But did he need to voice the apology from six years ago? This was a decision that Qian Hongming couldn’t make even with all his deep breathing. He thought it over and over, harboring the wishful thinking that his initiative to come to Shanghai to pick up Liu Jun should be enough to show his attitude. Given their past deep friendship, Liu Jun should understand his meaning.

But although Qian Hongming thought this way, his heart remained unsettled, struggling all the way. At the highway entrance, he carefully got out to check the car’s condition. Just as he sat back in the driver’s seat, he heard Liu Jun beside him ask: “Hongming, say what you just said again—I didn’t hear clearly.” Qian Hongming was completely puzzled. Seeing Liu Jun’s sleepy appearance, he understood and smiled: “You were sleeping the whole time, didn’t say anything, no sleep talking either. Did you dream about me? Was I still the same old me in your dream?”

Liu Jun blinked his eyes in confusion, thought for a long time, then gave an embarrassed smile: “I was dreaming that I apologized to you, but I just couldn’t hear what you answered me. I got anxious. This apology has been buried in my heart for three years—I can’t not say it.” As Liu Jun spoke, he sat up straight and put on a serious expression: “Hongming, forgive me for only realizing several years later that the incident had nothing to do with you. You were innocent. I shouldn’t have fought with you over it. I apologize to you.”

Qian Hongming hadn’t expected that it would be Liu Jun, the greatest victim, who would apologize first. He was stunned and only came to his senses after a long while: “You did nothing wrong, you don’t need to apologize. It’s me who shouldn’t have…” Liu Jun made a gesture to interrupt Qian Hongming from continuing. Qian Hongming also found it difficult to speak about past events, so he naturally changed the subject: “So can you stop your six years of self-imposed exile and return to China?”

“I wasn’t in exile—look, I’ve been living quite well. You’re still so thoughtful, Hongming. Can we still be good friends?”

Qian Hongming hadn’t expected this knot to be untied so easily. He couldn’t help but beam with joy: “Of course we can—how could we not be? When I knew you were coming back, I had nothing else in my heart but happiness.”

Four hands clasped tightly together.

Liu Jun no longer slept. The two talked all the way, competing to share their current lives, as if there hadn’t been those six years of separation between them. It wasn’t until they reached the building where Liu Jun’s father was hospitalized that Qian Hongming involuntarily put away his high spirits: “Liu Jun, I won’t go up with you.”

Liu Jun understood, said goodbye, and went upstairs alone with his bag. Not to mention that Qian Hongming didn’t want to see his father—he had left home with deep contempt and hatred back then. If not for his father’s stroke and hospitalization, he wouldn’t have come back no matter what. But blood relations are so magical—when he received his aunt’s call, he was more anxious than anyone. He was eating chicken wings at the time and wished he could stick those wings on his back and fly home. Now, unable to wait for the elevator, he raced up to the seventh floor of the inpatient department and appeared breathlessly at the hospital room door. Seeing his father sitting propped up in bed and his aunt bustling about with something, Liu Jun felt inexplicably relieved: no one else was there.

Liu Jun embraced his aunt, who rushed toward him. He turned to look—his father didn’t seem to have aged, had gained quite a bit of weight, his face was even smoother than in memory, and he didn’t look particularly ill. If not for sitting in a hospital bed, he would be almost no different from an ordinary person. So when faced with his father’s characteristically loud greeting and his father’s eagerly extended hand, Liu Jun hesitated. Seeing this, his aunt quietly withdrew and closed the door for the father and son.

Father Liu Shitang withdrew his hand as if nothing had happened, still beaming with joy: “Ah Jun, Dad didn’t even know when you were coming, didn’t send a car to pick you up, making your journey so hard. You didn’t need to come—look, Dad is perfectly fine. The doctor even wants me to try walking tomorrow. Come, have some Coke. Even your aunt still remembers that you love Pepsi Cola. Help yourself. There are also persimmon cakes, bean pastry, mung bean cake…”

Liu Jun’s heart was turbulent, but he couldn’t resist his father’s overwhelming concern, especially his father’s nonchalant attitude that made it impossible for him to remain unresponsive. He simply moved a stool to sit by his father’s bedside, grabbed a bottle of Coke, opened it, took two big gulps, and said: “Hongming came to pick me up—he’s still so thoughtful. After hearing his introduction to the condition, I finally felt at ease.”

Liu Shitang was busy looking over his healthy, robust, precious son, saying carelessly, “Qian Hongying knows how to behave properly.”

Liu Jun gauged his father’s physical tolerance before saying, “Dad, money isn’t everything. Can’t you learn to respect others and truly care for others?”

“That matter is over. I supported the Qian family—Qian Hongming shouldn’t be picking you up today and then complaining. Ah Jun, Dad only wronged you and your mother.”

“Hongming didn’t complain—he’s not that kind of person.”

“I know exactly what kind of person Hongming is. He’s been more cunning than you since childhood. Otherwise, he wouldn’t have called you brother while taking money from me to go to school. I don’t owe the Qian family anything—Qian Hongying knows this better than anyone.”

“Dad, but life isn’t just about transactions. Some things require giving up interests to handle properly.”

“Nonsense. Without interests paving the way, you can’t get anywhere. In this world, I only don’t talk about interests with you—everything I have is yours, and I won’t ask you for what’s yours.”

“What about Mom? You were the main culprit who drove Mom crazy and to her death. Qian Hongying was only twenty then—you should bear the main responsibility. What interests can you use to exchange for Mom’s life? You didn’t respect Mom before, and now you don’t respect Qian Hongying.”

Liu Shitang had countless reasons, but seeing his agitated son, he unhesitatingly swallowed all his reasons back: “I wronged you and your mother the most. I often think of your mother, especially when I was sick this time—if your mother were here…” He moved his body, which had been eagerly facing his son, back against the pillow and sighed deeply: “Ah Jun, do you think Dad has aged?”

Seeing his father suddenly become weak, Liu Jun immediately lost all his fighting spirit and leaned forward, concernedly to grab his father’s hand, checking his pulse: “Dad hasn’t aged, and the minor stroke didn’t defeat Dad either.”

Liu Shitang was delighted but didn’t dare to act rashly anymore, choosing his words carefully: “I have aged—you just can’t see it. Now Dad especially likes to recall the past, thinking of the dormitory bungalow we used to live in, of taking you swimming in summer, of your mother squatting by the river washing clothes and watching me to make sure I didn’t bully you, of how you learned everything faster than others—even swimming, you never choked on water without me teaching you, just got in the water naturally. I often can’t sleep at night thinking about it, and when I do sleep, I still dream about you two. Ah Jun, did you ever think of Dad when you were in Germany?”

Liu Jun lowered his head. He had hated his father in Germany—how could he think of him? But he didn’t want to lie.

Liu Shitang didn’t mind. His son had come back as soon as he fell ill—he was satisfied enough: “Dad’s physical strength is also much worse than before. Since last year, business has been bad—export orders keep dropping. Every day, I worry about not being able to pay wages today, not being able to collect receivables tomorrow, not having rice to eat the day after. I’m already at the limit of exhaustion. Then the tax specialist came to find me again, saying that if I don’t have a profit this month, they’ll revoke my general taxpayer qualification. No matter how much I sweet-talked, it was useless—your dad could only roll his eyes white and end up in the hospital. These old bones can’t take a beating anymore. But how can the factory become a small-scale taxpayer? That would be asking me to die. The accountant has already prepared the annual report over the past few days. Even lying in this hospital bed, I’m not at ease—I don’t dare let the accountant submit the annual report. Once it’s submitted and evaluated, I’ll become a small-scale taxpayer. So worrying…”

Liu Jun listened in bewilderment, basically understanding that his father had collapsed from anxiety and anger, but he didn’t understand at all what this business about large-scale and small-scale taxpayers meant: “If we can’t meet the requirements, then just convert to small-scale taxpayer status. We’ll work hard in the future and strive to become that large-scale one again.”

“You don’t understand—becoming a small-scale taxpayer is equivalent to death. The prices in our industry are transparent now. Generally, all products’ factory prices are calculated as raw material cost plus thirteen percent. Small-scale taxpayers, regardless of your costs or gross profit, pay—I think it’s about three-point-something percent of each transaction. After this cut, what’s left after I subtract processing costs, wages, and miscellaneous expenses means I only lose money without earning any. What factory would I run then?”

Only then did Liu Jun begin to understand: “The factory’s profit margin is that thin?” He could hardly believe his ears. This was the first time he’d heard that finished products were priced according to raw materials, ignoring the different processing procedures that various manufacturing should entail—it was simply inconceivable. He asked incredulously: “If I understand correctly, that means screws and nuts, regardless of the manufacturing process, as long as the material is the same and the amount of material used is the same, they leave the factory at the same price?”

“Exactly. If you’re making screws and nuts, there’s even less way to survive—those things are now sold by the pound.”

Liu Jun, who had always been exposed to cutting-edge electromechanical research and development, was dumbfounded. After a long while, he carefully said, “Dad, my income is quite good now. If the factory is in such difficulty, why not let it go bankrupt and you come with me to Germany…”

But before Liu Jun could finish speaking, he saw his father’s face change dramatically, his eyes rolling white again. He panicked and rushed out to call the doctor.