The meeting lasted over three hours. Partway through, Zhao Teng was called in as well.

By the time it broke up it was already evening. Guo Shijie came out of the little windowless room first, then reverently escorted Tian Xiuzhu out. Zhu Yun set down what she was working on and went over. Tian Xiuzhu gave her a smile and said, “You’ve had a long day.”

Zhu Yun: “How is it me who’s had a long day?”

Tian Xiuzhu said, “Then it’s me who’s had a long day.”

Zhu Yun glanced unobtrusively into the little room. Li Xun and Zhao Teng were still tidying up inside. She knew Li Xun was the kind of person who never organized meeting notes — the fact that he was puttering around in there meant he wasn’t ready to come out yet.

Zhu Yun said to Tian Xiuzhu, “Let’s head out together. Get some dinner.”

Tian Xiuzhu asked, “Weren’t you busy tonight?”

Zhu Yun said hastily, “……I took leave.”

Tian Xiuzhu gave a small smile. “Alright then. I’ll go get the car and wait for you downstairs.” He headed out first. Zhao Teng came out of the little room right after and gave Zhu Yun a look, then quietly settled back at his own desk and got to work.

Zhao Teng was usually lively and boisterous. His current quietness probably meant he too sensed that something was slightly off about the atmosphere. Zhu Yun stood at the doorway of the little room, watching the last person still inside.

She watched the silent silhouette of his back as he sat in the chair, and felt as though she had sat through all three hours of the meeting herself, utterly drained.

Zhu Yun gave Zhao Teng a few instructions about the remaining work, then clocked out early.

By the time she came downstairs, Tian Xiuzhu had already pulled his car up to the entrance. Zhu Yun got in. The heating was blowing warm and comfortable. Tian Xiuzhu handed her a canned coffee. Zhu Yun said, “Didn’t you say you can’t stand canned coffee?”

Tian Xiuzhu said, “It’s to warm your hands.” He switched on the turn signal and merged onto the main road. Zhu Yun held the coffee, hesitated for a moment, then asked Tian Xiuzhu, “What did you all talk about in the meeting?”

Tian Xiuzhu kept his eyes on the road ahead and answered, “We just went over the art style your game needs. There are a few key character designs that I’ll help you create.” Then a small smile crept onto his face. “Though the game itself is quite something — on top of the different scenario characters, there are all kinds of historical periods. If it’s done well, plenty of people might want to marry it.”

“……” It was only then that Zhu Yun remembered the game’s content, and she asked cautiously, “You’re not into that sort of thing as well, are you? You’re an artist.”

Tian Xiuzhu spared her a glance and said, “I’m an artist, not a monk.”

Zhu Yun was speechless. Tian Xiuzhu smiled and posed a counter-question: “If there were a game that let you court all different kinds of men — highly realistic and intelligent — are you telling me you wouldn’t enjoy playing that?”

Zhu Yun: “I wouldn’t. No interest.”

Tian Xiuzhu said, “That’s because you already have a standard set in your heart.”

Zhu Yun held the warm coffee and said nothing.

Tian Xiuzhu said with a smile, “But most people in this world have no such benchmark, and there’s another group who have one but can’t always resist the temptation to indulge. You’re just unusually upright.”

Zhu Yun: “It’s just a trashy game. You’re reading way too much into it.”

They chose a Southeast Asian concept restaurant for dinner. In the depths of winter, the restaurant was lush with artificially cultivated greenery, and the walls were hung with ornaments in an exotic style. Between the private booths hung curtains of deep violet and midnight blue, carrying a faint fragrance, creating an atmosphere of quiet intimacy.

The server handed them menus. Zhu Yun passed hers to Tian Xiuzhu. The server brought two glasses of lemon water. Once he had finished ordering, she asked, “Do you have the time to take this on?”

Tian Xiuzhu said, “I’ve already said I would.”

Zhu Yun said, “You can still back out — you haven’t signed a contract.”

Tian Xiuzhu’s expression carried an easy smile. He leaned forward slightly and lowered his voice. “Zhu Yun, choose your words carefully.”

“What do you mean?”

“What you say has a lot of influence over me. There’s a real chance that if you talk me into it, I actually do back out.”

“……”

Zhu Yun had to admit to herself that she had her own selfish reasons — she wanted every project at Feiyuan to succeed, even those like “Playboy” that she personally disliked. But she also didn’t want to go ahead and rope Tian Xiuzhu in without thinking it through. She hadn’t yet reached Li Xun’s level of calculation.

“Tian Xiuzhu, the truth is this situation——”

“Zhu Yun.” Before she could finish, Tian Xiuzhu cut in gently. He raised an eyebrow at her, and said it once more. “Choose your words carefully.”

Light moved softly through his eyes. Zhu Yun suddenly realized that he already understood everything. From the moment she had told him the whole story of the past, he had known Li Xun just as well as she did.

“I said I hope you both succeed, and besides, this work is very straightforward for me.” Tian Xiuzhu slowly let the smile fade from his face. In a quiet voice he said, “The sooner you succeed, the sooner we can leave all of this behind. I don’t want to watch you exhaust yourself here.”

The server brought two bowls of sweet rice pudding.

“Eat a little more. You’ve lost quite a bit of weight.” Tian Xiuzhu said, then added, with a note of resignation, “You’re going to lose even more. From the day you saw him again, you haven’t rested for a single second.”

Zhu Yun looked up at him. Tian Xiuzhu said, “The meeting with Li Xun today was quite intense for me.”

Zhu Yun: “Did he give you a hard time?”

Tian Xiuzhu shook his head. “He just thinks too much, and the things he holds onto run too deep.”

Zhu Yun: “He’s just trying to make something right.”

Tian Xiuzhu: “I’m not judging whether he’s right or wrong — I’m only sharing my own impression. I had thought he was someone who pursued his goals with singular focus, but I hadn’t expected it to run quite this deep. And honestly, his health isn’t great — he’s running entirely on willpower.”

Zhu Yun’s spoon fell into her bowl.

“What?”

Tian Xiuzhu noticed how alarmed she was and said, to calm her, “It’s not that serious. Just a lack of rest.”

Zhu Yun nodded and murmured, “……He never slept much, even before.”

Her every thought was entirely fixed on Li Xun. Tian Xiuzhu watched her quietly for a moment, then asked in a low voice, “Do you actually prefer this kind of life?”

Zhu Yun looked at him. Tian Xiuzhu’s expression was very calm.

“The time we’ve spent together is genuinely much longer than the time you’ve spent with him — it just isn’t as intense. I love a life that’s quiet and settled like this. Being able to live out your years in peace and good health is something truly rare.”

Zhu Yun didn’t know what to say. Tian Xiuzhu continued, “By the end of next year, I’ll be returning to France for an art exhibition. I hope you’ll come with me then.”

“Tian Xiuzhu.”

“There’s no need to refuse so quickly — no one can predict the future. Oh, by the way — the New Year is coming up soon. When are you going home?”

Zhu Yun counted the days and said, “One more week before the holiday.”

With Tian Xiuzhu’s reminder, Zhu Yun finally realized — time had slipped by so fast that they were almost at the New Year.

That final week, the festive atmosphere grew thicker by the day. Shopping centers were blanketed in red wherever you looked, and the streets were strung with lanterns and decorations. Except for Li Xun, everyone had lost the will to work diligently. Zhu Yun too allowed herself a rare moment of relaxation, and even snuck in the occasional card game with Zhao Teng and Zhang Fang.

Zhang Fang tried multiple times to call Li Xun over to join in. Li Xun completely ignored him. Zhang Fang muttered, “Does he really have to be this dedicated?”

Zhao Teng made a scoffing sound. “Not long ago you were complaining he was coasting, and now that he’s dedicated you’re still not satisfied.”

Zhang Fang said, “I never said I was unsatisfied — it’s about balance. The New Year holiday is right around the corner. Go home, rest properly, and then you’ll have the energy to come back and keep going next year.”

Zhu Yun had been shuffling cards when the words “go home” drifted into her ears. She glanced up discreetly. Li Xun was curled in his chair, quietly writing code, completely undisturbed by the world around him.

Just like he always had been.

Dong Siyang had spent the whole year in relentless activity, but in these final few days he finally stopped going out “to handle business,” and turned his attention to preparing holiday bonuses. He was fairly generous with his employees — he packed up rice, cooking oil, and all sorts of other staples as gift sets for the New Year, and two days before the holiday, organized the company’s year-end celebration.

Zhu Yun was surprised to discover that the company actually held a year-end celebration. She had assumed it would just be a quick meal at some nearby restaurant, but Dong Siyang had other ideas — early in the morning he pulled up in an old minivan and loaded everyone into it, heading for the outskirts of the city.

Zhu Yun asked him, “Director Dong, are you taking us camping? Someone could actually die camping in this weather.”

“Less complaints from you.” Zhang Fang sat in the front passenger seat and turned around, looking thoroughly pleased with himself. “Could someone of your ilk possibly predict what our Director Dong has up his sleeve?”

Before Zhu Yun could get a kick in, Zhao Teng did it for her. Zhang Fang exploded, and the two of them started bickering. Dong Siyang made no move to stop it — he drove on, cigarette in hand, laughing with that rough, gravelly voice of his.

Zhu Yun turned around and peered through the gap between the seats toward the back. Li Xun was sitting in the last row, his head resting against the window, eyes closed, dozing. She quickly noticed that the minivan was of rather poor quality, with gaps letting the cold air whistle through from every direction, and the chill was blowing right onto Li Xun’s face. Zhu Yun turned back and studied the pane of glass in front of her, pushing hard to try to close the gap. But the vehicle was too old — the window catch was worn loose. She pushed it closed, let go, and it drifted open again.

Zhu Yun tried several times. In the end, she just held her hand flat against it permanently.

She asked Zhao Teng beside her, “How much longer?”

Zhao Teng said, “Almost there.”

Zhu Yun asked, “Where are we even going — we’ve come so far already.”

Zhao Teng said, “You’ll see when we get there. Director Dong used to know someone from the old days who ran a place out here.”

“……”

Someone from the old days.

Zhu Yun forced herself not to think too hard about what kind of background her boss might have, and focused all her attention on holding the window shut. The drive took over two hours — off the expressway, down a dirt road, lurching and jolting for what seemed like half a lifetime, and by afternoon they finally arrived.

The van stopped. Zhu Yun rolled her stiffened shoulders. She looked back to see Li Xun still fast asleep. She caught Guo Shijie’s eye — he was also seated in the back — and gestured for him to wake Li Xun up, then stepped out of the van first herself.

In the middle of the wilderness stood a building. It was only three stories, but long, with a row of perhaps a dozen windows. From a distance it looked dark and still.

The building was old, its exterior walls painted a grayish pink. Years of weathering had left the paint flaking in patches, mottled and spotted as though the walls had a skin condition. The building bore no plaques or signage of any kind. The entrance was overgrown with dead trees and weeds, and the snow had been left unswept. Zhu Yun thought — it was a good thing they were arriving in the afternoon. If the sun had set, she sincerely doubted she would have had the courage to walk through that door.

Behind her came the sound of a car door closing. Li Xun was the last one out. Dong Siyang locked the van and said to everyone, “Let’s go.”

Zhu Yun brought up the rear. Dong Siyang pushed open the trembling front door. Ahead was a darkened corridor, with construction scaffolding erected inside.

Zhu Yun followed behind Zhang Fang and Zhao Teng, walking side by side with Li Xun. Li Xun had just woken from sleep, and his complexion was awful. She had been too distracted earlier to take a close look, but thinking back — when he had first climbed out of the van, his lips had been completely bloodless. And then all at once she realized — this was perhaps the first time, across all their weeks of being reunited, that she had seen him sleeping, and seen what he looked like in the moments after waking.

They passed through the dark corridor and entered the main hall. The view opened up entirely before them. Zhu Yun was astonished to find a completely different world inside — gleaming marble floors, ornate chandeliers, heavy drapes, and neatly uniformed attendants.

The only issue was that all the attendants were women, dressed in outfits that were rather provocatively short — black and red qipaos cut above the mid-thigh, with the air conditioning set high enough to make it bearable.

A man who appeared to be the lobby manager spotted Dong Siyang and rushed over.

“Director Dong! Welcome!”

Zhu Yun had a growing sense of unease. She quietly pulled Zhang Fang aside and murmured, “Our year-end event isn’t going to get raided halfway through, is it?”

“What nonsense is going on in your head?” Zhang Fang shot her a look. “You’re worrying yourself over nothing. Come on.”

While Dong Siyang was speaking with the lobby manager, Zhang Fang led Zhu Yun toward the front. He lifted the thick curtain to reveal a hazy pane of glass.

Zhu Yun rubbed a small clearing and pressed her face to it. Outside lay a garden of decorative rocks and artificial hills, with several elegant pavilions dotted between them, bare black branches growing wild along the pavilion edges. Scattered across the vast white snow were more than a dozen pools of shimmering blue-green water, steaming in the cold air, distributed across the landscape like stars — in the distance, like a hidden realm.

Zhu Yun stared for a long moment, then said in surprise, “Hot springs?”