The air was so damp it made breathing uncomfortable. The wind on the bridge was stronger than usual, whipping Ji Wenze’s coat so it flapped loudly.
He walked along the bridge, one hand in his pocket, the other holding his phone as he looked down at it. The faint glow lit up his cool expression—and the cigarette between his lips, unlit.
The social media feed was the same empty, meaningless headlines. He didn’t linger for even two seconds before flicking them away like trash.
[Male celebrity exposed for romance scandal]
[Internet influencer rumored to be dating a tycoon]
[ICG wins championship 3:0]
[New regulations! Certain companies take note]
…
At the end, even the algorithm didn’t know what to recommend anymore. The loading icon spun for a long time, stuck.
A WeChat message popped up.
[Xue Jian: Bro, I thought you’d never come back to Shanghai in this lifetime]
He didn’t pause for even half a second before swiping it away as well.
Ji Wenze bit down impatiently on the cigarette filter, then finally took out a lighter. With a click, a flame leapt up toward his lips.
A sudden gust of wind bent the flame sideways. Ji Wenze lifted his eyes and saw a car slowly pulling over ahead.
The streetlights cast an orange-yellow filter over the world, but even so, it was clear the car wasn’t the usual pale gray.
Ji Wenze was about to look away when the car’s reverse lights came on. Two seconds later, it stopped right in front of him.
The passenger-side window rolled down. The young man in the driver’s seat leaned over, revealing a face Ji Wenze remembered well—cold, aloof, and quietly proud.
Narrowing his eyes slightly, Ji Wenze removed the cigarette from his lips, surprised. “Group Leader Yu?”
“Just got off work. Ran into the storm on the way—figured I’d give you a ride back, since it’s on the way.”
The young man spoke in that same cool tone, but unlike during the day, he wasn’t looking down lazily. Instead, he raised his head, meeting his gaze seriously.
Ji Wenze raised an eyebrow.
Went out of his way?
He stepped forward and rested a hand on the window frame, immediately feeling the dampness from the rain.
Suppressing the irritation that had been lingering in his chest, Ji Wenze put on a smile and bent slightly. “Thanks, but no need. You should head back.”
He thought that would settle it. Unexpectedly, the young man frowned. “It’s dangerous to be drunk and alone outside.”
Barely in his twenties, yet when he said that, he sounded ten years older.
And that earnest look made it impossible to brush him off.
It wouldn’t do to argue with a subordinate on his first day, so Ji Wenze said patiently, “I’m just taking a walk. It’s very close.”
Yu Sibai was silent for a moment, then added, “Someone once fell off this bridge drunk and drowned.”
He suddenly became stubborn—or perhaps he was always like this. Ji Wenze watched him for a moment with interest, then relented.
“Then check the navigation first. See if it’s on your way.”
Yu Sibai said nothing and turned on the car’s navigation.
“Jianglan Yufu,” Ji Wenze said.
Halfway through typing, Yu Sibai felt it sounded familiar, but his hand moved faster than his thoughts and hit search.
Then both his gaze and his brain froze.
A soft laugh came from outside the window.
[Jianglan Yufu East Gate: 350 meters on foot, 1.5 km by car]
Yu Sibai slowly turned his head, looking toward the riverside building across the bridge—Jianglan Yufu.
…So it really was just a walk. You rich people.
Ji Wenze saw him rub the tip of his nose, as if a bright red clown nose had appeared there, and found it oddly amusing.
The earlier irritation that required a cigarette to suppress had somehow vanished. Ji Wenze put away the lighter, tapped the window frame lightly—just like he had tapped Yu Sibai’s shoulder earlier—and straightened up.
“Head back. Drive safe—”
Before he could finish, there was a soft thud, followed by two spreading dark patches on his expensive gray coat.
The storm cloud had caught up.
The rain intensified rapidly. Ji Wenze seemed momentarily stunned. Two seconds later, when the hair at his forehead was soaked and hanging down, he smiled again.
“Mind if I take the passenger seat?”
His manner was easy, as if he hadn’t just refused moments ago.
Yu Sibai felt certain he was drunk—asking that kind of question while getting drenched. He nodded. “Suit yourself.”
Ji Wenze tossed the unlit cigarette neatly into a nearby trash can, then opened the door and got in, bringing with him the damp scent of alcohol.
“Thanks for the trouble, Group Leader Yu. I’ll reimburse the gas.”
“It’s an electric car.” Yu Sibai turned off the hazard lights.
Ji Wenze: “You’re very honest.”
Yu Sibai lifted his eyelids slightly, glanced at the smiling new boss under the streetlight for two seconds, then calmly pulled out his phone, opened a payment code, and held it out without turning his head.
“Fifty cents.”
“Put it on the company account,” Ji Wenze said.
Yu Sibai’s eyes widened as he turned in disbelief.
“Ding.”
“WeChat payment received: 0.5 yuan.”
Ji Wenze put away his phone and smiled lightly. “Just kidding.”
One actually asked, and the other actually paid. Yu Sibai held back his urge to comment, shifted into gear, and started driving—slow and steady.
Ji Wenze lowered the window slightly. The wind came in—not too cold, but enough to disperse the smell of alcohol in the enclosed space.
“Smooth driving. Do you often drive people around?” Ji Wenze asked.
“The elders at home like going for drives,” Yu Sibai replied casually. Then he suddenly remembered something. “Isn’t your office in 1608? Xiao Mu went to deliver the sunflower earlier, but the door was locked.”
“It’s in 1702.”
Yu Sibai paused—that was Qian Yuanxin’s office, wasn’t it?
Leaning back, Ji Wenze rubbed his slightly sore neck and said lightly, “Qian Yuanxin is getting old. Moving slowly is understandable. Get someone to help him—it’ll be cleared out in one night… Have your ‘successor’ deliver it again tomorrow.”
He still wore a gentle smile as he spoke, but Yu Sibai could hear the sharp finality beneath it.
That massive former general manager—just like that, pushed out?
Yu Sibai clicked his tongue inwardly.
He suddenly realized this new boss wasn’t just different from Qian Yuanxin—he operated on an entirely different level. Probably not easy to deal with.
“By the way, Group Leader Yu,” Ji Wenze said, looking out the window as if casually, “have you thought more about becoming director?”
Yu Sibai: …?
“It’s only been three hours,” he said flatly.
“Not enough?”
Ji Wenze leaned back, tilting his head. Yu Sibai could feel his slow, assessing gaze, his back tensing slightly—like being watched by a predator.
He suddenly remembered what his colleagues had said earlier: Ji Wenze’s version of “don’t let it happen again.”
Gripping the steering wheel, Yu Sibai exhaled slowly, his voice steady, firm as a nail driven into the ground.
“If you’re promoting me just to pit me against Qian Yuanxin and his nephew, then sorry, President Ji—I’m not capable. I can only do design.”
Even if that wasn’t the reason, he still didn’t want it. The director had to handle all the dirty work, double the workload, and only an 800-yuan raise—who would want that?
The more he thought about it, the more justified he felt. A spark of irritation flickered in his eyes. At the red light, he turned, ready to throw a sharp glance—
But paused.
The car was dim. At first, he couldn’t clearly see Ji Wenze’s expression. The smile on that face was much fainter than usual, his gaze calm and unreadable.
…Tch, forget it.
Looking at that face, Yu Sibai found himself no longer nervous—just clicking his tongue inwardly.
It kind of looked like him again…
Like his cold, handsome idol.
Though nowhere near his idol’s sharp, youthful pride.
Yu Sibai withdrew his gaze leisurely. Suddenly, forgiving the boss for a second didn’t seem impossible. When he spoke again, his tone was calm and composed.
“I’m not suited for management. President Ji should find someone more capable.”
He made his stance clear, completely unconcerned about rejecting his boss twice in a row.
The atmosphere in the car tightened for a moment. Then, from the corner of his eye, Yu Sibai saw Ji Wenze lower his head slightly, a strand of wet hair falling forward.
After a while, Ji Wenze chuckled softly, pressing a hand to his temple, the smile returning to his voice.
Riding that faint buzz of alcohol, he said lightly,
“I see. What a pity.”
He looked out the window, that same careless smile lingering at his lips like a mask that couldn’t be removed.
For some reason, Yu Sibai felt a faint unease.
After that, neither of them spoke again. Fortunately, the drive was short—awkwardness didn’t have time to grow.
They drove away from the storm clouds. Soon, only the dampness of recently fallen rain remained.
The navigation originally led to a farther underground parking entrance, but seeing the rain had stopped, Yu Sibai simply pulled over at the residential gate.
Better to drop the boss off early—less chance for trouble.
“Thanks for the ride, Group Leader Yu,” Ji Wenze said gently after getting out. “Get some rest early.”
“You too,” Yu Sibai replied mechanically, then stepped on the accelerator and drove off without looking back.
The rain stopped as soon as it started. If he’d known, he wouldn’t have come.
And really—whether he worked overtime or not, there were records. Why go out of his way to show it? From now on, better admire the boss’s face from afar…
Rubbing his arm through his sleeve, Yu Sibai felt an inexplicable chill.
If this weren’t an electric car, Ji Wenze would’ve been blasted with exhaust.
Standing under the bright white lights, he finally saw the car’s color clearly.
A rare gray-blue.
Ji Wenze let out a faint laugh and turned around.
His phone suddenly buzzed in his pocket. He took it out, glanced at the caller ID for a moment, then answered.
A familiar voice came through: “Kashen! Why didn’t you reply? Busy?”
Walking back, Ji Wenze lazily hummed in response.
On the other end, Xue Jian laughed. “Wow, haven’t seen you like this in ages. Out entertaining again, President Ji?”
“Who are you calling that…” Ji Wenze scoffed. “Say what you need.”
“Oh, right. The tenth anniversary gala for Valorant is being held domestically. The invitation for you got sent to me,” Xue Jian said, clicking his tongue.
With a click, a flame sparked again—only to be blown out by the wind. Ji Wenze turned slightly, relit it, and lit a cigarette, listening to Xue Jian complain.
“…You just disappeared back then, left no contact info. Do you know how many business offers I’ve blocked for you over the years, Kashen?”
Ji Wenze chuckled. “Then what, Boss Xue? Should I stop being a shareholder and sell my ICG shares?”
“Hah, you’d really give them up?”
“I’ll sell when they stop making me money.”
“You sound more like a ruthless businessman than I do now… Seriously, people like you who learn everything so fast are annoying.”
Xue Jian paused, then casually asked again, “So… are you going to that gala?”
Ji Wenze bit lightly on the cigarette filter, took a drag, and smiled.
“It’s all old history. What would they want with a washed-up player like me?”
Xue Jian exaggerated, “You’re not washed up! Did you know our team won the championship today?”
“Mm. I know.”
“Oh? Our busy President Ji broke his rule?” Xue Jian sounded surprised. “Since when do you watch matches again?”
Ji Wenze smirked. “Caught a glimpse at the office.”
“Unlucky for whoever got caught,” Xue Jian laughed. “Then you heard, right? You showed up in the post-match interview again today.”
Ji Wenze narrowed his eyes slightly. “You told them to mention me?”
“No way. I know you—you’d rather act like retiring means you’re dead. This time it was completely voluntary,” Xue Jian said, teasing. “Guess who?”
Ji Wenze turned into an empty garden pavilion and sat on a dry bench. Running through names in his mind, he couldn’t think of anyone.
Seven years had passed. Pro players had long changed generations. Back then he competed mostly overseas—older domestic players might still remember him, but the new ones probably hadn’t even seen him.
Leaning against the railing, he exhaled smoke. Since he had to finish the cigarette anyway, he casually guessed a few.
“Cameis?”
“Who?”
“…An old guy pushing forty. Then Joynn?”
“He got exposed and disappeared two years ago.”
“Figures… Founder?”
“Foun’s busy with his wife and degree now… Ugh, you fossil! Stop guessing!” Xue Jian quickly lost patience. “It’s Respit2.”
Ji Wenze idly flipped his lighter in his hand, not even lifting his eyelids. “Who?”
“Damn, you fossil!” Xue Jian cursed.
“Your die-hard fan! Res! The kid who followed you since your EMEA days. Became a streamer later—huge now, been the top streamer in the J-site Valorant section for years…”
Ji Wenze stopped tossing the lighter at some point, frowning slightly as he tried to recall.
“Any memory now?” Xue Jian prompted helplessly.
“Still don’t remember? Damn—you even gave him money before. Two hundred thousand! My dear young master!”