He didn’t go into detail with Zhang Xiaoqiang. Afterward, he shut the computer and went to wash up. Passing the mirror, Wei Qingyue glanced at himself twice. The mirror was very clean, reflecting a clear, sharp image of him.

He genuinely couldn’t manage without the housecleaning auntie, he thought to himself as he squeezed out the toothpaste — the toothpaste lying there bare, like something without clothes on. A wave of inexplicable revulsion passed through him. He mechanically pressed the button, and beside the washbasin, the electric toothbrush began its unceasing buzz.

Washing his face was equally perfunctory. The facial cleanser formed a rich lather in his palms, and once it reached his face it stayed for only a few seconds before Wei Qingyue cupped his hands and splashed water at himself over and over again.

Showering was another matter. Wei Qingyue’s habits were strange in their own way. After bathing, he would walk back to the bedroom barefoot — not like an ordinary person who sits down first and then pulls back the covers. Instead, Wei Qingyue would walk straight to the foot of the bed, step up onto it, and lie down wherever he landed. Then he’d yank the duvet over and roll himself up inside.

If someone had been watching from outside, they would have seen, through the bright floor-to-ceiling windows, a strange young man living alone — moving back and forth like an automaton, methodically going about his business.

Lying in bed, he suddenly wondered whether Jiang Du would be able to get used to him. He had too many peculiarities. But who could say? Come sleep with me. Come into my arms. As sleep crept over him, one thought kept repeating itself inside his head: Come sleep with me. Come into my arms.

He only hoped Jiang Du wouldn’t think he was some kind of pervert. He thought this and smiled faintly, and fell asleep with that smile on his face.

In September, Lingdong Technology’s finance department was usually quite busy — they had to compile projections for the next quarter’s financial data and publish the quarterly earnings report. Autonomous driving had always been one of the company’s major directions for investment. Flipping through the slides one by one, the figures across the various business lines were laid out clearly and unmistakably.

After the meeting concluded, Wei Qingyue stayed behind and reported to his direct superior, the big boss.

Lingdong had recently obtained a Class A navigation qualification. Long before, they had almost succeeded, but in the end the Ministry of Natural Resources had canceled Lingdong’s application on the grounds that its shareholders had compliance issues.

Originally, the company’s senior management had planned to acquire a company that already held a Class A qualification as a stopgap measure. Wei Qingyue had held firm on applying independently. He had anticipated early on that the emerging industry relying on navigation electronic maps would become immensely valuable in the coming years, and that the high-precision mapping sector had already drawn major players rushing to enter.

“Once the maps are activated, the coverage data will no longer be limited only to Tier 1 cities like Beijing, Shanghai, Guangzhou, and Shenzhen,” Wei Qingyue said at a measured pace, advancing through the slides. “Although industry voices had been calling on the government to ease review conditions several years back, looking at the actual situation, it’s really only from this year that a window of opportunity has started to open for the qualification — though the specific policy details could very well grow more stringent.”

His counterpart nodded, gesturing for him to continue.

“There’s still the unresolved issue of a lack of unified application scenarios, but as Level 2 secures more mass production project appointments, that problem should be solvable in time.”

The composed middle-aged man made his characteristic gesturing motion and said: “Our country’s actual road conditions are far more complex than those in Europe and America. For the data to be tens of times richer than theirs is perfectly normal. The question is how to achieve a high degree of coordination between the algorithms and the map data — isn’t that right? We still need to recruit more people for SLAM algorithm, positioning, and high-precision mapping roles. Oh, and the test drive at the science park is next week — come along and take a look as well.”

Coming out of the conference room, he went to the tea room, ate a few snacks, and then stood by the window with his coffee, gazing down over the city.

Wei Qingyue still had a project to discuss with Zhang Xiaoqiang. The reason his contact with her had never been severed over so many years was precisely because the automaker she worked for had extensive business dealings with Lingdong. Cutting ties was impossible, and besides, Wei Qingyue had never had any intention of cutting them.

He would very methodically invite Zhang Xiaoqiang to a meal at regular intervals. When it came to work, he was absolutely meticulous; but the moment anything about seeing a doctor came up, Wei Qingyue became deeply resistant and thought she was being ridiculous.

Zhang Xiaoqiang had grown increasingly adept at navigating social niceties. No matter how irritated she was, she could smile and speak to you with composure. She had never been angry with Wei Qingyue — not even when, at his worst, he had behaved in a way that would have driven any normal person to cut ties entirely. She hadn’t.

Over the past two or three years, Wei Qingyue had settled considerably. But as for his manner of speaking — among people he knew well, he still tended to say things that did not endear him to others, capable of leaving someone thoroughly vexed while he remained entirely unmoved.

She had once introduced him to a private psychologist — well regarded in the circle, professionally capable. Wei Qingyue went to the appointments and did nothing but sleep. When conversation was attempted, his mouth produced nothing but falsehoods, down to the last punctuation mark.

There was simply no more troublesome client than him.

And yet when Zhang Xiaoqiang introduced him to her own trusted housecleaning auntie, he accepted quite happily. When he was studying abroad, his mother had been occupied with her career and her romantic life, with no time to manage him. She had arranged for him to stay with a host family. At first it wasn’t easy to adapt — even the dog in that household could only understand English. In time, his spoken English improved dramatically. The host mother took him to church activities — worship songs, Bible study — and upon realizing that Wei Qingyue had absolutely no intention of accepting God, she let him be. The food was quite disagreeable, and that family ate extremely fast. Wei Qingyue, not wanting to be a difficult guest, cooperated fully with everything in the homestay. But some things in their attitudes made him deeply uncomfortable — the unconscious air of superiority they exuded, and their condescension toward China. It was during this time that Wei Qingyue came to understand, in the most visceral way, the nature of human bias and futile communication. He was not particularly happy there. But unhappiness was the constant baseline of his life — not unbearable, exactly; you endure it long enough and you get used to it. Fortunately his grades were excellent, and tutoring the host family’s children in mathematics was effortless for him, which allowed their relationship to maintain some degree of equilibrium.

And so, many years later, returning to China, Wei Qingyue immediately resumed a life of thorough, complete solitude. All he needed was a housecleaning auntie.

At noon — twelve fourteen — he was having lunch in the canteen when Zhang Xiaoqiang called about the neurologist appointment.

Over the phone, she coaxed him patiently: “I just found out this doctor is a high school alumnus of ours. You’ll know when you meet them.”

Wei Qingyue found her thoroughly tiresome and said flatly: “What does being an alumnus have to do with anything? How is that relevant to me? Don’t call me to waste my time if you have nothing substantive.”

“Come and see them. We’ll all get together for a meal — think of it as catching up.” Zhang Xiaoqiang continued to urge him with patience; she kneaded her lower back now and then. She had been traveling for work recently and hadn’t slept well.

Wei Qingyue was even more blunt this time: “I have no old acquaintances worth catching up with. If you want to catch up, you and the others can do it. If you have the time, let’s talk work instead. I get the feeling your side still has reservations about Lingdong, and if that’s the case, we’ll have a hard time making the most of what we have to offer.”

Private matters and professional ones came together without a seam. Zhang Xiaoqiang’s tone was particularly helpless: “Tsk — the way Mr. Wei spoke last time was clearly saying he found us too low-profile in the new energy sector, not worthy of entering your circle of associates.”

“That’s not what happened — what are you going on about?” Wei Qingyue laughed. “Since when would I dare look down on Department Head Zhang.”

“Come on, just agree to it this once — old classmates, give me some face.” Looping around and around, Zhang Xiaoqiang had circled back to the same subject.

“I’m perfectly fine. What’s wrong with you? Instead of getting ready for the auto show, why are you here pestering me with this?” Wei Qingyue’s eyes went cold, his expression that of someone fundamentally unable to empathize with the concerns of another. “I still need to prepare a research report. I’m hanging up.”

“Wei—” Zhang Xiaoqiang didn’t finish calling his name, paused for a few seconds, and slowly set down her phone.

The city sky overhead was clear and vast.

That afternoon, he met with a team from a partner university. The group led Wei Qingyue on a tour of their latest laboratory. Delegating engineering research and development to universities and research institutes to be worked through and refined was a concept he had proposed to the company’s founding partners from the very beginning.

By the time he went to find Jiang Du, her off-hours had once again passed. Old Luo told him it would be a while before his watch could be returned. Wei Qingyue frowned as he heard it, and gave a small, incredulous laugh:

“What — they had to send it back to Europe for repairs?”

For Wei Qingyue, a phone was a tool for making calls and staying in contact. It was not for checking the time. For measuring time, there was his watch. In certain matters, he was extraordinarily stubborn.

But Jiang Du, as it turned out, had already eaten without him. She apologized, a little embarrassed: “I was starving, didn’t have a shred of energy left — and it happened that I had the packed lunch my grandmother made for me. If you’d like, I can keep you company while you eat?”

When she faced him, she seemed to slip unconsciously back into a slight bashfulness, as though she had completely forgotten about that long, warm, heated kiss — forgotten that they had already shared an intimate moment.

Wei Qingyue hadn’t forgotten. He apologized first for his tardiness, then found a casual fast-food place and ate at a remarkably fast pace. Jiang Du watched him and pointed out: “Isn’t it too hot? Eat a little slower. It’s not good for your esophagus or your stomach.”

At those words, Wei Qingyue listened, slowing down to a more deliberate, thorough pace.

“In the future, please don’t eat this quickly. It’s not good for you.” Jiang Du sat quietly and emphasized it once more.

“Already keeping tabs on me?” Wei Qingyue’s forehead was damp with fine droplets, glittering faintly.

Jiang Du felt all the more embarrassed at that. She thought: I am going to keep tabs on you — you said yourself you needed someone to manage you, and I don’t want anyone else to. Besides, you wouldn’t listen to anyone else anyway.

The thought made her inexplicably happy.

Somehow, Wei Qingyue seemed to have read her mind. Under the table, he lightly nudged her shoe with his. “If you want to manage me, then go ahead.”

Jiang Du denied it on reflex: “Who said I want to manage you?”

Wei Qingyue smiled and said nothing.

“What have you been busy with lately?” He set down his chopsticks, took out a paper napkin to wipe the corners of his mouth, then poured a glass of water to rinse.

Jiang Du’s smile was always shy. She said: “Interviews. Writing articles.”

“You?” Wei Qingyue laughed in surprise. “Interviews? You’re this shy — and you’ve done interviews? How come you didn’t come to interview me that day?”

Jiang Du touched her hair with self-consciousness. “To interview you, you’d need Huang Yingshi — I’m not at that level. And honestly, I’m not keen on interviewing people like you. I prefer interviewing ordinary people — small, everyday lives. For instance—” She spoke slowly, eyes blinking gently at Wei Qingyue, gauging whether he actually wanted to hear.

“For instance what?” Wei Qingyue sat beside her and quite naturally extended his arm to rest it behind her on the back of her chair, crossing his legs and giving her his full attention. This posture placed Jiang Du entirely within the sphere of his presence; Wei Qingyue was, at his core, a very commanding person.

Jiang Du glanced outside. Not far away, beneath the darkening sky, an elderly woman sat on a folding stool selling flowers, looking about.

She pointed and said: “Like that grandmother there. I want to know what she’s thinking. How much does she earn each day? Why does she come out to sell flowers — is it because money is tight, or to pass the time? If I ever had the chance to make a documentary about a city, I’d want to focus on people like them.”

Wei Qingyue tilted his head and looked in the direction she pointed: “I remember you told me about a documentary once. I watched it — it was far from my world, but…”

“It moved you deeply, didn’t it?” Jiang Du turned, and their eyes met unexpectedly for a moment. She couldn’t look away in time and stared at him, transfixed, for a few seconds.

“Actually not that deeply moved — I just thought: oh, very bleak, but they’re still alive. Everyone has their own hardships,” Wei Qingyue shrugged. “I knew that already, so I didn’t cry as easily as you women do.”

Jiang Du lowered her eyelids and said softly: “I hoped that people who watched the documentary might find some strength in it. Not that they have to be moved to tears.”

“Shall I watch it again?” Wei Qingyue was still watching her with a sideways grin. He cleared his throat lightly, tapped her shoulder to signal her to stand, and said: “Just finished eating — shall we take a walk together?”

The two of them stepped outside. Wei Qingyue picked up where they had left off, pursuing the matter: “What do you mean you’re not keen on interviewing someone like me — what kind of person am I?”

Jiang Du hesitated, then answered honestly: “The very unfamiliar kind.”

“Unfamiliar in what way?”

“Very clever, very confident, ahead of the times, full of cutting-edge technology and new techniques, the kind of person who can speak fluently on any subject and always moves upward. Huang Yingshi has interviewed many accomplished individuals — most of them not that young, though of course there are younger ones, like you. She also did a piece on a well-known livestreaming host. To be honest, I don’t really understand what these people are so excited about, what they’re all caught up in. I can’t grasp them.” Jiang Du spoke always in that slow, gentle way, and her expression finally allowed Wei Qingyue to pinpoint clearly where the subtle sense of detachment came from — faint, and yet not cold.

“When it comes down to it, I’m very ordinary, and I don’t like making a fuss over things. But I’m still curious about the world — that’s why I ended up in this field, where I get to meet all kinds of people.” Noticing that those eyes of Wei Qingyue’s had not left her face, Jiang Du unconsciously touched her cheek. “Would you like to say something about yourself?”

“Like what?” Wei Qingyue asked, knowing full well.

Jiang Du was thrown off balance and immediately tried to recover: “Nothing — I just said it without thinking.” She was the same as ever — not the slightest pushiness when the other person was unwilling to talk.

Wei Qingyue continued anyway: “My story, if told from the beginning, would be quite long — starting from when I left in 2007, all the way to now. Nothing quite as grand as an epic, of course. Sometimes lucky, sometimes wretched.”

He asked whether she minded him smoking. Jiang Du considered it and said, go ahead, just one.

Wei Qingyue lit the cigarette. The wind carried the smoke away, dispersing it. It tousled his hair too, and for an instant, as it fell over his brows and eyes, she could see the boy he once was. But he had filled out into the physique of a man — no longer slight, his shoulders grown solid and broad.

He began to speak — of his studies, of his work, of returning to China and starting a company with his senior classmate. The sustained, high capital investment eventually led to their startup being acquired by Lingdong Technology. He had then come to Lingdong, taking charge of planning, research, and operations management in the autonomous driving division.

Jiang Du listened, thoroughly absorbed. Wei Qingyue finished his cigarette, and the last of the ember drifted on the wind and fell into her hair. He apologized sincerely and carefully brushed her hair clean, and close by her ear came the low, warm sound of his laugh.

The two of them were standing very near each other. Jiang Du stood still and let him tend to her hair. Wei Qingyue said suddenly: “I’ve been wanting to touch your hair for a long time. I always thought it should be very soft — and sure enough, it is.”

Jiang Du looked at him in surprise. Wei Qingyue said: “Don’t look at me like that. What I mean is — I’ve had my eye on you for a long time.”

Jiang Du went red, and fumbled to change the subject: “How did it happen that your startup company collapsed?”

Wei Qingyue was still absorbed in touching her hair, and replied with an absent air: “Too early stage — couldn’t hold on until it reached profitability. It was 2015, I’d just come back to China. My senior classmate thought autonomous driving had great prospects and left his company to start his own. I was interested too, so we took the plunge together. Later, we ran into financing difficulties, the funding chain broke, and the only option was to sell ourselves to Lingdong.”

At the phrase “sell ourselves,” something glimmered in Jiang Du’s eyes. Wei Qingyue slowly let her hair fall, and said simply: “I could sell myself to you too.”

His eyes were so bright, reflected against the early autumn night sky.

Jiang Du’s breath caught and collapsed all at once, every ounce of strength drawn out of her in one pull — but her heart pounded with an extraordinary force, thud, thud, thud. Perhaps she should rename herself after that sound — her heart doing nothing but pounding away all day and all night. How was she supposed to respond to that? She had been intending to bring up a few work-related topics with him — she had thought of many things to talk about in the time before he came looking for her. Jiang Du’s mind was a tangle of chaos…

“Some time soon — shall I formally sell myself to you?” Wei Qingyue concealed nothing of his desire for her. Even more plainly, he said it outright, cutting through her spiraling thoughts.