Chapter 114: Nothing Else

Shang Zhitao thought fate had been kind to Luan Nian—time itself seemed powerless against him.

He hadn’t changed at all. Still the same aloof man, his gaze as deep and unsettling as ever.

She approached the table, removed her down jacket, revealing a snug black sweater underneath. It was almost as if she and Luan Nian had coordinated to wear matching outfits.

Luan Nian remembered her words—that their relationship was dirty, ugly, disgusting. He remembered her selling all the gifts he had given her at a discount and her abrupt departure without a word. His expression remained unimpressed.

Shang Zhitao sat down, pouring hot water to rinse her cup.

Will broke the silence at just the right moment: “Zhitao used to work at Lingmei and is close friends with our Lumi.”

“Mr. Luan might not remember me—I worked at Lingmei for six years,” Shang Zhitao added smoothly, burying their past neatly.

“No recollection.” Luan Nian’s eyes swept over her briefly before he fell silent again.

Lumi couldn’t help but snicker. Everyone at the table looked at her, puzzled by her laughter. She was laughing at Luan Nian’s pretense of indifference. Clearing her throat, she said to Shang Zhitao, “Our company has officially onboarded your supplier. In the future, you’ll inevitably be working with Mr. Luan—oh, we call him Luke at Lingmei. Do you still remember his English name?”

“Yes.”

“Then let’s toast Luke!”

Shang Zhitao poured herself some baijiu, raising her glass respectfully. “Thank you, Lumi and Luke, for supporting our small company. We hope for your continued patronage in the future. I’ll drink this one, and the rest of you can take it easy.”

She drained her glass and noticed Song Qiuhan across the table, smiling while engrossed in his phone, clearly in high spirits.

Song Qiuhan was live-streaming in a group chat: “Luke ran into an old flame. So this is the type of woman Luke likes.” He even shared a photo of Shang Zhitao. Over the years, everyone had wondered about Luan Nian—why no women were ever seen around him, why he lived like an aging monk. They also remembered the time he canceled plans with them to go to Tibet with a woman, promising to introduce her later, only for there to be no follow-up.

“Such allure,” Chen Kuannian and Tan Mian commented.

“I disagree with you guys. I’m sitting right across from her, and she’s poised, speaks gently and politely—clearly well-bred. Luke has good taste,” Song Qiuhan defended Shang Zhitao. “‘Allure’ doesn’t quite capture it; she’s pure.”

Unaware of their conversation, Luan Nian watched as Shang Zhitao drank the glass without hesitation. His heart tightened, then ached. Society had tempered her, changed her. He recalled telling her once, “If you can’t drink, don’t take even a sip. Don’t set that precedent.”

She had replied, “Okay.”

“Classmate Shang Zhitao, are tomorrow’s negotiations all set?” Lumi asked.

“All arranged. I’ve also invited some local media—it’s a complimentary service from our company. The day after tomorrow’s schedule is ready too. We’ll review everything again tomorrow night,” Shang Zhitao responded.

“That’s good. Let’s stop talking shop and chat about something else!” Lumi reminisced with Shang Zhitao about old times, recalling the incident when her car broke down in the middle of nowhere during her first shoot.

“Do you remember calling me, your voice trembling? You were terrified!” Lumi laughed as she recounted the story.

The second half of that story was Luan Nian calling her afterward to commend her bravery.

“I remember! I was such a coward back then!” Shang Zhitao and Lumi laughed and drank merrily. As they ate, the dishes cooled. Shang Zhitao called out loudly, “Boss! Reheat the food!”

Da Zhai came over to collect the plates, smacking Shang Zhitao on the head. “You brat! Drink less!”

Shang Zhitao shrank her neck, pouting playfully. “Mom! There are so many leaders and friends here!”

“Good hit!” Lumi praised Da Zhai, swaying her head. Turning to Luan Nian, she said, “This restaurant is owned by Flora. The boss who just came out is Flora’s mom. This place may look modest, but it’s wildly popular in Ice City. Flora’s amazing.” Lumi gave a thumbs-up.

Luan Nian remained expressionless, neither eating nor drinking. However, when Da Zhai smiled at him while bringing dishes, he managed a faint smile in return.

Lumi raised her eyebrows imperceptibly, thinking, Oh, keep resisting! Why are you smiling at her mom?

As Luan Nian listened to Shang Zhitao and Lumi talk, particularly when she mentioned, “One time, I got drunk and had to get an IV,” he drank his glass, stood up, and put on his coat. He turned to Song Qiuhan beside him and asked, “Shall we move on to the next venue?”

“Where’s the next venue?” Song Qiuhan teased, unwilling to leave just yet—he hadn’t seen enough of this drama. The two of them sat at the same table, avoiding eye contact unless absolutely necessary, and even then, only briefly, as if the other were some kind of dangerous beast or harbored deep resentment.

Their behavior hinted at something they tried to conceal.

“Strip club. Coming?” Luan Nian asked dryly.

“I’ll go.” Song Qiuhan stood up, smiling at the remaining three. “See you tomorrow.”

“See you tomorrow.”

As Luan Nian and Song Qiuhan left, Shang Zhitao glanced at them briefly, thinking how the doorway of her tavern was a bit too low. She turned back to continue chatting and drinking with Lumi.

Outside, Song Qiuhan caught up with Luan Nian and asked, “Where’s the strip club?”

Luan Nian glanced at him but said nothing.

“Not going to watch strippers?” Song Qiuhan pressed.

“Did you report to Lin Chun’er?”

“She won’t care. She’s probably more excited than me.” Song Qiuhan deliberately teased. “Isn’t this what trust in a loving relationship looks like?”

“Let’s go back to the hotel. I have a headache.”

Before leaving, Luan Nian glanced back at Shang Zhitao’s little tavern. She had infused it with warmth and life—red lanterns hung at the entrance, contrasting beautifully with the snow. Large-pane windows framed the icy winter outside while enclosing a steaming, lively interior. Clearly, she had put thought into it.

Back then, in his home, she had coaxed him into cooking for her, saying she wanted to be waited on hand and foot. Whatever she did, she approached with focus—even though she couldn’t cook. Occasionally, when tasked with boiling noodles, she turned the kitchen into a battlefield. Yet here she was, running a tavern, personally overseen by her mother. She no longer needed a man who could cook because the best meals were now within arm’s reach, under her watchful eye.

“You heard her say she went to get an IV after drinking too much at a business dinner, and you just walked out. Are you heartbroken?” Song Qiuhan asked.

Luan Nian kept his lips tightly shut, refusing to speak. He wasn’t just heartbroken; he was angry. How many times had he told her that if she couldn’t drink, she shouldn’t force herself? She didn’t need alcohol to do business, yet she stubbornly ignored him.

“Does it have anything to do with me?” Luan Nian asked.

Song Qiuhan thought Luan Nian was truly foolish. His reaction—walking out in response to something that clearly pained him—made others think he either disliked the topic or was belittling someone. After so many years of friendship, Song Qiuhan understood Luan Nian, but not everyone did. To outsiders, he simply appeared harsh and cruel.

Song Qiuhan thought Luan Nian didn’t understand, but truthfully, neither did he—not until he reunited with Lin Chun’er. That’s when he gradually realized love needed to be expressed directly. It was something everyone had to learn.

“Is Shang Zhitao married?” Song Qiuhan suddenly asked. Since falling in love, he’d changed a little—perhaps corrupted by Lin Chun’er—and now enjoyed poking fun at people’s emotional wounds.

Luan Nian glared at him. “What’s it to you?”

After a pause, he added, “What’s it to me?”

Song Qiuhan chuckled softly, and the two returned to their respective rooms.

Luan Nian went to the gym for some weightlifting and cardio. By the time he got back to his room, it was late at night. There were several missed calls from Ice City numbers on his phone. He picked one and called back. A male voice answered: “Hello, may I ask if this is Mr. Luan?”

“Yes.”

“Mr. Luan, hello. This is Fu Dong from the event execution team. I wanted to confirm the time for tomorrow’s face-to-face meeting. When would be convenient for you?”

“Ten o’clock.”

“Alright, we’ll pick you up at ten. Good night.”

“Thank you.”

Shang Zhitao’s people were always polite, speaking clearly and concisely. Her teams in the Northwest had been the same way—everyone mirrored her demeanor: humble, courteous, and efficient. Back then, Luan Nian thought she had a natural talent for leading teams and even considered handing over a small department to her. But the timing never worked out.

After hanging up, Luan Nian dialed another number. The call was answered after a few rings, a slightly muffled voice saying, “Hello.” It sounded like the person was standing in a snowstorm, and the voice pierced through Luan Nian’s heart. Their last conversation had been over three years ago.

Luan Nian pulled the phone away, glanced at the number, and spat out a single word: “Speak.”

“Mr. Luan.”

“Lingmei doesn’t use ‘Mr.’ as a title,” Luan Nian said.

“Luke.” Shang Zhitao cursed him silently in her mind: You obnoxious jerk!

“You’re no longer part of Lingmei,” Luan Nian replied.

Shang Zhitao was halfway sober now. She thought bitterly, If you hadn’t paid us yet, I wouldn’t bother with you.

“What should I call you, then?” Shang Zhitao asked.

“My name is Luan Nian.”

“But I don’t think we’re familiar enough for me to call you by your first name!”

This was the first time Shang Zhitao had argued with Luan Nian. She suddenly realized how satisfying it felt to bicker, understanding why he often picked fights with others.

“Get to the point.”

“Our Fu Dong couldn’t reach you earlier. He wanted to confirm the pickup time for tomorrow.”

“It’s already settled.”

“Alright. I won’t disturb you further.” Just before hanging up, Shang Zhitao heard Luan Nian say, “Call me when you’re sober next time.”

She ignored him and hung up immediately.

Luke watched her from the side and barked. Shang Zhitao tightened her hat and said to him, “Aren’t you going to pee?”

For Shang Zhitao, drinking fell into two categories. One was drinking with people she liked—like Lumi, Sun Yu, and He Yun. The other was for business purposes. Running an event company was exhausting, with every day filled with endless tasks. Sometimes, she even had to climb scaffolding herself. Once, after climbing down, her legs went limp, and she vowed never to do it again. She only hired young men because women couldn’t endure such hardships, and she didn’t want them to suffer. The hardest part of the job, beyond the physical labor, was entertaining clients.

Shang Zhitao hated these business dinners. She would rather curl up in bed doing nothing. But since returning to Ice City to start her company, she had to rebuild her network from scratch. The banquet table became the best place to do so.

Today, though, she was happy. She had Lumi with her, one of her favorite people. After Luan Nian left, they chatted about old memories, while Will sat nearby, frowning and almost snatching Lumi’s glass away.

When Will went to the restroom, Lumi whispered to Shang Zhitao, “My old sweetheart doesn’t like me drinking. But I don’t care what he thinks.”

“But you’re clearly afraid of him.”

“Nonsense! Have I ever been afraid of anyone?”

Shang Zhitao was secretly happy for Lumi. It was obvious that she and Will were in love. Even when Luan Nian was present, Will hadn’t maintained any distance.

After Luke finished peeing, he ran back and looked up at her again.

“What are you staring at?”

Luke barked, “Who was that on the phone just now?”

“You don’t know him.”

Bark! “Liar!”

Shang Zhitao argued with Luke as they entered the house. After changing clothes, she lay down on the bed. As soon as her head hit the pillow, the effects of the alcohol kicked in, and she drifted off into a hazy sleep. Luke jumped onto the bed and barked loudly, unusually restless.

Annoyed, Shang Zhitao sat up and glared at him. “Luke! Stop barking!”

Luke jumped off the bed and crouched pitifully on the floor.

Shang Zhitao scolded him. “Listen carefully—I’m not letting you see him again. Don’t think throwing a tantrum will make me give in! You’ve finally moved on, so don’t pick it up again. Dogs can’t retrace their steps!”

When Luke first returned to Ice City, he acted like he was sick, sitting by the window every day, staring outside. Sometimes, Shang Zhitao would call him multiple times before he responded.

Old Shang had said, “Is Luke sick?”

Shang Zhitao never answered.

She knew that dogs, like people, struggled to adjust after leaving someone. But slowly, they got better.

And hadn’t he already gotten better?