“Make who leave?”

Before Gao Jianhong could respond, Fang Zhijing, his fury barely contained, cut in: “The one who should be leaving is you.”

Li Xun ignored him as before. He kept his gaze on Gao Jianhong, waiting for his next words.

All the speeches had ended, and the conference had moved into its main session. The chairman of a ride-hailing software company, speaking on behalf of the many entrepreneurs present, shared his perspective on the increasingly complex market landscape and the mounting wave of challenges. He expressed that the private equity market for the O2O sector had seen an extremely severe bubble in recent years, and that the market would not be able to sustain it indefinitely.

He quipped: “Living standards in major cities have risen considerably lately, because venture capitalists from around the world have poured in hundreds of billions of dollars — and most of it has essentially been subsidized right into the pockets of residents in Beijing, Shanghai, and Guangzhou.”

“And the market is growing increasingly restless,” he added, with pointed implication. “A lot of companies are going straight for whoever can pay the quickest. They grab what they can and run, with no regard for reputation. If this continues, fewer and fewer companies will be willing to put in the patient, serious work of building a real product.”

Fang Zhijing was also staring at Gao Jianhong. Everyone was looking at Gao Jianhong.

Gao Jianhong pressed his fingers to his temples again, then turned to Li Xun. “My answer is the same as his.”

The one who should leave is you.

Fang Zhijing let out a breath of relief, the color returning to his face. Nearby, Wu Zhen came walking over, only to be stopped by a staff member for not having a guest pass.

“What are you doing?” Wu Zhen said, displeased.

“Miss, you’ll need a pass to enter the guest section.” He’d already been reprimanded once today for failing to stop the man in black, and he wasn’t taking any more chances.

“Ridiculous — do you know who I am?” Her makeup was heavy and she was wearing sunglasses in the dim venue, so it was understandable that the staff member hadn’t recognized her.

Fang Zhijing, hearing the commotion, came over and scolded the staff member.

“What are you stopping people for? Did you even go through training?”

The staff member looked absolutely miserable.

“Forget it,” Wu Zhen said, surprisingly easy-going about it. She twisted past him and walked inside. Coming to stand before Gao Jianhong and Li Xun, she didn’t recognize Li Xun, and studied him discreetly. Since the guest section was organized by company, she assumed he must also be from Jili, and asked, “Who are you? Haven’t seen you before.”

Li Xun, naturally, paid her no attention.

Wu Zhen was not pleased at being ignored. “I’m talking to you. Who are you? Isn’t this the Jili Company section?”

“Don’t bother with him,” Fang Zhijing said, coming up behind her with a sneer. “Just a stray dog.”

Wu Zhen’s gaze settled on Li Xun and she let out a long, drawn-out “Oh.”

Li Xun turned and walked away.

“Li Xun.” Gao Jianhong called out to his retreating figure, that dark silhouette in black. “You’ve always been the one doing the talking. Today, out of respect for an old classmate, let me say something to you.”

Li Xun turned back to look at him.

Gao Jianhong sat in his chair, his voice measured and unhurried. “A man has to know his place in the world. Things are different now — they’re not how they used to be. Going it alone, you can’t climb that mountain.”

“Ah,” said Fang Zhijing, frowning, deliberately finding fault with Gao Jianhong’s words. “That’s not quite right of you. Old classmates and all — why not lend a hand? Help him find a company to go to. Otherwise, with a resume like that — half-finished — where’s he supposed to find work?”

Gao Jianhong nodded thoughtfully and asked Li Xun, “Do you need that?”

Li Xun slowly curved the corners of his mouth.

Everything that had anything to do with warmth or sentiment vanished completely.

A meek, hunched-over young man was making his way through the crowd, head bowed, handing out business cards. When he drifted into the guest section, a staff member moved to stop him — only to be held back by a colleague.

“Leave it.”

“…Aren’t people not supposed to go in there to hand things out?”

“Who knows what the rules are anymore — the CEO of Jili has completely lost it. Let’s just stay out of it.”

And so Guo Shijie kept his head down and made his way all the way to Li Xun.

The moment Fang Zhijing caught sight of this hapless figure entering his field of vision, all the pent-up frustration that Li Xun had stirred in him came surging out — and he directed every bit of it at this insignificant nobody.

But just as he was about to open his mouth and lash out, Li Xun reached over and plucked the business cards right out of Guo Shijie’s hand.

“Hey — sir, you took too many…”

Guo Shijie had absolutely no idea where he had wandered or what sort of territory he had stumbled into. He had been handing out flyers and business cards for several hours straight now, and his head had gone completely fuzzy. He did still remember, however, that the boss had personally counted out these cards and printed them one by one, with strict orders: one card per person. If he gave out extras, he’d be answering for it with his head.

Fang Zhijing watched Li Xun tuck the cards away and laughed out loud. “What — found a job just like that?”

Gao Jianhong looked at Guo Shijie’s hunched, shuffling posture and also chuckled.

“You really haven’t changed at all — still acting on a whim without a moment’s thought.”

Li Xun held his gaze for a moment, then said quietly, “You haven’t changed either. You still can’t see very far.”

Gao Jianhong’s expression went cold. Wu Zhen, overhearing, raised an eyebrow.

Guo Shijie still had no idea what had just happened, and stood there looking bewildered, glancing left and right. Li Xun strode off; Guo Shijie hurried after him. But Li Xun’s strides were long, and the aisles were congested — Guo Shijie was quickly left behind. By the time he made it to the entrance of the main hall, Li Xun had long since vanished.

Guo Shijie wiped the sweat from his face, still catching his breath, when a dark blur flashed past him. It surged toward the exit, then screeched to an abrupt halt and doubled back, snatching the last few business cards from his hand before dashing for the door again.

Zhu Yun ran out of the hotel and caught a distant glimpse of Li Xun getting into a taxi, which slowly pulled away.

She stood there for a moment, waiting until the tightness in her chest gradually eased. Then she looked down and studied the business card in her hand again.

Feiyang Network Co., Ltd.

The threads of fate in this world resist any orderly logic. Heaven, in its idle amusement, scatters them at random — and yet somehow binds together the most unrelated of things in an inextricable knot. Staking all of one’s stubborn pride and dignity, from here on out, the fortunes of all involved would rise and fall together.

Guo Shijie was fretting over his missing cards when his phone rang. He looked at the name on the screen — and his whole body went rigid. He answered with trembling hands, and out came a lazy, unhurried voice.

“How’d the fieldwork go?”

“Oh… pretty well.”

“Did you land any partnerships?”

“That’s still uncertain.”

“Did you recruit anyone?”

Guo Shijie carefully said, “…I think there might be a few people who seemed fairly interested.”

Zhang Fang took a sip of his coffee.

“So why do you sound so shaky?”

“…I don’t — I’m fine.”

“Well, we’ll see the results.” Zhang Fang said, completely composed. “The boss, Dong Siyang, is coming back from his business trip soon. If the company’s still looking this dead by then, we can all line up and wait for our heads to roll.”

Another two rivulets of sweat ran down Guo Shijie’s forehead.

After returning, Zhu Yun went online and looked up “Feiyang Network Co., Ltd.” The company had been founded the previous year and was primarily working on games, but almost all of their projects had been scrapped before launch, and there was very little information about them.

There was a job listing for the company online. Zhu Yun clicked on it — the posting was brief and sparse: Seeking programmer. Compensation and requirements not specified. She checked the posting date; it had gone up right when the company first opened, and hadn’t been updated in a long time.

Zhu Yun’s instinct told her this company was a bit dubious, but there was nothing to be done about it — because Li Xun, by all appearances, intended to go there. She called the number on the business card, and it was the listless-sounding Guo Shijie who picked up. The moment he heard Zhu Yun was calling about the job posting, he immediately perked up.

“Please — please hold on! I’ll go get our HR Director!”

“Alright.”

HR Director, Zhu Yun thought. The structure actually sounds fairly organized.

A moment later, Zhang Fang came to the phone. They exchanged only a few words before he directly scheduled an interview for the following day.

As it turned out, on that day, she ran into Li Xun.

The company’s location wasn’t bad — it was in a startup park in the north-central part of the city. In recent years, the government had been actively supporting internet startups, and had dedicated an entire street to these kinds of companies. The wave of internet development had swept through with such force that there were now hundreds of businesses of all sizes along that strip — opening up and shutting down, then opening up again, harvested faster than a field of wheat.

Following the address Zhang Fang had given her, Zhu Yun found Block B of the startup park.

The moment she walked into the building, she saw Li Xun.

The lobby on the ground floor of the startup building was spacious and open, with a scale model of the development park displayed in the center — it looked rather like a real estate sales showroom. Li Xun was standing beside the model, smoking a cigarette.

And of course, he spotted Zhu Yun the instant she walked in.

Neither of them said a word. The moment was a little awkward — and for a strange instant, Zhu Yun felt as though she were back at the very start of her first year of university.

She should have seen it coming. Li Xun was more efficient than she was. He’d have called to schedule an interview within minutes.

The two of them stood in silence, each maintaining their composure, which made the lobby feel even more cavernous and empty. Before long, their phones buzzed one after the other.

Zhang Fang had sent a message instructing them to come upstairs for their interviews. Zhu Yun finished reading the message and looked up, only to see that Li Xun had already stepped into the elevator ahead of her. She quickened her pace and made a dash for it — but unfortunately, she didn’t quite make it.

Li Xun didn’t wait a single second. He went straight up.

Zhu Yun: “…”

The company was on the twelfth floor.

Although Zhu Yun had sensed from the beginning that this company wasn’t large, she had never imagined it would be quite this small. On that single tiny floor, eight companies had somehow been crammed in, seven of them in the internet business, and one more doing logistics.

Thanks to the logistics company, the narrow corridors were stacked mountain-high with packages, making it difficult to even walk through.

By the time Zhu Yun had squeezed her way to the door of Feiyang Company, Li Xun had already been pulled into the interview room by Zhang Fang.

Guo Shijie received Zhu Yun; he clearly still remembered her from before, greeted her warmly, and poured her a glass of water, attentive and courteous.

“Thank you.” Zhu Yun took the glass and looked around.

The company took up roughly a little over a hundred square meters, but it felt surprisingly spacious — mainly because there were so few people. Including Zhu Yun and Li Xun, there were only four. Oh — actually, a young man had just come out of the bathroom, his hair in a disheveled mess from sleeping, yawning as he shuffled back to his computer.

The moment his fingers touched the keyboard, the screen lit up — and there was a browser game he’d been playing, right where he’d left it.

…

Just as Zhu Yun was quietly absorbing the work culture of Feiyang Company, a startled cry suddenly rang out from inside the interview room.

“What?! Prison — ?!”