◎ Leaning On ◎

Luo Peiyin did not recognize the young woman in the car — yet she had called out his name the moment she saw him. He was almost ready to assume that Gu Qiao had mentioned him to so many people that anyone who laid eyes on him could match his face to his name.

Yet Qiu Shuang’s next words immediately dismissed this possibility.

Having spent so long around Gu Qiao, Qiu Shuang had learned not to let any opportunity pass. Recalling that Luo Peiyin worked for LC and thinking of the possibility of future collaboration, she immediately introduced herself: “My name is Qiu Shuang. We went to the same university — you won’t have seen me before, but I spent all four years of college surrounded by your legend.”

He had no idea who had been spreading legends about him, but he could be fairly certain it wasn’t Gu Qiao — otherwise she wouldn’t have put it that way.

Qiu Shuang asked what seemed to her the most plausible question: “Do you need me to move the car?” She couldn’t think of any other reason why this man — someone she’d only heard of by name — would be knocking on her car window. She leaned her head out of the window and took another look at where the car was parked. There was nothing wrong with it.

When that theory was ruled out, she truly could not think of a second possibility.

“You’re Gu Qiao’s colleague, aren’t you.”

Qiu Shuang instinctively asked, “How did you know?” The moment the words were out of her mouth, she understood. He had come to knock on the car window because of Gu Qiao. How did the two of them know each other? She immediately thought of Xiao Jia — with Senior Xiao as a go-between, it wasn’t strange that they would know each other. But well enough for him to come knocking on a car in the middle of the night?

“Your store’s advertisements are quite well done.” There was no way he could have missed them.

When the plane had landed at the airport, the view from the porthole was like ink-washed darkness, yet the time on his watch still pointed to morning — the time of UTC-8. He had only adjusted his watch after getting into a taxi. The taxi driver asked where he was headed, and he had directly named this hotel. Luo Peiyin knew this hotel well — for a long stretch of time, the long-distance calls he received had all come from the phone at this hotel.

The taxi stopped at the hotel entrance, and he immediately spotted a Huangdafa of the kind rarely seen even in San Francisco or Singapore. The Huangdafa’s body and rear window were plastered with advertisements for Gu Qiao’s store — the thing was so conspicuous it was practically a mobile billboard. This woman would squeeze every last drop of utility out of every resource available to her. Even her Huangdafa was never allowed to simply be a means of transportation — it had to be advertising for her store and her launch event every waking moment. She was practically a modern-day incarnation of a miser.

And yet this same person, all for the sake of what she called “fairness” and “an easy life,” refused to trouble him with a single thing.

“How did the software sales go today?” He had been on a plane from San Francisco for more than a dozen hours, arriving at the airport late at night, and hadn’t yet had a chance to check the sales figures for Gu Qiao’s software.

Qiu Shuang had been fighting off drowsiness, but the moment she heard the word “sales” her mind shifted into gear. She immediately thought of Luo Peiyin’s profession — someone this interested in sales figures might not be without future potential as a business partner.

“Sales were excellent — it broke the record for a game software’s first-day sales in the Beijing region.” Qiu Shuang delivered off the top of her head the kind of lines that belonged on a press release, and then produced a business card.

This habit of seizing any opening to hand over a business card was hard not to associate with her boss. Luo Peiyin accepted the card — almost smiled. Definitely Gu Qiao’s colleague, through and through.

“Are you in Beijing on business?”

“No. Visiting a friend.”

Luo Peiyin’s gaze dropped to the watch on his wrist. It was now thirty minutes past midnight.

Luo Peiyin would be staying in Beijing for less than twenty-four hours — he still had to go to Shanghai the next day.

Peter’s intelligence was badly out of date. By now, Peter probably still thought Luo Peiyin had been acting against his own interests — throwing away a promising career to come and poach his position in Shanghai. In reality, due to poor performance, the question of whether the Shanghai office should be shut down had been placed on the table for discussion. It wasn’t a question of replacing personnel — headquarters was pessimistic about the current investment climate in China, and the entire office was at risk of being shut down. Luo Peiyin cut short his vacation and flew to San Francisco, laying his reports from these past weeks before Berman. He insisted the Shanghai office had reason to exist: last year, China had established full technical connectivity to the global internet, and this year the public would be offered dial-up access for the first time. To abandon the mainland market under such circumstances was simply not a sound decision. In a separate proposal, he outlined a solution framework for the contingency of withdrawal.

At the meeting, someone had said: “If we have to wait five years before this investment market truly matures, as you claim — isn’t investing this much now too early?”

Luo Peiyin had smiled at the time and replied, “If a man eats five hamburgers and only feels full after the fifth, you can’t say the first four were useless and that he should have just eaten the fifth one.”

He had proactively proposed taking over the Shanghai office. Berman asked him: at your age, spending your prime years in an unknown market — do you think it’s worth it? He hadn’t hesitated for even a second. He said it was worth it.

When Luo Peiyin volunteered to take charge of the Shanghai office, he unexpectedly won Cohen’s support. Cohen had no faith in the Chinese market — but he was very supportive of people he disliked going to markets he didn’t believe in, wasting their best years. He was thoroughly in favor.

When Qiu Shuang’s gaze swept over the watch on Luo Peiyin’s wrist, the question she’d had about why he’d knocked on the window seemed, in that moment, to find its answer. This watch looked far too much like the one Gu Qiao used to wear — when Gu Qiao had come back from Shanghai, Qiu Shuang had wondered why she’d switched the watch she’d worn for years. Now that watch was on another person’s wrist.

Qiu Shuang had found one answer — but a multitude of questions had welled up in its place.

Factory Director Yin was determined to humiliate Shen Zheng in Gu Qiao’s presence. Just before signing the contract, he deliberately poured Shen Zheng a full glass of baijiu — one glass that was worth three ordinary cups.

“Director Shen, if you want to do this deal with me, drain this glass.”

Gu Qiao smiled. “Director Shen is of course delighted to do business with you. But this wine — I ordered it specifically for someone who truly appreciates fine liquor. Good wine should go to someone who loves and understands it. If you let someone who turns red after two sips drink it, it’s a waste of perfectly good wine. Don’t you think?”

This speech in defense of Shen Zheng landed on Factory Director Yin’s ears without offending his pride in the slightest — but wine once poured could hardly be called back.

Factory Director Yin was still formulating his response when Gu Qiao had already raised the brimming glass and tipped it straight down her throat. Gu Qiao pressed her feet against the base of the sofa, forcing down the dizziness with sheer willpower.

Shen Zheng sensed Gu Qiao was unsteady, and instinctively moved to catch her. But Gu Qiao paid no attention — she stood rock solid, made a deliberate show of the empty glass in her hand, and said to Factory Director Yin, “Is my sincerity sufficient now?”

Factory Director Yin signed his full name on the contract — and as the ink dried, he thought to himself: what on earth has this spineless Shen fellow done to deserve a beautiful woman guarding him so stubbornly and desperately.

Even as he signed, Factory Director Yin couldn’t resist one final jab at Shen Zheng: “Good wine should go to those who know how to appreciate it — and so should people. Otherwise it’s truly a waste.”

Gu Qiao’s eyes were only on the contract at this point, and she had no interest in anything Factory Director Yin had to say. She secured the contract, then used a tissue to wipe the fingertips that the Factory Director Yin had inadvertently grazed. Her big phone rang. She had told Qiu Shuang earlier that if she hadn’t come down to the car by forty minutes past midnight, Qiu Shuang should call her — giving her a good excuse to end this conversation.

Over the phone, she heard a familiar voice — but a male one.

“Where are you right now?” He could only reach her big phone when he was in China. In the brief silence that followed, she heard footsteps and the muffled noise of a busy background. The accent behind that background noise was far too familiar to her.

He was actually in the same city as her right now. In just a few short days, he had flown back from San Francisco again?

“Less than five hundred meters from you.” Luo Peiyin hadn’t asked Qiu Shuang, yet he’d been certain Gu Qiao was in this hotel.

Gu Qiao didn’t even have time to express her surprise before the words tumbled out of her: “I’m not at home right now.” With him coming today, Gu Qiao immediately guessed it was because of her game software launch event. She rushed to share her good news with him right away: “Our sales today were excellent — I came out tonight specifically to celebrate. I’ll tell you everything when I see you.” She didn’t give Luo Peiyin a chance to speak. “I’ll be home in half an hour at the latest.”

Even as she said this, her other hand was already reaching for her coat. It was this cold outside — and it wasn’t the middle of the night — she couldn’t let him wait outside. Before leaving, she had given Luo Peiyin an address. He could never have imagined that at this hour she wasn’t at home but rather at some karaoke lounge.

“I’m in the same hotel as you. Tell me where you are, and I’ll come get you.”

Gu Qiao’s lips pressed together. She almost doubted whether she was truly drunk right now. An enormous question surged up — she even forgot to ask him how he knew she was here, and simply gave him the private room number directly.

Ending that call, Gu Qiao immediately received another one — this time it was indeed Qiu Shuang calling.

“When are you coming down?”

“In a moment.”

“Luo Peiyin came and knocked on the car window just now — probably thought it was you. Did you two have some kind of collaboration in the works? He’s gone now, but I gave him my business card. I’ll fill you in when we talk.”

Having just received two calls in a row, Shen Zheng looked at Gu Qiao’s expression and almost suspected she had secured blank floppy disks from somewhere else.

Factory Director Yin saw Gu Qiao already holding her coat: “Miss Gu, you’re leaving now that the contract’s signed?”

Gu Qiao smiled. “My boyfriend has come to pick me up.”

“Your boyfriend…” Factory Director Yin’s gaze settled on Shen Zheng’s face. So this Shen fellow wasn’t Gu Qiao’s boyfriend after all. Compared to some people, the difference was immediately apparent — though Factory Director Yin had never thought much of Shen Zheng, at least Shen Zheng had been here all along. That was already better than this boyfriend who had only just shown up.

Gu Qiao forcibly pushed that flicker of dizziness out of her head. She smartly shrugged on her coat, picked up her bag, and smiled at Factory Director Yin: “See you tomorrow morning — the moment I receive the goods, I’ll pay cash on the spot.”

The moment Gu Qiao pushed open the door, she saw Luo Peiyin. His overcoat was draped over his left arm. The watch she had worn on her own wrist for over eight hundred days now sat on his wrist — the watch that had seemed comically oversized on her looked oddly delicate on him. That silver tie was one she had bought and given to him; it suited his shirt very well.

Factory Director Yin spotted Luo Peiyin in an instant, and then noticed that Gu Qiao’s attention had locked onto the same person. The way she looked at him was an entirely different thing from one person staring conspicuously at another in a crowd. Earlier, he had thought Gu Qiao was beautiful — but hers was a beauty utterly devoid of gender, whether she was rolling up her sleeves to drink or putting pen to paper. There wasn’t a trace of coquetry anywhere about her.

Factory Director Yin was actually quite capable of appreciating that type of beauty. In his own choice of partner, looks had never been particularly important — someone who was purely ornamental was, for him, an entirely short-term proposition regardless of gender. In the long run, what you needed was someone reliable, someone who could hold things together when you were falling apart. He had spent his middle years being leaned on by others, and he was genuinely tired — he wanted to find someone he himself could lean on for once. Watching Gu Qiao drink on behalf of someone else, he had found it impossible not to feel a flicker of envy for that other person, even as he looked down on the man himself.

Now he realized that what Gu Qiao had shown him tonight was only one side of her.

Set against the look in her eyes as she gazed at her real boyfriend, Factory Director Yin immediately grasped the absurdity of his earlier assumptions. The relationship between Gu Qiao and that Shen fellow was entirely and unmistakably professional — looked at from any angle, there was nothing in those glances but pure transparency.

He had assumed any normal man who saw his girlfriend alone with another man — even for business reasons — would feel at least some jealousy. But this man had only swept him with a single glance from head to toe, with the attitude of someone who found him not even worth being jealous over.

Compared to that casual, indifferent once-over, even his own bullying of Shen Zheng seemed, by contrast, almost like a gesture of regard. At least bullying was a sign of attention. This man simply didn’t see him at all. He silently cursed under his breath, and felt a peculiar, hollow sort of wistfulness wash over him.

Luo Peiyin’s hand settled naturally on Gu Qiao’s shoulder. He leaned toward her ear. “Did anyone give you a hard time?”

“How could they?”

Factory Director Yin happened to receive a call, and decided against squeezing into an elevator with a couple.

Gu Qiao had so many things she wanted to say to Luo Peiyin. But while she still had her wits about her, she used the first sentence in the elevator on someone else.

“Keep a close eye on the outer packaging — make sure it uses the latest version, and all information relating to our store should be in a larger font size.” Without chain stores, she still had to distribute to other markets through intermediaries — but she had to make sure people knew the software was coming from her. Before today’s sales data came out, other distributors might have been wary of advertising prominently for her store, thinking they’d be doing all the work of building someone else’s brand for them. But today was different from yesterday.

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