“What condition?” Zhao Teng asked. “Go ahead.”

“That person who interviewed with me just now,” Zhu Yun said. “I’d like you to hire him as well.”

Zhang Fang folded his arms. “Is he a relative of yours?”

“No. Someone I knew from before.”

Zhang Fang looked suspicious. “But just now, you two didn’t even look like you recognized each other.”

“We haven’t seen each other in a long time.”

Zhang Fang shook his head in dissatisfaction. “Do you think this place is some kind of reunion club? You haven’t even gotten through the door yourself yet, and you’re already pulling strings for someone else. I’ll have you know — this company runs entirely on merit!”

Zhu Yun looked at him steadily. Zhang Fang, held in that gaze, felt a faint and inexplicable flicker of unease.

Zhu Yun looked at him for a moment longer, then shifted her eyes away, picked up her bag, and stood.

“If it’s too much trouble, then forget it. I wish your company all the best in finding the right people.” She turned to leave. Zhao Teng called after her: “Hey, hey — hold on a second…”

Zhao Teng dragged Zhang Fang into a corner.

“What are you doing, pulling me around like that?” Zhang Fang protested.

Zhao Teng dropped his voice to a hiss: “Just sign her already!”

“Sign what?”

Zhao Teng jerked his chin toward the back. Zhang Fang looked. Zhu Yun was still waiting near the company entrance.

“Didn’t you hear her? She wants to bring someone in as a package deal,” Zhang Fang said.

“So let her bring whoever she wants,” Zhao Teng said. “Two people, five thousand a month each — that’s ten thousand total. We’re getting an absolute bargain. A resume like hers? You couldn’t headhunt someone like that on the open market for fifty thousand!”

Zhang Fang hesitated. “Is she really that good? And that guy just got out of prison.”

“The boss Dong Siyang has also been in,” said Zhao Teng.

“Exactly!” Zhang Fang said, slapping his hands together in agitation. “That’s why you of all people should know how terrifying people like that can be! We already have one — and you want to bring in another one?”

Zhao Teng stood with his hand on his hip and, after a long moment, smiled slightly.

“Do whatever you want then. Recruiting isn’t my responsibility. I’ve given you my opinion — take it or leave it. I’m going back to my game.”

“Don’t you move!” Zhang Fang grabbed Zhao Teng and lowered his voice. “She’s really that impressive?”

“You’re the one making no sense here,” Zhao Teng said flatly. “You’re a programmer yourself — you can’t even tell when a peer is good?”

“Don’t compare me to them,” Zhang Fang said with indignation. “I switched careers midway — I’m not in their league. And you watch your tone, because I also hold the position of company accountant, if you’ll recall. I know this company’s finances better than any of you, and right now we have to make sure every paycheck we write is actually worth what we’re paying!”

Zhao Teng stared at Zhang Fang with the look of a man who had simply given up. “Get some rest. If even you can collect a paycheck here, she’s more than qualified. Go draw up the contract.”

And so Zhu Yun’s first job interview since returning to the country ended with an offer — and she started the following day.

Li Xun, of course, was part of the deal.

On their first day of work, they ran into each other again at the base of Feiyang Company’s building. It was morning rush hour, and both elevator lobbies were packed — everyone standing in line, waiting.

Li Xun stood out from the crowd simply by virtue of his height. He and Zhu Yun caught each other’s eye from a distance. He gave her a brief, dismissive glance, then turned and headed for the stairwell.

Zhu Yun shouldered past the people beside her and followed.

She pushed through the stairwell door. Li Xun was already at the second floor. Zhu Yun was wearing heels, and each step on the concrete stairs came out as a sharp, hurried tap. She chased him up half a flight before finally spotting that dark figure rounding the corner.

“Li Xun!” she called. Her voice echoed and layered through the hollow stairwell.

Li Xun stopped. Zhu Yun climbed another half flight and came to a halt roughly six or seven steps below him. Li Xun turned his head slightly and looked down at her.

The startup building looked polished enough on the outside, but inside the stairwell, the walls were bare concrete — unpainted — and only half the banister had been coated in paint. The whole thing had the feel of an unfinished construction site.

Yet it wasn’t dark. The stairwell’s best design feature was the windows on every floor, which meant that no matter how grey the concrete walls and steps were, at the edge of your vision there was always a patch of brilliant blue sky, white clouds, and the vivid green of trees below.

Zhu Yun noticed that this time, facing Li Xun, she was still nervous — but it was nothing like that first encounter in the alley, when it had felt as if all of her organs were being wrung together.

This was a new beginning. The starting point wasn’t very high — but like that glimpse of color at the corner of her vision, even just a small piece of it was enough.

That tiny corner, with its faint trace of vitality and hope, was already more than sufficient for the person standing before her.

“Li Xun, let’s talk,” Zhu Yun said, tilting her head up to look at him. “I can never quite figure out what you’re thinking, but I believe we have at least one shared goal right now.”

Li Xun, in no particular hurry about anything, pulled out a cigarette and leaned against the railing at the stairwell landing.

“You’re not willing to accept Fang Zhijing being in that company, and neither am I,” Zhu Yun said. “Honestly, I tried a few approaches before, but none of them worked. I was studying abroad then — too far away. By the time I came back, the company had already grown. But I’ve been following their products and direction closely all these years, and if —”

“Look,” said Li Xun.

He exhaled a breath of smoke and cut her off lazily.

“Why are you telling me any of this?”

Zhu Yun paused. “I said we have a shared goal. And I’ll admit — I’m not capable enough on my own.”

“Oh?” Li Xun said, with a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “A brilliant, world-class overseas graduate like yourself isn’t capable enough?”

“…”

Li Xun turned the cigarette between his fingers, playing with it idly.

“When I go after that company, it’s because it was mine to begin with. What’s your reason, Miss Zhu? Don’t tell me it’s for the sake of whatever relationship we once had.”

Zhu Yun watched him quietly.

Li Xun said with a mocking smile, “Forget it, Zhu Yun. Don’t bother. Whether I end up cheating my way through, or starving in a gutter, that’s none of your business.” He turned away in a leisurely manner, the cigarette tracing a lazy arc through the air. “Take your pretty-boy sidekick and that impressive resume of yours, and get as far away as possible.”

He finished speaking and strolled off toward the upper floors. Zhu Yun stood where she was for three seconds, then silently followed.

Li Xun stopped walking again. This time, Zhu Yun didn’t stop. She walked past him and kept going up.

As they passed each other, Li Xun caught the scent of her perfume — something refined, distinctly feminine, completely at odds with this half-assembled startup building. For a moment, it flooded his nose and filled his lungs, driving away every trace of rough tobacco smoke.

For some reason, it made his mood worse.

“I told you to leave,” he said again.

Zhu Yun looked back. “Have your feelings toward me not changed at all?”

Li Xun narrowed his eyes and said nothing, his expression stone cold.

“If that’s the case,” Zhu Yun said, “then we really can’t work together. Just say the word — I’ll leave right now.”

He didn’t answer. They both already knew the answer. Six years — it had been hard on both of them. They were stubborn people, and the weight of those long years had not been easy to carry. Both had needed to reflect, to change, to find their own ways of surviving.

But fortunately, some things had never changed. She looked at him, and in his silence, she said one final thing: “Whatever our feelings are — I have always believed you are a true genius. That’s why I came.”

The fingers holding the cigarette gave an almost imperceptible tremble.

The sound of heels gradually faded away up the stairwell.

Li Xun stood there for a long time. In the end, the cigarette had nearly burned down to his fingers — and he let it drop, slamming it onto the ground like releasing something that had been coiled up too long inside him.

Zhang Fang was deeply unhappy about his two new employees being late on their very first day.

He paced circles around the office.

When Zhu Yun pushed open the door and walked in, her mind was still full of the exchange with Li Xun, and she barely registered Zhang Fang as she walked straight past him to the back of the room.

Zhang Fang was about to unleash a tirade, when Zhao Teng, draped across his chair in a boneless heap, spoke up: “Alright, come on — get to assigning the work. There’s a lot to get through.” Zhao Teng looked even worse than yesterday, his eyes ringed in dark shadows, absolutely wrecked. He added weakly, “The boss Dong Siyang is back tomorrow…”

Those words instantly defused Zhang Fang’s entire arsenal. He swallowed every last bit of his anger and waved Zhu Yun over to a desk. He had barely opened his mouth when the door opened again, and Li Xun sauntered in.

Zhang Fang drew a long breath and rubbed his own chest. “For the love of — get over here already!”

Li Xun walked over. Zhang Fang pointed at the desk in front of them.

“You two will share this one. Pick your spots, then get Lao Teng to set up your computers.”

It was a square table meant for four people. Zhu Yun set her bag down at the nearest corner. Zhang Fang asked Li Xun, “And you?”

Li Xun lifted his chin, indicating the spot diagonally across from her.

“Fine. Then I’ll get Lao Teng — Lao Teng! Stop lounging around! Get up already!” Zhang Fang called out twice, then suddenly remembered something. “Right — I haven’t even given you two a company overview yet.”

Zhu Yun stared at him with speechless resignation.

In a company you could barely turn around in, what overview was there possibly to give?

Nonetheless, at Zhang Fang’s insistence, Zhu Yun was formally reintroduced to Feiyang Company’s three founding employees:

Zhao Teng — programmer, simultaneously serving as lead developer, tester, and technical lead; Zhang Fang — programmer, simultaneously serving as accountant, HR director, and operations manager; Guo Shijie — art director, simultaneously serving as concept artist, 3D artist, UI designer, and general errand boy.

Zhu Yun asked Guo Shijie, “And you don’t also do programming?”

Guo Shijie laughed sheepishly. “No.”

“That’s basically the situation. The company is currently developing two games. I’ll send you the documents in a bit — give them a thorough read. Ask us if anything’s unclear.” Zhang Fang finished his explanation and told Zhao Teng, “Get their computers set up. Now.”

Zhao Teng had already fallen asleep on the sofa.

He was out cold — no matter how much Zhang Fang cursed and shouted, he couldn’t rouse him. Li Xun said, “I’ll do it. Where are the computers?”

“Wait — you know how to set up computers?” Zhang Fang asked, surprised.

Li Xun: “Yes.”

Zhang Fang, brightening considerably, asked, “Can you also fix them?”

Li Xun looked at him without expression.

After several seconds of being stared at, Zhang Fang felt a crawl go through him. “Alright, alright — the cases are all stacked up by the bathroom door.” He thought for a moment longer and added, “Look, I want to be clear — even though we’re a small company, there’s still a certain level of hierarchy that needs to be maintained. As the saying goes —”

Li Xun had already walked away.

“Oh, my patience is going to be the death of me!”

While Zhu Yun waited for Li Xun to set up the computers, she did a casual scan of the office. Over by the window was a large desk, paired with the company’s only genuine leather executive chair.

Zhu Yun went over to it. The desk was somewhat cluttered — a few sheets of paper covered in hasty, scrawled handwriting, too messy to read. A fountain pen had been left with its cap off, the nib long dried out and useless. Beside the pen sat a business card holder coated in a thin layer of dust. Zhu Yun didn’t touch it, just looked down through the grey film.

Two neat rows of square, standard-set Song-style characters came into view:

Feiyang Network Co., Ltd. — General Manager

Dong Siyang