Jing Qichi’s transfer request was officially approved the day before New Year’s. On the same day, AILab held a farewell party for Jiang Sen.

Those in the know understood this was a signal of an amicable parting—he would leave Huandao, but connections might not be severed.

Administrative staff arranged various refreshments in the large conference room without additional decorations. Gong Nailiang sent an email to everyone announcing the news while thanking this capable lieutenant for his outstanding contributions to the team.

People came to bid farewell in waves. Like a newlywed at his wedding, Jiang Sen greeted everyone with easy conversation, accepting their wishes for a bright future while thanking them for their past support, his manner remaining proper throughout, showing no particular emotion.

Jing Qichi waited until nearly closing time to enter the conference room. The farewell party was winding down, with almost empty plates on the table. Seeing him, Jiang Sen gestured him over while nodding to the person he was talking to, who turned to see Jing Qichi and knowingly vacated the spot.

“Boss.” Jing Qichi approached, calling out as usual, but then didn’t know what else to say.

Jiang Sen had previously gone to headquarters, and today he’d been in meetings all day after returning. It had been almost a week since they’d last met.

“This brat’s getting shy.” Jiang Sen sat half-perched on the conference table, arms crossed, with a meaningful smile, “What, feeling awkward about not coming with me?”

“Not really.” Jing Qichi smiled.

“I had a hand in your transfer,” Jiang Sen raised an eyebrow, “You’d better remember this favor.”

“Hm?” Jing Qichi was confused. The official notice hadn’t come down yet; Gong Nailiang had told him the news privately this morning.

Jiang Sen glanced around and lowered his voice, “The company is moving the medical platform over there, and combined with the medical management platform and sports rehabilitation products the R&D Center was already planning to work on, they’re merging several projects to establish a major medical group. You’ll be leading the team.”

The news was truly sudden; Jing Qichi was stunned on the spot.

“Gong Bo faced a lot of pressure for this, you’d better prove yourself.” Jiang Sen patted his shoulder, speaking earnestly, “Once you’re there, some people definitely won’t accept it—there are plenty who are older, more experienced, and more educated than you. My experience is, don’t mind the noise, focus on stabilizing your work, and let ability speak for itself.”

Jing Qichi was still somewhat dazed. He could certainly take in Jiang Sen’s words but had never imagined he would be pushed into such a position.

At least not now.

“Boss,” he looked at the person before him, “you… you all trust me this much?”

“Of course, I know the caliber of the soldiers I’ve trained.” Jiang Sen said frankly, “To be honest, I hoped you would come with me. But… how should I put it, I completely understand your choice. Family is important, and I can guess what you’re thinking.”

Seeing his silence, he added, “Pay attention to your matters too—I’m taking it that you chose this for your family.”

“I know.” Jing Qichi smiled, suddenly overcome with an indescribable emotion. He stepped forward and hugged Jiang Sen with feeling, “Boss, really… thank you.”

Memories began playing in his mind: meeting Jiang Sen on the train when he first reached out to introduce himself, somehow coming to Huandao for an interview and unexpectedly being hired, and more about those first six months—a rookie forcibly squeezed among a group of masters and doctoral candidates with superior intellect and forward-looking vision, feeling crushed by defeat day after day, countless times falling asleep at his computer desk until dawn. It was Jiang Sen who patted his shoulder then, saying “If you don’t know something, learn it—what are you afraid of at such a young age?” He would seriously point out his shortcomings and sternly criticize his mistakes, take him to industry conferences, and actively coordinate help when he needed it. Much later, Jing Qichi understood this was Jiang Sen’s way of mentoring—his rapid growth, his achievements, and his composure under project pressure that earned recognition and praise, every step Jing Qichi took at Huandao was inseparable from Jiang Sen.

“Skip the formalities. Mountains don’t move but waters flow—we might work together again in the future.” Jiang Sen patted his back in response to this grateful embrace, then stood up to check the time, “I have another gathering tonight. As your old boss, one last piece of advice: Little Jing, never forget your original intention, no matter when.”

Jing Qichi nodded solemnly.

He very much wanted to tell Huan’er the news, but thought better of it—they’d both been busy lately, with only a few phone calls in these two months, and the only video call was interrupted after five minutes when Huan’er was called away by colleagues. His annual leave application had already been submitted to HR; with the transfer settled, he could take a breather in between.

Before leaving work, Jing Qichi did two things: checked visa application materials and planned flight times.

Qiu Yang hadn’t attended the farewell party, rushing to the airport instead to spend New Year’s with his family. Jing Qichi had also planned to return to Tianhe, but his mother sent a message this morning saying she would be working the night shift, specifically telling Song Cong to let all young people relax. To put her mind at ease, he had to agree. As for why he hadn’t contacted Song Cong—Du Man had booked her parents on a tour group trip, and those two were surely together.

With the New Year approaching, festivity permeated everywhere.

Jing Qichi bought a microwave meal and a pack of beer from the convenience store below his building, walking somewhat listlessly into the complex. These few steps made him think of Huan’er again—happy about the promotion yet heavy with pressure, joyful yet uncertain and conflicted, wanting to share but having no one to share with. Huan’er must have had many such moments, right? He didn’t know where he was when she experienced those moments; it seemed he had been absent.

Because of the time difference, because of the distance, because of endless work, because of treacherous workplace politics, they had unknowingly entered a “cooling-off period.”

Even though neither had pointed it out, it seemed to have become a fact.

Without turning on the TV, Jing Qichi heated his meal, taking three drinks for every bite of food, already full with half the box remaining. People started sending red packets to various chat groups—company, class, and soccer team. He both grabbed and sent them as if only this could pass what should have been a lively time. Just as he was preparing to shower, the doorbell rang, and simultaneously he heard a familiar voice, “Qichi, open up.”

Song Cong and Du Man had arrived together.

His heart was full of warmth, though his mouth showed no mercy. While letting them in, Jing Qichi joked, “Remembered to visit this lonely soul after your romantic time together?”

Du Man explained shyly, “We just had dinner together. We called you but you didn’t answer.”

“How dare I answer.” Jing Qichi affected an irreverent manner, “If I went over, someone might have killed me.”

“You’re eating this?” Song Cong spotted the microwave meal on the table, and then looked around, “Qiu Yang’s not here? I thought you two would be together.”

“He went back home.”

“You…” Song Cong glared at him, with genuine reproach, “Why didn’t you say earlier that he’d gone back!”

“Please sit, Du Man.” Jing Qichi hurried to attend to his first-time guest, “What would you like to drink? Beer? Cola?”

“Anything’s fine.” Du Man sat next to Song Cong, looking around, “Your place is quite clean.”

“Haven’t had time to clean these past few days with overtime.” Jing Qichi handed her a can of beer, then lazily leaned back in a chair he pulled up, “What made you decide to come over?”

“After dinner, we didn’t know where to go, and Song Cong said you guys have mahjong here, perfect for a table.” Du Man smiled, “I even brought change.”

“Three’s a crowd,” Jing Qichi teased, “why don’t you two go back?”

“Haven’t you heard it’s easier to invite Buddha in than to send him away?” Du Man was always quick to banter, “Leave your key and you can go.” She took a sip of beer, then asked, “Have you called Huan’er? We messaged last week and she said she was traveling during Christmas break, not back at school yet?”

“Mm, she went out with Qi Qi.” Jing Qichi answered casually. As he said this, he only thought of Qi Qi as their mutual old classmate, and since she and Huan’er happened to be in the same country, they would naturally look after each other while traveling abroad.

“I see.” Following Du Man’s response, Jing Qichi suddenly realized what his loose mouth had done.

That was Song Cong’s ex!

Du Man looked at him, then at Song Cong trying to maintain composure, and burst out laughing, “You two… performing a mime show?”

She didn’t mind at all. When they were dating, Song Cong was just the top student in their year, a classmate sought help with academic difficulties, a most ordinary name lying in her contacts rarely contacted. Back then, Du Man hadn’t even thought they could become friends, let alone imagine that much later, today, she would be sitting beside him on the same sofa.

In Du Man’s understanding, a person’s present is made up of countless moments from the past, some brilliant and some dim, which both temper and fulfill who they are in this moment, so she didn’t mind at all—she even thanked those past moments for bringing Song Cong to her side.

“Let’s drink to that.” Jing Qichi raised his beer to break the silence, taking a small sip before saying, “Why aren’t you two dating yet?”

Song Cong was drinking and choked hard, coughing until tears streamed out. Du Man handed him tissues while patting his back, her face crimson and speechless.

Jing Qichi held back his laughter, lighting up his phone screen and holding it in front of them, “Four minutes left, or this matter will have to wait until next year.”

Eleven fifty-six, no, eleven fifty-seven.

Three minutes left.

Song Cong stopped coughing; he seemed to hear the second hand rotating.

“I don’t want you to be like me,” Jing Qichi said softly, “hesitating and missing many important moments.”

Du Man wanted to say something but Song Cong beat her to it. He covered the phone screen with his hand, looking at her intently, “It’s not because of this moment, it’s… Manman, I want to be with you.”

Du Man’s eyes immediately reddened.

“I’m not as good as everyone says, but I’m not that bad either.” Song Cong smiled at her, “You can treat physical ailments, you can fix other aspects too…”

Du Man’s eyes were still red, but there was laughter in them, “What physical ailments do you have?”

This question left Song Cong not knowing whether to laugh or cry.

“Dr. Du means she wants you to get a full physical before agreeing.” Jing Qichi pretended to search through his contacts, “My mom’s on duty today, let’s go now, I’ll ask her to squeeze you in.”

“Don’t need you.” Du Man tilted her head to look at him, “As a family, I can handle it myself.”

“Family, you hear that?” Song Cong took Du Man’s hand under the sofa, raising an eyebrow at his friend, “With your old arms and legs, you’ll get friend prices for appointments in the future.”

Du Man turned her palm up, their fingers interlocking—so his hand was this warm.

From classmates to friends to lovers, from strangers to familiar to understanding, they walked toward each other at a steady pace, not missing anything, not even a bit.

Jing Qichi gave them a look, thinking with some amusement that this must be karma—who told him to always be lovey-dovey with Huan’er before, making everyone say they were showing off.

“I’m going to shower, take your time.” He put down his empty beer can and stood up, but turned back after one step, “By the way, I’m planning to use my annual leave during Spring Festival to visit Huan’er.”

Song Cong asked, “Your leave was approved?”

“I got promoted, transferring to the R&D Center after the New Year.”

“What?”

Du Man was puzzled, “Changing jobs?”

“Their company’s R&D Center,” Song Cong hurried to explain, “Simply put, he won’t be staying in Beijing anymore, he’s going to Huan’er’s side.”

Du Man was briefly stunned, then broke into a hearty laugh, “Jing Qichi, that’s wonderful!”

“Good news indeed,” Song Cong’s expression was somewhat complex, “just very sudden.”

Precisely because he knew Jing Qichi better, he knew how much effort his friend had put in, how much more work and energy than others it had taken to get where he was today. While not exactly saying he had secured an irreplaceable position in Beijing, in his field, Jing Qichi was already outstanding among his peers.

“I’ve been thinking about it for a while, and an opportunity came up at the right time.” Jing Qichi watched the fireworks blooming in the distance outside the window, “Old Song, remember that winter break in the second year of high school when Huan’er and the three of us snuck drinks at the base? I think Aunt Li was working the night shift on the thirtieth, I was going to buy some firecrackers for us to set off together but you insisted it would be trouble if the security guard caught us so we bought alcohol instead.”

“That did happen.” Song Cong explained to Du Man with a laugh, “Would’ve been better to set off fireworks—after drinking, I got scolded when I went home and he nearly got beaten.”

“Couldn’t hold your liquor back then, right?” Du Man smiled, then sighed, “Time flies, it’s been ten years already.”

“Yes.” Jing Qichi watched the brilliance that rose and fell, “In the blink of an eye, it’s been ten years.”