Chapter 128: "I’m More Than Happy"

Su Ruini’s attitude was very straightforward. She said, “I’m not forcing you. You make your own decision about work. Business is business, and you don’t need to consider Zihao’s feelings when giving me your answer.”

She paused, then smiled, “Your happiness is the most important thing.”

Although Zhou Leqi had known since their student days that Hou Zihao’s parents were very open-minded, only now, experiencing it firsthand, did she truly understand how open-minded they were. Growing up in such a family environment, it was no wonder his personality was so good.

Zhou Leqi felt very warm inside, but at moments like this, she couldn’t help but silently think: If only Uncle Hou were still here... how great that would be.

After arriving in A City, they parted ways with Su Ruini. A driver came to pick her up and take her to the company. She asked if they wanted a ride, but Zhou Leqi said no, they could take public transportation and take the opportunity to explore the city. Su Ruini didn’t insist and just got into the car. After closing the window, she knocked on her son a few times, saying, “Hurry up and buy a car. Aren’t you ashamed to always have your girlfriend take taxis?”

After saying that, she closed the window, and soon the taillights disappeared.

Actually, Hou Zihao had thought about buying a car before and even asked Zhou Leqi what kind she liked. But it was she who said not to buy one, advising him that Beijing traffic was so congested with license plate restrictions, it was better to take the subway. She kept telling him not to buy a car. He agreed with her and didn’t buy one. So when Su Ruini scolded him just now, Zhou Leqi stayed silent and didn’t speak up for him at all.

He was very speechless but, having accepted his lower status in the relationship, didn’t say any more nonsense. They took public transport together from the airport to downtown.

A City had a subway system now, very convenient and comprehensive, but Zhou Leqi still wanted to take a bus, mostly out of nostalgia. She was too embarrassed to tell Hou Zihao directly because last year when she came back looking for Luo Siyu, she ran into him downstairs at the apartment in the development zone. He invited her to take the bus together then, but she refused. Now if she mentioned it again, it would be embarrassing, and she didn’t want to lose face. So she kept quiet and walked toward the subway entrance, though her steps became slower.

He soon noticed, helped her with her luggage, and cautiously asked, “Not taking the subway anymore? Since you’re back, let’s take the bus?”

Zhou Leqi’s eyes lit up, pleased, but she still played coy and said, “The bus is too slow... the subway is more convenient.”

He went along with her act and pressed on: “Just once, come on, just to keep me company.”

Hearing that, she finally agreed shyly, nodded, and said, “Okay then.”

She happily started looking up the nearest bus stop, walking faster and even going ahead of Hou Zihao.

He silently followed behind her, shaking his head and smiling quietly.

Before long, they got on the bus, and their seats were arranged just like when they were teenagers: she sat by the window, he sat next to her, and because of his tall frame, he had to curl his legs awkwardly.

Hou Zihao hadn’t taken a domestic bus for many years and didn’t know you could pay by scanning your phone. Zhou Leqi taught him, and he was still marveling at how convenient it was when they got to their seats.

He said, “This is so convenient now. If we had this tech when we were in school, I wouldn’t have needed to specially buy a second-hand bus card.”

Zhou Leqi was surprised and recalled the old days, but she only knew that he had topped up a lot of money on the bus card to send her home. She didn’t know it was a second-hand card. So she asked, “Second-hand? Who did you buy it from?”

He shrugged, “Ge Ao.”

Actually, it wasn’t exactly bought—there was some stealing involved.

Ge Ao’s family moved closer to school in 10th grade, so he didn’t need the bus card much anymore. At the time, Hou Zihao was chasing Zhou Leqi hard and needed a bus card urgently. He didn’t have time to buy one, so he borrowed Ge Ao’s card. Later, after borrowing for a while, he never gave it back. He ended up topping up Ge Ao’s game account with some money to officially make the card his.

Zhou Leqi laughed, thinking of Ge Ao and feeling happy, and teased Hou Zihao: “You really... why do you always bully him?”

“How am I bullying him?” Hou Zihao disagreed, “Do you know how much game money I put on his account? Worth way more than that crappy card.”

“But didn’t you force him to sit next to me?” Zhou Leqi further argued. “He didn’t want to sit in the third row at all and complained every day.”

That was true.

Hou Zihao cleared his throat and insisted, “That’s not all my fault. Who told you not to let me sit with you? I was afraid others in the class would bully you.”

Zhou Leqi was speechless and rolled her eyes, “Come on, who could bully me? I’m so big!”

“Not necessarily,” he said with a pout, “You were under ninety pounds back then. And what if the person sitting next to you was a boy? What if he liked you too? You have to find problems early and intervene, like treating a disease.”

Zhou Leqi: “...”

She always couldn’t argue with him—not because of how she spoke, but because she was easily moved by the little details in his words. For example, when he just said “also likes you,” that “also” was like a little trigger that made her heart skip a beat, instantly making her feel dazed, as if she had gone back to her easily moved youth. The shaky bus only added weight to this daze, making her even more flustered.

Sigh, why can first love last so, so long?

Clearly... it had already been more than seven years.

Zhou Leqi pursed her lips, not wanting to keep talking about the past with Hou Zihao, so she changed the subject to something else she was interested in. “By the way, have you decided on your job yet? Are you planning to stay at Haoting to help Auntie?”

This topic came from his last sentence just now—something about “early detection, early intervention,” and “treatment”—she noticed he really liked medicine. Even now, he occasionally shared medical papers in his social circle, and she always tried to read them, but to no avail; those experimental data and charts looked like a foreign language to her.

He spent seven years earning his PhD, maybe being a doctor really suits him better? But Haoting was in such a difficult situation now, so he could only return to help his mother run the company for the time being. She wanted to know his future plans... or maybe she just wanted to know if he was happy now.

Hou Zihao was very straightforward. After all the ups and downs over the years had tempered his attitude; he rarely faced things he couldn’t accept. Even with major life decisions ahead, he seemed calm. He said, “I have a senior fellow apprentice at Peking Union Medical College. He contacted me last month, wanting me to come over. But you know my family’s situation now. It wouldn’t be right to leave my mom to handle the company alone... Sigh, I’ll just take it one step at a time.”

Zhou Leqi was somewhat speechless.

So... he turned down the chance to go to Peking Union Medical College?

She suddenly didn’t know what to say—whether to comfort him or something else. She felt nothing she said would be quite right or enough. He noticed her hesitation, smiled, and still looked frank and open. Then he reached over and tucked some hair behind her ear, saying, “Why’re you looking at me like that? I’m pretty happy helping my mom. Now I’m often late or leave early, but I can still text you during work hours. I’m totally fine with it.”

There it was again.

That casual way he put her at ease.

Her mood grew complicated. After a moment of silence, she looked at him and hesitated, “Auntie also suggested that I come work at Haoting... What do you think?”

She was asking for his opinion. If he also expressed a desire for her to come, she would definitely say yes.

But he said, “That depends on what you want. What does it matter what others say?”

“Haoting’s structure is still too traditional. After missing the last seven or eight years’ booming period, even the investment ideas are very different from those in your investment bank. You’ll feel frustrated,” he said objectively. “Besides, you don’t like mixing business with personal matters, right? If you really join Haoting, things could get messy, and the personnel relationships will give you headaches.”

...He was trying to discourage her.

This surprised her somewhat—she had thought he would want her to come work at Haoting so they could be together every day.

Seeing her surprised look, he raised an eyebrow and smiled, “What’s this? Didn’t expect me to be so noble, huh? You think I’d pull you over to be my personal secretary?”

More teasing.

She playfully hit him and complained, “I’m serious here—don’t you want me to join Haoting?”

He let her hit him once, then gently held her hand, rubbing her palm with his thumb. There was a strange warmth to it. Then he sighed and, after a moment, looked at her seriously and said, “Where you go isn’t important. I just want you to be happy.”

“Don’t overwork yourself, don’t make things difficult for yourself, don’t feel wronged,” he kissed the back of her hand, “If those three things are met, I won’t stop you no matter what you do.”

He always spoke like that—not very delicate or fancy with his words, often plain and colloquial—but somehow it always moved her deeply. Zhou Leqi was quietly touched again. She even learned his style and started to play down the seriousness with a casual tone: “You won’t stop me? Then what if I go back and hold onto President Pei’s leg? You won’t stop me either?”

Hearing that, he got flustered. His expression darkened as he said, “Why do you always have to drag Pei Qiming into everything? Please don’t make me angry—let me live a few more years, will you?”

His speech quickened; he really seemed to care. Then he added, “Okay, then let me add a fourth rule: no cheating. If you meet these four, I’ll let you do whatever you want.”

His serious tone made her laugh so hard she couldn’t stop.

He looked at her smiling face, feeling helpless. There was truly nothing he could do—because even now, his feelings for her were just as strong as in their youth, even deeper. Her smile, with those little crescent-shaped eyes, made his heart melt.

He decided not to argue with her and instead asked another question: “But why did you leave SWD back then? Putting Pei Qiming aside, the company itself was actually pretty good.”

Hou Zihao had only learned in September that Zhou Leqi left SWD. At that time, he was busy with the Haoting case and didn’t ask much about why. She said it was because the work pressure was too great and she was unhappy, so she quit. He believed her without question. But now thinking back, that reason seemed a bit weak, not like her style.

Could there be another reason?

Zhou Leqi glanced at him naturally, dodging the question without blushing or getting flustered. “I just didn’t want to do it anymore. Staying up late every day was too much. The personnel relationships were complicated. I wanted to change jobs.”

He nodded, but the strange feeling in his heart lingered. He was about to ask more when the bus arrived at the stop. She stood up from her seat, her profile bathed in the rare bright winter sunshine of A City, and turned to him, “Let’s go, time to get off.”