Monday morning, Xia Ran arrived at the office fifteen minutes earlier than usual.
The weekend had felt twice as long—the bar on Saturday, the bizarre blind date on Sunday, and Fu Sinian’s interrogation at her doorstep. Every single thing weighed on her mind, keeping her tossing and turning all night. She’d woken up before her alarm went off this morning, and decided to just get up and head out early.
The office was still mostly empty. She sat down at her desk, turned on her computer, and pulled up the proposal she hadn’t finished revising last week. The lines and color blocks on the screen were familiar—client requirements, revision notes, deadlines. She stared at the screen for ten minutes without making a single edit.
Her mind was filled with Fu Sinian asking her at the entrance of her building: “Xia Ran, have you ever regretted it?” In that moment, the night breeze had stopped, her hand had squeezed a small dent into her milk tea cup, and her heart had pounded so hard it ached in her chest. But she’d still said she didn’t regret it.
“Ran-jie?” Xiao Lin from the neighboring desk poked her head over. “You look terrible. Didn’t get enough rest over the weekend?”
“I’m fine, just got up early.” Xia Ran pulled her gaze back to the screen, typed two lines, then deleted one.
“Oh, by the way, did you hear?” Xiao Lin lowered her voice. “I think we’re going to be working with Fu Group.”
Xia Ran’s fingers paused on the keyboard. “Oh.” Her tone was flat.
She picked up the cup of coffee on her desk—already cold—and took a sip. Bitter.
The intercom on her desk rang.
“Xia Ran, come to my office.” It was Leader Wang’s voice.
She set down her bag and walked over. Leader Wang was leaning back in his chair, and for once, he gave her a smile.
“There’s a dinner tonight. You’re coming with me,” he said. “The Jinglan project is confirmed—this time it’s a collaboration with Fu Group.”
Xia Ran was taken aback. Jinglan was the client, but the real investor behind it was Fu Group.
“Do I need to present the proposal?”
“Yes. The design director from the client side will be there, along with some… people in charge.” Leader Wang glossed over it vaguely. “You just go and talk about your approach. Keep it simple.”
“Can I bring a colleague from the business development team?” Xia Ran tried. “They handle the liaison—”
“No need. The designer should go alone—they specifically want to hear from the designer herself.” Leader Wang waved his hand. “Seven o’clock, Penglai Pavilion. Dress nicely.”
Xia Ran opened her mouth, then swallowed her words.
Seven o’clock that evening, Penglai Pavilion.
The private room was large, with seven or eight people seated around the round table. Xia Ran was arranged at the far end, next to a man in his forties surnamed Zhou, whose business card read “Project Director, Fu Group.” Leader Wang sat across from her, attentively pouring wine for the person at the head of the table.
At the head of the table sat a man in his fifties surnamed Qian, the Deputy General Manager of Fu Group’s East China division. When Xia Ran walked in, he glanced at her, his gaze lingering on her face for a moment, then he smiled and had the server bring an extra set of chopsticks.
The food hadn’t arrived, but the wine was already poured.
“Xiao Xia, right? Come, let me toast you first.” The man surnamed Zhou raised his glass with an enthusiastic smile.
Xia Ran picked up her glass and took a small sip. Baijiu—the burn made her wince.
“Hey now, that won’t do.” The man surnamed Zhou waved his hand. “When Fu Group does business, we value sincerity. You’re a designer—no matter how good your proposal is, how can we build rapport without drinking?”
Someone at the table laughed.
Xia Ran glanced at Leader Wang. He was busy peeling shrimp, as if he hadn’t heard a thing.
She downed the glass.
Her stomach churned.
“Good! Now that’s what I like!” The man surnamed Zhou refilled her glass. “This second one, I’m toasting you on behalf of President Qian. We’ve looked at your proposal—not bad—but there are some details we need to discuss face to face—”
As he spoke, his gaze slid down from her face, landing on the second button of her blouse, and lingered there for a second.
Xia Ran shifted her chair half an inch to the side.
“Director Zhou, regarding the proposal, I’d like to walk you through my thinking on the color palette—”
“No rush, no rush. Drink first.” The man surnamed Zhou waved his hand grandly, raising his glass again. “We’ll talk while we drink. We at Fu Group are best at doing business over drinks.”
By the time the third glass went down, Xia Ran’s head was already spinning. She’d never had a strong tolerance—at gatherings she usually maxed out at two beers—and three straight glasses of baijiu had her stomach feeling like it was being squeezed in a fist.
“Come now, Xiao Xia, let me toast you personally.” President Qian suddenly spoke up, raising his glass with a beaming smile.
Everyone turned to look at Xia Ran.
“President Qian, I…” Xia Ran’s voice trembled slightly. “I really can’t drink any more. Could I switch to something non-alcoholic—”
“Xiao Xia, that’s no fun.” The man surnamed Zhou’s expression darkened. “President Qian is toasting you personally, and you won’t drink? Do you have some problem with Fu Group?”
“No, no, it’s just—”
“Then drink.” Zhou’s tone suddenly shifted, no longer the jovial laugh from before, but carrying an unyielding hardness. “You’re sitting here today representing your company. If your company wants to cooperate with the Fu Group, your sincerity is reflected in this glass of wine.”
Xia Ran clenched her fingers tightly.
Leader Wang finally looked up and glanced at her. She thought he might say something—even a single “drink less,” even a single look. But Leader Wang simply raised his own glass and smiled at President Qian: “President Qian, our Xiao Xia is young and doesn’t know any better. Please don’t take offense. Come, come, I’ll drink with you.”
Xia Ran took a deep breath and raised her glass.
Her fingers were trembling. A little wine spilled onto the tablecloth.
She brought the glass to her lips—
The door to the private room was pushed open from outside.
Everyone looked up.
A young man stood at the doorway, wearing a dark gray overcoat, unbuttoned, with a black turtleneck underneath. His gaze swept across the people at the round table, his expression indifferent, revealing nothing.
But the atmosphere in the room suddenly changed.
Zhou’s chopsticks fell onto the table with a sharp clatter. The smile on President Qian’s face froze, and he quickly stood up: “Fu, Fu—President Fu—”
Fu Sinian didn’t look at him. His gaze swept across the table and finally landed on Xia Ran.
She was holding a wine glass, her face flushed an unnatural red, her eyes glistening with moisture. Her white shirt was wrinkled, paint stains on the cuffs, her hair carelessly tied up with a black elastic band—a far cry from the Xia Ran in his memory, and yet unmistakably her.
Fu Sinian’s Adam’s apple moved.
Then he shifted his gaze away from her, turning to President Qian, then to Zhou, and finally settling on Leader Wang.
“President Qian,” Fu Sinian’s voice wasn’t loud, but the room was so quiet you could hear the hum of the air conditioner, “Can you explain to me what exactly is going on here?”
President Qian’s face changed color several times, his lips trembling: “President Fu, it’s… it’s just a normal business dinner, having a meal with our partners—”
“Partners?” Fu Sinian repeated, his tone flat, but everyone could feel the chill pressing down. He glanced at Xia Ran, then at the glass in her hand. “So the ‘partner’ you’re referring to is this designer?”
No one dared to speak.
Fu Sinian stepped forward, stopping at the edge of the round table. He didn’t sit down, just stood there, looking down at everyone present.
“I’d like to ask,” he said, his voice suddenly turning cold, like a blade sliding across skin, “Since when did the Fu Group’s business negotiations become like this?”
The air in the room felt as if it had been sucked dry.
“Since when,” Fu Sinian said, each word deliberate, “did Fu Group people need to force a designer to drink baijiu at a dinner table just to close a deal?”
Sweat beaded on Zhou’s forehead, his lips quivering, unable to utter a single word.
President Qian quickly spoke up: “President Fu, you misunderstand. Director Zhou was just doing it for the project—”
“For the project?” Fu Sinian turned to look at him, his gaze causing President Qian’s voice to catch in his throat. “For the project, you made a girl who doesn’t drink drink until her eyes turned red? President Qian, how many years have you been at Fu Group? Since when did our way of doing business become like this?”
President Qian’s face went white as paper.
Fu Sinian didn’t look at him again. He walked over to Xia Ran, reached out, and took the glass from her hand, setting it on the table. Then he bent down to meet her eyes.
There was no coldness in those eyes now, only an expression Xia Ran had seen many times before—when her stomach hurt, when she cried, when she woke up terrified from nightmares in the middle of the night, he always looked at her like this.
“Let’s go,” he said.
One word. Exactly the same as five years ago.
Her legs were weak when she stood up—whether from the alcohol or something else, she couldn’t tell. Fu Sinian’s overcoat was draped over her, still carrying his body heat, the scent of cedar enveloping her completely.
She followed behind him, out of the private room.
The corridor was long, the lighting dim. Fu Sinian walked ahead, his strides quick, the hem of his coat sweeping up a breeze. Xia Ran followed behind, her high heels sinking unevenly into the carpet.
At the elevator, Fu Sinian suddenly stopped and turned around.
Xia Ran couldn’t stop in time and nearly stumbled into his arms.
They were less than half a step apart.
She looked up, he looked down.
At her nose, reddened from the alcohol. At the teeth marks on her lips where she’d bitten them.
“You…” he began, his voice hoarse beyond words, “Are you okay?”
Not an accusation. It was concern.
After a long moment—
“…Thank you,” she said in a muffled voice, not looking up.
But he simply said: “I’ll take you home.”
Xia Ran sniffled and nodded.