Finale 1
Late autumn in Shanghai always carries a sticky, damp chill. As Wei Ting dragged his silver suitcase out of the apartment building, the plane tree leaves at the alley entrance were falling in a flurry. The suitcase wheels rolled over the scattered gold dust, making a dull thud, like the unspoken "goodbye" in his chest. Lu Zexu's car was parked by the roadside, the window rolled down, revealing a complicated expression on his face: "Really not going to see her again?"
Wei Ting's gaze swept across the third-floor window—the curtains were drawn tightly shut. He had stood downstairs until dawn last night, but the familiar light hadn't come on. He bent down and sat in the passenger seat, his fingertips rubbing the silver bracelet in his pocket, the star and moon pattern burning hot from his body heat: "No need. She wants to move forward, and I can't hold her back any longer."
The street scenes outside the car window rushed past. As they passed the editorial office building, Wei Ting subconsciously tightened his grip on his silver bracelet. A red poster hung on the bulletin board in front of the building, Ning Zhichu's photo prominently displayed—she was wearing a beige reporter's uniform, holding a microphone, conducting an interview, her smile as bright as the early spring sun, the pearl necklace around her neck gleaming warmly under the lens. It was the promotional photo for her winning the "Annual In-Depth Reporting Award" last year. He was on a business trip in London at the time, staring at her face on his phone screen for a full ten minutes, his fingers repeatedly tracing her features.
“The old issues with Xingneng have been settled. The CSRC’s conclusion is that it was Lu Mingyuan’s personal behavior and has nothing to do with you.” Lu Zexu handed over a cup of hot coffee. “I’ve confirmed the offer for you on Wall Street. It’s the same hedge fund you used to work for, but the position is one level higher.”
Wei Ting took the coffee; the cup's heat made his fingertips tingle. He remembered three years ago when he left Wall Street, Ning Zhichu hugged his arm and laughed, "From now on, I'll write reports in Shanghai, and you'll do investments there. We'll go eat crab roe soup dumplings together after work." The promise from that time still echoed in his ears, but now, they were separated by twelve time zones, each heading towards different distant places.
As the plane took off, Wei Ting turned on his phone and took one last look at Ning Zhichu's WeChat Moments. The latest post, made in the early hours of the morning, included a photo of the interview outline. He turned off his phone, leaned back in his seat, and watched the city of Shanghai gradually shrink outside the window. Tears finally fell—the sunrises he had seen in Florence, the rain he had endured in London, the crab roe soup dumplings they had shared in Shanghai—all of these memories, as the plane ascended, became the softest imprints in his heart.
Meanwhile, in the editorial department, Ning Zhichu was revising a manuscript in front of her computer screen. Su Xiaoran came over with a pile of documents and whispered, "Wei Ting just flew to New York. Lu Zexu said that when he left, he took the cashmere sweater you knitted, and the sunflower cup that you glued back together."
Ning Zhichu's pen paused on the paper, the ink spreading into a small patch of grayish-black. She remembered the figure she had seen on the balcony last night; the streetlights had cast a long shadow of him, and he was clutching something in his hand, not leaving until the early hours of the morning. She thought it was her imagination, but it really was him.
"I understand." She closed her interview notebook, her voice as calm as if she were talking about someone else's business. "Have you contacted the interviewee for the new topic? The CEO of that Chinese-funded new energy company on Wall Street, I heard he's very difficult to get."
Su Xiaoran looked at her reddened eyes and sighed, "It's all arranged. I'm flying to New York next Wednesday for the interview. Initially, you could actually..."
"Work is important." Ning Zhichu interrupted her, getting up and walking towards the break room. Hot water flowed over the cup, and steam rose from the sunflower-patterned mug—this was the new mug Su Xiaoran had given her later, exactly the same as the one she had broken before, except without the cracks. Holding the mug, she leaned against the window, looking at the alley entrance. The sycamore leaves were still falling, but she would never see that figure queuing up to buy crab roe soup dumplings again.
Three months later, the New York winter chill, with snowflakes pelting the interview van, was upon Ning Zhichu. She wrapped her down jacket tightly around herself, clutching the interview outline, her fingertips red with cold. The topic was "Regulatory Loopholes in Chinese Companies on Wall Street," and the interviewee was a competitor of Wei Ting's hedge fund. The CEO was a notoriously slick character; the first three reporters had been thoroughly bewildered by him.
“Ms. Ning, I’ve heard so much about you.” The CEO smiled and reached out his hand, his gaze lingering on the pearl necklace around her neck for a moment. “Wei Ting and I are old acquaintances. He was a prominent figure on Wall Street back in the day. It’s a pity he returned to Shanghai for his girlfriend, otherwise he would be in his current position.”
Ning Zhichu's heart skipped a beat, and her hand holding the microphone tightened slightly: "President Wei is also outstanding now."
"He's outstanding, but he's too infatuated." The CEO took a sip of coffee, his tone teasing. "He keeps a camera case in his office, saying it was knitted by his girlfriend, and he puts it on his desk every time he has a meeting; he also has a silver bracelet that he wears every day, saying it's a token of their love. We all laugh at him, saying he's seen plenty of Iron Ladies on Wall Street, but he's fallen for a Shanghai reporter."
The interview went smoothly, perhaps because of Wei Ting's connections; the CEO was exceptionally cooperative, even revealing a lot of industry insider information. At the end, the CEO suddenly said, "Wei Ting is in the company today. Would you like to meet him? He always mentions you to us, saying your reporting is more professional than that of Wall Street Journal reporters."
Ning Zhichu's fingertips clenched until they turned white, and she shook her head: "No, I have other interviews to do. Please give him my regards."
As she stepped out of the office building, the snow fell even harder. She looked up at the top-floor office; the curtains were drawn tightly shut. She wondered if Wei Ting was inside. Suddenly, her phone rang. It was a photo sent by Su Xiaoran—Wei Ting at the Wall Street annual meeting, wearing a sharp black suit with an emerald green cufflink, holding a wine glass and talking to someone. His smile was composed, but there was a hint of imperceptible loneliness in his eyes.
“Lu Zexu said he’s doing very well on Wall Street. He just managed a new energy project and made a lot of money.” Su Xiaoran’s message followed, “He also asked about you, saying he saw your article ‘Regulatory Loopholes in Chinese-Funded Enterprises on Wall Street’ and praised you for your in-depth data analysis.”
Standing in the snow, Ning Zhichu looked at Wei Ting in the photo, tears welling up in her eyes. She took out her phone, intending to reply to Su Xiaoran's message, but saw a news notification pop up on her screen—"Wall Street Hedge Fund Giant Wei Ting: The New Energy Sector Will Become a New Investment Hotspot." She clicked on it, and inside was an interview with Wei Ting. The last sentence read: "The journalist I admire most once said that truth and value are always worth upholding, and this also applies to investment."
She turned off her phone, letting the snow fall on her face; the cold touch brought her back to her senses. She knew they were both shining in their respective fields, influencing each other, but they could never go back to the past.
Over the next two years, Ning Zhichu's career flourished. Her in-depth reporting repeatedly shook the industry, earning her the title of "Financial Reporter of the Year" for two consecutive years, making her a pillar of the editorial department. Her office was filled with various trophies, the most eye-catching of which was a crystal photo frame containing a wedding photo of Su Xiaoran and Lu Zexu—in the photo, she stood in a corner, wearing a beige dress, her pearl necklace gleaming, the empty seat next to her originally belonging to Wei Ting.
Wei Ting became a legendary figure on Wall Street, with his new energy projects achieving record-breaking returns, earning him the title of "most insightful Chinese investor" from the Wall Street Journal. Two things always remained in his office: a neatly folded cashmere sweater knitted by Ning Zhichu, placed on the sofa; and a repaired sunflower mug, prominently displayed on his desk, its cracks subtly covered in gold leaf, becoming a unique decoration—a "kintsugi" restoration he commissioned from a New York craftsman, explaining that "broken marks are also precious memories."
Occasionally, the two would learn about each other from Su Xiaoran and Lu Zexu. Ning Zhichu knew that Wei Ting had bought an apartment in New York with a view of the Statue of Liberty from the window; Wei Ting knew that Ning Zhichu had moved, and the balcony of her new apartment was filled with sunflowers. They tacitly avoided contacting each other, yet unintentionally, they had etched each other's habits into their own lives—Ning Zhichu started drinking black coffee with two spoonfuls of sugar, just like Wei Ting; Wei Ting started collecting cameras, buying one for every business trip, a vintage model that Ning Zhichu liked.
When Su Xiaoran and Lu Zexu's wedding was held in Shanghai, both of them returned. Ning Zhichu, as a bridesmaid, wore a light pink dress and stood next to Su Xiaoran with a bright smile. Wei Ting, as a groomsman, wore a white suit and stood next to Lu Zexu, his gaze occasionally falling on Ning Zhichu with tender concern.
After the wedding ceremony, the two met in a corner of the banquet hall. Ning Zhichu held a glass of champagne, her pearl necklace gleaming under the lights; Wei Ting held a glass of whiskey, his silver bracelet sparkling softly. The moment their eyes met, time seemed to stand still, and the surrounding noise faded into background noise.
"Long time no see." Wei Ting spoke first, his voice soft, with a slight, almost imperceptible tremor.
"Long time no see." Ning Zhichu's smile was faint but sincere. "Congratulations. I heard your recent projects have been very successful."
“Your reporting is also impressive; I saw it in New York.” Wei Ting looked at her, his eyes full of admiration. “You’ve become the person you wanted to be, and I’m very proud of that.”
“You too.” Ning Zhichu raised his glass. “Wishing you all the best on Wall Street.”
The two gently clinked glasses, the aromas of champagne and whiskey mingling, like their past times, sweet tinged with a hint of bitterness. There were no arguments, no tears, only calm greetings and sincere blessings—they had both matured, understanding that some encounters are meant to illuminate each other's paths, and then, carrying each other's warmth, head towards different futures.
After the wedding, Wei Ting was about to fly back to New York. Ning Zhichu stood outside the airport security checkpoint, watching his back as he dragged his suitcase, and suddenly remembered that morning three years ago when he left Shanghai, with the same back view, lonely yet resolute.
"Wei Ting!" she suddenly called out.
Wei Ting turned around, his eyes full of surprise.
Ning Zhichu took something out of her bag and handed it to him—it was the camera case. She had re-knitted one, more exquisite than the previous one, with the star and moon pattern still embroidered on the lining. "The old one was worn out, this one is for you."
Wei Ting took the camera case, her fingertips tracing the stitches, tears welling up in her eyes. She took a velvet box out of her pocket and handed it to her: "Here, this is for you. I bought it in New York. It's a handmade pearl earring that matches your necklace perfectly."
Ning Zhichu took the box and opened it, tears finally falling. The pearls in the earrings were exactly the same as those in the necklace, warm and soft, like the unspoken longing between them.
"Take care." Wei Ting's voice was choked with emotion.
“You too.” Ning Zhichu’s voice trembled.
Wei Ting turned and walked into the security checkpoint without looking back. Ning Zhichu stood there, watching his figure disappear into the crowd, clutching the velvet box in her hand, the warmth of her palm making her fingertips numb.
Back in the editorial office, Ning Zhichu put on the earrings and smiled at herself in the mirror. Sunlight streamed through the blinds, falling on the crystal photo frame on her desk—a picture of her and Wei Ting standing in Piazzale Michelangelo in Florence, sunlight illuminating their faces as they smiled like children.
A news notification suddenly popped up on her phone—an interview with Wei Ting titled "Wei Ting: Investment, Like Love, Requires Staying True to Your Original Intentions." She clicked on it, and the last paragraph read: "The person I am most grateful to taught me to uphold truth and values, and also taught me that some loves, even if they cannot be together, can still become a light illuminating each other's lives."
Ning Zhichu leaned back in her chair, looking at the sycamore leaves outside the window. Tears fell, but she wiped them away with a smile.
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