Shang Zhitao’s branch company was located in the industrial park where Lin Chuner worked.

The park offered some government subsidies and many business incubators, making the rent relatively cheap. She rented a three-story office space, with rent and renovations consuming most of her savings. Some suggested she take out a business loan, but after much consideration, she decided against it.

The office renovations had begun earlier. As Shang Zhitao was inconveniently far away in Ice City, Sun Yu, Lu Mi, and Lin Chuner took turns overseeing the work, and Luan Nian would also check in when he returned to Beijing. Shang Zhitao felt bad about it, but Lu Mi just laughed at her for not understanding what friendship was about: “Isn’t that what friends are for? Otherwise, what’s the point? Enjoying each other’s company during good times but hiding when troubles come? That wouldn’t be human at all.”

With rent taking up most of her money, Shang Zhitao felt that money was truly easy to spend—almost gone in the blink of an eye—so the decorations were very simple. In Lin Chuner’s words: “This is called minimalist industrial style.” But she equipped the office with good quality supplies. The labor costs in Beijing were relatively high, and she also needed to pay a business guarantee deposit, so her funds were insufficient.

That evening, before she started hiring, she walked past Luan Nian several times while he was teaching Nian Tao to recognize colors.

Hesitant, troubled, but unable to speak up.

Shang Zhitao had never borrowed money from Luan Nian; even after they married, she felt that his money was his own.

That night, after Nian Tao fell asleep, the two lay in bed, and Luan Nian asked her about her progress. She described it in detail.

“Do you have something to tell me?” He had noticed her pacing back and forth so many times.

Shang Zhitao didn’t know how to broach the subject, her finger drawing circles on his chest. After a long while, she finally said, “Could you lend me some money?”

“How much?”

“About one million two hundred thousand would do.” She had asked Sunny to help calculate the accounts. She planned to hire 25 people initially, and one million in employee costs would sustain them for three months. As for what would happen after three months, that would depend on her opportunities and fortune.

“I won’t lend it.” Luan Nian quite disliked the word “lend,” feeling that using such a term between spouses made things seem too distant. He had never thought about keeping accounts clear with Shang Zhitao; after so many years back and forth between them, it was impossible to calculate everything. Since it couldn’t be calculated, they might as well be entangled together, for a lifetime—that seemed good.

“Oh. Then I’ll think of another way.”

“What other way are you thinking of?” Luan Nian asked her.

“I could ask Sun Yu? Lu Mi? Chuner? I have so many wealthy friends…”

“Are you crazy?”

Luan Nian sat up straight and glared at her, the two of them staring each other down in the dim night light. After a while, Luan Nian took out his phone and sent her a file.

“What’s this?” Shang Zhitao asked before opening it.

“A will.”

“? Are you insane?” Shang Zhitao particularly hated such jokes. She felt the word “will” carried malice, staring at Luan Nian, breathing heavily in anger.

Luan Nian took her phone, opened the file, and held it before her eyes—it was a will. His finger scrolled down the screen, showing all current assets and their distribution instructions. He told Shang Zhitao, “It’s been notarized. When the time comes, you can contact Song Qiuhan and Lin Chuner. We share the same lawyer.”

Tears fell from Shang Zhitao’s eyes. “What are you doing? Why are you writing a will? Why are you doing this?”

“I can’t help but mock you, Ms. Shang Zhitao.” Luan Nian pinched her chin. “Why are you crying? I’m not dead! This is a lifestyle choice, quite common nowadays. I saw Song Qiuhan researching it earlier and followed suit. Chen Kuannian has written one too, and so has Tan Mian.”

Shang Zhitao wiped her tears, not forgetting to tease Tan Mian: “He’s all alone. Who would he leave all that money to?”

“Donated to designated institutions.” Luan Nian roughly wiped her tears. “Done crying? If you’re done, listen to me.”

Luan Nian held Shang Zhitao’s face in his hands: “I want to grow old with you, but life is unpredictable. Making early preparations is never wrong—do you agree with that? What I also want to tell you is that I don’t like keeping everything so separate after marriage. Perhaps you think it’s better this way—keeping things clear makes it easier to disentangle if needed. But I don’t think so. I hope we have the appearance of a traditional family. I’m entrusting all my possessions and my life to you. Those are the backup plans for you and Nian Tao. Understand?”

“I don’t want it. I can earn money myself.” Shang Zhitao didn’t like this somber approach. After giving birth to Nian Tao, she became particularly afraid of falling ill. Someone who hadn’t valued life much before now dared not stay up late. A person once reckless has now begun to be careful.

She became afraid of loss and dared not lose anything.

Luan Nian looked at her for a long time, pulled her back down to lie down, and turned off the light.

In the darkness, they both lay with their eyes open.

“I won’t lend you one million. Because you have the right to control all of my money. If you’re not comfortable with that, then consider it our joint living fund. When your capital starts flowing, you can deposit it back.”

“Alright.”

Shang Zhitao held Luan Nian tightly.

The impact of this night was too great for her. She knew Luan Nian loved her, and she knew he loved Nian Tao, but what was the truth about marriage? Some say marriage is like a company jointly operated by two people—with the right direction, feasible strategies, and collaborative division of labor, it can last. Shang Zhitao used to agree with this view, but now she felt that her marriage with Luan Nian wasn’t like a company. It was more like a seed buried underground. The two of them diligently watered, fertilized, and removed pests, waiting for the seed to grow. This wasn’t like starting a company that required grand ambitions; it was just about taking care of a seed.

“I’m glad Nian Tao’s temperament isn’t like mine,” Luan Nian suddenly said. He knew he had always been difficult to get along with, with many twisted and hard parts in his personality, making him what others called “finicky.” During Shang Zhitao’s pregnancy, he had thought that if Nian Tao’s temperament and personality were like his, that would be fine too; at least she would grow up to be a girl who was “not to be trifled with.” But Luan Nian would also be sad, thinking she might find it hard to make friends, and worried she would feel lonely. Being like Shang Zhitao would be best—not fighting or grabbing, quietly working hard, not jealous or complaining, with a tenacious vitality. It would also be easier to make genuine friends.

“I’m also glad she’s not like you,” Shang Zhitao chuckled in the darkness. If her temperament were like his, she would have to deal with two difficult personalities, which would be too pitiful. Sometimes when she watched Luan Nian take care of Nian Tao, she felt that the biggest challenge in Luan Nian’s life was probably how to avoid being assimilated by his daughter.

He might not have realized it himself, but he was deadly gentle when with Nian Tao.

Luan Nian’s hand reached under her nightgown to pinch her waist: “Say that again?”

“I won’t say it again.” Shang Zhitao felt a slight pain and stopped talking. She sensed Luan Nian’s hand move, his palm sliding slowly upward against her skin, his calluses brushing against her, creating a slight tickling sensation.

The night was truly fascinating.

Both of them dared not make a sound under the covers, sweating profusely on their faces and heads. Shang Zhitao moved to lift the blanket, but Luan Nian pulled it back over them. While getting wild, he said, “Don’t disturb my daughter’s sleep.”

“Your daughter wouldn’t wake up even if there was thunder.”

“Still, it’s not allowed.”

Luan Nian covered her lips, making her feel she would suffocate. Heat and pleasure alternately tormented her, making her a little irritable. Finally, she bit Luan Nian’s shoulder hard: “I don’t want the blanket.”

“Alright.”

Luan Nian got out of bed, carried her to the bathroom, closed the door, and said to her, “Now you can make noise.”

Shang Zhitao felt Luan Nian was too biased: “You only love Nian Tao.”

“Is that so?” Luan Nian smiled. “Nonsense.”

After fooling around for a while and taking a shower, they lay back in bed, unable to keep their eyes open, and fell into a deep sleep.

===

Shang Zhitao’s branch company finally set sail.

On the day of the official opening, Sun Yu arranged a small ribbon-cutting ceremony for her, saying it was for good luck.

Shang Zhitao felt uncomfortable with such a high-profile event but couldn’t refuse her friends, so the ceremony went ahead.

That day, she deliberately applied light makeup and dressed nicely. There weren’t many people attending the ceremony, apart from the dozen or so employees who had already joined; the rest were friends. Feeling it was too sparse, she invited her friends to cut the ribbon together.

“That won’t do,” Lin Chuner refused. “This is your big event. We’re just attendees and minor shareholders. But I suggest you invite your company’s invisible major shareholder to cut the ribbon together.” She was referring to Luan Nian, as Shang Zhitao had used a sum of money from him.

Luan Nian stood there putting on airs. Though he wanted to join, he waited for Shang Zhitao to invite him. Seeing his arrogant and annoying demeanor, Shang Zhitao burst into laughter. She asked him, “Would Mr. Luan do us the honor?”

“Reluctantly.”

Luan Nian smiled slightly and stood beside her.

Shang Zhitao pulled Lin Chuner and Sun Yu to stand on the other sides, as they had also invested a little money.

After more than nine months, Shang Zhitao had nearly returned to her pre-pregnancy state. Lin Chuner was warm, Sun Yu was capable, and Luan Nian had his unique demeanor. The group standing there outshone countless others in the world.

As they picked up the scissors, the photographer said, “I’ll count to three, and then all the bosses start cutting.” Then he looked at his watch for an auspicious time.

Luan Nian suddenly turned his head and said to Shang Zhitao, “Shang Zhitao, welcome back to Beijing.”

Shang Zhitao was deeply moved. This sentence encapsulated her more than ten years of life—from that rainy day when she dragged her luggage out of Beijing Station, to her departure, and now her return.

It seemed like her prime years had passed, yet also as if she was still in her prime.

She felt countless emotions.

At the large dinner gathering that evening, Sun Yu and Zhang Lei drank a lot of alcohol. At one point, they came up to Shang Zhitao and pulled her aside. Zhang Lei raised his glass to the sky: “To our brothers.”

“To youth,” Sun Yu’s eyes reddened slightly.

“To the passing years,” Shang Zhitao said.

Time is something both tangible and intangible.

Tangible in the corners of your eyes, at your temples, when you begin to have fine lines and grow white hair; intangible in your heart, in the memories of the people you’ve met and things that have happened—recallable but untouchable.

Shang Zhitao had never had a smooth journey; one obstacle after another, never truly smooth sailing, but she was content.

Contentment had always been her attitude. And only with such contentment had she not missed every tiny, even negligible sweetness in life.

That night, little Nian Tao fell asleep early. Shang Zhitao sat cross-legged on the bed, with Luan Nian sitting opposite her. She said to him, “I want to talk with you.”

“About what?”

“About my past decade or so.”

Shang Zhitao wanted to start from the first year. She felt a bit embarrassed because she would soon become talkative, turning into a chatterbox.

“Will you think I’m too long-winded? Will you find it annoying? Or are you tired now? If you’re tired, you can sleep first, and we can talk another time.”

“Shang Zhitao,” Luan Nian called her name, “I can talk with you until dawn.”

Until the next dawn, and the dawn after that.

All of them work.

As long as we still have things to say.