Chapter 106: In the Clouds

Shang Zhitao was packing her belongings from the northwest.

She had spent fourteen months sleeping and living in the northwest. Those fourteen months, through wind and rain, had been incredibly arduous.

Suddenly, she felt reluctant to leave this little home.

After sending her packed luggage back to Beijing and giving away the high-quality mattress Luan Nian had bought to a colleague who didn’t mind taking it, she found herself occupied until evening.

Dragging a small suitcase to the airport, Shelly came to see her off. The two of them had spent fourteen months together day and night, overcoming countless project challenges. At this moment, they felt an unexpected sense of camaraderie.

“Why don’t you apply to be the general manager of our northwest branch?” Shelly suggested.

Shang Zhitao laughed. “That could work.”

“I’m serious. It’s tough to make it in Beijing, especially in our company. There are those with money, those with connections—you never know when you might offend someone. Here, it’s better—far from the higher-ups. A few years for one big project, and then that project sustains us for years.”

“Speaking of projects, the company has approved over four hundred thousand yuan in project bonuses. They should be distributed by the end of the year.”

“That’s great. Thank you. Seriously, consider my suggestion—come here to be the branch manager.”

Shang Zhitao burst into laughter.

Returning to Beijing meant stepping back into the whirlpool of public opinion. But one thing was certain: she, Sun Yu, and Sun Yuanzhu planned to watch a midnight movie together one day. In the empty theater, the three of them each claimed a row of empty seats, letting their joys and sorrows dissipate in the dim light.

When they emerged, walking side by side, Sun Yu mentioned that Christmas years ago. After the snowfall, the three of them had walked six kilometers out of the cinema, treading on the snow.

That night, they had taken countless photos in their neighborhood, but their favorite remained the group photo of the three of them. Standing in the snow, it captured their prime years. Back then, none of them had experienced much hardship; they were still so young and naive.

“Those days can’t come back, can they?” Sun Yu said.

“Let’s take another group photo,” Shang Zhitao suggested.

That night, they took another photo. Sun Yu secretly compared the new photo to the old one, her eyes welling up with tears. She said to Shang Zhitao, “Look at him—he’s like a different person.”

“But his warmth is still there,” Shang Zhitao consoled her, though she too felt a pang of sadness.

After fourteen months away, sitting back in her office felt surreal. Opening her drawer, she saw the list of wishes before turning thirty—it was almost all fulfilled, except for one line that remained untouched: “I want to have a small house in Beijing.”

She stared at the paper for a long time. Years had passed, and the paper had grown worn. Gently, she placed it back in the drawer.

“Flora, can you come to my office for a moment?” Josh called her in. She replied, “Sure.”

She got up and went to Josh’s office.

Seeing her enter, he pointed to the chair opposite his desk. “Sit.”

Shang Zhitao sat down, and Josh looked up from his computer. “Have you prepared the report for the presentation?”

“Not yet. I’ve been busy with the final stages of Phase One. I haven’t had time to write it.” Shang Zhitao sat upright as always. Noticing her posture, Josh said, “You don’t need to be so formal.”

“It’s not that—I always sit like this.”

“Mm.” Josh pushed the computer toward Shang Zhitao. “I’ve been reviewing your performance evaluations over the past few years. You’re really impressive. But you do have weaknesses.” He opened the competency model. “Have you cross-referenced yourself?”

“Yes.”

“Have you analyzed it? What’s your conclusion?”

“I have. Creativity is my weak point.”

Josh nodded. “So during the presentation, play to your strengths and mitigate your weaknesses. When you finish the report, send it to me first. I’ll help you review it multiple times.” Shang Zhitao wanted to ask if he would also review Yilia’s, but she ultimately didn’t say anything. There was no need—an outstanding leader would appear impartial at such times.

“Thank you. I’ll send it to you as soon as I finish.”

“Don’t call me ‘you.’ Just call me Josh.”

“Alright, Josh.”

Shang Zhitao’s seriousness made Josh chuckle. “There’s no need to look so tense. I hope you succeed. I didn’t intend to bring it up at the dinner table, but everyone brought it up, so I had to say something. I hope you understand.”

“It’s fine, Josh.”

As Shang Zhitao exited Josh’s office, she ran into Tracy, who smiled and asked, “How did it go?”

“How did what go?”

“The materials for the presentation.”

“I haven’t started preparing yet.”

“Prepare well, Flora,” Tracy encouraged her. “I believe in you.”

“Thank you, Tracy.” Shang Zhitao believed Tracy’s encouragement was sincere. She trusted her completely.

Back at her desk, she saw Lumi had arrived. Spotting Shang Zhitao, Lumi pulled her along to buy coffee. As the elevator doors closed, Lumi said, “Don’t be afraid of anything. Will is also one of the judges.”

“What?”

“This year’s channel evaluation will be conducted by the heads of each department plus two experts. Tracy is also a judge. I’ve analyzed it for you: Will is someone I’ve slept with—if he dares give you low scores, I’ll kill him. Tracy has always been good to you. Luke, stubborn as he is, should be fair. You have a good relationship with Grace. The only variable is your new boss.”

Lumi earnestly analyzed everything for Shang Zhitao. She’d rather remain insignificant her whole life than see Shang Zhitao lose. She wanted Shang Zhitao to win against them all and rise to the top.

Shang Zhitao couldn’t express how much she loved Lumi, so she simply said, “Coffee’s on me.”

That day, her mood was exceptionally good—better than ever.

She called Sun Yuanzhu and Sun Yu, asking if they wanted to have dinner together that night. They both readily agreed.

Sun Yuanzhu even posted a few restaurant options in the group chat. “What do you think of these places?”

That day, everything seemed so ordinary. They were busy at their respective jobs, planning to meet up after work to go grocery shopping and cook a big meal together. The plan was perfect: Sun Yu would pick up Shang Zhitao, then the two of them would pick up Sun Yuanzhu, head to the market, and finally return home to prepare a feast.

Everything was meticulously planned, and the weather was just as perfect—clear skies, crisp autumn air, and a gentle breeze.

The clouds that evening were breathtakingly beautiful. Both Shang Zhitao and Sun Yu pulled out their phones to take pictures, sharing the golden hues of the sunset in their group chat with the caption: “Look, a poetic dusk.”

They drove to the building where Sun Yuanzhu worked. Sun Yu called him, but he didn’t answer.

The area outside the building was crowded, and they struggled to push through. Shang Zhitao asked a young woman nearby, “What’s going on? Is there an event?”

The woman’s eyes were brimming with tears. “One of our colleagues jumped off the building,” she said, still shaken by the tragedy that had unfolded so close to her.

“Why would someone jump when they were living a good life?”

Shang Zhitao and Sun Yu pushed further into the crowd, with Sun Yu repeatedly trying to call Sun Yuanzhu’s phone, but no one answered. Finally, they reached the innermost part of the crowd, blocked by police tape. They saw a body lying on the ground, covered with a white sheet.

Sun Yu’s phone was still in her hand. She watched as someone nearby held up a phone for the police, who took it and answered: “Hello?”

Sun Yu couldn’t make out what the officer said. A cacophony of voices exploded in her ears, shattering her eardrums. She looked at Shang Zhitao, tears streaming down her face, gripping Shang Zhitao’s hand tightly. She saw the light dim in Shang Zhitao’s eyes, replaced by confusion.

She hung up the phone, her hands trembling uncontrollably, her teeth chattering. With a quivering voice, she pleaded with Shang Zhitao: “Taotao, can you help me check if it’s him? Can you?”

“What? Who?”

“That person. Can you go and check for me?”

Shang Zhitao closed her eyes for a long moment before opening them again. “Alright.”

A fifty-meter walk felt like an eternity. Shang Zhitao stumbled once, steadied by a security guard who murmured, “It might not be him.”

Shang Zhitao was led to the body. The white sheet was lifted, revealing a bloodied, unrecognizable face. Shang Zhitao shut her eyes tightly, her mind flooded with Sun Yuanzhu’s words: “I want to jump into the sea of clouds.”

“I want to jump into the sea of clouds.”

The evening sky was exceptionally beautiful, bathed in crimson and gold. Sun Yuanzhu had died in the midst of such a picturesque dusk, his departure imbued with poetic grace. Even in death, he carried gentleness.

People around whispered among themselves: “Such a promising young man—why did he do this?”

“He was a young scientist in the autonomous driving department—a pillar of the nation. Such a pity.”

“Who knows what kind of trouble he must have been going through?”

Everyone spoke about his death as though it were an ordinary occurrence, treating it as just another event in the mundane flow of life. But they didn’t know—he was someone’s cherished lover, someone’s dearest friend, someone irreplaceable.

Shang Zhitao finally broke down in tears.

She asked Sun Yu: “Do you want to take one last look? Do you want to say goodbye?”

Sun Yu shook her head. “No, I want to remember him with a clean face.” Her expression remained blank throughout.

Shang Zhitao couldn’t recall what happened afterward. She didn’t remember how she cried in front of everyone, how Sun Yu dragged her away, or how they made it back home.

Everything felt hollow.

In this warm home, there were still traces of Sun Yuanzhu everywhere: the bookshelves he built himself, the fence he crafted for Luke, the walls he painted, the flowers he planted.

I don’t know if you’ve ever lost your best friend—I have. That’s how Shang Zhitao felt. The experience was surreal. She and Sun Yu sat in the darkened living room, moonlight streaming in like water. Both stared at the door, half-expecting Sun Yuanzhu to walk in any moment—thin, gentle, smiling softly as he said, “I’m back.”

Suddenly, Shang Zhitao couldn’t picture his face anymore, only a vague outline with glasses perched on it.

“Do you remember what he looked like?” she asked Sun Yu through tears.

Sun Yu didn’t respond. Instead, she got up and went to the kitchen to cook noodles. She was starving, her stomach painfully empty, desperate to be filled with food.

She ate three bowls of noodles, stuffing her stomach until it felt bloated. Shang Zhitao tried to wrestle the chopsticks from her hands, crying and pleading, “Don’t do this, Sun Yu.” Sun Yu picked up the bowl to drink the soup, but her stomach began to cramp painfully. Suddenly, she understood why Sun Yuanzhu hadn’t wanted to eat. Setting the bowl down, she walked into the bedroom and closed the door.

Shang Zhitao sat in the room, unable to sleep all night. At dawn, she suddenly remembered Sun Yuanzhu’s face—the morning after the rain, when he walked with her to the bus stop. He had said, “My name is Sun Yuanzhu.”

She had asked, “The Yuanzhu from ‘With soaring ambition beyond the four seas, wings spread wide for distant flight’?”

The final line of that poem reads: “The ancients cherished every fleeting moment, a thought that fills us with awe.”

This should have been a wonderful day, but it became the worst day of their lives.

________________________________________

By the next evening, Sun Yuanzhu’s father and younger sister arrived to collect his belongings. His sister was strikingly beautiful, her features resembling his. Though four people were in the house, no one spoke. Shang Zhitao and Sun Yu stood by the doorway, watching Sun Yuanzhu’s family sort through his things. Underneath his bed, they found stacks of books and a small box. The elderly man opened it to reveal a jumble of items, each labeled: “For Yu and Tao.”

They handed the box to Shang Zhitao and Sun Yu. Sun Yu recognized the small tokens she had given Sun Yuanzhu over the years: a comb, a jade pendant, a fountain pen, and a letter. All of her tenderness as an adult had been poured into these gifts. Opening the letter, she found a line Sun Yuanzhu had added at the end:

“From beyond this world, I will watch you fall in love, marry, and bear children, living a joyful life, free from suffering.”

There was also a small carved figurine tied to a branch—made by Shang Zhitao.

Life is a dusty journey; we are both travelers and homecomings.

These gifts represented Sun Yuanzhu’s gentle affection over the years. From now on, they could only repay him with the wind.

________________________________________

On the seventh night of continuous insomnia for Shang Zhitao and endless eating and sleeping for Sun Yu, Shang Zhitao lay in bed when she heard a sound coming from the living room. Following it, she found Sun Yu standing there, crying. She turned to Shang Zhitao, tears streaming down her face: “It’s been seven days. He’s not coming back.”

Shang Zhitao embraced Sun Yu tightly, holding onto the last remnants of her soul.

“I won’t fall in love, get married, or have children. If I do, he won’t be able to watch over me.”

“I hope that in my next life, I’ll meet him at seventeen. I’ll give him all my love—from youth to old age.”

“I hope every ‘I love you’ I ever said to him becomes a light guiding him on his journey, illuminating the path beneath his feet.”

“I hope he never suffers again.”

In the darkest moment of life, I wish to light an eternal lamp for my beloved, accompanying you to the end of the road, sending you to the clouds where you wished to go. From now on, I remain in this mortal world, while you dwell in the clouds—and in my heart.

May you live a hundred years.