Nineteenth-century criminologist Cesare Lombroso specialized in studying the skulls of criminals in prisons. He discovered that one-third of criminals’ skulls shared the same characteristics, which included:

1. Large face. Compared to the skull, neck, and torso, the face occupied a very large proportion.

2. Narrow forehead.

3. Particularly large or particularly small ears.

4. Messy eyebrows with a narrow distance between them.

5. Protruding jaw.

6. Upturned nose with visible nostrils.

7. Sparse beard.

8. Disheveled hair with many “hair whorls.”

People possessing several of these facial features are natural-born criminals. I don’t know if my father belongs to this category. Of the eight characteristics, he possesses six, with only two that don’t match. His eyebrows aren’t messy, the distance between them isn’t particularly narrow, and his jaw isn’t particularly protruding. He was considered quite handsome in his youth, but now at fifty-three, he’s somehow become increasingly wretched-looking. Very unfortunately, I resemble him—I’m the feminized version of his younger self. The slight differences are that my face isn’t that large, and my nose doesn’t turn upward, so my nostrils aren’t visible. Our large ears are most similar.

At 2 a.m., I received a call from the police station asking me to come bail out Qiu Guo—my father.

I arrived at Wan Chai Police Station at 2:22 a.m. I told the duty officer I was there to bail out Qiu Guo, and he led me to a room behind the reporting area. My father sat dejected to one side, while a vulgar, disheveled middle-aged woman sat across from him, her left cheek swollen with bloodstains at the corner of her mouth.

“What is he to you?” the plainclothes detective asked me.

“I’m his daughter.”

The look that plainclothes detective gave me was the most contemptuous I’d ever seen.

“He assaulted this woman,” the detective said.

I glared fiercely at my father. This fifty-three-year-old natural-born love criminal hung his head even lower, not daring to look at me.

The disheveled middle-aged woman requested that the police take her to the hospital for a medical examination. I paid the bail, and the paperwork took thirty minutes before we could finally leave the station. As we left, an ambulance had just pulled up.

The moment my father stepped out of the station, his whole demeanor became frivolous, and he kicked an empty yogurt drink bottle across the street with his foot.

“That woman—” he tried to explain to me.

“I don’t want to hear it!” I covered my ears with both hands.

“Did I wake you up just now?”

“I wasn’t even asleep yet! School is in the middle of exams—do you think everyone is as carefree and romantic as you?”

“Your grades have always been good,” he said, trying to please me.

Just then, the ambulance drove out from the police station to take the woman to the hospital. I raised my hand to stop it.

“We know the injured party—can we accompany her?” I asked the driver.

The driver looked back at the woman in the vehicle. The woman glanced at my father but didn’t object.

“Alright,” the driver said.

My father and I got in the ambulance, and the woman sat across from us. Without my father needing to explain, I already knew this was an embarrassing romantic dispute. My father constantly had different female companions—it was like this when he was young, and still like this in his old age. Women had barged into our home before, so I wasn’t surprised that this time it escalated to the police station. On his left ring finger, he wore a platinum ring—it wasn’t his wedding ring, probably a pledge with yet another woman. He’d amounted to nothing in his old age because he was born for romance.

The ambulance quickly arrived at the hospital. After getting out, I pulled my father away.

“Aren’t we supposed to accompany her to the hospital?” he asked me.

“Who said that? I just wanted a free ride.”

My home was near this public hospital, so I could save taxi fare.

“You really thought of that! This is my first time riding an ambulance home. I’ve always said you were clever,” he said, again trying to please me.

My father’s greatest talent was sweet talk—my mother was probably tricked by it. Later, when sweet words no longer worked, they divorced when I was fourteen. He was a very optimistic person, always believing tomorrow would be better, so he had no habit of saving and was constantly penniless. He named me Huan’er hoping I’d be infected with some joyful atmosphere, but unfortunately, my surname is Qiu.

I hadn’t slept all night, and my notes seemed impossible to absorb. I decided to put them aside and sleep for two hours to recover my energy. Before sleeping, I woke my younger sister Le’er for school. She’s in Form Two this year and doesn’t seem very interested in studying—actually, she doesn’t seem interested in anything.

At noon I returned for the exam. After the exam ended, I ran into Hu Tietan in the hallway.

“Don’t forget we’re meeting this weekend,” he said.

Hu Tietan, Zhu Mengmeng, Yu Deren, Qu Xiaojue, and I had been classmates since Primary Four all the way through secondary school, and we had very good relationships.

Hu Tietan was very handsome. His father was a police officer, and he also had a strong sense of justice. He once spent time as a child host on a television program, becoming a child star.

In Form Four, Zhu Mengmeng went to Canada to study.

She returned three years ago, and we often met up again.

The weekend gathering was held at Zhu Mengmeng’s 2,800-square-foot home. Mengmeng’s family owned several dried seafood shops in the Bonham Strand area. Her mother was the most fashionable woman in the dried goods trade.

“Huan’er? You’re here? You’re the first to arrive,” Zhu Mengmeng greeted me at the door.

“These are the items you and your mother wanted.” I set down two large bags of skincare products on the floor and counted them out. “There are six bottles of facial cleanser, three bottles of toner…”

“Okay, okay! How much total?”

“One thousand six hundred and two dollars.”

“That cheap? How’s your MLM business going?”

“Not bad.”

“I really admire you—I couldn’t do this kind of work. I’m most afraid of asking people to buy things.”

“Life forces you to,” I said with a smile.

I’d started as a distributor for an American skincare and health supplement MLM company two years ago. Besides that, I had three tutoring jobs, and altogether I could earn eight thousand dollars per month. These eight thousand dollars were for paying back Qu Xiaojue’s debt. For him, being in debt was also a kind of happiness.

In Form Two, ten classmates from our grade went camping together at Tai Long Sai Wan. When we set out in the morning, the weather was already poor. When our group arrived at Tai Long Sai Wan, the weather suddenly became terrible—thunder and lightning, pouring rain, flooding in many places, fallen trees. We were trapped on a beach, and the tent we’d pitched was swept away by the strong winds in less than five minutes.

We walked to a nearby village. By then it was past 8 p.m., pitch black all around. Several village houses were abandoned and uninhabited—very frightening. We came to a village house with lights and knocked on the door. A man opened it.

The man led us to a nearby village house to spend the night, and charged us two hundred dollars for accommodation.

It was an abandoned, dilapidated village house. When we walked in and looked up, we were horrified to discover ten coffins on the roof.

“These coffins belong to elderly people in our village who have the custom of ordering coffins in advance. Of these ten coffins, only one contains a body.”

“A body?” we screamed in fright.

“An old person in the village just passed away tonight. The body couldn’t be transported out, so it’s placed here,” the man said.

“Is there another place?” someone asked him.

“Only this place,” the man said.

We huddled together, terrified. I’d never seen a real coffin before, and what’s more, one of them held a body.

“If you don’t like it, you can go outside,” the man said coldly.

“We have no other choice—let’s stay here,” Hu Tietan said.

The village house only had a loft and ground floor, with a total area of less than two hundred square feet. The lower level could accommodate at most six people lying down, and the other four had to sleep in the loft. But the loft was closest to the roof, and the roof held the coffins, which sat on wooden frames. If you slept in the loft, you’d be only four feet from the coffins.

“Which coffin has the body?” Yu Deren asked the man.

“The one on the far left.” After the man spoke, he left the village house.

“Let’s draw lots to decide sleeping positions. Those who draw a skull have to sleep in the loft, and anyone who draws two skulls has to sleep under the coffin with the body. Does anyone object?” Hu Tietan said.

At a time like this, he had the nerve to suggest drawing skulls.

We looked at each other—no one had a better suggestion. The drawing began. I prayed desperately not to draw it. In the end, I drew it.

I sat under the coffin with the body, hugging my knees and covering my face, sobbing.

“I’ll switch with you,” Qu Xiaojue said.

“Aren’t you afraid?” I asked him.

“You’re a girl,” he said, crawling over to switch positions with me.

“Xiaojue, thank you.”

“Sleep. Don’t be afraid—it’ll be morning soon,” he comforted me.

I slept next to Xiaojue, closing my eyes and not daring to look up. Actually, that night, it was impossible for anyone to sleep. I’d known Xiaojue since I was nine—he’d never been the most outstanding person in the group, and he seemed to lack opinions. Hu Tietan was different—he was tall and handsome, a natural leader. I’d always had a secret crush on Hu Tietan, but that night, he hid on the lower level without ever thinking of switching positions with me.

I looked at Xiaojue sleeping beside me. He’d covered his head with his clothes, curled up his whole body, and was trembling in his sleeping bag.

“Xiaojue, are you very afraid?” I patted his back. “I can’t sleep—shall we talk?”

He poked his head out of the sleeping bag, pretending to be calm.

“Why did you switch positions with me?” I asked him.

“Besides Hu Tietan, there are other boys, you know?” Xiaojue looked at me and said.

It turned out I’d been overlooking him all along.

Because he liked me, even though he was terrified, Xiaojue was willing to switch positions with me and sleep under the coffin with the body. I turned to look at Xiaojue, and he looked at me. I’d never realized we were actually that close.

Xiaojue was intelligent but willful. If there’s a type of person who takes a long time to discover their life goals, Xiaojue was that type. His A-Level results weren’t good—he couldn’t get into university and drifted aimlessly for a year. Then he suddenly became determined and achieved three A’s on the University of London entrance exam. The University of Bristol in England accepted him to study accounting. The annual tuition and living expenses added up to almost one hundred fifty thousand dollars. Xiaojue’s family situation wasn’t great—his parents were retired, and his three older sisters were married, with only the third sister living relatively well. I was his girlfriend, and I couldn’t bear to watch his hopes shattered. I believed that if given the chance, he would definitely succeed and return. Xiaojue’s third sister agreed to cover half of his annual tuition and living expenses. For the remaining half, I borrowed from Mengmeng’s mother and repaid it monthly. One more year and Xiaojue would return. We couldn’t afford plane tickets, long-distance calls were expensive, and unless necessary, we didn’t call—we usually relied on letters, with him sending me one every two weeks. This year after graduating and finding work, perhaps I could buy a plane ticket to visit him.

Hu Tietan and Yu Deren arrived, with Yu Deren carrying two four-foot-tall Sailor Moon dolls.

“For you—Sailor Moon! One for each of you, the latest stock.”

“Such childish toys—I’m not interested,” I said.

Yu Deren’s exam results weren’t good, and he couldn’t get into sixth form, so he joined a trading company as a toy buyer. He had a childlike heart, immature intellect, and no real life goals—this job suited him well.

“Have you started job hunting?” Yu Deren asked me.

“Writing application letters,” I said. “What about you, Hu Tietan? What will you do?”

“No need to ask—he’ll definitely become a police officer,” Mengmeng said.

“I’ve already applied for Police Inspector,” Hu Tietan said.

“Haven’t you thought about other work?” I asked him.

“I set my heart on becoming a police officer in Primary Four,” Hu Tietan said. “I want to eliminate violence and uphold peace, deter evil and punish the wicked.”

I almost couldn’t help spitting out my tea. Hu Tietan’s words sounded like slogans from television police recruitment advertisements.

“Huan’er, what kind of work do you plan to do? Will you become a psychologist since you studied psychology?” Yu Deren asked me.

“A psychologist? Facing people with psychological problems every day? I couldn’t handle it. I want to do public relations and marketing work—I’ve already sent out many job applications.”

“My mom seems to have a friend working at a PR company—one of Hong Kong’s largest PR firms. Want me to ask my mom to introduce you?” Mengmeng asked me.

Three days later, I received a call from this company asking me for an interview. The person in charge was a woman in her thirties who had previously participated in a beauty pageant.

This woman named Mai Lusi was the PR company’s manager. I remembered she’d participated in the fifth Miss Hong Kong pageant with contestant number two but didn’t place in the top three.

“You’re number two, Mai Lusi?” I said.

She was very surprised I recognized her and even remembered her contestant number.

“You have a really good memory,” she said.

The reason I remembered Mai Lusi was that my father liked her back then and used her contestant number to bet on a horse race, winning several thousand dollars. We used those thousands to buy a new television, refrigerator, washing machine, and rice cooker. My family’s four modernizations all depended on Mai Lusi—how could I forget her?

“Why don’t you enter beauty pageants? You have excellent qualifications!” she said.

“Me? My qualifications aren’t good, and I don’t have the courage.”

“These days, whether you participate in beauty pageants or not doesn’t matter—they’re actually selecting ugly ones. When we participated in pageants, every single girl truly had standards,” she said proudly.

“Yes! I remember your cheongsam was emerald green with peony patterns, with a layer of lace on the chest—very charming.”

“Your memory is truly amazing—that was over ten years ago.” She laughed delightfully.

“When can you start work?” she asked me.

“You’ve decided to hire me?” I asked Mai Lusi.

“You completely meet our requirements,” Mai Lusi said.

“Can I consider it?”

“Consider?” She was very surprised.

“I want to go home and discuss it with my father,” I said.

I went to another PR company for an interview. This one’s scale couldn’t compare to Mai Lusi’s. The person who received me was a man close to fifty, not very tall, with a smile on his face. His office was completely chaotic—magazines, newspapers, and vinyl records piled up like mountains, along with several old Hong Kong photos, several oil paintings, several pairs of famous brand men’s leather shoes, several famous brand briefcases, and several famous brand umbrellas. His desk was a mess, with dozens of antique fountain pens and a jar of preserved plums.

“Want some preserved plums?” he asked me.

“No, thank you.”

“You studied psychology?” He looked over my resume.

“Yes.”

“I had a dream last night—can you interpret it for me?” he asked while chewing a preserved plum.

This little old man’s interview question was actually asking me to interpret his dream!

“Don’t worry, it definitely wasn’t an erotic dream.” He spat the preserved plum pit into the ashtray, then said, “I dreamed I kept cooking dishes. I made many dishes—soy sauce chicken, sweet and sour pork, salt and pepper shrimp—no, garlic shrimp, chili crab—anyway, many dishes. Actually, I don’t know how to cook, so when I woke up I was extremely hungry. What does this dream signify?”

“This is usually a dream that women have.”

He was startled: “Really? But in the dream I was a man.”

“If in the dream you continuously make various dishes, it means the dreamer wants to forget a past romance that’s hard to let go of.”

A surprised expression appeared on his face.

“Did I get it wrong?” I asked him.

“Who knew—what you think about during the day, you dream about at night,” he said. “I just broke up with my girlfriend last week. Actually, she wanted to break up with me.”

I didn’t expect this man close to fifty wasn’t married yet.

“I really liked her—she was only twenty-five. Single old men are constantly rejected by young women.” He smiled bitterly.

“You look very young,” I complimented him.

“Because I’m constantly in love,” he said proudly.

“When can you start work?” he asked me.

I didn’t expect to get my first job by interpreting a dream.

I stood up to say goodbye and saw four bottles of red wine behind the door, all Bordeaux wines.

“I like drinking wine—some I bought several years ago that have appreciated in value now. I can sell them to friends and make money. I really regret not buying a bottle of 1982 PETRUS last time—that wine will appreciate. Now I can’t find it anywhere.”

“You really love collecting things,” I said.

“Not collecting—investing. I absolutely won’t buy anything I can’t resell later,” he said mischievously. “After you start work, I’ll slowly teach you about investing.”

“I don’t have money to invest,” I said with a smile.

“A woman’s best investment is investing in a good man,” he said.

I called to decline Mai Lusi’s offer, telling her I’d agreed to work at Fang Yuan’s PR company.

Mengmeng was also puzzled by my choice.

“Mai Lusi really likes you. She praised you to my mom—she thought you’d work for her.”

“Fang Yuan’s salary is fifteen hundred dollars higher than Mai Lusi’s side. In the future, I can send more living expenses to Xiaojue.”

“So that’s why—truly touching. What if Xiaojue has a change of heart?” Mengmeng said.

“He won’t,” I said.

“Do you have a bottle of 1982 PETRUS at the wine shop?” I asked my father.

“1982 PETRUS? That’s very expensive! It sells for ten thousand dollars now, and there’s no stock.”

The next day, my father called me saying he’d found a bottle of 1982 PETRUS in the warehouse. Originally it was for a customer, but he never came to pay for it.

“Get it for me!” I told him.

On my first day at Fang Yuan’s office, I brought the bottle of 1982 PETRUS.

Fang Yuan’s office was in Causeway Bay. Including the receptionist, the company had twelve employees. Each PR person actually worked independently—only large projects required colleagues’ assistance. The two people sitting near me were named Xiang Lingling and Wang Zhen. Xiang Lingling was a genuine housewife—I heard her call home every fifteen minutes to ask the Filipino maid whether her son had had a bowel movement today. If her son had a bowel movement every fifteen minutes, he’d long since been dehydrated from diarrhea. Wang Zhen had a petite frame and looked delicate, but was actually very friendly.

“My son hasn’t had a bowel movement for two days,” Xiang Lingling said to me, frowning.

“How old is he?”

“Four years old, already this tall.” Xiang Lingling gestured a height with her hand.

“Must be very cute,” I said, since every mother thinks her son is the cutest anyway.

“Incredibly cute—this is him!” Xiang Lingling picked up the photo on her desk to show me. Her young son was so fat you couldn’t distinguish his features—definitely naturally obese.

“Really very cute,” I praised.

Fang Yuan took everyone to lunch as a welcome for me. He was a good boss.

Back at the company, I walked into his office and asked him: “Mr. Fang, are you looking for a bottle of 1982 PETRUS?”

“Do you know where there is one?”

“I have a bottle.”

He was delighted: “Where did you find it?”

“My father works at a wine shop—only this one bottle left. I brought it back. Don’t know if you want it.” I handed him the bottle.

“Of course I want it! This wine will continue to appreciate. How much?”

“Ten thousand dollars—I have the receipt here, already discounted.”

“I’ll write you a check immediately.”

“There’s a job I need to give you,” he said.

“Your qualifications are too shallow—you really shouldn’t be sent to do this, but I think it’s a good opportunity for you to learn. ‘Bee Comfort’ sanitary napkins were rumored to have insects, and some people claimed a woman who used this brand of sanitary napkins got worms in her uterus and had to have her entire uterus removed. This matter is completely malicious slander—the general agent has already reported it to police, but sanitary napkin sales have plummeted. The general agent hired us to handle this. Crisis management is a very important topic for PR companies—this is perfect for you to learn.”

To follow up on the sanitary napkin insect matter, the next day I went to “Bee Comfort’s” general agent, Letao Group, for a meeting. Letao was one of Hong Kong’s largest agencies, representing hundreds of products. Just for sanitary napkins alone, they had five brands, plus diapers, toilet paper, shampoo, and so on. “Bee Comfort’s” sales ranked first in Hong Kong with a market share of fifty percent—being a target was easy to understand. I myself was a “Bee Comfort” devotee.

The person receiving me was Letao’s president, this sanitary napkin king—a man.

The sanitary napkin king was younger than I’d imagined—he looked no more than thirty. When I entered his office, he was concentrating on assembling a model fighter plane.

He was performing a very delicate operation, gluing a rice-sized part onto the plane. I stood to the side to avoid disturbing him, but unfortunately, I sneezed at that moment. I covered my mouth, but the sneeze still startled him. I saw his right hand suddenly tremble, and that part stuck to the wrong place.

“I’m sorry,” I apologized awkwardly.

He seemed unhappy but still politely said: “It’s fine, please sit.”

“I’m Qiu Huan’er, representative from Fang Yuan PR Company.” I handed him my business card.

“I’m Gao Haiming,” he said.

This Gao Haiming wasn’t tall—probably about five foot six, with a thin build, naturally curly thick hair, and very fair skin. His eyes didn’t have the piercing brightness of successful people, but rather concealed a sense of desolation and helplessness.

“Regarding the rumor about ‘Bee Comfort’ having insects, I’ve drafted a clarification announcement, and the follow-up work is written in the proposal.” I handed him the proposal.

He silently read through the entire proposal in front of me without saying a word.

“That’s it then,” he said.

“Mr. Gao, do you have any comments?” I carefully asked him again.

He shook his head and said to me: “You can go now.”

I could only stand up to take my leave. As I turned to leave, he suddenly called out to me.

“Miss Qiu—”

“What is it?”

I turned back to ask Gao Haiming—he finally had a comment.

Gao Haiming pointed to my left sleeve—it had caught on a small piece of his fighter plane model.

“Oh, I’m sorry.” I placed the piece in his palm.

“Thank you.” He concentrated on his model again. His technique was skilled, the joints perfect—he must assemble models frequently. When he assembled models, he was as meticulous as performing surgery. The plane was his patient, the office his operating room—as if once the assembly was complete and paint applied, that fighter plane would fly straight into the sky for combat.

I organized a large-scale press conference for “Bee Comfort,” hiring two gynecological experts to give professional opinions stating that insects in sanitary napkins climbing through the vagina into the uterus to cause uterine worms was absolutely impossible. Gao Haiming didn’t attend this reception—Letao’s general manager represented them. Then I ran advertisements in newspapers for many days to clarify the rumor about “Bee Comfort” having insects. “Bee Comfort’s” sales rebounded, and the matter finally came to an end, but police still couldn’t determine who maliciously slandered “Bee Comfort.” The case was handed over to the Commercial Crime Bureau. However, according to industry insiders, the chance of competitors slandering “Bee Comfort” was slim because “Bee Comfort’s” several main competitors’ general agents were all large companies that wouldn’t risk doing this. So it was very likely that some laid-off Letao employees harboring resentment spread the rumor about “Bee Comfort” having insects.

“You did well,” Fang Yuan told me in his office.

“Gao Haiming isn’t like the sanitary napkin king I imagined,” I said.

“He inherited his father’s business,” Fang Yuan said. “But don’t underestimate him—he’s a very intelligent person.”

“He seems very introverted.”

“That’s why he still doesn’t seem to have a girlfriend,” Fang Yuan said with a laugh.

On the weekend, we had dinner at Mengmeng’s house.

“Tietan, is there a result about your inspector exam?” I asked Tietan.

“I was accepted.”

“When do you start training?”

“Next week—thirty-six weeks of training begins.”

“After thirty-six weeks, you’ll be a real man,” I said.

“Aren’t you afraid of dying?” Mengmeng asked him sarcastically.

“I—will—not—die,” Hu Tietan said, enunciating each word.

“Why so serious? I know you won’t die—you’ll live to at least a hundred. All of us here will be dead and you’ll still be alive, become a centenarian, put on display!” Mengmeng said, targeting Hu Tietan.

“Better than you being idle,” Hu Tietan deliberately provoked her.

“Mengmeng doesn’t need to work at all. If I were her, I wouldn’t look for a job—at worst I’d learn from those socialites, organize charity parties, fashion shows, or take out hundreds of thousands to shoot a music video with the hottest male singer and show off,” Yu Deren said.

“If I’m going to shoot one, I’ll shoot my own music video,” Mengmeng said.

“Your own music video?” I said.

“I want to be a singer,” Mengmeng said.

“You?” Hu Tietan laughed coldly.

“I plan to participate in the television station’s singing competition. I’ve already gotten the registration form,” Mengmeng said.

Mengmeng had real singing talent—her voice was very pleasant.

Sure enough, Mengmeng smoothly entered the finals.

On competition night, we went to support her.

When Mengmeng came on stage, her outfit really shocked me. She wore a black plastic top and plastic pants, looking like a garbage bag. Her own expression was somewhat awkward too. But Mengmeng truly had star presence—her voice was low and distinctive, and the other contestants simply weren’t her match. If she hadn’t been dressed like a plastic garbage bag, her performance would have been even better. In the end, she won the championship.

The record company announced they would strongly promote Mengmeng and signed her to a five-year contract.

She started off very smoothly.

Gao Haiming was really unlucky—not long after the “Bee Comfort” incident settled, another diaper he represented had problems.

The “Love Baby Diaper” that Letao represented was rumored to have insects, and there were rumors that a three-month-old baby boy who used “Love Baby” had half his bottom eaten away by insects. “Love Baby Diaper” was Hong Kong’s second-highest selling brand with about thirty percent market share. Diapers having insects was different from sanitary napkins having insects because the materials used in diapers could indeed breed insects if not properly packaged, providing opportunities for insect growth. Several years ago there was a case of a certain brand of diaper having insects, and the agent recalled all diapers from the market. But this time, the “Love Baby” insect incident remained rumor—no one had complained. This malicious slander method was the same as slandering “Bee Comfort”—very likely done by the same person or group.

Because of the “Love Baby” matter, I went to Letao again to meet with Gao Haiming. As I expected, when I entered his office, he was concentrating on assembling another fighter plane model, already eighty percent complete. Originally, having products consecutively slandered should be very troublesome, but Gao Haiming appeared very calm. Like last time, he silently read through my proposal without any comments.

“That’s it then,” he repeated the same words.

“Then I’ll proceed accordingly,” I stood up to take my leave.

“Miss Qiu—” he called out to me.

“What is it?” I quickly checked both my sleeves to see if I’d accidentally caught his model parts again.

“Can I see your hands?” he said.

Puzzled, I put down my briefcase and extended both hands.

Gao Haiming placed his hands behind his back and studied my hands with his gaze as if examining a tool.

“Your fingers are very slender,” he said.

“Thank you.”

“Can you do me a favor?” he asked.

“Of course, what kind of help do you need?”

He pointed to a delicate part and said: “Please help me glue this part inside the cockpit. My fingers aren’t thin enough, and I don’t know where I put my tools.”

So that was it.

“I don’t know how to assemble models—I’m afraid I’ll do it poorly and ruin your model,” I said.

“It’s fine,” he said expressionlessly.

I had no choice but to follow his instructions, using my pinky to pick up that tiny part—I didn’t even know which section it belonged to—and nervously glued it to the position Gao Haiming indicated inside the cockpit. Gao Haiming watched me carefully the whole time, afraid I would make a mistake. My hand trembled slightly with nervousness, but fortunately I completed the task.

“Is this right?” I asked him.

“Yes. Thank you.” Gao Haiming looked at his model with satisfaction.

“What model is this fighter plane?” I boldly asked Gao Haiming.

Perhaps because I studied psychology, I was very interested in this type of person who seemed to have autism.

“F-16.” Gao Haiming looked up at me unexpectedly. I didn’t know if he was surprised that someone actually spoke to him, or surprised that someone didn’t know it was an F-16 fighter plane.

“You assembled it beautifully,” I praised him.

“Thank you.” He didn’t look at me. He seemed even shyer than me.

At that moment, his secretary walked in and said: “Mr. Gao, two detectives from the Commercial Crime Bureau would like to speak with you.”

“Show them in.” Gao Haiming seemed reluctant to see these two detectives.

“Mr. Gao, I’ll take my leave,” I told him.

“Do you know why ‘Bee Comfort’ and ‘Love Baby’ were rumored to have insects?” Gao Haiming suddenly initiated conversation with me.

“It could be spread by competitors, or by employees you fired who harbor resentment, or perhaps enemies of your family,” I said.

He shook his head.

“Then who could it be?”

“Haven’t you considered it might be me?” Gao Haiming asked me.

When Gao Haiming said this, his expression was both smug and ambiguous, like a mischievous child who’d done something that gave adults a headache but escaped scot-free.

I was shocked.

The two Commercial Crime Bureau detectives came in, and I left Gao Haiming’s office. On the way, I kept mulling over Gao Haiming’s words. Could he be telling the truth? There was no commercial warfare or resentful employees at all—the person spreading rumors to slander “Bee Comfort” and “Love Baby” was Gao Haiming himself.

Why would he do such a thing?

The first explanation was that he was dissatisfied with reality. Although he possessed conditions everyone envied—young, outstanding, born into a wealthy family, graduated from a prestigious foreign university, and still single—all of this was a prison to him. He didn’t want to take over his father’s business, but he couldn’t resist his father’s orders. So as he watched his products’ sales continually rise, he deliberately spread rumors saying these products had insects, causing sales to plummet. Declining product sales wouldn’t increase his pressure—rather, it could relieve it. The situation was like a pampered child deliberately doing something bad to upset his parents.

The second explanation was that he liked controlling the overall situation. Gao Haiming lived too lonely, too bored, so he invented this game about sanitary napkins and diapers having insects, watching others—including company executives, police, media, and me—running around trying to solve this matter. We were like chess pieces or models in his hands, manipulated and directed by him, completely unaware this was his prank. While observing this prank, he seemed to ascend to God’s throne, looking down on mortals and mocking their foolishness. He controlled the whole situation—he was the smartest person.

There was also a third explanation—he was toying with me. The person spreading rumors about sanitary napkins and diapers having insects wasn’t him at all; he just wanted to see my reaction. But why would he toy with me?

The rumor about “Love Baby” having insects finally subsided too, and Letao weathered two crises. The third time I saw Gao Haiming wasn’t because of work—

On Sunday, Mengmeng and I went to Mong Kok to watch a movie. We passed a model shop crowded with young men and women, girls obediently accompanying their boyfriends to select models. A man in his twenties looked at a bright red Ferrari sports car model in the window, his eyes gleaming as if he was about to own this car.

“Stop looking—I’m exhausted!” Mengmeng urged me.

We waited for a taxi near the model shop. At that moment, I saw Gao Haiming walk into the model shop carrying a large box.

That day, he wasn’t wearing a suit, only a shirt and jeans, looking younger. He was probably there to buy models.

He opened the box and took out a fighter plane model—it was the same one I’d seen him assembling that day. After the shop owner looked at it, he paid Gao Haiming money. Why would the shop owner pay him instead?

The shop owner carefully put away the fighter plane model and placed it under the counter. Gao Haiming received a stack of bills, put them in his pocket, and left the model shop. I quickly pulled Mengmeng away so Gao Haiming wouldn’t see me.

“Do you know him?” Mengmeng asked me.

“He’s that sanitary napkin king,” I said.

“I thought the sanitary napkin king would be a wretched-looking man,” Mengmeng said with a laugh.

I watched Gao Haiming drive away in a Japanese compact car. With his wealth, even if he wanted to drive a Ferrari, he could absolutely afford it. He seemed to be quite low-key, matching his autistic personality.

I pulled Mengmeng into the shop. The shop owner was a young fellow.

“Boss, who was that person who just handed you the model?” I asked him.

“I only know his surname is Gao.”

“Why did he give you the model?”

“He assembles models for people. This model was bought by someone else—he assembled it, so of course he had to return it to me.”

I was very shocked. The sanitary napkin king actually assembled models for people?

“Do you know what work he does?” I asked the boss.

“I don’t know—maybe he’s an ordinary white-collar worker. Assembling models can earn extra income,” the boss said.

I found it amusing. Did Gao Haiming need to earn this kind of extra income?

“The models he assembles are the best I’ve ever seen,” the boss said.

“Doesn’t he buy models to assemble himself?”

The boss shook his head.

This Gao Haiming’s behavior was truly strange.

I had a sudden idea and asked the boss: “If I buy a model, can I specify that he assemble it?”

“You can.”

I selected a battleship.

“This one won’t work,” the boss said.

“Why? You said I could specify he assemble it.”

“He only assembles fighter plane models,” the boss said.

“Only fighter plane models? Why?”

“Don’t know—just only fighter planes.”

“Then let’s choose a fighter plane,” Mengmeng said.

“Which fighter plane is the most complex?” I asked the boss.

The boss took a boxed fighter plane model from the shelf and said: “This one. This is an F-15—very complex.”

“I’ll take this one,” I said.

“I’ll pay half,” Mengmeng said. “He does business with me several days each month—he should serve me.”

“Alright!” I said with a laugh.

“When can it be assembled?” I asked him.

“Leave your phone number—when he finishes assembling it, I’ll notify you to pick it up. The time isn’t fixed, but he usually delivers quickly.”

“Don’t tell that person surnamed Gao that someone specifically requested he assemble this model,” I reminded the boss.

Though the boss looked puzzled, he still nodded in agreement.

This Gao Haiming toyed with me last time, saying the rumors about “Bee Comfort” and “Love Baby” having insects were spread by him. This time it was my turn to toy with him.

That day when I went to Letao for a meeting, I deliberately passed by Gao Haiming’s office. Sure enough, he was concentrating on assembling that F-15 fighter plane.

“Mr. Gao,” I greeted him.

He nodded slightly.

“This fighter plane is very complex,” I said.

He nodded.

I felt so satisfied inside.

“Goodbye,” I said to him softly.

Three weeks later, the model shop owner notified me that the fighter plane model was ready.

“He assembled it very well,” the model shop owner told me in an admiring tone. “This person truly has some talent.”

The fighter plane model was indeed beautiful. Looking at the fighter plane, thinking how I’d used three weeks of Gao Haiming’s time and effort, I felt secretly delighted.

I carried the fighter plane model back to the company and placed it on my desk. Wang Zhen came over and asked me: “Who assembled this? Your boyfriend?”

“No, my boyfriend is studying in England,” I told her.

“Really?” she asked me curiously.

“He’ll graduate in eight more months.”

“When you mention him, you look so sweet,” Wang Zhen teased me.

Happiness is apparently very hard to hide.

Wang Zhen suddenly started coughing—coughing quite severely.

“Are you alright?” I patted her back.

“I’m fine—my health has always been poor,” she said.

“You should take care of your body.”

“I’ve seen both Chinese and Western doctors.”

“You should do some exercise—that’s the best medicine,” I said.

When Fang Yuan saw the fighter plane, he also came to ask me: “Who assembled this? It’s beautiful.”

“Can’t tell you,” I said mysteriously.

Fang Yuan was very curious and insisted on asking who assembled it. I had to lie, saying a friend assembled it. If Fang Yuan knew I was bold enough to toy with Gao Haiming, he might fire me.

I never expected that one day, Gao Haiming would actually appear in my office. That afternoon, I was working at my desk with my head down when a man stood in front of me and didn’t leave for a long time. I looked up curiously—it was actually Gao Haiming. He was looking at my fighter plane model with an expression of disbelief.

“Mr. Gao,” I called him, pretending to be calm.

After Gao Haiming nodded at me in greeting, he walked into Fang Yuan’s office. When he came out of Fang Yuan’s office, he stood in front of me again. He was silent for a while before finally opening his mouth to ask:

“Is this model yours?”

“Yes, it’s mine.”

My heart was pounding—I was afraid he’d discover the truth. If he knew I was toying with him, I didn’t know what the consequences would be.

Gao Haiming examined the fighter plane for a long time, as if trying to recall whether this fighter plane was his work.

Fang Yuan also came over and asked: “What’s the matter?”

“Nothing.” After Gao Haiming spoke, he said goodbye to Fang Yuan.

“Why did he come up here?” I asked Fang Yuan.

“He’s very satisfied with our handling of the ‘Bee Comfort’ and ‘Love Baby’ matters and plans to work with us long-term. You contributed greatly,” Fang Yuan said.

I didn’t expect Gao Haiming to praise me in front of Fang Yuan. I felt very guilty for making him spend three weeks assembling a fighter plane for me. But this guilty feeling quickly disappeared—if he didn’t assemble models for me, he’d assemble them for other people anyway. Thinking about it more, my worry was also excessive. Even if he recognized my model as one he’d assembled, so what? It might just be a coincidence that I went to that model shop to buy a model and found someone to assemble it, and the shop owner just happened to give this model to him to assemble.

About two hours after Gao Haiming left Fang Yuan’s office—around 7 p.m.—I also left the company. Walking out of the building, I discovered Gao Haiming reading magazines at the convenience store across from the building. When he saw me, he hurriedly paid for a magazine and walked out of the convenience store.

“Mr. Gao, you’re still around here?” I asked him.

“Where did you buy your fighter plane model?”

“Why are you so interested in my model?”

“I just went to that model shop.”

He looked at me as if seeing through everything. Did that boss tell him someone specifically requested he assemble it? That despicable fellow.

I pretended not to quite understand what Gao Haiming meant.

“You’re one of the two girls who bought the model, aren’t you?”

Gao Haiming’s face suddenly showed a smug expression, as if this scheme couldn’t be hidden from him.

I was completely unable to defend myself and didn’t know how to argue.

“My car is parked ahead—do you have time?” Gao Haiming asked me.

I didn’t understand what he meant—was he saying we had time to talk, or time to do something?

He also seemed unable to articulate it. He and I stood silent for three minutes in the bustling Causeway Bay district. He finally spoke again: “Shall we find a place to sit down?”

Sit down to do what? He also didn’t make it clear, but his expression held no malice at all, so I agreed.

Gao Haiming drove that Japanese compact car I’d seen outside the model shop. While driving, he didn’t speak. I could see he wasn’t upset about being toyed with by me, which put me somewhat at ease.

He parked the car in a small alley in Wan Chai and led me into an Italian restaurant.

“What would you like to eat?” Gao Haiming asked me.

“This is my first time eating Italian food.”

“Then have angel hair pasta,” he recommended.

He ordered one for himself too.

So-called angel hair was actually very thin Italian pasta noodles with a small amount of lobster and sauce.

“Do you like eating this?” I asked him.

“I like its name—the taste isn’t that great,” he said.

“Being able to eat a dish just for its name is quite romantic,” I said.

“Why did you specifically request I assemble the model for you?” he interrogated me.

“I didn’t.”

“That day you saw me assembling the model, you showed a very smug expression,” he was very confident in his judgment.

“Really? Why do you assemble models for people?” I questioned him in return. “You really don’t need to assemble models for people.”

“Do you know why those people look for someone to assemble models?” Gao Haiming asked me back.

“Of course it’s because they can’t assemble models themselves, so they need to find someone to do it.”

“Those who look for someone to assemble models are usually girls. They buy models to give to boys they like and deceive these boys, saying they spent a lot of time and thought assembling the models themselves.”

“Will these boys believe it?”

Gao Haiming’s models were so well assembled—it couldn’t possibly be those girls who assembled them.

“Strangely enough, those boys who receive the models all believe the girls assembled them personally,” Gao Haiming said. “Because when those boys receive the model fighter planes, they’re so moved they don’t scrutinize them carefully. And they believe that because of love, a woman can accomplish something she originally couldn’t.”

“You still haven’t told me why you assemble models for people. Even if you like assembling models, you don’t need to do it for others.”

“So far, through this model shop, I’ve assembled thirty-three fighter planes for people,” Gao Haiming told me with spirit.

“So what?”

“That means at this moment, in thirty-three different corners, there’s a fighter plane I assembled.”

When Gao Haiming said this, his eyes sparkled, as if those thirty-three fighter planes were children he’d fathered, and those thirty-three unknown corners were the fiefdoms he’d given his children.

“You really have a strong possessive desire,” I said. “You feel like a pilot flying fighter planes, occupying thirty-three places, right?”

At least I thought he had this mentality.

“I don’t have a possessive desire,” Gao Haiming said.

I thought he was denying his possessive desire, embarrassed to admit he loved invading others’ lives and spaces.

“If it’s not possessive desire, what is it?” I asked him. “If you just want the fighter planes you assemble to be placed in other people’s homes, what’s the difference from someone who designs telephones? The same model of telephone might appear in over two thousand, even over twenty thousand corners.”

“Telephones are mass-produced, but every fighter plane is assembled by my own hands.” Gao Haiming wasn’t satisfied with me comparing his fighter planes to telephones.

“Then you’re admitting you assemble fighter planes for people because of your possessive desire,” I refuted him.

“No. I don’t even know those people’s names or faces, and I don’t know where those fighter planes are, except for one—” he added, “there’s one at your place.”

“Then why?”

“I said these models are all bought by girls to give to boys—that means so far, there are thirty-two fighter planes, not counting yours, thirty-two fighter planes representing thirty-two love stories. Although I didn’t create these thirty-two love stories, the fighter planes I assembled must have played a certain role in these thirty-two love stories, touching one party at a certain moment,” Gao Haiming said happily.

“Then you’re even worse—you’re possessing other people’s love.”

Gao Haiming’s face flushed red with anger: “I’m not possessing other people’s love.”

“You said these models are all bought by girls to give to boys, and those boys all think the models were assembled by these girls.”

Gao Haiming nodded.

“That means those girls lied, and you’re the person helping them lie. Every fighter plane is a lie. That boy will be deceived for life, and that girl will feel guilty from time to time. Only you are the sole victor.”

Gao Haiming’s face turned even redder.

“However, any love story will have lies—it’s just that some lies are to make the other person happy, some lies are to deceive the other person, and this lie about giving models is a lie that makes the other person happy.” I hoped this explanation would make the flush on Gao Haiming’s face fade somewhat.

These words seemed to have some effect—the flush on his face gradually receded to behind his ears.

“Right, it’s that simple,” Gao Haiming said. “I help girls fulfill their wish to make boys happy.”

I nodded in agreement, though actually I didn’t agree. I still thought Gao Haiming was someone with a strong possessive desire, going to dominate more space and love. Perhaps even he himself didn’t know this came from possessive desire—he romantically thought he played a small role in others’ love stories. He was a person full of fantasy. The title “Sanitary Napkin King” embarrassed him, but he couldn’t escape it, so he used this method of assembling fighter planes to make himself seem more elegant. What he manufactured was no longer disposable things, but things that would last forever. He obviously hadn’t thought that once a boy and girl broke up, that fighter plane would sooner or later be forgotten or discarded.

“Why do you only assemble fighter plane models?” I asked him.

“Don’t you think fighter planes have the most beautiful form?” Gao Haiming asked me back.

“People who like fighter planes have a storm raging in their hearts,” I deliberately pretended to see through his thoughts.

“Really?” He didn’t admit it.

“Fighter planes are for attacking,” I said.

“You studied psychology? You seem very good at analyzing people.”

“That’s right, I studied psychology, but what I learned was superficial. Observing people directly is much more practical. What did you study?”

Gao Haiming used his fork to wind up a cluster of angel hair and said: “I studied chemistry.”

“Another type of work that involves hiding in laboratories all day,” I said.

“No, studying chemistry is very romantic,” he said.

“Really? This is the first time I’ve heard this explanation.”

“In the laboratory, color changes are very wonderful. Red and yellow mixed together might be orange on a palette, but in a laboratory test tube, yellow plus red might become blue, and this bright blue only exists in laboratories—it can’t be found in the outside world.”

“Can the blue in a test tube be more beautiful than the blue of the sky and sea?”

“I’m saying it’s different, because the laboratory blue can’t be found in the real world. Just like perfume—it’s also formulated in laboratories, and every perfume has a different scent.”

“Then the most romantic thing about chemistry is being able to make perfume.”

“No, the most romantic thing about chemistry is that all matter never disappears—it only transforms.”

“People don’t disappear when they die?” I asked him.

“Right. Bodies buried in soil can become nutrients, nourishing the soil, and soil nurtures life. You and I will never disappear—we’ll only transform into another type of matter.”

“That might become a piece of charcoal,” I laughed.

“Right, or a grain of dust.”

“That’s not romantic—it’s desolate. In my next life I’m just a piece of charcoal, and you’re dust.”

“But we won’t disappear,” he said.

“Since you like chemistry so much, why do you do your current work?” I asked him.

“No matter what I studied, I was always going to inherit the family business,” Gao Haiming said flatly.

“Does your father only have you as a son?”

“I have an older sister—she’s married. Her husband is an accountant. She’s a happy woman.”

When I heard “accountant,” I was very interested.

“Which accounting firm?”

“Moores Rowland.”

“Did you assemble fighter planes to give them?”

“My family doesn’t know I do this—if they knew, they’d definitely think I’m weird.”

“You are rather weird.”

After the meal, Gao Haiming drove me home.

“Thank you for having dinner with me tonight,” he said.

“Before today, I thought you had autism! You spoke a lot today—I learned a lot about chemistry. I hope today’s you is the real you.”

His face flushed red again.

“You still haven’t told me why you specifically requested I assemble the fighter plane,” Gao Haiming asked me.

“I never said that fighter plane was assembled by you,” I said.

He was unconvinced: “Why did you toy with me?”

“I didn’t toy with you—you toyed with me.”

“I toyed with you?” He was stunned.

“You said the rumors about ‘Bee Comfort’ and ‘Love Baby’ having insects were spread by you.”

“Alright, we’re even now,” he said.

“How could you tell the fighter plane was assembled by you?” I asked Gao Haiming.

“A tailor won’t fail to recognize clothes he made himself—a small flaw on the clothes, only he knows about it.”

“My fighter plane has a flaw? Where?”

He didn’t answer me.

“Goodbye.” Gao Haiming drove away.

At the company, I carefully examined the F-15 Gao Haiming assembled—I couldn’t find a single flaw. Perhaps as he himself said, that flaw was only known to him.

“Did you pick up the fighter plane?” Mengmeng asked me.

“I did. But that day Gao Haiming came up to the company and discovered it.”

“What happened then?”

“He took me to dinner—he’s actually a decent person.”

“You already have Qu Xiaojue—you’re not thinking of two-timing, are you?”

“Of course not. Do you like Gao Haiming? I can be a matchmaker.”

“I don’t need free sanitary napkins,” Mengmeng said with a laugh.

“You need a man though, right?”

“I have men.”

“Too bad you change your mind very quickly too.”

“Because I’ve never met someone worth changing for.”

“What about Tietan?”

“Him?” Mengmeng’s eyes flashed with light. “Forget it—he doesn’t understand.”

“Why not tell him?”

“Should I pursue him? Sooner or later he’ll find a policewoman at the academy and form a police family.”

I laughed.

But Mengmeng had fantasies about Tietan—she couldn’t fool me.

Before work ended that day, I received a call from Gao Haiming.

“Are you free tonight?” he asked me. “Would you like to have dinner together?”

“Sure! I have something to tell you anyway,” I said.

“What is it?” he asked me.

“I’ll tell you when we meet.”

Gao Haiming took me to a restaurant in a loft in Wan Chai for dinner.

“The salted fish and chicken rice here is the best in all Hong Kong,” Gao Haiming said.

“Really?” I saw he looked very expectant.

“This is an old establishment—my father used to bring me here often when I was young. What did you want to tell me?”

“About the flaw in that model fighter plane—I found it,” he said proudly.

He looked somewhat stunned.

“It’s in the left engine,” I said.

Gao Haiming smiled: “How did you discover it?”

“I used a magnifying glass to look.”

“You’re lying,” he said. “That fighter plane has no flaw at all.”

I said with a laugh: “Right. That fighter plane has no flaw at all. I said I found a flaw just to make you admit you lied.”

“You’re very clever—” Gao Haiming said.

“Thank you.” I said smugly to Gao Haiming, “I’m evenly matched with you.”

“Since the fighter plane has no flaw, how could you recognize that fighter plane as one you assembled? Don’t try to trick me this time,” I warned him.

“Feeling—it’s by feeling. Of course, I saw your eyes were evasive, which made me more certain the fighter plane was assembled by me. Also, that day in my office when you saw me assembling the fighter plane, you showed a very smug expression—you normally wouldn’t.”

So I had revealed my hand.

That clay pot of salted fish and chicken rice was brought to the table last. When the waiter carried it out from the kitchen, the aroma was already wafting from far away.

“It smells so good,” I said.

“It tastes even better.”

I took a bite—I’d never eaten such delicious salted fish and chicken rice before.

I ate three bowls of rice in a row.

“You eat a lot,” Gao Haiming marveled.

“Thank you for treating me to such delicious salted fish and chicken rice.”

“If you like it, I can often bring you here. I don’t have many friends.”

“Sure! If there’s always good food to eat, I don’t mind being your friend.”

Gao Haiming drove me home. Watching him drive away, I suddenly wanted to do something—Xiaojue loved salted fish the most. If only he could eat this salted fish and chicken rice. Why not? I took a thermal food container from home, took a taxi back to the restaurant, and asked them to make another pot of salted fish and chicken rice for me.

“Didn’t you just eat?” The waiter thought it was strange.

Twenty-five minutes later, the rice was ready—incredibly fragrant. I poured the rice into the thermal container and took a taxi to a twenty-four-hour courier service center in To Kwa Wan.

“I want to send something express to Bristol, England,” I told the male employee with an earring in his left ear.

“What is this?” he asked me. He seemed to smell the aroma.

“Food,” I said.

“Miss, food items cannot be sent express,” he said. “Besides, you want to send it to Bristol—that’s two working days away. By the time it arrives, it won’t be edible anymore.”

I actually didn’t know food items couldn’t be sent express.

“You should have this service,” I told the man with the earring.

“You mean express food delivery service?” he asked me.

“Right. If someone eats something good, they could immediately send it express to another country for someone they miss to eat. Wouldn’t that be a great service?” I said, holding the thermal container.

“I’ll suggest it to the company,” the employee with the earring said.

Christmas arrived. I selected Christmas presents for Xiaojue at a department store.

As I left the department store, a brand new light blue Mercedes sedan stopped outside. The person who got out was none other than Gao Haiming. He helped a lady out of the car—she was about fifty years old, thin, wearing a neat and conservative suit, with a very distinctive air of nobility on her face.

“Miss Qiu. Is that you?” Gao Haiming greeted me.

“I didn’t expect to run into you here,” I said.

“I’m accompanying my mother to buy things,” he said. “Mother, let me introduce you—this is Miss Qiu, an employee of the PR company we hired. She’s very capable.”

“Mrs. Gao, hello.” I shook hands with Gao Haiming’s mother. She had a kind smile on her face, and her hands were snow-white and slender.

“Hello,” she said politely.

“See you another time,” I said to her and Gao Haiming.

Gao Haiming carefully helped his mother into the department store. Their mother-son relationship seemed good.

When work ended, I saw that light blue Mercedes sedan parked outside the building again. Gao Haiming got out of the car.

“Why are you here?” I was surprised.

“Are you free? I’d like to take you to dinner.”

“What about your mother?” I asked Gao Haiming.

“She went home.”

“My own car is being repaired—sorry to have you ride in this one,” he said.

“No apology needed at all,” I said with a laugh.

Gao Haiming’s driver drove the car to that Italian restaurant in Wan Chai.

“Shall we eat here?” Gao Haiming asked me.

He ordered angel hair again. I’d eaten it last time and found the taste very bland, so this time I ordered ravioli.

“Your mother is very young,” I said.

“She’s sixty-one this year.”

“Really? You really can’t tell.”

“She’s thirty years younger than my father.”

“Then your father must be ninety-one? He had you when he was almost sixty?”

“He was sixty-three. I’m twenty-eight this year.”

“Then you look much older than your real age,” I teased him.

“My mother is my father’s third wife. She married my father when she was twenty-eight.”

“Is your father very attractive?”

“He was very handsome when young. I’ve seen photos from when he married my mother—he was still very handsome, elegant and distinguished.”

“Your mother was attracted by your father’s elegance, right?”

“She married him for money. My mother was the eldest daughter—her family had ten siblings.”

“Marrying someone you don’t like is very painful,” I said.

“No. My mother later fell in love with my father.”

“How did that happen?”

“My mother thought my father was already sixty at the time—he’d live to at most seventy-something. After he died, she could get the inheritance and then find someone she liked. Who knew my father would live to eighty-five and still be very healthy. My mother herself was already fifty-three—it wasn’t as easy to find someone she liked anymore.”

“But you just said your mother fell in love with your father.”

“In the year my father turned eighty-five, one day he suddenly had a stroke and was unconscious in the hospital for two days. My mother had always hoped for his death, but at that moment, she actually didn’t want him to die. She prayed to heaven not to take his life. It turned out that in twenty-five years of being together day and night, she had already fallen in love with my father.”

“What happened with your father’s condition?”

“He recovered later.”

“Isn’t that good?”

“Starting last year, my father’s health has gotten worse and worse. My mother really regrets not loving my father earlier. Now she wants him to live, but he could die at any moment. My mother often says this story teaches us that if you never love someone, don’t suddenly fall in love with him, because when you fall in love with him, you’ll lose him. This is heaven’s punishment.”

After dinner, Gao Haiming drove me home.

I suddenly understood and called out to him.

“What is it?” He turned back to ask me.

“I understand now.”

“Understand what?” He didn’t understand.

“I understand why you love assembling model planes for others.”

“Why?” He himself seemed not to understand.

“Because when your mother gave birth to you, she didn’t love your father. You’re not the crystallization of your parents’ love, so you assemble models for those girls to give to their lovers, possessing others’ love to fill your own regret.”

Gao Haiming just smiled.

On Christmas Eve morning, we held a party at the company.

Gao Haiming called.

“How are you?” he asked me.

“Pretty good,” I said.

“Just wanted to say hello,” he said shyly. “Let’s talk another time. Goodbye.”

“Goodbye.” I felt his tone seemed somehow strange—hesitant to speak.

Fifteen minutes later, the phone rang—it was Gao Haiming calling again.

“I forgot to tell you—I’m in Japan now,” he said.

“Japan?” I was startled—I didn’t expect he’d call long distance.

“Which part of Japan?”

“Mount Fuji. I went to Tokyo on business, and after I finished, I came here.”

“How’s the weather?” I asked him.

“It’s very cold. The mountaintop has thick snow. I’m sitting by the hotel room window right now.”

“That’s enviable,” I said.

“Tomorrow is Christmas,” he said.

“Yes,” I said.

“Merry Christmas,” he said.

“Merry Christmas.” Did he call just to wish me Merry Christmas?

“See you when I return,” he said.

On New Year’s Eve, I received a call from Gao Haiming.

“You’re back?” I asked him.

“Are you free? I’d like to take you to dinner.”

“Today is New Year’s Eve,” I said.

“Do you have plans?”

“No.” Both Mengmeng and Tietan were busy.

“Was Japan fun?”

“I didn’t go to play—I went to negotiate some product agency rights.”

“Did you succeed?”

He nodded.

“Congratulations.”

Gao Haiming went to that Italian restaurant again and ordered angel hair as usual.

“New Year’s Eve—don’t you need to accompany your girlfriend?” I asked him.

He shook his head.

“You can’t possibly not have a girlfriend,” I said.

“The purpose of chemistry is mainly to study reactions. Reactions only occur when two substances collide. Not any substances can collide and produce a reaction. These two substances must match—for example, their position, temperature, and energy must all match—only then can a reaction occur.”

“You just haven’t encountered that substance yet.”

He smiled bitterly and took a small gift wrapped in decorative paper from his pocket.

“I have a gift for you—brought back from Japan.”

I unwrapped the paper—it was a small can, very light, and I didn’t know what was inside. There was a pull tab on the can. I wanted to open it, but Gao Haiming immediately stopped me: “Don’t!”

“Once you pull it open, the air inside will escape.”

“What’s inside?” I was curious.

“It’s Mount Fuji air. I brought you Mount Fuji air.”

“No wonder it’s so light. But if I can’t open it, how can I smell Mount Fuji air?”

“There are too many people here—the air will escape quickly. Open it when you get home.”

“Thank you.” I put the can in my coat pocket.

“Consider it a Christmas present,” he said. “Belated Merry Christmas.”

“Thank you. Have you ever received an unforgettable Christmas present?” I asked him.

“When I was ten, my parents took me on a cruise ship and spent Christmas on the Pacific Ocean. What about you?”

“When I was little, every Christmas I put a Christmas stocking at the foot of my bed. I thought Santa Claus would really sneak in at night and put Christmas presents in my stocking.”

“What happened?”

“Those presents were put there by my father,” I laughed.

“I never tried putting a Christmas stocking at the foot of my bed.”

“I really loved it—falling asleep with hope, how wonderful! The next day, I could wake up with hope too.”

“Wake up with hope?”

“Mm.” I nodded.

Gao Haiming drove me away. When we reached outside my home, Gao Haiming got out to open my door.

“It’s past midnight,” he said. “It’s a new year. Happy New Year.”

“Happy New Year,” I said.

He took something wrapped in decorative paper from his pocket: “For you.”

I opened it—it was another can of Mount Fuji air.

“Why is it air again?” I asked him.

“I plan to give you one can every day. I bought thirty-three cans total. Only when all thirty-three cans are opened together can they fill a room.”

He gazed at me so deeply and affectionately—I didn’t know what to do. He suddenly embraced me and kissed me on the lips. I pushed him away.

“I’m sorry—I didn’t tell you. I have a boyfriend. He’s studying in England. He’ll be back in a few months.”

I said awkwardly.

His face showed a surprised and disappointed expression.

“I didn’t tell you—that was wrong of me—”

“No, it was my fault. I offended you. I’m truly sorry.” He apologized to me.

“Thank you for the air. Really, thank you. Goodbye,” I said.

He left awkwardly.

I tossed the two cans of Mount Fuji air into my desk drawer.

Past 1 a.m., I called Xiaojue long distance.

“Happy New Year,” I said.

“Happy New Year.” He was sleeping.

I wanted to tell him about Gao Haiming. My heart was in turmoil, but I couldn’t open my mouth.

Hearing me silent, he asked me: “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing—just wanted to wish you Happy New Year.” I reluctantly hung up.

If only he were by my side.

I was so naive—I thought Gao Haiming wanted to be friends with me. Perhaps he was just a playboy who liked pursuing girls.

On the morning of January 2nd, a courier delivered the third can of Mount Fuji air to the company. Gao Haiming still wouldn’t give up—he could be very stubborn sometimes.

“What is this?” Xiang Lingling and Wang Zhen asked me.

“Not important.” I tossed the can into my drawer.

Gao Haiming continued sending one can of air every day without fail. When I received the fifteenth can of air, I finally couldn’t help calling him to say: “Stop sending them.”

He ignored me. The sixteenth can of air arrived the next day. I threw all those cans into my drawer.

Receiving his air every day had become my habit over this past month.

On the thirty-third day, I finally couldn’t restrain myself and called him.