Zhu Yun knew nothing of Li Xun and Fu Yizhuo’s meeting. She was still preoccupied with the money Li Xun had gone to demand from Ren Di.

In the half-month since Li Xun’s release, everyone’s lives had been thrown into a state of muddy, sticky upheaval — impossible to mix smooth, impossible to shake off.

But fortunately, even covered in that mess, she had managed to keep a clear head.

Her thinking was straightforward: Li Xun would never let the matter of Ji Li Company rest.

“That company’s fairly large, isn’t it?” Tian Xiuzhu asked. “He’s only just come out — does he really have the energy to be thinking about all this already?”

Zhu Yun sank into the sofa.

“When it comes to things he cares about, he has boundless energy.”

“No one has boundless energy. Determination can only push you so far.”

Zhu Yun shook her head. “You don’t know him.” She was quiet for a moment, then pulled herself up off the sofa. “I need to go out.”

“Where to?”

“Ji Li Company.”

The day Zhu Yun first learned that Fang Zhijing had joined Ji Li Company was the night before she collapsed at Niagara Falls.

At the time, she had thought she’d already broken herself open enough — that the past had reached its worst and couldn’t possibly get more cruel. But life, it turned out, had no bottom to its pain or its irony.

Zhu Yun had confronted Gao Jianhong more than once, but nothing had ever come of it.

When Fang Zhijing learned that Zhu Yun had been in contact with Gao Jianhong, he had taken special care to send lavish gifts to Zhu Yun’s mother during the New Year — not to smooth things over with Zhu Yun, but to ensure that her mother’s constant praise of him would make Zhu Yun’s torment all the more unbearable.

Over time, it had become a thorn lodged in Zhu Yun’s heart.

Even after she came back to the country, she couldn’t stop thinking about it — turning it over and over, searching for a way to pull that thorn free.

But no matter how she racked her brain, she came up empty. She had the ability to join any major IT company she chose, but that wouldn’t accomplish anything — corporate competition was about products and contracts, not personal scores. It couldn’t move the thing that needed to be moved.

She had considered starting her own company, but every time she thought of doing it out of personal vendetta, she couldn’t bring herself to recruit people, couldn’t make the final decision.

“You’re not ruthless enough,” Tian Xiuzhu had told her when she was still tangled up in her own thoughts. “A lot of things can’t be done on ability alone — character plays an enormous part. You’re too soft. Too timid.”

Zhu Yun hadn’t wanted to admit it, but Tian Xiuzhu had smiled and said: “It’s in your nature. You don’t need to force yourself to be otherwise.”

Now, the too-timid Zhu Yun was back at Ji Li Company. She asked the front desk to let her see the general manager and was told that Mr. Gao required an appointment.

“Tell him it’s an old classmate,” Zhu Yun said.

The front desk attendant looked her over.

The woman was strikingly beautiful — dressed in neat professional attire, a fitted mid-length white blazer, carrying a sleek black leather bag. Her manner was composed and her appearance polished, so the attendant treated her with corresponding courtesy. After relaying the message to Gao Jianhong, she turned to Zhu Yun and said: “Please wait a moment. Mr. Gao will be right down.”

At that moment, a car pulled up outside and came to a stop directly in front of the main entrance. It was a no-parking zone, but when the security guard saw the license plate, he looked the other way as if he hadn’t noticed a thing.

A woman stepped out of the car — heavy makeup, with loose, fine waves in her hair, oversized sunglasses covering the upper half of her face. She was wearing heels that clicked out a sharp, rhythmic beat as she crossed the lobby, a security guard trailing close behind.

“Miss Wu, the engine is still running.”

Wu Zhen said offhandedly: “Leave it. I’m picking someone up. Won’t be long.” She went straight to the front desk and inquired in the tone of someone accustomed to being obeyed: “Where is Gao Jianhong?”

The front desk attendant replied in a fluster: “Mr. Gao is in a meeting upstairs — he’ll be down shortly—” But before she could finish, Wu Zhen had already turned toward the elevators and was walking away.

Zhu Yun stood nearby. As Wu Zhen passed, the two women exchanged a brief glance.

Wu Zhen was a similar build to Zhu Yun, with a full, imposing presence. The nature of her work had led her to take meticulous care of her skin, though the thick makeup she was wearing now concealed it almost entirely — her face was a stark, near-white pallor, and her lips were painted red so deep it looked like blood.

“Miss Wu!” someone called from behind the desk. Wu Zhen paid no attention. Only after the elevator doors slid shut did the attendant allow herself a look of poorly concealed disdain — which Zhu Yun caught entirely.

The lobby had two elevators side by side. The moment Wu Zhen’s doors closed, the one beside it arrived. Gao Jianhong stepped out and spotted Zhu Yun immediately.

It had been a while since they last saw each other — Zhu Yun had trouble remembering when exactly.

“What an unexpected visitor,” Gao Jianhong said, smiling as he walked over. “You usually have to be pried out from wherever you are. What brings you here today?”

The front desk attendant said carefully: “Mr. Gao — Miss Wu has come. She just went upstairs to look for you.”

Gao Jianhong glanced toward the entrance. The blue BMW sat at the curb. His brow contracted almost imperceptibly.

The security guard, reading the room, rushed over immediately.

Gao Jianhong said under his breath: “Didn’t I tell you no stopping out front?”

The guard looked pained: “It was Miss Wu — she insisted on…”

“Go and get the facilities team to install those parking bollards as soon as possible,” Gao Jianhong said.

“Understood, right away.”

Gao Jianhong glanced at the elevator. The one that had gone up moments ago was already descending from the sixth floor. “Come with me.” He led Zhu Yun toward the stairwell, and told the front desk on the way: “Let her know she can wait.”

Gao Jianhong and Zhu Yun entered the emergency stairwell. He pulled the door shut, and the world went quiet all at once.

The stairwell had a faint damp smell. The storage closet nearby hadn’t been closed properly, and two mops were visible through the gap. In front of it sat a few crushed cardboard boxes that looked like they had once held monitors.

“Let’s keep it brief,” Zhu Yun said first.

“Of course,” Gao Jianhong replied, relaxed and easy. “Say what you want to say.”

“You’ve seen Li Xun?”

“I have.” Gao Jianhong gave a slight, sardonic smile. “Sounds like you’re not very important to him — the first person he came to see after getting out was me. Jealous?”

“Gao Jianhong.”

“Let me guess what you’re here to say.” He tucked his hands into the pockets of his dress trousers and furrowed his brow in mock deliberation. “You want me to push Fang Zhijing out? Forget it — we hold the same level of seniority in this company. Neither of us can remove the other. Though if you’re asking me to help get Li Xun back in…that’s actually not completely impossible. Have him come and apply.”

Zhu Yun held his gaze without expression. Gao Jianhong’s face slowly cooled.

His phone buzzed. He glanced at it and rejected the call without a second thought.

“Your wife calling?” Zhu Yun said. “Go on back.”

Gao Jianhong didn’t move. “What do you actually want to say?”

“There’s nothing left to say.” Zhu Yun turned toward the door. “My mistake — after six years, I’m still being naive.”

She already had her hand on the door handle when Gao Jianhong pushed it firmly shut again. Zhu Yun turned. He was standing very close; behind his silver-framed glasses, his gaze cut like ice.

“Are you worried about things getting ugly?” he said coldly. “This isn’t like university anymore. None of us are students. When it comes down to a real fight, someone is going to end up bloody — who do you think that’ll be?”

Zhu Yun gave no answer. Gao Jianhong offered the answer himself, calmly and without pause.

“Him.”

Zhu Yun’s lips pressed together.

“I’ll admit he’s talented,” Gao Jianhong said. “But this era doesn’t work the way he thinks it does.” He paused, then corrected himself: “Actually, no era works the way he thinks. Otherwise he wouldn’t be where he is now. Do you remember what I said before?”

Zhu Yun still didn’t answer. Gao Jianhong said: “I said — he’s an exceptional person. I’ll grant him that. But that’s all he is. He won’t go far.”

Zhu Yun looked at him steadily.

Her eyes were a beautiful shape. The whites were clean as fresh milk, without a trace of discoloration, which made the dark of her irises appear even brighter — like frost-covered grapes that let you easily find your own reflection within them.

She looked as though she intended to see straight through him, and said quietly: “The outcome didn’t have to be this way, and you know it.”

Gao Jianhong’s phone buzzed again. Without a flicker of annoyance, he rejected it a second time.

“You’re exactly the same as before — never giving anyone an inch, always standing unconditionally in his corner.” His tone was sardonic.

“We’re talking about two different things,” Zhu Yun said.

“Are we? In what way?”

Zhu Yun dropped every pretense and said the name head-on —

“Fang Zhijing!” She held Gao Jianhong’s gaze. “You know what happened between Li Xun and Fang Zhijing. Everything else we can set aside — but how could you go into business with Fang Zhijing? How?”

Zhu Yun’s emotions were slipping beyond her grip, and the heat began to rise.

“This company — do you remember where the money came from? Even after both of us left, we never cut off the funding!”

“Two hundred thousand,” Gao Jianhong said with dismissive ease. “Give me an account number and I’ll transfer it to you this afternoon. Call it charity for old classmates.”

“Gao Jianhong!” Zhu Yun stared at him, unable to believe what she was hearing. Her eyes went red — for the first time she looked like someone with softer edges, not the cold, composed woman she had been moments ago. “How can you say something like that?”

Gao Jianhong only smiled coldly.

Zhu Yun looked at him. “Out of everyone you could have partnered with — it had to be him. You hate Li Xun that much? This is no different from plunging a knife straight into him.”

It wasn’t the first time she had asked him this. She genuinely wanted — had always wanted — Gao Jianhong to give some answer that could make sense to everyone.

But every time, Gao Jianhong simply stood there as if the answer were self-evident.

She held onto her last sliver of hope. “Walk away from working with him.”

Gao Jianhong was quiet for a stretch, then suddenly smiled.

“Zhu Yun, nothing you say matters now.” He bent forward until they were eye to eye. “The moment Li Xun first laid eyes on me and Fang Zhijing in that company, this battle became inevitable. Even if I back down from him now, he won’t back down from me.”

“You don’t know him,” Zhu Yun said quietly. “Li Xun can be ruthless, but he’s not heartless. If he were, he never would have gone to prison.”

Gao Jianhong’s eyes held not a ripple.

“Whether or not he has a heart doesn’t matter anymore.” He straightened up and pushed the door open — but didn’t step through. “Zhu Yun, I’ll be straight with you: I’ve been waiting for this day since we were in university. I’m glad our fight is happening now, after leaving school. This way it won’t be small-scale and petty.”

Zhu Yun said nothing. Gao Jianhong’s phone buzzed a third time. This time, he answered. His voice, when he spoke into it, was noticeably softer. He said one last thing to Zhu Yun before leaving: “The outcome of this fight will be brutal. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”