Between frost and fire
Shareholders' Lunch Day
The private rooms at the old clubhouse in the port city were small, with gray-white seashells hanging on the walls. The moment the door closed, the sounds of cups and plates outside seemed to be sucked away, leaving only a thin layer of silence.
The representative director of the Han family raised his glass, his tone polite but firm: "Tianlang, the market is watching. Booking conversion rates, occupancy rates, and RevPAR are all rising, and negative sentiment has been suppressed by 10%. I'm optimistic that you've stabilized the market these past few months."
Old Dong, sitting across from me, chuckled: "Some people are worried too. With so much public noise, your frequent personal interventions can easily dilute decision-making bandwidth, reduce governance efficiency, and amplify compliance risk exposure."
The Jiang family representative put down his chopsticks, his gaze indifferent: "The opening is tomorrow. To give you an example—if there's another 'trending topic,' the stock price will follow suit. Please prioritize your project."
Mu Tianlang wiped the bottom of his cup with a tissue, his voice flat: "Project operation comes first. Safety, user experience, and cash flow are the top priorities; everything else—is not on the agenda."
A brief silence fell over the table. Representative Han changed his perspective: "I'm doing this for your own good. Your elders at home can rest assured."
The tablet on the table lit up, connecting to the overseas network. Mu's father's voice came through the loudspeaker, short and steady: "Remember not to let outsiders stir up trouble."
Mu Tianlang nodded: "Understood. We'll only look at the operational metrics."
The Jiang family representative chimed in, "We still have several cooperation projects under discussion with the Mu family. Let's not give our opponents any leverage tomorrow."
He turned down the volume on his walkie-talkie, his tone flat: "Add guardrails to the outer area; guides should use the outer perimeter; media routes will be separate. The official response should be 'subject to operational guidelines.'"
Representative Han half-jokingly and half-probingly said, "You should find a stable partner, so people won't make up stories about you."
He looked up and said briefly, "Business comes first."
This round ended there. When the third course was served, the topic returned to the media list and risk control, and he jotted down the key points in his phone's notes.
As the party ended, the air conditioning in the corridor blew a chilly, straight line. His mother was waiting for him around the corner, her pearl brooch glowing subtly under the light.
"Do a good job tomorrow." Her tone was cold, but she quickly changed her tone, "Meet with the Jiang family and the Xu family, communicate more, and maintain good relations. It will benefit the group."
He stood with his back straight: "I understand."
She glanced at him for half a second, then added, "Don't give anyone anything to say."
He grunted in response, neither helping her pull her shawl nor lingering for even a second longer. There was an invisible pane of glass between mother and son; reflections were visible on both sides, yet they could not touch each other.
As he walked outside, the sea breeze blew in through the window at the end of the corridor, carrying a faint salty scent. He stopped at the window, pressing his palm against the cold railing, his knuckles clenching and then relaxing. The coldness of family affection was like that pane of glass: transparent, hard, yet devoid of warmth.
He took out his phone, opened his chat with her, typed two words, then deleted them; finally, he only sent one sentence: "Busy tonight. I'll be back in Beijing after the opening ceremony, and I want to talk to you formally then. Wait for me."
Less than half a minute later, she replied, "You go ahead with your work. I'll stay here and wait for you."
He looked at the words, his Adam's apple bobbed, and replied, "Okay."
[Evening in the resort's president's office]
The car took him back to the park. The window of the president's office faced the sea, and the sunset looked like it had been sliced into strips. He buttoned up his shirt cuffs, tucked the silver button into the last slot, straightened his tie, tightened the knot, and flattened the collar.
Assistant Xiao Zhou handed over the final version of the media list. After scanning it, he said briefly, "Pick this one. If reporters ask personal questions, the host should steer the conversation back to the main topic. Safety first."
Xiao Zhou nodded: "Ms. Jiang from the public relations department said she'll arrive tonight."
He simply hummed in response.
[Resort's Meeting Room - Nighttime Preview]
Jiang Rouyin arrived early. She wore a plain-colored dress, simple and neat, and was both courteous to others and mindful of maintaining appropriate distance.
Jiang Rouyin said, "I've read the draft." She handed the card to Mu Tianlang, her tone businesslike, "I will follow the theme you set, focusing on public welfare and the opening ceremony. I will not touch on personal topics, and all questions will be steered back to the main topic."
Mu Tianlang nodded: "Thank you."
Jiang Rouyin glanced at him and added, "The business cooperation between the two companies can continue to be discussed. But to take it a step further—I have no such intention. I have people I want to protect."
Mu Tianlang's gaze didn't waver, and his voice was even lower: "Understood. Cooperation is cooperation, nothing else is necessary."
Jiang Rouyin smiled slightly, as if she were explaining things to each other, or as if she were turning off an unnecessary light for both sets of parents.
Before leaving, she paused and said, "Tomorrow someone will try to stir up trouble, don't get involved. I'll handle it."
Mu Tianlang simply said, "Okay."
[Morning Briefing (Mu Tianlang → Hu Li)]
As dawn broke, the sea was covered with a thin layer of silver. Hu Li's phone lit up—
Mu Tianlang: "I'll oversee the process. You just focus on your work."
Hu Li: "Okay." After thinking for a moment, he added: "Don't overeat."
Mu Tianlang: "I know."
Hu Li smiled, put down his phone, washed his face, returned to the painting, and deepened the misty area in the lower right corner to make the fox's tail tip brighter.
The park in the distance was beginning to awaken. She heard someone talking in the corridor, saying it would be beautiful today. She thought for a moment, picked up her phone, and sent Mu Tianlang a message—
Hu Li: "Don't hold back any longer until I can't see you anymore."
A minute later, Mu Tianlang returned with two words: "Try your best."
Hu Li leaned the canvas back against the wall, stood up, and stretched. The opening day had finally arrived. In her heart, for him and for herself, she repeated the promise: Back in Beijing, we'll clarify things. [Resort Opening Ceremony Night]
As dusk fell, the park lights came on one by one, and guests poured in like a tide. String music drifted over from the poolside, the volume just right—not blocking out people's voices, but enough to fill the air.
She wore a red dress, her makeup was clean, and she stood in the light at the outer edge of the "House of Refraction," her gaze focused, like a fixed lamp.
Senior student Zhang Qijie came over from the side corridor, his smile restrained: "Long time no see. Your work is even more refined and has more warmth."
She smiled and said, "Thank you for the compliment. How have you been lately? What have you been busy with? Any new projects?"
The senior student nodded: "I was working on a few exhibitions recently, and now I'm curating at a gallery. I'm also bringing a French friend to introduce you tonight—Emma, she'll be in the VIP side area later."
He handed over his business card holder: "Emma, the curator of the Provence Autumn Exhibition, I mentioned it for you. She'd like to see your proposal. Would it be convenient for you to go later?"
She put the business card in her bag: "Okay, I'll come later."
"Also," the senior student said, his smile fading and his tone becoming serious, "there's a lot of gossip outside, don't pay any attention to it. If you need anything, come to me."
She nodded: "Senior, you've always been very kind."
He wanted to say something, but stopped himself, only moving his position outwards without crossing the line.
In the distance, Mu Tianlang was talking with several shareholders, but his gaze kept drifting across the crowd to her. He looked away, his tone flat, and focused on the business: "Observe the pace and conversion rate on site."
The host led everyone to the "outer circle" of seats, reminding them that looking in from outside the light, they could best see the warmth reflected from the cool white light. The guests seemed to be quietly drawn in, and their steps slowed down.
She adjusted a pane of glass back to its original angle at the edge, and as she withdrew her hand, the back of her hand brushed against the rough wall beside her, leaving a thin scratch. She didn't frown, but simply put her hand back on the side of her skirt.
He stood diagonally opposite her, tightened his cufflinks, and sent her a message on his phone: "Stay away from the wall. Go to the infirmary for your medication after this."
She walked past him, keeping a half-finger distance: "I'm going to meet a friend in the VIP area in about ten minutes."
He glanced at her and said very briefly, "Okay."
[Resort VIP Side Area Night]
Emma, with her short blonde hair, spoke crisply: "I was looking at your piece in the exhibition hall; the spatial arrangement was very restrained, and the interplay of cool white and warm tones was quite moving. But to be honest, I'm more interested in your paintings. We have a small special exhibition in the south of France this autumn, and we'd like to invite you to bring a few works to participate, is that alright?"
Hu Li opened the booklet, casually flipped through a few pages, and showed Emma a few sketches, stopping short of commenting.
Emma nodded: "Okay. Go back and organize your exhibition proposal, then send it to my email."
She smiled and said, "I'll send it tomorrow morning."
The senior student was helping with the translation, speaking steadily with bright eyes. Those around could see the protectiveness, and also the unspoken favoritism he showed.
She was engrossed in her conversation, occasionally turning her head to catch a glimpse of the person diagonally opposite her through the reflection in the glass—he didn't approach, but instead blocked the crowd in an arc.
She suddenly remembered the message: "After the opening ceremony, when I return to Beijing, I want to make a formal statement." Her heart skipped a beat, then slowly returned to its place.
Emma folded the booklet: "Waiting for you."
She nodded: "I won't keep you waiting too long."
[Late at night in the resort's courtyard]
After the performance ended, the strings stopped, and the sound of the wind became clear. She wiped each pane of glass in "The House of Refraction" clean, and finally applied medicine to the red mark on the back of her hand.
He walked up behind him, an arm's length away, and stopped. "Does it hurt?"
She didn't turn around: "Guess."
He paused for a second, then said in an even lower voice, "I don't like seeing blood."
She smiled and said, "I don't like seeing you so restrained either."
He didn't take it, but only said, "Get in the car, I'll take you back to your dorm."
She looked up at him: "You have a driver."
He said, "I'll sit in the back."
She hummed in agreement, not trying to be brave.
[Return journey from inside the car]
The car was quiet. The driver was in the front seat and was driving steadily.
She leaned against the window, her profile illuminated by a sliver of streetlight: "How did the shareholders' dinner go?"
He said, "Everyone has their own opinions."
She asked, "Where are your family members?"
He said, "As usual."
She said "Oh," with a faint smile: "Then let's each do our best."
He turned his head to look at her profile, and after two seconds said, "Don't answer calls from unknown numbers."
She raised an eyebrow: "You too."
When the car arrived at the dormitory building, he didn't get out. He pressed his fingertips against his knee, as if stopping himself from taking the next step out: "We're here."
She turned to look at him, her voice low, a smile playing at the corners of her eyes: "You're being very wolfish today. If you come any closer, you're going to bite me."
He glanced at her, his Adam's apple bobbing slightly: "Don't tease me."
She smiled and said, "See you tomorrow."
He said, "Tomorrow."
[Night in the Staff Dormitory]
Back in her room, she put the earrings back in the box and set up the new canvas. She first laid down a layer of sapphire blue as the base color, letting the gray and white slowly emerge from it. She used a palette knife to draw three diagonal lines of light, like the tide cutting the beach into different times; then, with the finest brush, she wrote a line of small words in the corner: Seen at high tide, seen at low tide.
My phone vibrated; it was an email notification.
Subject: Follow-up Activities—Provence Autumn Festival Special Exhibition Proposal
If possible, please share your concept design this week...
She replied, "I will send the proposal tomorrow." Then she took two photos of the sketch and archived them.
A message popped up; it was him—
Mu Tianlang: Work is finished.
Hu Li: Hard work.
Mu Tianlang: I'll return to Beijing after the opening ceremony. I'll finish what I have to say then.
Hu Li: I will listen, but I will also ask questions.
Mu Tianlang: Okay.
Hu Li: Let me start with a small question. Why did you look towards the corner of the inner courtyard three times tonight?
Mu Tianlang: Habit.
Hu Li: What are you looking at?
Mu Tianlang: Wind direction.
Hu Li: And me?
The conversation paused for a moment.
Mu Tianlang: You are in the light, I will remember you.
She stared at the words, her fingertips tapping lightly on the edge of the canvas, like a soft beat. She replied, "Then remember, I won't be waiting long."
Mu Tianlang: Understood.
She turned off her phone screen, sat back down in front of the painting, and added a delicate white stroke. The waning affection of family is like the night wind outside the window, blowing in and out as it pleases; the burgeoning love is like the slanting light on the painting, illuminating when pressed.
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