Summer thunderstorms arrive without warning. Jiang Muzhou stood in the corridor, smoking a cigarette as he watched the heavy sheet of rain.
Raindrops lashed against the scorching-hot concrete pavement, instantly kicking up a layer of dust. The choking, heat-radiating scent of concrete hit him full force.
Jiang Muzhou stubbed out his cigarette. The weather was far too muggy, and even the motorcycle riders’ group chat had grown unusually quiet.
Their last conversation had been about planning a trip to the grasslands together once the weather cooled down in November, and Jiang Muzhou had signed up for it.
Yet November was still a long way off. Doing the math, he realized he hadn’t stepped outside in roughly four months.
He genuinely wanted to get out: to feel the wind, to find a sense of freedom.
His phone rang. He glanced at the caller ID, the corners of his eyes curving into a smile. “President Shang?”
“It’s me.”
The voice on the other end of the line was as magnetic as ever, sounding like a broadcast announcer’s, yet more vivid and full of emotion. His Mandarin was a comfort to the ear, especially when occasionally peppered with the characteristic retroflex suffixes unique to Beijing natives.
“I told you to just call me by my name.” Showing a trace of dissatisfaction, Shang Shiru nonetheless shifted to the reason for his call. “There’s a gaming expo in September. Make sure you all prepare well, as I’ve secured an exhibition booth for you, along with a spot for a stage presentation.”
Jiang Muzhou was genuinely surprised. He already knew about the event and had just filled out the application form without submitting it yet, never expecting Shang Shiru to have already taken care of it on his end.
Just as he was about to speak, Shang Shiru cut him off. “Don’t bother thanking me; this is my game too.”
The sky grew dim. Wind and rain swept through the tree branches, producing a rustling din.
Gazing at the intensifying rain, Jiang Muzhou walked back into the studio and sat down on the lounge sofa. “Of course I won’t thank you. I’m still counting on you to introduce those investors to me.”
“Are you looking to secure Series B financing?”
“Yeah, I’ve got that in mind and want to prep ahead of time.”
“Then you’ll need to give me a heads-up so I can pull some strings for you.”
“President Shang truly is wealthy and generous. Ever heard the saying about not putting all your eggs in one basket?”
“Right now, I’m very optimistic about your basket, so I’m lining the bottom with cotton to guarantee it won’t break.” Reminding him from the other end of the line, Shang Shiru added, “By the way, remember to come to my birthday this Friday.”
Jiang Muzhou chuckled. “In that case, I’ll send you your birthday gift a little later. Make sure you unwrap it yourself.”
“What gift? Should I come over and pick it up?” The moment he heard the word gift, Shang Shiru grew interested.
In past years, his birthdays were always spent with crowds gathering to eat and spend money, with no one ever going out of their way to give him a present.
He had thought he didn’t care about such things, but hearing that he had a gift coming today made him realize he, too, needed these small comforts.
“No need, you’ll know once you receive it.”
It wasn’t until a messaging notification popped up that Shang Shiru learned what Jiang Muzhou’s gift actually was.
Jiang Muzhou had asked him to update the game City Builder.
He opened the app and discovered that it really could be updated now.
After finishing his phone call and cigarette in the lounge, Jiang Muzhou saw that the thunderstorm outside had yet to clear, looking as though it would easily last another hour or two.
On the messaging app, after sending over the game, the other person never replied again.
He wondered if the gift was unappealing or if it felt too cheap.
Since showing up empty-handed to a friend’s birthday party was never quite right, he had racked his brains. No matter what he brought, by the living standards of that social circle, it would seem far too low-end.
At the same time, he couldn’t afford anything truly expensive.
It wasn’t until he noticed the game, already played through to the end and yet uninstalled, still sitting on Shang Shiru’s phone that he figured out what to give.
That City Builder game was something he and Tong Hui, a junior, had created during Jiang Muzhou’s senior year when he didn’t want to look for a job. Jiang Muzhou was responsible for the program architecture and development, while Tong Hui handled the art.
To scrape together a bit of living expenses, the two of them had spent over half a year putting it together while living frugally.
Later on, through an introduction by a friend, they sold it to a gaming company and spent their time providing ongoing post-launch service.
Only, lacking experience back then, the game received mediocre market feedback, and that gaming company didn’t do well either, going under shortly after. As for the game itself, there was naturally no follow-up.
He hadn’t expected that among the few people who downloaded the game, Shang Shiru turned out to be one of them, even playing all the way to the highest level they had originally set.
In short, the highest-grade gift he could offer at the moment was this very game, as it felt both thoughtful and not too shabby, preventing him from losing face.
Whether Shang Shiru liked it or not was another matter; he had simply done what he could.
Returning to the office area and setting down his phone, Jiang Muzhou called a general meeting, primarily to brief everyone on the upcoming gaming expo.
Over this period, they needed to produce a standalone demo video to showcase at the exhibition.
By then, they would also set up gaming equipment at their booth so clients and consumers could experience the game firsthand.
Everyone was assigned clear roles, and the team set to work preparing for the September expo.
After the workday ended, his chat window with Shang Shiru remained blank. Jiang Muzhou rarely gave gifts to people and struggled to gauge the other person’s mood.
If he liked it, not even replying to a message felt highly unusual.
If he didn’t like it, going by Shang Shiru’s character, he ought to have politely said thank you.
He didn’t know Shang Shiru all that well, but he simply had this intuition that Shang Shiru was bound to be that kind of polite person.
“I’m sorry, President Zhou, but President Shang is busy right now and cannot receive guests at the moment.” Chen Jinghuai was in the middle of turning away yet another department head who had come to discuss business with Shang Shiru.
The visitor glanced in surprise at the tightly locked door. Ordinarily, this door was practically never closed, and anyone coming to talk business with Shang Shiru could just walk right in.
“Director Chen,” President Zhou pointed at the office door, “is someone inside?”
Chen Jinghuai shook his head. “No.”
“Then is there a major project?”
Chen Jinghuai said, “President Zhou, you don’t need to fish for details. President Shang really isn’t available to receive visitors right now.”
After seeing President Zhou out, Chen Jinghuai looked back at the closed door, a wave of grievances washing over him. While work hours were always busy, their boss was hiding in his office playing video games.
Everyone said Shang Shiru was an extremely self-disciplined person who took his work seriously.
If he told anyone else that Shang Shiru was playing video games during office hours, they would probably think he was talking nonsense, wondering how Shang Shiru could possibly play video games.
At that moment, Shang Shiru was leaning back against his office chair, his feet propped up on his desk.
He held a phone plugged into a power source, gathering necessary materials across various corners of the city, combining them, and then gathering more.
Outside the floor-to-ceiling windows, the rain had stopped, night had fallen, and the neon lights outside were all ablaze, surrounded by deep silence.
The only sound filling the entire office was the upbeat background music of the game.