light shines on it, the tint is beautiful, and on cloudy days it won't look too dark either. By the way, do you like using night lights? Or reading lights? You probably like reading books. If you do, before bed, turn on the reading light and take another look at the wall…"
She racked her brains to describe to Xie Chong how his future wall paint would look under different light sources, her eyes smiling, her gaze full of longing, her voice lower than usual as if afraid of disturbing others.
Xie Chong leaned back against the seat, closed his eyes, and imagined the scene she described.
He had once had expectations for that house, but later Jiang Wu had clearly expressed she didn't like it, and he thought, whatever, it doesn't matter—after all, he wouldn't live there anyway once it was done.
At this moment, he had visions of home again.
These visions were all painted for him by this intern from the renovation company. He felt a soft night light shining on him; he had just showered, relaxed, lying on his side in bed, fingers gently flipping through a book.
Right, Mu Wen had guessed correctly—he also liked reading.
Qian Song always said Xie Chong's personality was too "solitary," and the things he liked were also very solitary. For example, hiking alone, being a fisherman, feeding horses, reading, driving aimlessly…
"Xie Chong?" Mu Wen called him once. No response.
"Xie Chong?" She called again. Still no response, but he let out a soft snore.
Mu Wen remembered that time in the conference room and imitated him, shouting: "Xie Chong!"
Xie Chong suddenly opened his eyes, looking at Mu Wen: "Did I fall asleep?"
"Yes, you were snoring."
"Was it loud?" He asked instinctively.
"Not loud." Mu Wen paused, thinking that Xie Chong was a strange gentleman who cared deeply about face, then added: "Because you weren't snoring."
"Nonsense." Xie Chong glanced at her and laughed for no reason. When he finished laughing, he said: "I'll call a designated driver to take you home first."
"You just had a driver, and now you're saying you'll call a designated driver."
"I let the driver go home early. There's an elderly person in his family who can't move well and has trouble getting up at night."
"I see…" Mu Wen looked at Xie Chong seriously and said sincerely: "You know, Mr. Xie, although we don't know each other well, I really do think you're a good person."
Xie Chong felt uncomfortable being praised and told her to shut up.
Mu Wen then zipped her lips shut.
On the way back, the two of them sat in the back seat, gazing at the beautiful night scenery outside the car window. Mu Wen thought that this might be her last meeting with Xie Chong, and a deep sense of reluctance welled up inside her. During her internship in Beijing, she had truly met many good people.
She knew well that an internship was just an internship—real work might not be quite the same. Xie Chong was the most special among all the clients she had dealt with.
As they neared their destination, she reported to him on the remaining work:
She would select all the items that needed choosing before the New Year.
During the New Year, Liu Gong's team would also be on holiday and wouldn't return until after the Lantern Festival. This period would be perfect for letting the wall paint dry, but attention must be paid to humidity and temperature.
Furniture and appliances would be brought in batches after the New Year, and her mentor would oversee that.
Of course, during this period, if there were any issues with the work she had handled, he could always call her.
…
She was afraid of missing anything, so she kept talking to Xie Chong.
"Did you remember all that?" she asked.
"No, I didn't," Xie Chong said. "I drank today, so I can't remember anything. I feel really nauseous right now. I want to throw up."
The designated driver asked, "Should I pull over?"
"Pull over. I'll go throw up. No rush—I'll pay for the extra time."
Xie Chong stood by the roadside late at night, and Mu Wen stood beside him. Seeing that he wasn't moving, she said, "Well, go ahead and throw up."
"I can't," Xie Chong said. "What do I do? I feel nauseous, but I can't throw up."
"Why don't you drink some water? Or stick your finger down your throat?" Mu Wen actually started thinking of solutions for him and even demonstrated: "See, you do it like this—ugh—and it comes out."
Xie Chong leaned against the tree, watching her.
Thinking that she was about to leave Beijing, he felt a bit unhappy. From now on, there would be no one so easy to tease.
"I need to go eat a bowl of hot noodles," Xie Chong said. "After drinking, hot noodles cure the nausea."
Mu Wen glanced at the time—it was two in the morning, and she was hungry too.
"Um…" Mu Wen stole a look at Xie Chong's expression. "Should we go to the back alley…"
"Sure. Let's go," Xie Chong said. "It's this cold and this late, and they're still open?"
"They are."
They went to the back alley once again.
There were still people there at this hour. Those who had just gotten off the night shift or returned home late were huddled in the cold wind, eating.
Mu Wen said, "This time, let me treat you. Let's get that fried rice from that place and eat standing right by the wok. It'll be warm. Okay?"
"Okay."
Mu Wen took fourteen yuan out of her small wallet and handed it to the owner, ordering two portions of fried rice. Xie Chong glanced at it—her wallet was really thin.
Strangely, he didn't fuss this time. He stood by the wok with her and ate a portion of fried rice with distinct grains. Mu Wen scooped a small spoonful of pickled vegetables onto her rice and showed him how to eat a tiny piece of pickled vegetable with each mouthful of rice—it tasted better that way.
Xie Chong copied her. It wasn't bad.
Mu Wen had finally repaid Xie Chong for a meal. She knew, of course, that this couldn't compare to the Shanghainese cuisine he had treated her to, but she felt that the debt she owed him had finally been settled.
She began to devote herself fully to wrapping up her internship work. Since she knew she would be coming back later, she wasn't too sentimental. She stored her books in the small locker at the company and sent the rest of her belongings home or to school.
Anyway, she felt that this internship had been wonderful, and she hummed songs as she wrapped things up each day.
Lin Weisen asked her if she wanted to go see Xie Chong's house one last time before she left. She waved her hand and said, "No, no! Master, didn't you say it yourself? Once the renovation is done, all that's left is after-sales service. If there's no after-sales needed, then it's goodbye to that house! I'll just say goodbye in advance!"
"Then let me tell you one more thing," Lin Weisen said. "Don't get too excited when you hear it."
"What is it?"
"When paying the price difference, Mr. Xie paid an extra 5,000 yuan as a bonus. For you," Lin Weisen said.
"Wow! Wow! Wow!" Mu Wen was overjoyed. "I deserve this, Master! You don't know how hard I worked for his house—I nearly ran my legs off…"
But she knew that Xie Chong could have been like other clients and not paid her any extra bonus, since it was her job. He was moody, nitpicky, and utterly arrogant, but he was actually a good person.
Mu Wen called Xie Chong to thank him. Xie Chong told her to drop the fake politeness and wished her a smooth graduation.
"Then let's say goodbye!" Mu Wen said happily.
Xie Chong was silent for a moment, then said, "Goodbye."
It was just an ordinary phone call, but when she hung up, Mu Wen felt a "little golden bean" on her cheek.
How strange—why are my eyes so hot? she thought.