TPIL - 18

Where did this country bumpkin come from, speaking so rudely?!

The woman was infuriated and flushed with anger, barely managing to squeeze out a sentence: “You... How dare you interfere like this? Why don’t you go find a job at an electronics factory?”

Thinking she had effectively countered him with his own words, Qi Xiaochuan remained unfazed, smirking as he replied: “Didn’t I already say it? You’re at most a deputy factory manager. The factory director is me.”

“How can you be so heartless?”

He showed no mercy: “I’m not your father, so why should I treat you kindly with patience?”

“You… You! You’re driving me crazy!”

Seeing the female guest about to lose her composure and claw at him with her nails, Gao Jie quickly stepped in to maintain the dignity of her father’s banquet. She grabbed Qi Xiaochuan and pulled him back: “Let’s go, they’re looking for you over there—”

“Who’s looking for me?” Whether genuinely clueless or pretending to be, Qi Xiaochuan ungratefully retorted: “I’ve already greeted them all.”

It was rare for Gao Jie to drop her proud socialite mask, but she managed to force a smile through gritted teeth: “Enough nonsense! Just go!”

Finally free, Gao Jie thought she had successfully defused the situation. Unexpectedly, Qi Xiaochuan glanced at the wall clock, muttered “It’s so late,” and turned to leave without hesitation. His blatant disregard angered Gao Jie, who struggled to suppress her rage.

She asked: “What is Luo Andi to you?”

“All of you just keep talking about ‘Luo Andi’ this and ‘Luo Andi’ that,” Qi Xiaochuan mocked others, completely unaware that he was no different: “Isn’t it boring?”

Gao Jie crossed her arms, appearing mature beyond her years: “In this world, it’s not easy to meet someone you want to treat sincerely. When I’m with her, I can’t help but revolve around her. So what?”

He intended to continue mocking, but his words took on a different tone, sounding more like a paid therapy session: “Maybe you’re just too tired, constantly seeking healing, so you can’t help yourself.”

Hurrying down the stairs, his driver was already waiting outside. He got into the car, not planning to go home but intending to head to the office. Unperturbed, it seemed dismissing people until they were speechless was routine for him, easily forgotten without leaving any lingering resentment or boasting rights.

On the ride, he spotted Luo Andi walking away halfway through the journey.

Her hair was tied up high, and she was smiling and thanking the security personnel checking guests. That was just how Luo Andi was—humble, generous, courteous, never treating anyone differently based on status or wealth.

As she walked out, she encountered him at the corner. Qi Xiaochuan said: “Let me give you a ride.”

“Where are you going?” Luo Andi asked.

He answered honestly, then watched her shake her head with a smile. Luo Andi leaned closer, beaming, and whispered softly: “The bus is convenient, and my place isn’t on the way. It’s late; let the driver rest early.”

She stepped back, thanked him, and said goodbye.

It wasn’t out of politeness or awkwardness; Luo Andi simply considered others’ well-being.

Qi Xiaochuan spent the night in the company lounge, changed clothes the next day, and went directly to a meeting. Problems were raised, but the room full of people couldn’t propose good amendments, wasting time with endless chatter.

In recent years, his temper had improved somewhat. Back when Zhou Hanyao was still around, he often argued and even physically fought with colleagues. If it was just verbal sparring, it would have been manageable, but Qi Xiaochuan was exceptionally skilled at provoking others with just a few words, capable of enraging them to the point of insomnia. Those with short tempers might impulsively start a fight. But things got worse when that happened. Unlike other office bosses, Qi Xiaochuan was hands-on, willing to work under forty-degree heat, supervising and getting involved personally. If others threw the first punch, he wouldn’t hesitate to retaliate.

Fights often ended with both parties being taken to the police station. When the police tried to mediate, they would look at their injuries and lecture him: “Do these injuries suggest mutual fighting? Stop mixing with the wrong crowd. The Kowloon Walled City has been demolished; do you still want to be a big shot?” With maternal-like advice, they urged him to change his ways. Qi Xiaochuan reluctantly nodded sarcastically: “Alright, I won’t do it anymore.”

“That’s better! Turn over a new leaf!” The officers, thrilled by his apparent compliance, shook his hand enthusiastically, probably hadn’t seen such a cooperative youth in a long time: “Go reunite with your mommy!” Meanwhile, Zhou Hanyao, who came to bail him out, was sweating, fearing another charge of assaulting a police officer.

But recently, Qi Xiaochuan’s temper had improved significantly. Even in such meeting situations, he merely stood up, set a deadline, and refrained from harsh criticism, leading some to speculate privately whether Qi had started practicing yoga or had been influenced by some church. Otherwise, it was hard to explain this sudden change of heart.

He walked out but unexpectedly received a message from his secretary that Zhou Hanyao’s wife had arrived at the company.

“I’ve already sent someone over, and I’m heading there too. You go back to the office for now, and avoid the reception area.” The secretary made thoughtful arrangements.

Qi Xiaochuan nodded slightly. Frankly, he was becoming numb to such situations. The company was indeed a joint effort between him and her husband, and now it had become the collective achievement of most employees. Publicly and privately, he naturally didn’t wish for Zhou Hanyao’s sudden passing. However, when the company was on the verge of success, he had indeed benefited. At least, that’s how she saw it.

He no longer wanted to face the red-eyed woman holding her deceased husband’s portrait and sitting silently in protest.

She had once helped cook late-night snacks when he visited Zhou Hanyao’s home, walking around in an apron printed with lilacs, always wearing an inclusive smile. Such a beautiful and gentle woman had transformed into a vengeful spirit, accusing him of whether he could sleep at night or feel guilty.

He had responded once, seemingly in the hospital lobby. Qi Xiaochuan said: “I don’t sleep well, but it’s not because of him. It’s just the pressure.” His tone was calm, his expression peaceful, as if she were merely a concerned sister-in-law.

Already planning to avoid the situation in the most appropriate manner, he received a message on his phone. He was heading to the office.

Upon opening it, he saw a photo sent by Luo Andi.

It was the glass lamp he had given her.

Luo Andi had decorated her home with it, hanging it with bulbs. The light spread along the colorful body of the lamp, soft and quiet. The accompanying text read: “Thank you very much for your gift. I’ve already put it to use!”

His throat, which had been ready to sigh, suddenly calmed. Qi Xiaochuan replied: “Do you like it?”

After sending it, he regretted it immediately and wanted to retract it, but it had already been read. Fortunately, he quickly added “the cat” to his message.

Luo Andi, bemused, read it again before understanding the inverted sentence structure and replied: “The cat loves it!” She followed with a close-up photo of the black cat with watery eyes and a selfie of her hugging Alexander McQueen while smiling.

He didn’t know why he felt annoyed at the cat for no reason, muttering “Always acting cute,” and the next second saved the second photo. By the time he realized it, he was setting it as his wallpaper.

Qi Xiaochuan put away his phone and gazed out the floor-to-ceiling window. The sun was shining brightly outside, yet some people persisted in rushing under such blazing heat. The loss of a loved one meant the wife’s grief was less than that of a friend but no less profound. After a moment of silence, he inexplicably recalled the time Luo Andi calmly admitted she liked him. What was he doing now? Hiding, avoiding, unwilling to explain, solely to protect the company’s image, not knowing whom he was trying to fool—

He used the landline to call his secretary: “Is Mrs. Zhou still here? I’ll head over now… Yes, it’s fine.”

After hanging up, he waited for a while, then took out his phone again. In the same text box, he typed three different questions: “What are you doing?” “Can we meet today?” and “Do you have a boyfriend?”

His gaze shifted back and forth among them. He sighed deeply and silently cursed himself for being crazy.

Then he accidentally sent them.