The Event

After the meeting, I opened my phone and saw a message from Wen Xicheng: "Want to grab dinner together tonight?" After contemplating for a moment, I pressed "Agree." 

That evening, I arrived at the restaurant we had chosen. Wen Xicheng was already there, sitting by the window, waiting for me with two glasses of drinks in front of him. 

"How did you know I would come?" I asked casually. 

"I believed you would," he replied, a confident smile lighting up his face. 

We talked extensively, about work and life. Wen Xicheng's sense of humor made me forget my worries, and I began to feel more at ease. 

"There's an event tomorrow. Can you make it?" he asked. 

"What event?" I inquired, intrigued. 

"I'll take you to meet some interesting people," he said, his eyes sparkling with anticipation. 

"Sure, I'd love to meet them," I replied.

＊＊＊＊＊＊＊＊＊＊ 

On the way home, I reflected on tomorrow's event; Wen Xicheng always had a way of surprising me.

As I lay down in bed, a warm sensation surged within me, as if the future was brimming with endless possibilities.

The approach taken was decidedly more professional, clearly reflecting his design philosophy.

After winning the bid, the atmosphere within the company improved significantly. Despite the previous tensions in the contract department, everyone was rejuvenated with newfound energy.

However, not everyone was fully on board with the changes. Some employees felt insecure with the shift in power dynamics, especially following Feng Suchuan's departure. The office appeared divided into factions—those who supported the new direction and those who mourned the loss of previous leadership.

As we progressed with the project, I observed that Wen Xicheng's leadership style was both pragmatic and encouraging. He frequently gathered the team for brainstorming sessions, fostering an open dialogue where everyone felt valued. Slowly but surely, the project's momentum built up, allowing us to overcome initial apprehensions.

Yet, amid work and deadlines, I couldn't shake the feeling that something deeper was evolving between Wen Xicheng and me.

During late nights at the office, there were moments that felt intensely personal, where our shared laughter and brief exchanges seemed to blur the lines of our professional relationship.

One evening, after a particularly taxing day, he casually brushed against my arm as he reached for documents, sending an unexpected spark through me. I glanced up to find him already looking at me, his expression unreadable yet filled with an unspoken connection. I quickly averted my gaze, a rush of warmth flooding my cheeks.

As the project neared completion, I realized how much I relied on his presence and support. The quiet moments we shared made the challenges more bearable, and I began to look forward to our interactions beyond mere collaboration.

The final presentation day arrived, bringing with it a mix of excitement and anxiety.

We stood side by side before the panel, and as he spoke passionately about our design innovations, I felt a swell of pride not only for our work but for the bond we had unintentionally forged throughout this journey.

Regardless of the outcome, there was an undeniable shift within me that couldn't be ignored. Watching him present with confidence made me smile, filled with hope for what lay ahead...

The concept led to an increase in our costs, inevitably resulting in the loss of some projects. The company's business department had significant objections to this, but he remained resolute. At a regular meeting, he stated, "For projects won with low bids, if we want to make a profit, we must lower the quality. This will only tarnish the company's reputation. Not winning the bid is our good fortune!"

I must admit, I admired him in that moment. The domestic construction industry has become chaotic; few companies are truly committed to their projects. The bosses prioritize performance and profit, while the workers focus on their salaries and bonuses. Who has genuinely considered the owner's interests?

Who cares if a low-cost piece of equipment might incur massive maintenance costs and exorbitant fuel consumption after two years of operation? When assessing a manufacturer's equipment, Wen Xicheng prioritizes depreciation rates and after-sales service over performance. Frankly, it seems a bit of a waste for someone of his caliber to work at our company, but he seems to enjoy it immensely. Of course, I won't admit that it has anything to do with me!

After leaving the bidding site, we didn't pause for a moment and headed straight to the Shenzhen branch. Wen Xicheng immediately got to work, reorganizing the list according to the owner's modification suggestions while I recalculated the prices. Dinner was takeout. I had already compiled all the equipment prices that needed adjustment, but the new project budget list hadn't been finalized yet.

It wasn't that the work was overly complicated; rather, it stemmed from a disagreement between Wen Xicheng and the Shenzhen branch manager.

Wen Xicheng wanted to implement a new type of air conditioning equipment based on the clarification documents provided by the owner, which would lower the air temperature below the dew point when cooling, drastically reducing the air volume and effectively lowering the product specifications by two tiers. I fully agreed, as this would nearly halve the equipment price, allowing us to reduce our bid by an additional three percentage points, making it more competitive for the tender. However, this would necessitate a change in equipment brand. While we had long-standing relationships with all the proposed manufacturers, the new brand's factory was not located in Shenzhen. Zhao Yang opposed this proposal, citing high shipping costs and lengthy supply times.

They argued fiercely in the office, and it was the first time I witnessed Wen Xicheng lose his temper with someone. Honestly, his intensity and presence were every bit as formidable as Feng Suchuan's.

Finally, he slammed the drawings down, leaned over the desk with his hands, stayed silent for a few seconds, and then looked up at Zhao Yang, casually saying, "It's settled this way. If you don't agree, you can apply to the company, but the proposal must be changed!" After saying that, he didn't even glance at Zhao Yang's pale face from anger and left immediately. As he passed by me, he pressed his lips together, his expression somewhat pale.

Zhao Yang stood there for a moment before leaving. I organized the drawings, placed them in a drawer, and went to fetch a cup in the tea room.

As expected, Wen Xicheng was inside. I saw him bent over, resting his arms on his legs and gently sighing. I got hot water and squatted beside him. 

"Are you not feeling well?" 

He shook his head but didn't get up. He simply rested his face on his knees and smiled at me, "Do I seem quite agitated?"

I handed him the cup of water, and he smiled, taking a couple of sips. 

"Yeah, quite agitated. Being so arrogant in someone else's territory, you should be careful not to have a place to stay tonight," I teased him. 

He wrinkled his nose and raised an eyebrow, "Who cares about their arrangements? I'll take you to stay in the presidential suite!" 

I got up and sat beside him, smiling as I said, "Isn't that immature? Why do you have to insist on changing the proposal? With our current quoted price, there should be no issue winning the bid." 

Wen Xicheng let out a gentle breath and slowly sat up, his right hand pressing on his waist, resting his stomach. After adjusting his breathing a few times, he said, "When we submitted the bid today, I overheard the other party discussing the brand we chose for the bathroom. There was a major incident with that brand in a Shanghai project before the New Year. If I'm guessing correctly, they will issue a warning at tomorrow's bid opening. To win the bid, we can only change the brand." 

I was momentarily surprised, turning my head to see that he had already lowered his gaze, slightly furrowing his brows as he adjusted his breathing rhythmically. His face no longer bore a smile; instead, it was serious. For the first time, I felt that this man possessed the same wisdom and depth of thought as Feng Suchuan, and it seemed my understanding of him had remained stagnant since four years ago. As for the current Wen Xicheng, I truly knew nothing! 

That night, while I was organizing prices, Wen Xicheng sat in a chair with his arms resting on the backrest, staring at me with an increasingly grave demeanor. I could faintly hear the pain in his breath. To distract him, I engaged in conversation while working, "Why don't you explain the reasons to Zhao Yang directly?" Wen Xicheng paused and then said calmly, "He took a kickback from the manufacturer. Telling him wouldn't change the outcome." I turned sharply, "How do you know?"

His chin rested on the back of his hand, and after blinking a few times, he smiled softly, "They mentioned him when they approached me." I smiled knowingly and turned back to the computer. "Are you not accustomed to such unwritten rules in the domestic market?" A few faint laughs came from beside me, but Wen Xicheng remained silent.

All the bidding documents were sorted and bound after midnight, and Zhao Yang generously had the driver take us to the pre-arranged hotel. The next morning, at the bid opening, just as Wen Xicheng had predicted, our competitor company submitted a detailed report at the outset, outlining the entire incident. It was all logical and well-supported. Watching their smug expressions, I stifled a laugh and glanced at Wen Xicheng, whose slightly pale face was calm and composed. In the end, our company won the bid with the highest technical score and the second-best business score. After leaving the bidding site, Wen Xicheng kept taking deep breaths; his condition seemed poor.

Zhao Yang inquired with concern, seemingly unaware of the unpleasantness from the night before. I couldn't tell if Wen Xicheng was feeling sick, as he responded faintly, his words few and distant.

He declined Zhao Yang's invitation for lunch and took a taxi back to the hotel with me. After a simple lunch, just before entering his room, I paused and asked, "Are you okay?" Leaning against the door frame, he attempted to straighten up and offered a weak smile, "I'm fine, just need to lie down for a bit. You should take a nap too; we need to attend the celebration tonight." I glanced at his pale lips for a moment, then turned to support his arm and softly said, "I'll go in with you." His body stiffened noticeably against the door frame. Wen Xicheng looked down at me, surprise evident in his eyes. I averted my gaze, took the key card, and opened the door.

Once inside, after taking his medicine, Wen Xicheng lay down on the bed.

He didn't sleep; instead, he blinked at me with an innocent look, much like a small dog waiting for its owner to offer comfort. I handed him the heated electric warmer and said, "Put this on your stomach; it'll help. You should try to sleep now; I'll head back to my room. Call me if you need anything." When Wen Xicheng took it, he looked up at me, his eyes filled with longing. "Can you stay with me a bit longer? Can you sleep on that bed?" I shook my head. "No, don't think about it; I'm leaving." He didn't press further but instead offered a slight smile and gently nodded, curling up and slowly lowering his eyelids, concealing the loneliness and pain within. A sharp pang struck my heart, but I didn't linger; I turned to leave. Once back in my room, I let out a deep breath.

I couldn't possibly ignore his efforts and sincerity during this time. I felt the rejection in my heart slowly dissolving, yet the infatuation I once held was truly gone.

Being with him felt quite peaceful now, devoid of the awkwardness from before. I wouldn't miss him when we were apart, nor would I feel flustered by his unabashed affection. His discomfort naturally elicited my concern. Just now, as I watched him struggle to straighten his back due to pain, I realized that even if we were merely ordinary friends, I couldn't ignore his suffering. Only when our eyes met, and I saw his weak, unguarded gaze, did I realize I had given him hope again. Perhaps I should act like the characters in novels, feigning indifference and exchanging harsh words until he finally gives up.

I scratched my head and sat up, recalling the moment I yelled at Wen Xicheng with my hands on my hips, feeling a shiver run through me. Wouldn't he think I had time-traveled?!

The celebration banquet that night was extravagant. I sat to Wen Xicheng's left, while Zhao Yang occupied his right. Throughout the meal, apart from encouraging everyone to toast him, he did nothing else.

As I mentioned before, Wen Xicheng has a high tolerance for alcohol; his expression remained calm as he accepted every toast with ease. By the end of the night, I estimated he had consumed nearly a full jin (500g). I don't know if it was just my impression, but it felt like he was intentionally trying to get drunk. When Zhao Yang stepped out momentarily, I filled a bowl of soup for him and said with concern, "Don't drink anymore; just go along with them." Wen Xicheng turned to me, resting one hand on the back of my chair and stirring the soup with the other, a gentle smile on his face, "I'm fine."

His body tilted slightly towards me, his cheeks very close, and the warm air mixed with a faint scent of alcohol brushed against my side; it felt quite awkward. I reached out and pushed him lightly, mumbling admonishingly, "Sit properly; what will others think?" After a few heavy breaths beside my ear, he turned back, leaned against the chair's back, tightened his fingers around the spoon, and slowly sipped his soup.

His movements were graceful, but his tense knuckles were pale. He looked lost, and I couldn't help but think of the phrase, "food without taste"! Watching his innocent and calm expression, guilt surged in my heart once again.

To make up for this small mistake, I occasionally added some hot dishes for Wen Xicheng. He didn't refuse any; whatever I placed on his plate, he ate obediently. If I didn't serve him, he wouldn't eat either. His brows would soften a bit if he liked something, while he would glance at me if he didn't. The dinner was actually quite dull, and I wasn't familiar with my colleagues from the Shenzhen branch. After filling my stomach, I focused on serving him dishes; at times, I would purposely add ones he didn't like. After two or three attempts, a smile slowly appeared at the corners of his mouth. I found myself smiling too, simply enjoying the moment.

Once we left the restaurant, we used our fatigue as an excuse to skip the nightclub.

I stood by the roadside trying to hail a taxi while Wen Xicheng leaned against a large tree, arms crossed and eyes closed in rest. I sensed he must be feeling quite unwell; every time I glanced over, his brow was tightly furrowed. Finally, a taxi became available, and I hurried over to grasp his arm. "A cab's here. How are you? Can you walk?" 

"Mm." He answered without opening his eyes, pursed his lips, avoided looking at me much, and then got into the car. I followed him inside, told the driver the address, and turned to look at him. Wen Xicheng leaned back against the seat, his chest rising and falling rapidly, a look of pain gradually spreading across his face. I asked anxiously, "Do you feel like throwing up?" 

He shook his head, turned his face away, gasped twice, and said, "A bit dizzy; let me rest. Call me when we arrive." I nodded in response and decided to keep quiet.

After about ten minutes, the car pulled up at the hotel entrance. Without waiting for me to say anything, Wen Xicheng opened the door and stepped out.

I paid the fare and entered the lobby. After searching for a while, I didn't see him at the elevator entrance. After a couple of laps, I spotted him coming from the direction of the restroom, droplets of water on his face and looking extremely pale. I approached him; noticing his unsteady steps, I instinctively supported his arm. "Drunk? Or feeling unwell?" I asked. 

"Unwell," he replied tersely, pulling my hand down to hold it as he walked toward the elevator hall. I felt the coldness and dampness of his palm and gently pulled back.

After Wen Xicheng squeezed my hand tightly, he turned to look at me, his furrowed brow revealing a hint of annoyance. He opened his mouth and said, "I mean no other intention; I really feel unwell." I pressed my lips together. "If you're feeling uncomfortable, I can help you. Why are you holding my hand?"

Wen Xicheng paused, and after a moment, he slowly released my hand, avoiding my gaze as he walked ahead with his head down. I couldn't understand why my heart ached every time he made a concession, even if it was just a small one. Frustrated, I jogged after him, thinking, he's the sick one—why am I arguing with him?

Once we entered the elevator, Wen Xicheng leaned against the mirrored wall at the back, his right hand slipping into his suit to gently rub his upper abdomen. With a "ding," he pushed himself off the railing, stretched his long legs, and walked straight out without looking back at me.

I followed closely behind, my eyes fixed on his stiff, straight back, feeling a heaviness in my chest. It seemed I was truly getting accustomed to his unreasonable behavior, almost forgetting his fragile, stubborn side.

Before entering his room, Wen Xicheng finally turned to face me. His right hand remained inside his suit, while his left hand rested on the doorknob. His pale lips pressed together slightly, forming a faint, delicate smile. "Get some rest early. Good night!"

I nodded. "Remember to take your medicine. If you're feeling too unwell, call me, and we can go to the hospital." He acknowledged my words with a soft nod but didn't linger, stepping inside. It wasn't until his door closed that I pulled out my room key and turned to head in the opposite direction.

After showering and lying on the bed, I picked up my phone, ready to send a text to Wen Xicheng when a sudden knock echoed in the silence. I froze for a moment before getting off the bed.

I opened the door to find a man in light gray casual wear standing in the doorway, a suitcase beside him. Puzzled, I asked, "What are you doing?"

Wen Xicheng glanced at my pajama-clad figure and said, "Let's go back tonight."

I widened my eyes, "Huh?"

"I want to go back. Can we go to the airport now?" He looked at me, his eyes filled with pleading.

I stared at him in confusion for a few seconds, then softly replied, "Why are you thinking about going back now? Didn't we book a flight for tomorrow afternoon?"

"I can't sleep on hotel beds," he said stubbornly.

I sighed in frustration, "It's almost midnight; it'll take us half an hour to get to the airport. Even if we manage to buy a ticket to go back, it'll be around four or five in the morning. There are no buses, and no one to pick us up. It's too unrealistic. Let's just go to bed; don't be unreasonable!"

Wen Xicheng stood still but slowly lowered his head, his fingers gripping the doorframe, bending slightly, turning pale. After nearly a minute of silence, he looked up at me, his face showing a weary smile, and softly said, "Alright, good night!"

I watched as he slowly closed the door after turning away. Sitting on the bed, I realized I hadn't heard the sound of the door opening from the opposite side for a long time. My heart skipped a beat; he wouldn't go to the airport by himself, would he?

I climbed off the bed, opened the door, and saw the man still standing outside. I exhaled gently, meeting his somewhat bewildered gaze, and softened my tone. "What's going on? Why do we have to go back tonight?" 

Wen Xicheng didn't say anything, just stared at me. After a long moment, he stepped forward, stretched his arms, and wrapped me tightly in an embrace. 

I struggled a bit and heard him say, "Stay with me! Just for tonight, okay?" 

---

An hour later, at the airport terminal. 

I held two cups of milk tea, glancing at the man sitting a short distance away, hunched over, resting on his knees. I sighed deeply and walked over. 

In the end, I compromised, packed my things, and came to the airport with him. 

"Have some hot drinks; it might be a bit more comfortable," I said softly as I sat next to him. 

Wen Xicheng slowly straightened his body, accepted the milk tea without looking at me, and said quietly, "Thank you."

I nodded softly, turning my head away. Outside the large glass wall, the night was pitch black; it was already past one in the morning, and my mind was nearly shutting down. 

We didn't speak at all until boarding. 

There weren't many people on the plane; it was quite empty. Wen Xicheng sat by the window, and I sat next to him. Honestly, I wasn't in a good mood being dragged to fly at midnight. After takeoff, I covered myself with a blanket, turned to him, and said lightly, "Are you really not planning to tell me what happened?" 

Wen Xicheng leaned against the seat in front of him, gently shaking his head. 

I sighed. "You always do this; when you don't say anything, others gradually overlook your feelings and stop caring." 

His arched back stiffened noticeably. After a moment, he sat up against the seat back and turned his face to the window, softly saying, "I'm sorry about today; it won't happen again." 

I closed my eyes. "Good night!" 

As for Wen Xicheng, I no longer felt the desire to probe.

I could easily overlook his unusual behavior and his sadness. To me, he had ultimately become the most familiar stranger. I'm not a heartless person; I just no longer wanted to be foolish! 

I was really too tired; before long, I fell into a deep sleep and awoke to find myself resting on Wen Xicheng's shoulder, his face close to my forehead as he gently held my hand against my chest. 

The cabin lights were dim, and I could only see his Adam's apple and jawline. This position felt too intimate. I shifted slightly, and a hoarse yet gentle voice came from above, "Are you awake?" 

I withdrew my hand from his shoulder, yawned, and nodded, "Are we landing?" 

"Yeah, we'll arrive in about twenty minutes." 

Noticing the exhaustion etched on his face, I asked, "Did you not sleep?" 

Wen Xicheng shook his head, slowly leaning back against the seat and closing his eyes. 

I didn't say anything else and flipped through a magazine.

A few minutes later, he gently called out to me, "Xia Tian." 

"Hmm?" 

"Today is my grandfather's death anniversary." 

I was taken aback and quickly glanced over. The man beside me still had his eyes closed, his expression almost unchanged. I bit my lip and replied, "Why didn't you tell me earlier?" 

"I can't put it into words. I'm afraid I wouldn't be able to get through it, so I hoped you could keep me company. I didn't expect it would trouble you. I'm really sorry." 

His voice was calm, tinged with exhaustion. My vision blurred instantly, and a sharp ache pierced my heart. I turned away, feeling a pang of guilt, and said, "I'm sorry; I really didn't know." Wen Xicheng opened his eyes, which no longer held their usual brightness. He tugged at the corners of his mouth, and at the moment his eyes turned red, he turned his head away from me, a picture of vulnerability. 

I slowly leaned closer, hesitating for a moment before taking his hand, softly saying, "Are you very sad? If you want to cry, just cry; it's okay." 

Wen Xicheng's body was tense. After a long moment, he took my hand and placed it over his heart, gently rubbing it, as if to convey the depth of his pain. 

Until the plane landed, he kept gazing out of the window, his profile drawn tight with sorrow.