Li Weiyi and Zhang Jingchan stayed at the small balcony at the end of the corridor. With one turn of her head, she could see the senior executives emerging from the study one by one, their expressions grave.

Zhang Moyun saw off the last person. He looked up and met their gazes, smiled peacefully, then returned to the study.

The evening sunlight enveloped everything. Li Weiyi watched this scene as if witnessing the curtain fall on this legendary business figure. Only this time, there was no wretchedness—only magnanimity and tragic heroism.

Li Weiyi leaned against the railing, gazing at the distant floating clouds. “I wonder what our lives will become after we return this time,” she said.

“139XXXX0001.”

Li Weiyi turned to look at him.

Zhang Jingchan wasn’t like her, draped bonelessly over the railing. He stood ramrod straight with only one elbow resting on the rail. “Memorize it,” he said.

“Whose number is this?”

Zhang Jingchan glanced at her sideways. “The one you’re using now.” He smiled and added, “To be precise, it’s mine.”

This was nineteen-year-old Zhang Jingchan’s phone number.

Li Weiyi turned her head to gaze at the sky, her feet kicking the wall rhythmically. “What if you change your number?”

“I won’t.”

Li Weiyi said, “Oh,” and silently memorized it repeatedly in her heart.

“What about you?” he asked.

Li Weiyi answered without thinking, “I won’t change mine either.”

Zhang Jingchan laughed softly and said, “You’d better keep your word.”

“Of course!”

The two fell silent simultaneously for a while. Zhang Jingchan exhaled lightly, tucked both hands back into his pockets, and gazed at the distant sunset. The horizon was bright red, the sky very blue—blue to the point of transparent tranquility. He said, “After 2014, I rarely acted impulsively anymore. I always thought three steps ahead with every move, considered things repeatedly, exercised the utmost caution. Because my life no longer had room for mistakes. But now, I want to do something impulsive.”

Li Weiyi asked curiously, “What?” What could possibly make him feel impulsive?

Zhang Jingchan glanced at her, then looked ahead, smiling without answering.

So Li Weiyi knew that whatever he refused to say now, he wouldn’t say no matter what.

“Tch, leaving me in suspense.”

Zhang Jingchan maintained that ambiguous expression—as if smiling, yet also as if not. He lowered his head to look at the ground, then raised it again. “What message are you planning to leave for yourself this time?” he asked.

Li Weiyi really hadn’t thought about it. She counted on her fingers for him. “Look, my dad survived, Zhou Zhihao got sent away, Zhong Yi will most likely move up if nothing goes wrong. I’ve also switched to studying art and said goodbye to that scumbag. My life from now on will be smooth sailing—everything’s resolved. Come to think of it, I really don’t have any regrets. Hahaha.”

Zhang Jingchan turned his head to look elsewhere for a moment, then turned back to face forward, not looking at her. “Think carefully. Are you sure you have no message to leave?” he said.

Li Weiyi froze.

He finally turned his head to look directly at her. His dark eyes were like thick fog had soaked into them—deep, distant, and quiet. Those weren’t her eyes. Those were the eyes of twenty-seven-year-old Zhang Jingchan.

Li Weiyi only felt her heart give a tremendous thump, as if she understood something, yet also as if she didn’t.

She turned her face away, burying it in her arms, though her tone remained light and casual as usual. “Okay, okay, then I’ll think about it some more.”

When Li Weiyi raised her head again, Zhang Jingchan was already looking down at his phone, as if everything were normal.

Li Weiyi pillowed her face on her arms and tilted her head, asking quietly, “What impulsive thing are you planning to do exactly?”

He smiled, raised one hand, and pressed it against the back of her head. Not like before—a light pat and then walking away. His five fingers threaded through her black hair, pressing and not letting go.

“When you wake up tomorrow, you’ll know.”

That night, Li Weiyi took advantage of when no one was around and Zhang Jingchan had also gone to evening self-study to return briefly to the Li household. She sat at her old small desk for quite a while, scratching her head, swaying left and right. Finally, she pulled out a sheet of white paper, sprawled on the desk, and wailed, “What exactly does he want me to write? I don’t know how to write it either…”

She spaced out for a while longer. Without even realizing it, her face had turned pink. At last, she picked up her pen and wrote only two lines on the paper:

“Don’t change your phone number.

Treat Zhang Jingchan well.”

Signed: From Li Weiyi of 2022.

Then, like a thief, she put the paper in an envelope and stuffed it into her desk drawer.

Zhang Jingchan requested leave to depart one period early from evening self-study and went to the Zhang residence first. Wu Xinhui and Zhang Moyun weren’t home. The housekeeper, Sister Liu, was quite surprised to see this young woman. Zhang Jingchan waved the spare key he’d taken during the day. “I dropped something here. Ah Chan gave me the key and told me to come get it.”

Sister Liu had no suspicions.

Zhang Jingchan entered the bedroom and saw the schoolbag thrown on the floor. He slipped an extremely thin envelope inside it.

——

January 13, 2022.

When Li Weiyi woke again, there was no alarm clock, no music. The surroundings were very quiet.

She found herself leaning against a light gray leather sofa, her face pressed against the backrest, as if she’d just taken a nap. Before her was a coffee table with a takeout paper cup of coffee on it. A coffee-colored women’s coat was draped over the sofa. She was only wearing a sweater and skirt. Her instinct told her the coat was hers.

She was in a large living room of seventy or eighty square meters. This was neither her home nor the apartment of Zhang Jingchan’s she had once visited.

Chinese-style decor, simple yet grand, elegant and refined. Even the materials of the tables and chairs looked extremely expensive at first glance. An antique crystal chandelier on the ceiling cast peaceful illumination, filling the entire room with gentle light.

The memories in Li Weiyi’s mind hadn’t caught up yet. Cupping her chin, she wondered: Had her family struck it rich with that lottery prize? Or had Zhang Jingchan changed his taste?

This feeling was like opening a mystery box. With great interest, she stood up and began touring this apartment. She noticed several pairs of men’s dress shoes and sneakers in the entrance shoe cabinet. Next to the dining table was a wall of bookshelves filled mostly with finance and literature-history books. However, a row of art books was also squeezed in the middle.

Li Weiyi smiled, her lips curving.

Past the large living room was a corridor. This apartment’s total area was probably approaching three hundred square meters. The first room on the right was an oversized walk-in closet, fully twice the size of her former bedroom.

The lights in the walk-in closet blazed brilliantly. Inside the dark brown wardrobes hung men’s overcoats, suits, dress shirts, ties, and some casual men’s wear. In one corner sat dozens of pairs of men’s dress shoes and several designer men’s briefcases. Each item looked exquisitely made and considerably valuable.

Whose home this was—the answer was ready to emerge.

Next to the walk-in closet was a bathroom with frosted glass, hazy with steam. She could vaguely make out a tall figure showering inside.

Li Weiyi immediately shrank back against the wall, her face reddening somewhat. She thought to herself: Eight years later, are Zhang Jingchan and I this close? I’m sitting and waiting in his living room while he brazenly showers inside. This… what kind of relationship is this?

Oh… She covered her face with her hands, thinking that she and he hadn’t even kissed yet. Zhang Jingchan must be shameless! No wonder yesterday he said mysteriously that once she woke up, she’d know what he was planning to do.