Another day passed, and Grace, who rarely gossiped, said to her: “I have some gossip.”

“What is it, Sister Grace?”

“Be careful what you say in front of Yilia and Luke from now on. A colleague accidentally ran into them having dinner together last night.” After finishing, Grace sent a photo. Probably out of kindness, warning Shang Zhitao to be cautious.

It was in a Western restaurant, Luan Nian and Song Ying sitting across from each other. The restaurant had a romantic atmosphere, and Song Ying wore a beautiful formal dress. They were discussing something, Luan Nian looking at her attentively, while she was smiling.

The workplace is strange like that—what might just be colleagues having a casual meal quickly ferments into rumors, and suddenly a “boss’s wife” is born.

Having experienced these past few years, Shang Zhitao gradually learned to see through workplace truths and falsehoods. She trusted Luan Nian. He just enjoyed working with Song Ying.

Shang Zhitao immersed herself in her career and enjoyed life in the Northwest. On ordinary days, she would work and study with extreme dedication. Very occasionally, Sun Yuanzhu would steal time from his busy schedule to take her out.

There were many fun places around the county.

Sun Yuanzhu drove her to see the magnificent Northwest, circling the county in 200-kilometer round trips in a single day. It was all the great mountains and rivers of their motherland.

Shang Zhitao didn’t regret coming to the Northwest at all. It was harsh here, but she knew how to find joy amid hardship. She felt that work needed to go through this stage—escaping the storm to feel the true charm of the job.

Passing by Lingmei’s project, Shang Zhitao pointed it out to Sun Yuanzhu: “See that? That’s our project. We’ll develop a brand new cultural tourism industrial belt here, combining Northwest cultural scenery with online technology applications. If this project succeeds, it can be replicated.” She then patted her chest: “I, Ms. Shang Zhitao, am the project manager.”

Sun Yuanzhu was amused by her: “That impressive?”

“Yes!”

“Then I wish your project complete success.”

“And I wish your autonomous vehicles hit the road soon.”

The Northwest was vast. Sun Yuanzhu opened the car window, and they felt like they were in an uninhabited wilderness. The wind blew Shang Zhitao’s long hair, making her feel free.

“Are you going back to Beijing anytime soon?” Shang Zhitao asked him.

“The second phase of the project ends early next year, so around April I can go back.”

“That’s great.”

“You mentioned changing jobs last time?” Sun Yuanzhu remembered Shang Zhitao talking about changing jobs last year, but now there was no movement, and she had come to the Northwest.

“My former boss wanted to poach me to his new company. I wanted to go, but… he… got arrested.” Shang Zhitao thought that marketing work carried high risks. She had known this before and, despite being cautious, had still been investigated by internal audit once.

“Why?”

“They said he was involved in massive bribery. I don’t know the exact amount, but he’s in prison now. I visited him once, after all, he was my former boss who recognized my talents.” Shang Zhitao spoke about Alex with some emotion, recalling the first time she met him in the office, which seemed like yesterday.

“I see…” Sun Yuanzhu nodded: “Not changing jobs might not be a bad thing.”

“True.”

Both fell silent, with only the sound of the wind. Sun Yuanzhu was very focused while driving. Shang Zhitao looked at his profile, damaged by wind, sand, and harsh sun, thinking how patient he was to stay in such a place for several years. The wind and sand had changed him—his once delicate face now had the rugged features of the Northwest.

“Is your mother feeling better?” Shang Zhitao remembered overhearing Sun Yuanzhu’s phone call, but he rarely mentioned his family, so she didn’t know how the illness had progressed.

“My mother… passed away.” Sun Yuanzhu told her, his tone flat, as if describing something ordinary.

“When?”

“During the New Year.”

Shang Zhitao was silent for a long time before softly asking: “Why didn’t you tell us?”

“That’s when you all reunite with your families every year. I didn’t want to make you sad.”

Shang Zhitao didn’t speak. She remembered messaging him during New Year’s, and he had replied. Suddenly she felt sad. When would Sun Yuanzhu be able to pour out his emotions like others?

“Sun Yuanzhu.”

“Hmm?”

“What about your sister?”

“She’s doing well in school.”

“And your uncle?”

“My father is fine too.”

“What about you?” What Shang Zhitao wanted to know was if Sun Yuanzhu was okay.

“I’m fine too.”

No one could define what “fine” meant when Sun Yuanzhu said it. They wandered outside all day, had dinner, then Sun Yuanzhu drove Shang Zhitao home. At her building, just as they were saying goodbye, he suddenly called out: “Taotao.”

That “Taotao” again. That day when he had a high fever, in his confused state, he had called her the same way: Taotao.

Shang Zhitao turned to look at him and saw rare grief in his clear eyes: “I’m not fine. I’m very sad.”

Shang Zhitao didn’t dare speak. She didn’t know how to comfort him—he had lost his mother, and he was extremely sad.

She stood facing him, motionless. Sun Yuanzhu’s tears fell as he removed his glasses to wipe them, a helpless man crying in pain. Like being on a lonely island, he couldn’t get out, and others couldn’t get in.

He bent down and rested his head on her shoulder, tears soaking into her clothes. Even in such unbearable pain, he didn’t reach out to embrace her because he remembered his manners and their pure friendship that couldn’t be tainted.

Shang Zhitao’s heart ached terribly.

She stood there letting him cry, her hand gently patting his back: “Sun Yuanzhu, it’s okay.”

How could it be okay? She didn’t know how to comfort him and hated herself for being tongue-tied, for not understanding anything. She didn’t know that her standing there was already a comfort to him.

For Sun Yuanzhu, this was already a rare light. Shang Zhitao and Sun Yu were both his light.

Sun Yuanzhu feared the night. The night was long; he lay with open eyes. He had tried medication and dietary therapy, but nothing worked. His brain wouldn’t stop spinning—the universe, quantum physics, architecture, poetry, civilization—everything he had read, places he had been, things he had eaten were rearranging in his brain in strange ways, as if trying to break him down and rebuild a new system. After barely enduring the night, daylight came, and it was time to eat again. He loathed food, forcing himself to eat at first, but then vomited afterward. He lost his creativity. Before, technology was art in his eyes; he wanted to change the world, but now technology had lost its vitality to him.

These enormous pains gnawed at him, consuming him completely.

“Taotao.”

“Sun Yuanzhu.” Shang Zhitao finally couldn’t help crying. This was her friend, who had accompanied her through a long journey, and now this friend needed her help. But she was so ignorant, not knowing how to help him. She could only let him cry in front of her.

Shang Zhitao was extremely upset. They didn’t see a car parked not far away, where someone was smoking one cigarette after another, waiting for the crying mess of a man and woman to recover.

Luan Nian found the scene before him somewhat ridiculous. He had taken an afternoon flight to see her, rented a car after landing, and driven for an hour and a half to reach her building. Yet he saw her roommate crying on her shoulder. He certainly knew Shang Zhitao wouldn’t cheat, but he saw her spirit wavering. Why she had to come to the Northwest suddenly had a clear answer. Waiting was long and boring; Luan Nian didn’t understand where all these emotions between men and women came from.

He used to think Shang Zhitao was unwilling to cry, thought she was very strong. He couldn’t even remember when she had cried in front of him. The first time he saw Shang Zhitao crying like this, it wasn’t in front of him.

After what seemed like a long time, as if even the Northwest night wind had stopped, they finally calmed down. Luan Nian saw the thin Sun Yuanzhu leave Shang Zhitao. They stood facing each other for a while, then he left.

That night changed many people.

Luan Nian had told Shang Zhitao, let’s start an adventure, and they went on an adventure. As he drove toward the airport, the dim lights of the highway illuminated only his car speeding away.

Shang Zhitao returned home and called Sun Yu. On the phone, she said: “Sun Yuanzhu’s mother passed away. He’s very sad.”

Sun Yu was silent for a long time before saying: “I’ll be there tomorrow.”

“I’ll give you the address.”

“No need.” Sun Yu told her: “I’ve been there many times. In this life, only for him will I brave wind and rain, travel thousands of miles, time and again.”

Neither Sun Yuanzhu nor Sun Yu had mentioned this to Shang Zhitao. There was a strange distance between them; Sun Yu could never be truly close to Sun Yuanzhu, yet they were each other’s closest people. Despite this closeness, whenever Sun Yu came, Sun Yuanzhu would book a hotel for her. They would never date; only one night, Sun Yu had pulled his sleeve, asking him to stay and talk with her a bit longer.

That night, they lay clothed on the bed. Sun Yu held his hand and talked about her childhood, her failed relationships, and her investors. Sun Yuanzhu listened as she cried, and he wiped her tears.

She had asked him once: “Can we have a bright future? Can I wait until I love you, you love me, and we walk through many years together—that kind of future?”

Sun Yuanzhu told her: “I’m sorry.”

They would never have a future.

“Then come quickly.” Shang Zhitao cried to Sun Yu. For some reason, she was especially sad that day, not just for Sun Yuanzhu, but also for something unknown, something hidden deep in her heart that suddenly burst out, leaving her with nowhere to release it.

“Okay.”

None of them knew where fate was pushing them—east or west—there was never any warning.

The next day, when Sun Yu arrived, Shang Zhitao asked her, “How many times have you come?”

“This is the twentieth time.”

A woman, for the man she loved, traveled thousands of miles to this place, asking nothing in return, just to have a meal with him, chat for a while, and catch an early flight the next day. This woman’s career had improved, with large sums invested in their company, increasing user numbers, and growing annual profit-sharing. In just a few years, fate had pushed her toward the pinnacle.

And this woman, about to reach the pinnacle, came to this desolate county time after time to see the man she loved.

Shang Zhitao suddenly understood Sun Yu better.

Sun Yu didn’t seek any return from Sun Yuanzhu; she simply loved him because of the countless kindnesses he had given her over the years. Sun Yu had fallen in love with an angel.

“Go find him,” Shang Zhitao urged her.

“You’re not coming?”

“I’m not. I think you two should spend some time alone. Tomorrow I’ll check the venue first, then find you both.”

Sun Yu giggled with the hearty laugh of a Guizhou girl: “Shang Zhitao, you’re such a silly girl. I’m off. Tomorrow, let’s eat roast lamb leg.”

“Okay.”

Shang Zhitao watched Sun Yu leave, feeling empty inside. She called Luan Nian, but his phone was turned off. So she texted: “Are you on a business trip?”

After more than two hours, Luan Nian replied: “Yes. Back now.”

“Where did you go?”

“Changsha.” Luan Nian randomly named a place, then put down his phone. He didn’t mention visiting Shang Zhitao at all. He felt there was nothing to say; adults should maintain dignity.

Although Luan Nian was tough, he knew everyone had scars they didn’t want to show anyone, even if that person might be their lover.

“I’m checking on Luke. Luke seems to have gotten fat.”

“Mm, check.”

When he walked in, Shang Zhitao was talking to Luke, remotely training him: “Sit down!”

Luke tilted his head, pretending not to understand.

“You’re back?” Shang Zhitao asked him.

He didn’t speak, going straight upstairs to shower. When he didn’t want to talk, he was like this—no matter what you said, he acted as if he hadn’t heard. Shang Zhitao could tell he wasn’t happy, so she didn’t bother him. Only at bedtime did she say goodnight.

This was something particularly good about Shang Zhitao—no matter what their relationship was, she never had controlling tendencies, didn’t cling to him for conversation, wasn’t clingy at all. She entertained herself and took good care of herself.

“Goodnight,” Luan Nian replied.

“Can I call you before bed?” Shang Zhitao sent another message.

Luan Nian called her and heard the sound of papers rustling on her end: “I wanted to ask your advice on some questions the government officials need us to answer at next week’s project launch meeting.”

“What questions?”

“Issues with the cultural tourism project’s IP. The officials pointed out that our current IP isn’t distinctive enough.”

“When did they bring this up?”

“Tonight.”

The implication was that the government officials had changed their requirements.

“Schedule a three-party meeting for the day after tomorrow. I’ll arrive tomorrow at noon.”

“Okay.”

Luan Nian hung up and tagged Yilia in the work group: “Come with me to the Northwest tomorrow. The client changed their requirements; you’ll attend the three-party meeting in place of Grace.”

“Understood.”

Shang Zhitao was also in the group. As the project manager, she needed to speak up: “Thanks for your hard work, Luke and Yilia. The sales colleague will come from Xi’an tomorrow as well. The meeting is scheduled for the morning of the day after tomorrow. After you arrive tomorrow, let’s have an internal discussion first.”

“Got it, thanks for your hard work, Flora,” Yilia replied.

Shang Zhitao put down her phone, preparing to sleep. She wouldn’t question Luan Nian’s judgment. He admired Yilia and wanted to give her more opportunities, which wasn’t a problem in itself. Shang Zhitao didn’t envy Yilia; she always admired capable people.

But Lu Mi had told her: “Did you know? Yilia might be the future boss’s wife.”

“Why?”

“Just found out today, Yilia is the daughter of our biggest client Zhongyou’s boss. That’s why Luke said he brought her in to solve big problems. Born with a silver spoon, even richer than me.”

After a while, Lu Mi added: “Being richer than me is one thing, but working harder than me too? I’m a waste.”

“And as beautiful as you,” Shang Zhitao reminded her of Yilia’s beauty.

“Fuck,” Lu Mi cursed. “I also see Will looking at her differently, and I haven’t even slept with him yet, but he’s already eyeing someone else. This won’t do.”

“Don’t worry, she’s the future boss’s wife. Will won’t get a chance,” Shang Zhitao teased, then put down her phone.

She had distanced herself from the company’s vortex, seeking peace in the Northwest, and didn’t want to be disturbed by the storms.

The next morning, she and her Northwest colleague Shelly drove to the airport to pick up Luan Nian and Yilia.

Luan Nian looked a bit tired. He got into Shang Zhitao’s car, fastened his seatbelt, and rested his head on the backrest. Song Ying got into Shelly’s car. Shelly honked as she drove past Shang Zhitao and left.

“Haven’t been resting well lately?” Shang Zhitao handed Luan Nian a bottle of water. He reached out to take it and placed it on his leg, looking out the window. This didn’t seem like a reunion between lovers.

“Mm.”

“The highway trip isn’t short; you can sleep for a while. I’ll drive slowly.”

“Okay.”

Luan Nian closed his eyes, and Shang Zhitao started the engine. She did drive slowly. Shelly called: “Flora, we’ll go to the restaurant first to order.”

“Okay, thank you.”

After hanging up, she felt Luan Nian’s hand on her leg, and then his cool fingertips slipped under her skirt, lightly touching her delicate thigh. Shang Zhitao’s foot slipped on the gas pedal, making the car swerve on the highway.

“Luan Nian.” Shang Zhitao’s face reddened as she chided him: “Dangerous.”

“Shang Zhitao.”

“Yes?”

“Car sex?” Luan Nian asked her, as if teasing.

“…Luan Nian, take your hand away first, it’s really dangerous.”

“Then why don’t you find a place to park?”

Shang Zhitao turned the steering wheel, driving into a service area. Luan Nian’s hand was still stirring up trouble. She parked the car and grabbed his hand: “Don’t. I’m uncomfortable.” Luan Nian leaned over, biting her earlobe, his hot breath entering her ear. Shang Zhitao turned her head, trying to avoid him, but was caught by his lips.

Shang Zhitao felt an indescribable grievance welling up. She cupped his face with both hands, passionately returning his kiss.

“Luan Nian, I miss you so much.” Her eyes were moist, as if about to cry: “I dreamed of you last night, and the night before too.”

Luan Nian didn’t speak, just kissed her, his hand exploring deeper under her skirt. Shang Zhitao gasped sharply.

She never knew she could be so urgent. In the vast service area, their car parked in a secluded spot, Luan Nian’s lips continuously kissed her neck and earlobe, his tongue entwined with hers. Shang Zhitao couldn’t shift her attention from his hand. She slightly opened her eyes, looking into Luan Nian’s—his eyes contained nothing as he told her:

“But I don’t miss you at all.”