Chapter 61: We Did Not Bleed, Yet We Have Already Sacrificed

When we were young, we always thought love was about raising a hand and firing a shot, creating a hole in the sky to let a beam of light shine down in tribute to true love. But when the time comes for marriage, that bullet can’t be aimed at our parents. There’s no bullseye in this mundane world—any shot fired will eventually ricochet back onto ourselves.

As the car pulled out of the narrow road, Yu Zhimei picked up speed. Her phone connected to the car stereo played a random track from Zhang Yadong’s Lan Yu soundtrack. The timing couldn’t have been more fitting. Jian Zhaowen rested his cheek on his hand, silent for a moment before speaking to Yu Zhimei, “We should exchange what we know about their relationship. That way, we’ll know how to handle things once we get there.”

These two certainly weren’t short on drama. It had only been seven years since Xiaoxi, now just 24, became entangled with Lei Zheng. Yu Zhimei only knew fragments of their tumultuous history, but even those glimpses were enough to understand the destructive power these two wielded—the kind that left each other stripped bare, as if dismantling the other piece by piece was the only way to find peace. Every time she witnessed it, Yu Zhimei felt the bloodlust in the air. Friends had once told her that there’s no such thing as a couple brimming with murderous intent; true love is supposed to be tender and intimate. Yu Zhimei would simply smile without responding. Never having met terrorists herself, she considered it a stroke of luck to live an ordinary life.

At seventeen, Xiaoxi was still learning jazz dance. He had impulsively spent his tuition money on a trip to Hong Kong. Hung Hom wasn’t known as a particularly auspicious place in Hong Kong, and Xiaoxi booked a cheap hotel room for 150 Hong Kong dollars a night. Downstairs was the Hung Hom Funeral Parlor. After eating street food one evening and getting lost, he stumbled upon Lei Zheng, who was also disoriented and using his camera to retrace their steps. Xiaoxi had long known he liked boys, and Lei Zheng, freshly returned from Macau with his first pot of gold, radiated reckless arrogance—a combination that made Xiaoxi’s heart race. After spending a few days together, they said their goodbyes. As Lei Zheng took a taxi to leave Hong Kong, he caught sight of the sunset embracing a tall residential building. On its wall, painted in letters as tall as the building itself, were the words: “Repent and Be Saved.”

Back in Shanghai, Lei Zheng worked in marketing for a traditional advertising company. Within a few years, he ventured into product development, brimming with innovative ideas. Meanwhile, Xiaoxi changed his style, learning new dance forms. Every year, he came to Shanghai to study and compete, often meeting up with Lei Zheng. Xiaoxi, dressed as a drag queen, never felt the need to be shy. Wearing a red slip dress and high heels, he met Lei Zheng openly and confidently, wiping soy sauce splatters off Lei Zheng’s face and playfully asking him to help pick out a dress. In Lei Zheng’s own words, “effeminate” was a derogatory term—true sensuality had nothing to do with it, something Xiaoxi had taught him. Every time Lei Zheng saw Xiaoxi, he inexplicably broke up with his girlfriend because not everyone could match the description of being “beautiful.”

“So you’ve known Lei Zheng for a long time?”

“Yes, I’ve even seen them fight. When they argue, they throw punches. Neither backs down.”

“…What do they usually fight about?”

“One is a tasteful entrepreneurial prodigy, the other dazzles on the dance floor. What do you think? Third parties have lined up from here to the gas station at the intersection. They’ve stolen partners back and forth so many times that it’s hard to tell who’s whose third party anymore. After all the chaos, the two of them are still the ones left standing, like gold sifted from sand. The most dramatic incident I heard about was when Xiaoxi went straight to a bar to confront Lei Zheng. They fought all the way from the Workers’ Stadium to the China World Trade Center. Lei Zheng’s girlfriend at the time was driving a Porsche, and Xiaoxi kicked off both side mirrors.”

Fierce. Jian Zhaowen mused, “I always thought Lei Zheng’s personality was strange, but I never imagined it was this intense. No wonder you didn’t react when I mentioned ‘the fading of feelings’ earlier—you’ve seen bigger scenes.”

The two parked the car under the company building and knocked on Lei Zheng’s door. As soon as it opened, they froze in shock. Lei Zheng was kneeling by the window, his vest torn and hanging off him. His hands covered his face, knuckles bruised. Xiaoxi’s short hair was messy, makeup smeared, and traces of blood were visible on his head. Tears streamed down his cheeks, making him look like a tragic clown. Broken plates, torn clothes, shattered pillows, and destroyed murals littered the room. Even Lei Zheng’s beloved sound system hadn’t escaped unscathed—it looked like a crime scene.

Jian Zhaowen touched his fingertip to his nose, and Yu Zhimei quickly understood his silent signal: Don’t make a sound, close the door first. None of the memories they’d just shared could connect to this scene. The struggle of caged beasts was too brutal.

“Lei Zheng, change your clothes, take a shower, and come to the office with me.”

The figure remained motionless, like a statue by the window.

“Get up.” Jian Zhaowen gently pulled Lei Zheng, his movements unusually tender. “You’re about to lose your mind staying away from the company. Every wasted moment costs money.”

“I don’t care.”

Xiaoxi emerged from the bathroom. “Are we done? I’m going to shower and head to the competition.”

“You’re not allowed to go! Don’t you dare break up with me!”

“A breakup is a breakup!”

Yu Zhimei was utterly confused. “What’s going on?”

Xiaoxi’s face was expressionless, even his tears had dried. “His father gave him an ultimatum: marry or sever ties.”

It all made sense now—an eternal theme from Farewell My Concubine . Between Duan Xiaolou and Cheng Dieyi, there’s always a Juxian. No matter how captivating Cheng Dieyi is, he ultimately loses to “a woman.” When we were young, we thought love was about firing a shot into the sky, letting a beam of light honor true love. But when it comes to marriage, that shot can’t be aimed at our parents. The mundane world has no target, and any bullet fired will ricochet back onto ourselves. Xiaoxi emerged from the bathroom, wearing jeans and a T-shirt, a new leather skirt packed in his bag. He stood at the door: “Don’t try to pull me back from the stage again. You chose to let me return to the stage and be myself. Goodbye.”

Lei Zheng hurled a teacup against the wall. Xiaoxi stood at the door, holding back tears, swallowing them down as he walked out. Yu Zhimei followed Xiaoxi out, leaving Jian Zhaowen alone in the room, sighing over the wreckage. Lei Zheng sat motionless for two minutes before telling Jian Zhaowen, “Go to the office first. I’ll be there in fifteen minutes.” Jian Zhaowen entered the office with coffee. Half an hour later, Lei Zheng arrived, his hands covered in bandages, cleanly shaved, wearing a fresh shirt and pants, and sporting a soft brown felt hat. Upon entering, he calmly raised his hand to address the overwhelmed operations and content editors: “Let’s have a meeting.”

This sudden transformation surprised even Jian Zhaowen—it was too abrupt. Before splitting off into smaller meetings, he sent a message to Yu Zhimei: “Is Xiaoxi okay?”

“He’s changed clothes and is waiting to cross the sea. He perks up as soon as he hears music.”

“It’s hard to believe these two could tear the house apart fighting and then turn around to focus on work.”

“They’ve screamed their hearts out too many times before. On the taxi ride, Xiaoxi told me that he’s compromised countless times over the years to win his family’s approval and impress Lei Zheng—working in sales, advertising, doing things he wasn’t good at. Over time, he’s become increasingly mediocre. Now, he wants to return to his world and be a waacking drag queen.”

“Lei Zheng doesn’t seem like someone who would stop others from pursuing their dreams. Why did he bring Xiaoxi back? Is Xiaoxi really that good at dancing?”

Yu Zhimei sent a voice message: “He’s just drunk! If you have time, buy a ticket to the finals. You won’t understand unless you see it for yourself.”

Since Day & Night became a company run solely by Jian Zhaowen and Lei Zheng, the 20 employees had only held one large meeting. The rest of the time, they worked efficiently in groups of three or four. Lei Zheng insisted on communicating with each department separately. Even when projects were related, he only gathered the key people involved. Full meetings where people wasted time on their phones infuriated him. Today, the product and UI teams were presenting their projects. After repeating himself for the third time, Lei Zheng suddenly grew agitated, grabbing the ashtray on the table and pacing around the conference room. Throwing it could kill someone, so Jian Zhaowen rushed in: “Are you done? Meeting’s over!”

Jian Zhaowen pulled the blinds shut, leaving just the two of them in the room. Lei Zheng’s hands were covered in ash as he paced back and forth. Jian Zhaowen stared at him like he was watching a ticking time bomb. Recalling what Yu Zhimei had shared, he cautiously began: “Why is your temper so terrible…”

“It’s innate. As a child, I was the kid who smashed flowerpots on people’s heads. I have OCD—if blood got on me, I’d immediately wash it off.”

To mold a personality to this extent isn’t easy. The first time Jian Zhaowen met Lei Zheng, he carried himself like a true gentleman—humorous yet proper. Now, leaning against the conference room wall, Lei Zheng gradually calmed down: “Xiaoxi always said he drew dance inspiration from me, but his talent belongs to him, not me. Instead, he wasted a lot of time doing mediocre things to gain my father’s approval. The issue isn’t him—it’s the generational and gender differences, not that he’s not good enough.”

What were those lyrics again? We didn’t bleed, yet we’ve already sacrificed; burying the heartbeat of martyrdom, sacrificing a lifetime of glory. To be each other’s muse yet clip each other’s wings—what a terrifying reality.

That night, Yu Zhimei texted to say Xiaoxi had successfully advanced to the top eight in his group. The next morning, the competition continued at the Mercedes-Benz Arena, narrowing from eight to four, then to two. The champion would travel abroad for the final round. Lei Zheng, already back from a meeting, was drinking alcohol and staring at the screen, revising the PRD with a complex expression. Jian Zhaowen feigned nonchalance: “Do you want to watch the competition tomorrow?”

“No—I’ll only distract him.”

“Are you two… breaking up?”

The other man didn’t respond, his silence reflected in the glare of his glasses, tinged with menace. Jian Zhaowen pulled up a chair and started coding beside him. The two faced their computers, exchanging occasional words.

“How did you and Yu Zhimei fall in love?”

“We were neighbors.”

“What about the future? Marriage?”

“You see, it’s unbelievable hearing this question come from Lei Zheng’s mouth.”

“I envy you. You can focus completely.”

Jian Zhaowen was filled with confusion: “I don’t understand. You don’t seem like someone burdened by this situation.”

“Because saying it out loud won’t solve anything.” Lei Zheng forced a bitter smile. “Surprised? I have a father like that. But external conditions are always subject to change. Right now, you and Yu Zhimei live next door. If Day & Night needs to expand to Beijing or Yu Zhimei has to relocate to another city, even if you’re at opposite ends of the same city, emotions will grow complicated.”

“It’s not that serious. If a little distance is enough to break you apart, then what kind of true love is that?”

Lei Zheng chuckled: “You haven’t realized how precarious your position is.”

“What do you mean?”

“I’ve cashed out twice before, directly liquidating stocks worth tens of millions. For a short period, I achieved financial freedom. Most successful people like to travel—to Xinjiang, Tibet—but I grew tired of that transcendence. I prefer urban life. Later, I realized I couldn’t appear at any galas or parties. Otherwise, opportunistic girls would swarm around me, timing their moves perfectly to get me drunk. Once they got my contact information, they’d do everything possible to arrange meetings. There are always people looking for shortcuts. Last year, I went abroad to avoid a fiancée introduced by my family, but someone knocked on my hotel door during the opening ceremony.”

“Unstoppable.”

“This circle is complicated. Right now, you might be looking forward to Series A or B funding rounds, hoping for valuations in the hundreds of millions. But once you reach that level, every second will teach you how reality defies expectations. Cashing out isn’t about escaping—it’s about seizing freedom while you still can. Once this moment passes, resistance becomes nearly impossible.”

“It’s cowardly to leave the team just because of investors or women. If you truly want to leave Day & Night, give me some mental preparation.”

“What are you talking about?” Lei Zheng inhaled deeply on his cigarette until it reached the filter. “There are a few eternal topics in this world: partners, sex, reproduction, emotions, and careers. If I were a product, no matter how specialized I became in any field, in the end, it would all boil down to emotions and companionship. You’re my soulmate for now—I’m not planning to abandon ship and leave you behind.”

“You chose Day & Night to protect relationships that aren’t widely accepted. You didn’t need to add ambiguity to make me emotional. Day & Night will definitely have a ‘rainbow’ section in the future—or rather, it should exist within the app as part of the normal emotional landscape, not something singled out.”

“If there were drinks here right now, I’d toast to you.”

As soon as the words left his mouth, the office door suddenly opened. Xiaoxi rushed in, still wearing his high heels, grabbed Lei Zheng by the collar, and kissed him fiercely. The room smelled of alcohol. Lei Zheng, barely touched on the lips, seemed drunk. He slammed Xiaoxi against the wall, biting his lip until it bled—this place was no longer safe. Jian Zhaowen saw Yu Zhimei smiling by the door. He closed his laptop and walked out. Just as he pushed the door open, Jian Zhaowen embraced her—in the warm summer breeze.