Chapter 110: Finale

Shang Zhitao poured all her energy into organizing this year’s annual gala.

Lingmei’s annual gala was the highlight of the company’s cultural calendar each year—a grand event filled with awards, raffles, performances, and major announcements. As the project manager, Shang Zhitao requested Lumi from the marketing department to assist her. It was a selfish move on her part. She wanted her final days at Lingmei to be spent alongside the people she cherished most.

It felt like returning to the beginning, when Lumi used to take Shang Zhitao around to venues. The two of them worked tirelessly for two days on the proposal, then presented it to Josh, Will, and Tracy for approval. Once everything was finalized, they moved into the preparation phase.

They asked employees to submit their favorite personal photo without revealing the purpose, and everyone happily complied. From the company’s archives, they compiled numerous clips of past events, creating something truly meaningful.

On the day of the dress rehearsal, Luan Nian finally returned after a long business trip. Carrying his luggage, he arrived at the venue just as the event staff were busy setting up. Shang Zhitao was holding a pre-rehearsal meeting with the performers. Luan Nian sat in the back row, watching her.

They hadn’t spoken in a very long time.

Whenever they crossed paths at work, Shang Zhitao’s gaze never lingered on him. There were moments when Luan Nian considered saying something to her, but the memory of her words would stop him:

“A dirty, ugly, disgusting relationship.”

“I never thought of you as my boyfriend.”

The Shang Zhitao standing there now had shed the naivety of her twenty-two-year-old self but remained as clean and upright as ever. Her posture was straight and earnest, just as it always had been.

How strange—in 2016, there were still people who stood like that.

During the executive performance segment, Shang Zhitao gathered the department heads and carefully explained the program designed for them. Luan Nian stood opposite her, closer now, noticing the dark circles under her eyes—she must have stayed up countless nights preparing for the gala.

Shang Zhitao handed out printed scripts to the executives: “Please cooperate, everyone. This year, we’ve arranged a retro disco performance for you. We’ve hired a dance instructor who will teach you the moves shortly. They’re not difficult, but they’ll look great.” It was Lumi’s mischievous idea; she said she wanted to see Will and Luke shake their hips—it might be sexy.

“You could have arranged a strip tease,” Shang Zhitao teased her.

“That wouldn’t do. Will still has bite marks from me!” Lumi winked at Shang Zhitao.

“Why did you bite him?”

“He made me mad.”

Lumi wasn’t one to let herself be wronged. The wealthy demolition princess had relatives with sharper tongues than hers, so no one dared to provoke her—except Will.

The executives exchanged uneasy glances, some visibly reluctant. However, Tracy, the only female executive, was delighted: “I’ll dance! I used to be the disco queen back in the day.”

The others looked at Luan Nian, hoping he’d refuse. Poetry readings or piano performances would have been more dignified, after all. But to their surprise, Luan Nian nodded: “Let’s follow the director’s lead.”

Lumi whistled and pointed to the outfits nearby: “These are your costumes, custom-ordered and cleaned according to your T-shirt sizes.”

Shiny, glittering outfits.

Luan Nian had always known that whenever Shang Zhitao worked with Lumi, things tended to spiral out of control.

While the others practiced, Luan Nian sat playing on his phone. No one dared to emulate him, so they practiced diligently. During the group rehearsal, everyone took their positions, and as the spotlights hit, their sparkling outfits looked incredibly cool, retro, and unmistakably Lingmei.

Though Luan Nian hadn’t practiced, he remembered the moves perfectly and danced better than anyone else. Will, however, was stiff, refusing to sway his hips. Lumi shouted through a megaphone: “Boss Will, you need to shake it! You’re falling behind!”

“Too slow!”

“Bigger movements!”

Shang Zhitao stifled a laugh, her gaze finally sweeping over Luan Nian. For a fleeting moment, she recalled her first year at the company, standing below the stage as he performed rock music with his friends. Lumi had told her then: “A man like that—you can sleep with him, but don’t fall in love.”

On the night of the actual gala, the executives’ performance brought the house down.

As the spotlights hit, the audience erupted in applause and cheers. The music began—an adapted version of Stupid Love .

Luan Nian remained as confident and captivating as ever. Shang Zhitao stood by the side of the stage, watching Yilia’s gaze from the second table. It mirrored how she herself had once looked at Luan Nian. But this time, she felt completely detached.

There was something liberating about being an outsider.

The 2016 Lingmei New Year Gala was a retro-themed extravaganza. Every act was meticulously designed, exuding sophistication, creativity, and charm. Someone in the audience asked, “Who directed this year’s event? It’s absolutely brilliant!”

“Flora, of course! Who else?”

After the seventh segment, Shang Zhitao retreated backstage. She had a performance of her own—the final act of the evening—a collaboration with a few close workplace friends.

The last time she sang in public was eight years ago. Time truly waits for no one.

She stepped onto the lift platform, slowly rising onto the stage. A soft spotlight illuminated her, highlighting her figure. Behind her played a montage of memories: laughter from their Phuket team-building trip years ago, edited footage of company events over the years, even recognizable voices of familiar colleagues.

The stage fell silent as Shang Zhitao began singing the first line: “That laughter reminds me of my flowers...”

Luan Nian finally looked up, seeing a side of Shang Zhitao he had never witnessed before. How strange—they had been together for six years, yet he had no idea her voice could be so enchanting.

Everyone watched Shang Zhitao. Before, they had seen Flora as an ordinary but hardworking person. Now, they realized that everyone had their moment to shine. Shang Zhitao was breathtakingly beautiful, dressed in a simple white gown, unadorned, pure as morning dew on lotus leaves or gentle ripples on an early spring lake.

Her voice was crystal clear.

The images behind her were even more moving.

The audience saw the photos most precious to each other. Shang Zhitao’s photo was from Christmas 2010—her, Sun Yuanzhu, and Sun Yu standing in the snow. Time carried away much but left behind so much more.

As the singing faded, another video began to play, starting from about five or six years ago. It featured their deep conversations in various settings, moments of raw emotion where tears had been shed more than once.

Lumi climbed onto a table, raising a light board in her hand and shouting loudly, “Shang Zhitao, I love you!”

Everyone joined in, calling out Shang Zhitao’s name.

At Lingmei, people were accustomed to using English names, but on this day, they all called out her Chinese name together. Regardless of who they had flattered or whose wealth and influence they admired, at this moment, everyone understood who they truly cherished.

It was Shang Zhitao—the person who had always been upright, kind, helpful, and generous in the workplace; the person who always kept her word and was utterly reliable; the person who genuinely celebrated others’ progress and achievements; the person who bravely stood up against sexual harassment despite immense pressure.

Over six years, Shang Zhitao had completed her personal transformation through humility and resilience—a metamorphosis that could belong to any ordinary person.

Unexpectedly, Luan Nian felt his eyes grow warm, and he lowered his head.

On that day, after all the performances ended, Luan Nian encountered Shang Zhitao in the backstage dressing room as she was changing clothes. They stood several meters apart, looking at each other.

Their eyes met, as if there were so many words left unsaid.

Shang Zhitao merely wanted to say goodbye, but in the end, she didn’t speak.

“Shang Zhitao, I have to urgently fly to the U.S. tomorrow. When I return, let’s have a proper conversation, okay?” He finally broke the silence—it was the first time they had spoken privately since that day.

Shang Zhitao nodded. “Alright.”

“You sang beautifully.” Luan Nian added.

“Thank you.”

“Flora, group photo time!” Lumi called out. Shang Zhitao turned her head and said to Luan Nian, “It’s time for the big group photo.”

“Okay.”

The two walked toward the stage together. Everyone was already waiting. Shang Zhitao picked up a megaphone to organize the group into position. Once everyone was ready, Lumi asked, “Where will you stand?”

“Anywhere is fine.”

“No, that won’t do. The director stands in the middle! Next to Luke!” Shelly, who had traveled from afar, suggested. A spot quickly opened up next to Luan Nian for Shang Zhitao. She set down the megaphone and took her place, arms behind her back, maintaining a distance of about one fist from Luan Nian.

The photographer shouted, “One, two, three, cheese!”

Everyone said “cheese,” but stiffly.

“Is this still Lingmei? Lingmei people need to loosen up!” The photographer complained. Everyone burst into laughter, releasing their inhibitions, striking poses of all kinds. Only Luan Nian and Shang Zhitao remained standing straight, smiling faintly, completing this group photo.

And with that, it was over.

As the excitement dissipated, Shang Zhitao and Lumi collapsed onto chairs in the venue, looking at each other with post-event melancholy.

“Drink one more round?” Lumi asked.

“Sure, invite Sun Yu too.”

The three women drank heavily that night. Amidst the alcohol, they hugged and cried. No one knew exactly what they were crying about. It seemed women always liked to cry when drunk—if they didn’t cry, it meant they weren’t drunk enough.

Sun Yu pinched Shang Zhitao’s cheek: “You must take care of yourself, okay?”

“You too.”

Lumi wiped away her tears and sobbed, “Damn it! I hate farewells the most.”

“What a coincidence—I do too.”

________________________________________

On Shang Zhitao’s last working day at Lingmei, her resignation approval process had been finalized, pending only Josh’s final sign-off. Since she hadn’t qualified as an expert, the approval process reached Josh, and the workflow was officially released.

That day, Lingmei held a flea market to “bid farewell to the old and welcome the new.” Shang Zhitao brought the bags Luan Nian had given her, loading them into Lumi’s car.

Lumi had no idea Shang Zhitao owned so many luxury items—fourteen bags, all brand-new. “You’re actually loaded! Shang Zhitao, you never told me you were so wealthy!”

Shang Zhitao smiled. “It’s a long story. Let’s not talk about it!”

For the first time, Shang Zhitao opened the gifts Luan Nian had given her—all those bags. His taste was impeccable; none of them were mass-market styles. Every bag he had chosen for her was beautiful.

“Damn!” Lumi stood beside her and asked, “How much are you planning to sell them for?”

“I don’t know. You decide the price for me!”

“Ninety-seven percent off should do.”

“Then let’s go with ninety-seven percent off. Help me put on the price tags.”

Lumi was an expert on bags and knew all the prices by heart. She wrote quickly, but Shang Zhitao stopped her hand: “Wait.”

“What?”

“Which one do you like? I’ll give it to you.”

“It’s too expensive.”

“Fifty percent off. As you can see, I’m rich.”

Lumi laughed and pointed to the most expensive one: “This one. Even though I own a few properties, I couldn’t bring myself to buy it.”

“How much does it cost?”

“Not quite 200,000 yuan.”

Shang Zhitao nodded. Luan Nian really spared no expense. But neither did she: “I’ll sell it to you at fifty percent off.”

“No way. Even with our close friendship, I can’t take ten thousand yuan off your hands. If you sell it to me at fifty percent off, I’ll give you two of my old bags in return. I don’t want to use them anymore anyway.”

Shang Zhitao laughed, amused by Lumi: “Alright.”

She sold another bag at fifty percent off—to Tracy. Tracy also refused, but Shang Zhitao insisted. She said to Tracy, “Tracy, I really love you. It’s just a bag. I even wanted to give it to you.”

“Don’t.” Tracy hugged her. “Flora, no matter which company you go to or where you are, I hope you understand that you are exceptionally talented—you’re the best employee I’ve ever seen. Don’t believe anyone who tries to undermine you. Just trust yourself.”

“Okay.” Shang Zhitao’s eyes reddened. “Thank you.”

Everyone in the company was shocked. They never expected that Shang Zhitao, who rarely wore luxury items, owned so many high-end bags. Gossip spread about her background, but Shang Zhitao remained calm. When she left work that day, she slung a bag over her shoulder without saying goodbye to anyone.

On the day she left Beijing, it snowed. Luke had already been taken back to Ice City by a friend the day before.

She dragged her suitcase to the door and took one last look at the apartment where she had lived for six years. It held both her happiest and most painful memories. Tears fell unbidden. Tomorrow, Sun Yu would also move out, marking the end of their shared story here.

“Let’s go,” Sun Yu said to Shang Zhitao.

The car drove toward the train station, reminiscent of their earliest days together. That day, it had rained. Sun Yu, freshly unemployed, greeted Shang Zhitao with a smile upon her arrival in Beijing and took her to the market wearing a raincoat.

As they passed the market, Shang Zhitao kept looking back. It was as if she saw four young people in their early twenties walking out, laughing with meat and vegetables in hand—their younger selves.

At the train station, she bid farewell to Sun Yu and Lumi. She said, “I’ll change my phone number and start a new life. The day I call you will be the first day of my true rebirth. Thank you.”

The three girls embraced, holding back their tears.

Lumi said, “I’m not crying! That’d be embarrassing!”

But as the train slowly pulled away from the platform, she suddenly burst into tears.

Through the train window, Shang Zhitao saw Lumi break down and start crying. Her own tears spilled over as well. The train clanked along the tracks with a dull sound, as if her heart had been crushed under its wheels.

Finally, she took out her phone, tears streaming down her face, and sent a message to Luan Nian: “Thank you for six years of companionship. Wishing you all the best.”

Then she deleted all of Luan Nian’s contact information.

In those years, the internet suddenly became obsessed with the idea of escaping from Beijing, Shanghai, and Guangzhou. As her train departed Beijing, Shang Zhitao thought: This isn’t an escape. This is a grand retreat.

Because I want to embrace another possibility.

Goodbye, Beijing.