Chapter 111: Resolute

Luan Nian saw the message several hours later. Every New Year, Shang Zhitao would send him a similar message: “Wishing you all the best.”

He paused for a moment, even thinking it might be the New Year. He asked Dr. Liang, “Is it the New Year?”

“What?”

“Is today New Year’s Eve?”

Luan Nian pulled out his calendar and confirmed that it wasn’t. He tried to send a question mark to Shang Zhitao, but the message wouldn’t go through. His typing hand froze.

Dr. Liang set down what she was holding and looked at Luan Nian. “What’s wrong with you?”

“Nothing.”

“In a bit, when your father speaks, don’t cause any trouble. Also, tell your friends not to make a fuss, okay?” Dr. Liang reminded him. It was her and Luan Mingrui’s fortieth wedding anniversary, and she had repeatedly insisted that Luan Nian attend, lest others think they had lost their son in old age.

“Okay.”

Dr. Liang sensed something was off with Luan Nian, but since he didn’t elaborate, she refrained from asking further. She could only pat his shoulder and say, “If you have anything troubling you, you can tell me. Though I may not be able to help, I can always mock you.”

Truly a mother’s love.

The wedding anniversary celebration was warm and intimate. Luan Nian watched his parents standing there in formal attire—his usually stern father visibly moved more than once—and suddenly thought that perhaps he too could have such a life. Marrying the woman he loved, having children, celebrating ten, twenty, fifty, or sixty years together—it must surely be an adventurous yet fulfilling life.

He felt an urgent need to return to China to see Shang Zhitao. As Dr. Liang and Luan Mingrui were tearfully gazing at each other, Luan Nian took out his phone and booked a ticket.

Dr. Liang asked why he was in such a hurry to leave. Why not stay a few more days?

“To see the Shang Zhitao I like.”

“When will I get to meet her?”

“Maybe during the New Year, you and Dad can return to China. She doesn’t have a visa, so it’s too late to apply now.”

Dr. Liang seriously considered this and then said, “I think it’s possible. Should we also fly to Ice City to meet her parents? I remember she’s from Ice City. Since we’re going back anyway, we might as well take care of everything.”

“You probably won’t be able to meet her.”

“Why not?”

“Because we’re currently broken up.”

Dr. Liang thought to herself, Of course he messed it up. Whenever she told Luan Mingrui that she thought their son was close to settling down, Luan Mingrui would always scoff: I think our son will ruin it.

They knew their own son—he struggled to feel love and to love others.

“If you reconcile, treat her well. If I’m not mistaken, you’ve been together for several years, right? That’s not easy.”

“Okay.”

Luan Nian wanted to casually say something to Shang Zhitao. Before boarding the plane, he called her, but the line was busy. This was the first time Shang Zhitao had blocked him. No matter what had happened between them before, she had never done this.

After landing, he went straight to the company. It was a workday, and employees should have been at their desks. The office was quiet, and his eyes fell on Shang Zhitao’s empty workstation, sending an inexplicable wave of panic through him.

Sitting at his computer, he pulled up the list of departing employees and saw Shang Zhitao’s name. She had resigned four days after the annual gala. He had no idea.

Luan Nian recalled the moment backstage at the gala when Shang Zhitao had looked at him, wanting to say something but stopping herself. At the time, he thought they still had a chance to sit down and talk about the past six years. But he hadn’t realized that was her farewell. Shang Zhitao had bid him goodbye in such a manner.

Luan Nian knew she wasn’t bluffing; she never bluffed.

He called Tracy: “Why wasn’t I informed about the departure of a core employee?”

“I’ll come over.”

Tracy walked into Luan Nian’s office, locked the door, and sat across from him. Pointing to the bag beside her, she asked Luan Nian, “What do you think of my bag?”

“Good taste.”

“Bought it from Flora at fifty percent off.”

Luan Nian’s eyes fell on the bag—it was one he had bought for Shang Zhitao during a business trip to Singapore years ago. He remembered it clearly. She had never used it. Luan Nian wasn’t good at giving gifts, so he thought buying bags was a safe choice. Many bags appreciated in value over time. Since Shang Zhitao never used them, he figured that if she ever faced difficulties and didn’t want to ask him for help, she could sell them.

But not at fifty percent off.

Not as if getting rid of a pesky fly.

“No one would have guessed that plain Flora would sell fourteen brand-new luxury bags at a discount at the company flea market. Her extravagance left everyone speechless. Maybe she has a 250-million-yuan background that we never noticed.”

Among the bags Shang Zhitao sold, only Tracy and Lumi’s were discounted. For the others, Lumi had marked up the prices when writing the tags—they were hard-to-find styles, and even with the markup, they sold easily. Neither Shang Zhitao nor Tracy knew this. There were so many women in the company who loved luxury goods, and Lumi couldn’t bear to let Shang Zhitao suffer another loss in her final act.

Luan Nian remained silent. He had always known Shang Zhitao was stubborn, but today he finally witnessed her resoluteness. His heart felt heavy, as if pierced by a needle—aching and itching at the same time.

“Alright, enough gossip. Which core employee’s departure did you want to ask me about?” Tracy asked. “Based on performance and rank, the only core employee departure should be Flora Shang Zhitao.”

“I just want to know why the approval for a core employee’s resignation didn’t reach me.”

“The rules are the ones you set. Below expert level, approval goes to the department head.”

“You should have informed me.”

“Should I inform you about departures below expert level too? On what grounds?” Tracy asked.

“Just say what you want to say.”

“Alright, then I’ll speak.” Tracy’s expression suddenly turned serious. “Shang Zhitao’s first weekend overtime request—you were the one notified. Her first business trip—you were the companion. Every Friday, she always left the office shortly before or after you. On the day she reported sexual harassment, you nearly killed that scumbag.”

“Luke, I’ve known from the very beginning what your relationship with Shang Zhitao was. I didn’t warn you because I knew your limits and trusted that she wouldn’t break the rules.” Tracy was incredibly perceptive—people in HR were experts at reading others. For years, she had feigned ignorance while fully understanding everything.

“Don’t ask me why I didn’t inform you about Shang Zhitao’s resignation. Instead, think about why she left. You ruined my talent experiment!” After finishing her sentence, Tracy stood up and asked Luan Nian, “I’ll ask you this: Are you going to investigate those two abnormal scores?”

Luan Nian looked up at her, his expression cold.

“You’re already investigating, right? If you are, can you let me know? Are we still allies?” Tracy threw Luan Nian’s own words back at him, then turned and left his office.

Luan Nian remained silent.

This was how he had always been—rarely showing extreme joy or sorrow. When he did feel sadness, he simply fell silent.

“Can we talk when I return?”

“Sure.” But the look on her face as she said “sure” clearly meant I won’t talk to you anymore. This is where we end. He hadn’t understood it then.

Perhaps he had never truly understood her.

Luan Nian called a friend: “Can you help me find someone? I’ll give you the details. I’m not using this for any illegal purposes.”

He sat in his office for a long time. The winter in Beijing was truly desolate. He wondered if she would like the winters in Ice City. Luan Nian took out his phone and dialed that number—the emergency contact number he had memorized from the system when she was sick. He had used it to threaten her into staying at his place to recover.

The number was disconnected.

Shang Zhitao had changed her family’s phone numbers.

Luan Nian saw her resolve. There was nothing and no one in this city worth lingering for. Those she cherished and cared about would surely know where to find her. Luan Nian thought, Shang Zhitao never truly relied on me. Every single day she spent with me, she was preparing to leave.

One day, in the elevator, he ran into Lumi, who was late for work. Lumi cheerfully explained, “It’s not intentional today—I got stuck in traffic. Our company’s location really is the worst in Beijing for traffic jams…”

“What about your apprentice?” Luan Nian suddenly asked.

Lumi hesitated for a moment, then lifted her bag to show him. “Do you like it? My apprentice insisted on giving it to me. How could I refuse? I bought it at fifty percent off.” She smiled at Luan Nian. “But I honestly don’t know where my apprentice went.”

Lumi might have been just coasting through life, but she wasn’t stupid. She and Shang Zhitao were so close—of course, she guessed there was something between them. But she never said anything. It wasn’t necessary, and it held no meaning. Being cleverly oblivious was sometimes the smartest choice.

Luan Nian grunted, his eyes scanning the bag, then stepped out of the elevator.

Another day, he encountered Sun Yu at an event.

“Where’s Shang Zhitao?” Luan Nian asked her.

Sun Yu thought for a moment, then replied, “Taotao has left. She changed her phone number and didn’t tell me. She said she’d contact me.”

“So, Luke, why are you asking me where Taotao is? What’s your position in all this?”

Luan Nian remained silent.

Sun Yu was absolutely right—he had no standing. Not dwelling on the past, not chasing after her—her decisiveness stemmed from the fact that she simply didn’t want to see him again.

After leaving the venue, Luan Nian called his friend once more: “Forget about finding that person—it doesn’t matter anymore.”

Just a passerby.

If she wanted to completely let go, then he would respect her decision. That night, he drove up the mountain, and the bar was lively. The New Year was approaching, and he had to fly to the U.S. again.

Dr. Liang asked him over the phone when he planned to arrange a meeting with Shang Zhitao. He replied, “No need. We’re completely finished.”

Luan Nian found a spot in the bar and settled in. Someone brought a small dog along, which happily ran around the bar. Luan Nian thought of Luke, the dog, and suddenly felt overwhelmed with sadness.

On the day Shang Zhitao left, Luke had sat by the door whimpering, looking alternately at the door and at Luan Nian. Luan Nian’s heart had shattered into pieces. He said to Luke, “You haven’t forgotten my kindness, but you should go with her.”

He opened the door, and Luke nudged his leg with its head before running away.

Luan Nian watched as Luke occasionally looked back at him. Everything about that snowy night was crystal clear in his mind. Luan Nian felt he could accept everything—but those few words haunted him:

Dirty, ugly, disgusting.

He knew he didn’t know how to love, didn’t know how to communicate, didn’t know how to read people’s expressions. He lacked the ability to love. He had never been a perfect person. Shang Zhitao had given him the illusion that even someone like him could be genuinely accepted by another. And that was precisely what hurt the most.

He gave all the dog treats from his storage room to the owner of the small dog.

That person asked him, “Didn’t I see a Samoyed here last time? So cute.”

“A friend’s dog, staying with me temporarily.”

“If I run into it again, maybe we can have them play together.”

“You won’t run into it again.”

By the end of that year, Luan Nian sent Shang Zhitao a message: “Happy New Year. Wishing you all the best.” He knew she wouldn’t see his New Year’s greeting.

Later, Luan Nian continued as he always had—working hard, playing hard, still difficult to get along with, admired and resented by everyone. He still didn’t care.

One year, while watching the Northern Lights in Finland, he suddenly remembered the text message he had sent her that New Year’s: “Let’s watch the Northern Lights together next year.”

Their group chased the Northern Lights for five days. On the fifth night, as the auroras danced across the sky like rippling smoke, a drunken Luan Nian suddenly felt an overwhelming wave of sadness. He said, “The Northern Lights are so beautiful. I want to tell the person I love about them.”

It was the first time in his life that he had acted this way. Drunk, he rambled endlessly into a disconnected number, choking up several times. His friends recorded his embarrassing state and often teased him later, but they never mentioned the slurred words he had uttered:

“I know I don’t deserve to be loved.”