Shang Zhitao departed early the next morning. It was only as she was leaving that she realized she fundamentally disliked farewells. She hated embracing or crying in crowded places—how much better to simply leave, light and free.

Sun Yu asked her why she chose to take a remote assignment just as her relationship was beginning, saying it wasn’t good for their relationship.

Shang Zhitao told Sun Yu: “Love isn’t everything.”

Practical concerns troubled her: age, career, and establishing roots in the city. She didn’t want to still be drifting at thirty. Though she longed for love, she also struggled with reality.

“You can rely on him. If you truly love each other, these problems will resolve themselves,” Sun Yu told her.

Shang Zhitao looked at her: “You know what? I’ve never felt for a day that we truly loved each other. Even though we’re together now in the name of a relationship. But it’s not real.”

Shang Zhitao didn’t want to depend on Luan Nian. She knew unequal love would spawn countless problems, with one side always appearing to be giving charity. In her imagination, perhaps one day she could love Luan Nian as an equal—when she became truly excellent, when she became an expert, bought her own small house, and wasn’t completely dependent on him. She knew these were all her obsessions and delusions; she was simply seeking psychological equality.

As long as I don’t rely on him, as long as I support myself, every delicious bite I eat, every beautiful thing I wear, every wonderful trip I take comes from my efforts. Then I remain myself.

As the plane took off, she looked down at the city. Her heart was thinking of Luan Nian, but she had become a pessimist in love. One night she dreamed that Luan Nian got married. The girl standing beside him was dazzlingly beautiful—it wasn’t her. The disappointment from the dream lingered in her body long after waking.

Upon landing, she received Sun Yuanzhu’s call: “I’m waiting for you at the exit.”

“Great!”

Shang Zhitao hung up and saw a message from Luan Nian: “Have you arrived?”

“Yes.”

“Take care.”

Sun Yuanzhu had grown even thinner. Shang Zhitao felt she had never seen anyone so thin; even his face had developed lines sharp as a knife blade. He looked as if he had traveled a long road, endured fierce winds for a long time, and crossed many uninhabited wilds. Yet his gaze remained gentle.

“Have you forgotten what I look like after not seeing me for so long?” Sun Yuanzhu asked her with a smile.

She nodded then shook her head, handing him her luggage while secretly observing his expression.

“Did I frighten you?” Sun Yuanzhu asked again.

“No.”

They walked out together. Sun Yuanzhu’s company had provided him with an SUV, the type that could carry many things. After stowing Shang Zhitao’s luggage, he asked: “Would you like to have a bowl of noodles first?”

“Of course. I didn’t eat on the plane, just looking forward to these noodles. When I came to rent an apartment last time, I ate them for three whole days. But strangely, I didn’t get tired of them.” Shang Zhitao talked about her endless love for noodles while fastening her seatbelt.

Sun Yuanzhu listened with a smile, telling her: “The county isn’t large, but good noodle shops are everywhere. Today I’ll take you to the place I often eat at. The side dishes are also delicious, and they have the fermented rice milk you love.”

“Wonderful!”

“The journey from the airport to your place is quite long.” Sun Yuanzhu pointed out: “Fortunately, it’s spacious here, with few people and vehicles, so the drive won’t take too long.”

“How about some music?”

“I think that would be good.”

They played music and set off. Shang Zhitao looked at the scenery along the highway, deeply impressed by nature’s masterful craftsmanship. She pointed to a distant ridge and said to Sun Yuanzhu: “Sun Yuanzhu, I see a dragon’s spine.” She began to imagine things about this place.

“I suddenly feel that our company’s expert team’s tourism planning for this area isn’t exciting enough.”

“Why?”

“It seems to lack depth. Chinese people love dragons and mythologize them because dragons symbolize a certain spirit. Our creativity should align with this spirit, shifting our gaze from mountains and rivers to the generations that have taken root here for thousands of years. Landscapes have their sculpture, culture has its inheritance—that’s the right approach.” Shang Zhitao became somewhat excited: “Yes, I know what’s missing!”

Sun Yuanzhu listened to her attentively, pondering deeply before speaking: “I agree with what you’ve said. Student Shang Zhitao is truly impressive. This afternoon, I can take you to see more; we pass many small villages during our tests.”

“Let’s go after the noodles!”

“Don’t you need to wait for your home appliances to be delivered?”

“Oh right, we’ll go after they arrive.”

Sun Yuanzhu took Shang Zhitao to a very dilapidated noodle shop. As soon as they entered, they smelled the aroma of chili oil. Shang Zhitao’s taste buds awakened. She ordered a large bowl of thin noodles, while Sun Yuanzhu ordered a small portion of chive noodles, along with cold appetizers and lamb skewers.

“Listen,” Sun Yuanzhu tilted his head, indicating Shang Zhitao should listen to the rhythmic slapping sound of noodles being thrown against the board: “I love this sound. It has a special rhythm. The other day, Long Zhentian called me, saying he missed Chinese food. I sent him vacuum-sealed roasted meat.”

Shang Zhitao giggled: “I suspect Long Zhentian is deliberately playing pitiful. He called me the other day saying the same thing, so I sent him Nanjing salted duck, Beijing roast duck, Shandong pancakes, and Lao Gan Ma chili sauce.”

“Whether they clear customs depends on his luck.” They looked at each other and smiled.

Shang Zhitao noticed that Sun Yuanzhu ate very, very little. He stopped after just three bites of his small bowl of noodles. Seeing Shang Zhitao watching him, he explained: “I’ve already eaten.”

“Oh. But we’ve been together for almost three hours now, and it’s still not digested?” Shang Zhitao didn’t understand.

“Not yet. I ate too much this morning.”

“These noodles are even better than the place I ate before. I’ll have to come here often. Thank you for treating me, Sun Yuanzhu.” Shang Zhitao told him.

“If you like it, I’ll often invite you.”

“Then I won’t be polite about it.”

Sun Yuanzhu gave Shang Zhitao a sense of stability. He was like an indispensable relative or old friend, always helping her when she was in difficulty. Shang Zhitao even felt she probably wouldn’t meet someone like him again in her lifetime.

The company provided housing rental and living allowances for stationed employees, with good benefits. Shang Zhitao rented a relatively nice house and bought matching appliances. She felt that since she would be staying for fourteen months, these fourteen months should be lived properly, not just surviving but thriving.

Shang Zhitao gradually understood the meaning of life.

Life isn’t lived for others to see, but for oneself.

She told Luan Nian about her realization, and Luan Nian asked her: “So are you happy?”

“I am.”

“I’m not. Your stupid dog bit my shoe yesterday.”

“Could it be that you didn’t put your shoes away properly when you went out?”

“? Is that human speech?”

Shang Zhitao felt a bit guilty. She had never disciplined Luke about chewing things; the three people at home would always put things away properly when they left.

“Has it chewed anything else?”

“Does the sofa count?”

“The one in your living room?” Shang Zhitao sat up in shock.

“What else?”

“Oh my god.”

Luan Nian’s living room had a Tivan sofa. He was fastidious and had bought exorbitantly priced furniture during renovation. When Shang Zhitao heard that Luke had damaged the sofa, she felt inexplicably distressed: “Why don’t you buy a muzzle for it? That way it can’t chew things.”

“Why don’t you wear a muzzle?” Luan Nian retorted, putting away his phone. How amusing—she suggested putting a muzzle on Luke. He glanced at Luke and said to him: “Now you know who cares about you? Your master wants to put a muzzle on you.”

He had just finished walking Luke and was making breakfast for it—frying two eggs, along with salmon he bought from the supermarket, personally made into salmon floss, plus a quarter of an apple and half a bowl of dog food. The combination was different almost every day, and Luke loved it. Because he had to make breakfast for Luke and walk it, he had to get up at least half an hour earlier each day.

The bond between Luke and Luke was cultivated through these daily meals. Luke especially obeyed Luke, and Luke understood every expression of Luke’s.

Sometimes Luke would pinch Luke’s ears and talk to it: “Your master doesn’t have a heart, does she?”

Luke would tilt its head, and after a while would react with a bark.

“Can’t talk about her?” Luan Nian tapped its head.

Just like today, pinching Luke’s doggy face to criticize it and its master. Luke, having just eaten Luan Nian’s food, felt obliged and didn’t talk back, just listening to his nagging.

Shang Zhitao sneezed while waiting for her luggage and said to Luan Nian: “It seems like you’re cursing me.”

“?”

“I sneezed.”

“Maybe Luke is cursing you in its mind.”

Shang Zhitao wiped her nose and smiled. After spending time together, she detected Luan Nian’s childishness—his strong ability to feign innocence, telling outright lies.

“Oh. Have you sneezed?”

“?”

“Because I was thinking of you.”

“Noted.”

“That’s it?”

“That’s it.”

Shang Zhitao felt it was too difficult to hear a nice word from Luan Nian’s mouth, so she coaxed him: “You say it too.”

“Say what?”

“Say you miss me.”

Luan Nian sent a half-dead expression.

He didn’t like saying sweet words—what was there to say? It sounded mushy. Just go see her if you miss someone, what use are words? So he picked up his phone to check his schedule and saw that in three weeks he had two and a half days free when he could visit her. He could even stay longer and attend the project launch meeting.

He told his secretary, “Help me clear these days I’m sending you. Don’t arrange any work.”

“Okay.”

Luan Nian finished preparing and went out. Seeing Luke looking anxious, pacing back and forth on the floor, he asked it: “Do you think I’m also going on a long journey?”

“Woof! Yes!”

“I’ll come back early.” Luan Nian felt he truly had more patience with Luke than with anyone else. He rambled on like a neurotic to a dog: “Your master went to work, she didn’t abandon you; I’m just going out for ten hours. You don’t need to be so sensitive. After all, you’re just a dog—eat and sleep, sleep and eat, isn’t that good enough? Why worry about where your thoughtless master is!”

After consoling it for a long time, Luke finally lay down, looking quite pitiful. Luan Nian thought for a moment and casually ordered a camera. Technology had advanced in those years, with home cameras becoming widely used. Installing one meant they could see and hear each other from different locations. Luan Nian installed two in the living room that same evening, providing 360-degree coverage with no blind spots.

Then he sent the account and password to Shang Zhitao.

“What’s this?”

“Go look at your dog.”

“Oh.”

Shang Zhitao did log in and saw Luan Nian lying on the sofa flipping through a magazine, with Luke playing beside him. That sofa… had been chewed beyond recognition by Luke.

“Luke,” she called.

Luke sat up, looking left and right but not seeing Shang Zhitao.

“Luke,” she called again, “Why did you chew the sofa? Couldn’t you chew something cheaper?”

Luke, certain it hadn’t misheard, searched the room three times without finding Shang Zhitao, and suddenly became very angry and barked at Luan Nian. Luan Nian said to the camera: “Are you crazy? Why are you teasing it?”

Shang Zhitao giggled: “I’m sorry, Luke. I’ll be quiet.”

Luan Nian turned over on the sofa, showing his entire face to Shang Zhitao, his posture relaxed, hands behind his head as he asked her: “All settled in?” Such a handsome person paired with that broken sofa created a strange beauty.

“Still need tomorrow to finish unpacking.”

“Someone helping you unpack?”

“Yes.” There were colleagues from the local branch office who would come tomorrow to help Shang Zhitao warm the house and install appliances, three or four men and women. Seeing Luan Nian not speaking, she said: “Linda organized people to help me. They’ll help warm the house. It’s a local custom, making it lively so ghosts don’t haunt at night.”

“…” No hauntings—what made her think of saying that? He asked again: “Did they assign you a car?”

“They arranged a car I can drive daily. But I don’t need it; the county isn’t big. Taking a taxi works fine—the base fare is three yuan, and going around the entire county costs fifteen yuan. I can also walk. It’s only a bit far from the site.”

“Mm.”

This way of chatting felt a bit strange; Shang Zhitao could see Luan Nian, but Luan Nian couldn’t see her. Installing cameras at home and giving her access meant he had surrendered half his privacy.

“Do you feel like I’m invading your privacy?”

“What do I have that you can’t see?”

“Like bringing women home?”

“I might bring a female companion for Luke.” Luan Nian stood up: “If you miss it, you can turn on the camera anytime during the day. It seems to think you’ve abandoned it, so it’s a bit anxious.”

Shang Zhitao suddenly felt a bit sad and said to Luke: “Luke, that’s not true! I’m earning money, lots of money, to buy you meat.”

“Without you, Luke could eat more meat,” Luan Nian pointed out the fact.

Shang Zhitao didn’t speak. After a while, Luan Nian’s phone rang. He had returned to the bedroom and was resting on the bed. Answering Shang Zhitao’s video call, he saw a huge face filling the screen and was startled: “Fuck!”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I didn’t expect you to answer so quickly.”

They hadn’t video-called before and both felt a bit awkward. Luan Nian adapted faster than Shang Zhitao and said to her: “Show me your new home.”

“Wait a moment.” Shang Zhitao adjusted the camera and gave Luan Nian a remote tour of her northwestern residence. It was a one-bedroom apartment, purchased by the owner as a marital home, so the decoration was fairly clean. Shang Zhitao didn’t have many possessions; the room was quite empty, with just a few stuffed toys sitting forlornly, adding a touch of human presence.

“Is it okay?” She turned the camera back to herself and asked Luan Nian.

“It’s fine.” Luan Nian placed his phone on the bedside table, lying on his side, and asked her: “Where will I stay?”

“What?”

“Where will I stay when I visit?”

“Do you even have time to come? If you come, you can sleep with me.”

“I’m particular about beds.” The implication being he wouldn’t sleep well if uncomfortable.

“…” Shang Zhitao was momentarily speechless, forgetting that the man on the other end was extremely picky and difficult.

“So give me your address and bed dimensions now. I’ll choose the bedding myself.”

“…If you buy something too expensive, I can’t take it when I leave, and it would be a waste to discard. If you come, can you just make do?”

“No.”

Shang Zhitao knew Luan Nian—whatever he said, that’s how it had to be. Unable to persuade him, she simply agreed. She picked up her phone to send him the address and bed dimensions. The video call was still connected, with the phone pointing at her nostrils and double chin. Luan Nian cursed and turned away, not wanting to see that ugly face. When he turned back, he saw Shang Zhitao wearing a gossamer-thin camisole, her body faintly visible.

The atmosphere suddenly turned ambiguous. Luan Nian felt his blood rushing downward, concentrating in one place, even making an audible sound when he swallowed. He asked her: “Late-night treat?”

Shang Zhitao was blushing, but she had done her homework—long-distance couples often did this. Gently biting her lower lip, she asked him: “Satisfied?”

“You must have some problem.” Luan Nian hung up the video call and sent her a message: “Just you wait!”

Throwing his phone aside, when he closed his eyes, all he could see was Shang Zhitao’s full breasts and red lips from the video. Luan Nian didn’t like using his hand; he preferred having someone physically present, real, in his arms, someone he could caress however he wanted. But damn it, Shang Zhitao chose to go to the Northwest. Luan Nian couldn’t distinguish whether he was angry or resentful, and it took a long time to find release.

He checked his schedule again, feeling he couldn’t wait three weeks. He needed to see her soon and teach her a proper lesson along the way.

For Luan Nian, nights were difficult, days somewhat better.

During the day, he was busy and didn’t overthink things.

During the marketing department’s weekly meeting, seeing Lu Mi reminded him of Shang Zhitao, who mixed with her daily.

After Will arrived, the marketing department’s atmosphere changed dramatically. Previously, though the entire department worked, it looked like a retirement home, with employees drifting about each day. After Will’s arrival, they all seemed to have gone through military training, with changed sitting and standing postures. Except for Lu Mi.

Luan Nian felt Lu Mi would always be this way—a second-generation demolition magnate’s daughter with no worries about food or clothing, researching daily how to amuse herself.

During the meeting, Will was especially strict with Lu Mi, even scolding her. And Lu Mi? She just chuckled, and it seemed to pass.

Luan Nian still remembered when Shang Zhitao encountered the fraudulent agency, how Lu Mi and her boyfriend, who looked like street thugs, arrived with clubs ready to smash the store. Now Will was criticizing her, and she wasn’t angry?

Of course, Lu Mi wasn’t angry—this was the man she thought about sleeping with every day. Let him scold; it wouldn’t harm her.

She looked at Luan Nian, then at Song Ying sitting beside him, and felt something was wrong. She sent a message to Shang Zhitao: “Let me tell you, why is Yilia like the stubborn mule’s tail? Wherever the stubborn mule goes, she goes, practically following him to urinate.”

Shang Zhitao replied with a string of ellipses, then asked: “Has Lu Mi slept with Will today?”

“No? Then why not try harder?”