Chapter 100: Aged Vinegar, Famous for Double Standards

The feeling of thinking you can’t live without someone and the carefree affection of liking someone are two entirely different things. Placing your entire life and fate in another person’s hands is a relic of an outdated society—it leads to an uncontrollable desire to control the other person. Qiu Nuo’s love made you feel suffocated, while my feelings were deemed insufficient by you. You truly are notorious for your double standards.

When Jian Zhaowen first entered the internet industry, he often admired the legendary “gods” of the field. There was the prodigy who created a mobile shopping app that was fully acquired by the largest e-commerce platform in the country, becoming its crown prince. There were VPs who led departments head-to-head against competitors, crushing their payment data and directly acquiring them. Executives whose leadership was so strong that rival teams surrendered overnight. Geniuses born in the 90s who managed three companies simultaneously while tirelessly expanding their domains. These geniuses, capable of building something from 0 to 10,000 in their respective fields, emerged one after another, unstoppable and terrifying. In Jian Zhaowen’s memory, 2014 and 2015 were like the golden age of the internet—an era of unrivaled arrogance. But ever since the grand dream of shared bikes collapsed, there seemed to be no product development exciting enough to catch the eye. Even though DayNight had achieved success, Jian Zhaowen occasionally longed for the early days of internet entrepreneurship when astonishing products and exponential growth were still common. Now, both were dwindling; the tide of internet startups was receding.

When friends first mentioned Lei Zheng, Jian Zhaowen knew his reputation in the industry was mixed. Some called him a reclusive genius with strong empathy but a solitary personality. Others criticized him for being fond of cutting corners—raising businesses only to cash out once they matured. He was labeled a failure, someone who never made it to Series C funding rounds. Jian Zhaowen admired Lei Zheng’s products—his ideas were clear, his entry points into various industries unique, and most importantly, his work had a certain flair, a talent uniquely his own. The first time he met Lei Zheng, Jian Zhaowen knew he was the partner he wanted. That intuition carried a predatory edge—if Lei Zheng had chosen someone else over him, he would have regretted it for life. Whether it was because of an unpleasant collaboration, Lei Zheng choosing another path, or as friends said, him being a cold-hearted product manager who only cared about cashing out, none of those labels fit Lei Zheng in Jian Zhaowen’s eyes.

He felt he should argue with Lei Zheng. A hundred words were on the tip of his tongue, yet not a single syllable came out. Partners splitting ways was all too common, especially now that they had reached Series B funding. Jian Zhaowen also clearly understood the future direction of DayNight —they just lacked a god-tier product manager. If Lei Zheng left, the most urgent task was to find someone to fill the void.

Everything returned to square one. Where could he find another product manager as talented and clear-headed as Lei Zheng? Someone who could cut through the chaos and provide clarity when needed, and offer visionary guidance when required?

Lei Zheng’s expression remained calm, returning to the same inscrutable demeanor he had during their first meeting. When sober, Lei Zheng rarely revealed his true feelings. “When you’re silent, you’re probably thinking of solutions for DayNight’s future development. So, you’ll be able to handle things on your own without me.”

“How can you be so confident? I’ve always been capable of handling things alone. But DayNight has two sides—even the best engineers need an excellent senior product manager. If you leave now, I can’t imagine how we’ll improve further. Good and better require progression, and I can’t do it alone.” Jian Zhaowen stared at Lei Zheng. “How can you be so ruthless?”

“Don’t you already know why I’m leaving?”

“Mixed personal emotions—you’re a coward, lacking responsibility.” Jian Zhaowen sat where he was, fishing for a cigarette in his pocket. Lei Zheng spoke as if caring for him: “Smoke less. Don’t light up every time you’re stressed.”

“The message on DayNight —seeing it doesn’t mean much. You can pretend nothing happened.”

“It’s impossible.”

“If I were really curious, I’d follow your account and look further, but I have no interest in user privacy.”

“Jian Zhaowen, I simply don’t want to work on DayNight anymore. I no longer believe in its prospects, nor do I trust the investors or the industry. I bear no grudge against you—I’ve simply lost interest.”

“If you keep going like this, you’ll forever be a product manager making small, beautiful apps, cashing out and leaving, ruining your reputation.”

“So what?” Lei Zheng stood up. “The initial stages of creation are the most beautiful. If I find something interesting, I’ll dive back in. Now, it’s time for me to step away. I’ll go home first, and we’ll discuss the handover details tomorrow.”

Jian Zhaowen watched Lei Zheng walk out the door, and his first instinct was to send a message to Yu Zhimei. But staring at her WeChat chat window, he thought of how she had left half a month ago, backpack in hand, entrusting the cat to him before heading to Beijing. He dropped his phone on the table.

In Beijing, the sky filled with yellow sandstorm dust forced Yu Zhimei to sit in a café wiping her ears. The snow had barely melted before the city seamlessly transitioned into a sandstorm. Even Yu Zhimei, who grew up in a northern coal town, couldn’t bear it. Rarely needing to run errands downtown, she quickly indulged in a traditional English breakfast, finding a semblance of the comfort and ease she experienced in Shanghai. But looking out the window, the yellowish sky turned what should have been a sunny afternoon at 3 p.m. into nightfall. Despite being from the north, Yu Zhimei had lived in Shanghai for years and couldn’t deny that Beijing’s climate could make one miss Shanghai within a week.

On the surveillance feed, the two cats were eating cat food in the room. Wenwen, the stray kitten picked up from the highway, had grown up. Though smaller than Lulu, his appetite for cat food was astonishing. Jian Zhaowen was still sending voice messages: “Wenwen eats so much! Lulu can’t even compete. I took Lulu to the kitchen to feed him separately, but he kept scratching at the door and howling.”

“You might need to lock Wenwen up—he’s more aggressive…”

The other party didn’t reply. The onsen egg in her mouth lost its flavor as the sandstorm whipped leaves and willow fluff along the road—a fitting scene. Even though Xingge had increased her salary by 50% and Xiaowu’s offer directly promised 30,000 yuan, she hadn’t committed to either side. She wasn’t so easily willing to leave Shanghai. For now, there weren’t better job opportunities, and Jian Zhaowen was her home. Sure, the salary doubled and allowed her to earn extra income, and she could expand her network in Beijing—but the temptation was undeniably greater.

The house she rented in Tiantongyuan was surrounded by auto malls. The ground floor of the street-facing buildings housed 4S stores and various car trading centers, selling used cars on the first floor and using the second and third floors for offices. Xingge had left ample space for future recruitment and the expansion of the used car business. Yu Zhimei had her own spacious office, sharing it with Monkey Brother, eliminating the need for formal meetings in conference rooms. Compared to the dazzling advertisements and avant-garde LED displays visible from downtown Shanghai, the view outside her window here was desolate—barren yellow earth and roads. In the suburban wind, roadside dust rose like smoke. Thinking of how Jian Zhaowen once quit his job in frustration over Zhangjiang men’s lack of fashion sense, Yu Zhimei thought that Jian Zhaowen was still naive. If he came here to experience the vibe of this urban-rural fringe, he might drop dead on the spot.

So when she saw Jian Zhaowen standing outside Boss Xing’s company, an indescribable feeling welled up inside her—the power of wishful thinking was uncanny.

Entering the old house Yu Zhimei rented, Jian Zhaowen’s face darkened. It was just an ordinary Beijing ground-floor apartment—no sunlight, moldy smells, peeling paint on the bed, drafty broken windows. The walls bore distorted chalk drawings left by previous tenants’ children, and exposed pipes were rust-stained. Standing awkwardly in the room, Yu Zhimei faced Jian Zhaowen’s expression, which looked ready to devour someone: “Pack your things. Let’s terminate the lease now.”

“Hey, don’t act like my dad… I rented in a hurry and didn’t look carefully…”

“Is this about being a father or not? Leaving behind the garden loft and cats in Shanghai to live like this—what exactly are you striving for? It’s obvious Xingge doesn’t see you as one of his own, and you’re here working yourself to death.”

Yu Zhimei was angered by his words: “You can criticize my living conditions, but don’t question my work.”

“If I say no, it’s no.”

After checking the time, Yu Zhimei sighed: “Let’s eat first. We’ll talk about this after dinner.”

Neither spoke first in the car. Yu Zhimei understood that Lei Zheng’s sudden withdrawal and partnership dissolution left Jian Zhaowen with grievances he couldn’t express. Seeing her struggling to live in Beijing added another layer of stress for him. Approaching the city center, Yu Zhimei pulled into a gas station: “Can you help me get the card from the glove compartment?”

All the words urging Yu Zhimei to stay were buried in his heart. Jian Zhaowen planned to test the waters when she returned to the car, suggesting whether she should stay in Shanghai—he could support her. As he retrieved the card, he noticed a courier bag—an offer letter promising Yu Zhimei a 30,000-yuan salary from a cultural company owned by someone named Wu Guangyu. Jian Zhaowen silently placed it back, closed the compartment, and another item—a rose gift card signed by Wu Guangyu—fell out: “Sister Mei, Beijing awaits you.”

After Yu Zhimei got back in the car, Jian Zhaowen immediately lit up: “If you have someone new you like, remember to tell me.”

“What? It’s just for my career development.”

“Really?” Jian Zhaowen opened the glove compartment again: “What about this card? Do you want to explain it?”

“It’s from Xiao Wu, introduced by Qiu Nuo to shoot luxury car videos. I want this job, and he’s just polite. If it’s a misunderstanding, clearing it up solves everything. Don’t assume I’m cheating just because of a card.”

“Damn it, for this little money? I can support you.”

“Thirty thousand!” Yu Zhimei started the car: “Not everyone treats opportunities like you do, discarding them like grass. I’m working hard to survive.”

So greedy. Jian Zhaowen wanted to open the door and jump out of the moving car: “Working so hard to earn money while living in a rundown house is one thing, but strangers giving girls roses and the girl keeping the card despite having a boyfriend—is that okay?”

“This might be a future work partner. He politely gave me flowers and repeatedly explained it was for cooperation. How does that make me seem ambiguous to you?” Yu Zhimei sighed: “If you can respect Qiu Nuo’s ex-girlfriend, then understand my courtesy toward friends.”

Jian Zhaowen realized he was in the wrong and fell silent. Once in the city, he went into a mall and found a Western restaurant. Sandwiches, salads, and roasted pork chops arrived one by one, and he began to feel bored. Urban life was so dull—people lived in refined illusions, thinking they possessed everything, but in the end, all they could guarantee themselves was a meal. Love was boring too; couples could only eat, make love, watch movies, and visit amusement parks—a luxury reserved for young people on holidays. And then there was the compromise of family life and raising children. He was asking a girl with aspirations to return to Shanghai for mundane things, just to be with him, while he himself refused to easily concede to investors.

Thinking about this, he quietly trimmed the ribs, carefully gathering the meat onto a plate and handing it to Yu Zhimei. On the way back, he volunteered to drive. But damn it, there were too many cargo trucks in the suburbs, everyone queued up to leave the city, and the two lanes stretched endlessly. The loud rumbling noise irritated Jian Zhaowen, so he pressed the accelerator to change lanes and overtake. The next second, he heard the persistent honking of a truck behind him, and Yu Zhimei screamed in panic: “Jian Zhaowen, why are you overtaking so close to him! You’ll cause an accident!”

Not long after returning to the original lane, the truck retaliated by speeding up in front of Jian Zhaowen and slowing down, forcing him to slam on the brakes. Yu Zhimei sighed in the passenger seat: “What goes around comes around. You almost caused an accident earlier.”

“What could I do?” Jian Zhaowen stubbornly argued: “I’m not backing down!”

“If you had accelerated faster, you could have overtaken with one car length… Your driving skills aren’t good enough.”

Jian Zhaowen quickly found a real estate agent to change apartments. The elevator-equipped flat two blocks away was simply furnished—an empty one-bedroom unit with only a refrigerator and a bed. At least the white tiles and walls were clean. There was only one box of belongings. Yu Zhimei spread the contents of the box on the floor, facing Jian Zhaowen—how magical, simple furniture, clothes, and two people instantly transformed the room into a home. Outside the window, nighttime had fallen over Tiantongyuan, a typical suburban landscape—scattered buildings, dense lights, and hurried people yet to return home. Beijing’s nights weren’t soft, gentle, or pretentious; romance here was subtle and elusive. After cuddling for a while, Jian Zhaowen’s waist was still wrapped by Yu Zhimei. He reached for a cigarette from under the blanket, flicking the ash onto the floor. His neck stiffened: “This place makes you want to be recklessly messy, as if refinement doesn’t belong here.”

“Exactly. So that old house wasn’t so bad after all. Returning from overtime, you could sometimes find a bit of the wandering songstress charm.”

“I apologize for the Xiaowu matter.”

“It’s fine… Human nature. You’re aged vinegar; it’s not like I just discovered this today.”

“Shut up. How long do you plan to stay in Beijing?”

“Until I’ve built a stable network and then return.” Yu Zhimei picked up her phone: “Let me show you Xiaowu’s collection of luxury cars. He has a whole box of luxury car keys—unimaginably wealthy. G-Wagen, Maybach, McLaren, Rolls-Royce… This isn’t a level that Xingge could reach. Working with such influencers, the kind of ads you can secure and the types of people you meet—I might not be the same Yu Zhimei anymore.”

The videos on her phone sparked Jian Zhaowen’s competitive spirit: “I could cash out like Lei Zheng and come to Beijing with you. If you want to play with cars, I can accompany you. But selling DayNight now would be irresponsible to the adolescent phase of the project—we need to see it grow into maturity. I once thought Lei Zheng would be a father to DayNight , but now I realize he’s just an uncle.”

“Coming here to keep an eye on me isn’t necessary. I worked so hard to date Jian Zhaowen—I deserve a chance to stand on equal footing with you. I’m realistic. With no job opportunities in Shanghai, I came out to find some. Once I build connections and reintegrate with Shanghai, I won’t panic about not having money to eat.”

“You refuse to weather the storm with me.” A misty layer appeared in Jian Zhaowen’s eyes: “Though it’s an age-old topic, long-distance relationships truly have too many variables.”

“Jian Zhaowen—thinking you can’t live without me and liking me without reservations or burdens are two completely different feelings. Placing your entire life and fate in another person’s hands is a relic of an outdated society—it leads to an uncontrollable desire to control the other person. Qiu Nuo’s love suffocates you, while my feelings are deemed insufficient by you. You truly are notorious for your double standards.”

“Fine, I was wrong.” Jian Zhaowen hung bare-chested off the edge of the bed, carefully wiping away cigarette ash with a tissue: “I’ve probably never liked anyone this much.”

Yu Zhimei happily draped herself over Jian Zhaowen’s back, deliberately biting his ear. Her hands roamed, preparing for another round of pleasure. Jian Zhaowen flipped over, watching her head moving rhythmically beneath the blanket, frowning with a smile: “Yu Zhimei, I’ve discovered a problem.”

“Hmm?”

“You… your oral skills aren’t very good…”