Two stubborn donkeys
The cool autumn night in Shanghai, carrying the scent of sycamore leaves, filtered through the blinds of the study, casting stripes of light and shadow on the floor. Ning Zhichu was curled up on the sofa, revising her interview outline. The light from her laptop screen shone on her face, and a speck of ink from a fountain pen smudged on the tip of her nose. Wei Ting sat at the desk opposite her, his fingers flying across the keyboard. The screen displayed Green Energy Core Technology's financing plan, the page covered with dense red annotations.
"It's ten o'clock, shall we have a glass of hot milk before we start?" Wei Ting stopped what he was doing, got up and walked towards the kitchen. He was wearing light gray loungewear, the sleeves rolled up to his forearms, revealing a silver ring on his wrist engraved with "W&N"—a couple's ring they bought last year in Florence; Ning Zhichu's ring was inlaid with small pearls, while his was a simple plain band.
When Ning Zhichu looked up, she saw him carrying a glass of milk. The glass had a small sunflower pattern printed on it; it was a couple's glass that Su Xiaoran had given her. "Almost done," she said, rubbing her sore eyes and pushing the outline toward him. "I'm interviewing Mr. Li from Huayu New Energy tomorrow. Could you check if I've missed any questions? After all, Green Energy Core Technology and Huayu are direct competitors, and you know more about this industry than I do."
Wei Ting paused, his movements slowing as he took the tablet. He glanced down at the outline, his gaze lingering on questions like "the authenticity of Huayu New Energy's R&D investment" and "the discrepancy between production capacity data and industry reports." His brow furrowed. "This Mr. Li is no pushover. Last year, an organization exposed his patent forgery, but it was suppressed by public relations. If you ask him these questions, he'll definitely beat around the bush, or even try to trap you."
“I know,” Ning Zhichu took the milk, her fingertips touching the warm cup, “That’s why we need to do our homework beforehand. This report is an in-depth investigation, aiming to expose the flaws in the R&D of the new energy industry, and Huayu is an indispensable benchmark company.” She didn’t notice Wei Ting’s tense jaw and added, “Secretary Li said that this interview can exclusively reveal their new battery technology. If we can get solid evidence, this report will definitely make the front page.”
Wei Ting placed the tablet on the table, his voice becoming more serious: "Could we cancel this interview?"
Ning Zhichu froze, her hand gripping the milk glass tightening slightly: "Why did you turn it down? This is a story I've been working on for three months, and the editorial department has reserved prime space for it."
“Green Energy Core Technology is competing with Huayu for a national-level R&D subsidy, and the application materials are due next week.” Wei Ting walked up to her, squatted down, and looked at her with obvious worry in his eyes. “If you check Huayu’s R&D data at this time, no matter what the result is, President Li will think that I instructed him to do it behind the scenes. If he deliberately releases the news that ‘Lu’s Investment is suppressing competitors,’ not only will Green Energy’s subsidy be lost, but Lu’s reputation will also be affected.”
Ning Zhichu's heart skipped a beat. Looking at Wei Ting's serious face, she suddenly felt a sense of estrangement. "You mean, you want me to abandon my professional ethics for your project?" Her voice trembled, and the milk in her hand rippled slightly. "Last year, when Xingneng was accused of fraud, you told me to insist on exposing it; now that it's your competitor, you want me to turn down interviews? Wei Ting, this is double standards."
“I’m not asking you to abandon your principles, I’m asking you to do it at a different time.” Wei Ting’s voice rose a little, and he reached out to hold her hand, but she avoided it. “After the subsidy application is over, I will support you in checking whatever you want, and I can even provide you with industry data on green energy for comparison. But not now. This subsidy is too important for green energy. It is related to the subsequent capacity expansion, and the livelihoods of hundreds of workers are tied to it.”
"The livelihoods of hundreds of workers are at stake, and you expect me to do unprofessional reporting?" Ning Zhichu stood up, her tablet sliding off her lap, the screen hitting the corner of the coffee table. The lit page remained on the last page of the interview outline—the industry data she had compiled after staying up all night researching, the notes section filled with annotations. "Wei Ting, I am a financial journalist, not your appendage. My reporting is responsible to my readers, not to your projects."
Wei Ting also stood up, the warm light from the study casting a deep shadow on his face. He looked at Ning Zhichu's reddened eyes and softened his tone: "I know you're not an appendage, I'm just afraid you'll be used by President Li. He's a master at using the media to create momentum. If he deliberately gives you false data and makes you write inaccurate reports, you'll be the one who takes the blame in the end."
“I have my own judgment!” Ning Zhichu grabbed her tablet and notebook, turned and walked towards the door. “I’ve been in this industry for five years. What kind of interviewees haven’t I seen? I don’t need you to interfere with my work under the guise of ‘protection’!”
As she slammed the door and left, she heard the sound of a glass falling to the ground behind her—the unfinished cup of hot milk, spilled on the floor. The sunflower-shaped glass shattered in two, and the warm liquid seeped down the cracks in the floor like a tear that hadn't yet fallen.
That night, Ning Zhichu made do in the editorial department's break room. The folding bed was hard and narrow, and she was covered with an old coat left by Su Xiaoran. The smell of printer ink lingered in the air, and she couldn't fall asleep. She pulled out her phone, where she found photos taken in Florence: at sunrise in Piazzale Michelangelo, Wei Ting helped her adjust the camera's focus, their shadows overlapping in a warm shape on the cobblestones; in front of the Florence Cathedral, he secretly made a heart shape behind her, which Su Xiaoran captured in a photo, her eyes crinkling with laughter.
As my finger swiped across the screen, I suddenly received a text message from Wei Ting: "The tablet screen isn't broken, I've fixed it. I'll leave the light on in the study for you. Remember to change your shoes when you come back. I've cleaned up the milk on the floor."
Ning Zhichu stared at the text message for three minutes before finally putting her phone on silent. She knew Wei Ting was worried about her, but his worry concealed a disrespect for her profession—he always thought of her as a little girl who needed to hide behind him, forgetting that she was already capable of standing on her own, engaging in heated debates with entrepreneurs during interviews, and writing in-depth reports that shook the industry.
After adding Mr. Li's contact information, he asked her to meet him in the Shanshuijian private room at the Huashan Hotel on Friday evening to discuss business. This hotel frequently hosted such business meetings, and Ning Zhichu initially didn't think much of it. That day, she wore a white Chanel-style suit dress, her skin flawless, and arrived on time with an interview in mind. As Wei Ting had predicted, Mr. Li was indeed as slippery as an eel, avoiding questions about "R&D investment" and instead frequently inquiring about the progress of Lu's Investment's financing. Only when Ning Zhichu produced a pre-prepared industry data comparison table, pointing out the discrepancy between Huayu's publicly disclosed production capacity data and customs declaration records, did Mr. Li finally relent, vaguely admitting that "some R&D expenses were included in production costs."
At the end of the interview, Mr. Li suddenly smiled and handed over an envelope: "Reporter Ning, this is an invitation to our new product launch. It's next Saturday at a hotel on the Bund. I'll reserve a front-row seat for you, and we can have a proper chat then." With that, Mr. Li's short, chubby hand slowly moved towards Ning Zhichu's shoulder. "Oh, Reporter Ning, you've got a pretty good alcohol tolerance!" Mr. Li exhaled a puff of air and slapped it onto Ning Zhichu's face. Ning Zhichu's heart tightened, and her hands secretly sweated. "Mr. Li, you're drunk. Let me call you a car to go home and rest." Ning Zhichu subtly moved away. "Reporter Ning, don't be ungrateful." Mr. Li's expression changed. Just then, her phone rang. "Sorry, Mr. Li, I have something to attend to. I'll reconsider the cooperation." Ning Zhichu grabbed her bag and ran out, afraid of being stopped by Mr. Li. It was Su Xiaoran calling: "My darling, did you and Wei Ting have a fight? Lu Zexu said he was distracted in the meeting today, even misreading the data in the green energy financing plan, and almost spilled his coffee on the documents."
“We didn’t argue, it’s just a difference in our philosophies.” Ning Zhichu leaned against a sycamore tree by the roadside, panting heavily, watching the passing traffic. “He felt that I shouldn’t have interviewed Huayu, and I felt that he was interfering with my work.”
"Different philosophies?" Su Xiaoran rolled her eyes on the other end of the phone. "Last time, Lu Zexu and I argued so much about due diligence data that we flipped the table, and then he bought me a caramel macchiato. You guys take each other too seriously and forget how to communicate properly."
After hanging up the phone, Ning Zhichu hesitated for a long time. She took a taxi home to get a few changes of clothes. When she opened the door, the floor lamp in the living room was on, and Wei Ting was sitting on the sofa with her favorite crab roe dumplings in front of her. They were from the old shop at the end of the alley and were still steaming.
"How did the interview go?" he asked first, his voice visibly tired, with faint dark circles under his eyes, clearly indicating he hadn't slept all night.
Ning Zhichu didn't say anything, changed her shoes, and went to the bedroom. As she passed the living room, she saw the repaired tablet on the coffee table, with a new screen protector on the screen and carefully applied transparent tape around the edges for protection. Next to it was the broken sunflower cup, which had been glued back together, but the crack was still clearly visible, like a scar etched on her heart.
“I didn’t ask you to cancel the interview.” Wei Ting’s voice came from behind, trembling almost imperceptibly. “I was just… afraid you’d get hurt. Mr. Li is capable of anything.”
Ning Zhichu paused, but ultimately didn't turn back. She went into the bedroom, and the moment she closed the door, she heard the sound of a lighter coming from the living room—Wei Ting never smoked unless he encountered a major problem. She leaned against the door, clutching her interview notebook, the cover crumpled from her grip, still bearing Wei Ting's red-pen annotations from the previous night. Ning Zhichu's eyes reddened. After what happened with President Li today, he didn't know why he felt so guilty towards Wei Ting. But he didn't know how to humble himself or how to begin.
For the next three days, the two were locked in a complete cold war.
Ning Zhichu moved to sleep in the study. The folding bed was bought when Su Xiaoran stayed there last time; it was so hard it hurt her back. Every morning when she got up, breakfast was already laid out on the dining table in the living room—her favorite soy milk and fried dough sticks, all covered tightly with a thermos. When she came home from working late at night, the light in the study was always on, with warm milk on the table and cut fruit next to it.
Wei Ting spent even more time at the company. Lu Zexu messaged him saying that he had locked himself in the conference room for two days and two nights revising the financing plan, his ashtray overflowing with cigarette butts, and he barely touched the food Aunt Zhang brought him. Su Xiaoran secretly took a picture and sent it to him; in the photo, Wei Ting was leaning back in his chair, clutching the silver ring in his hand, staring blankly out the window.
On Friday evening, the editorial department held its annual dinner at a revolving restaurant in Lujiazui. Ning Zhichu, dressed in a beige evening gown and wearing a pearl necklace given to her by Wei Ting, saw Wei Ting standing on the terrace smoking as soon as she entered the banquet hall. He wore a black suit with an emerald green cufflink on his collar—a souvenir he bought in Florence, which he rarely wore.
“President Wei is here too.” President Li’s voice suddenly rang out. He patted Wei Ting on the shoulder, turned to look at Ning Zhichu, and smiled meaningfully. “Reporter Ning’s report is well written, but some of the data is too sharp. If it is published, Huayu’s stock price will probably drop a lot. But it’s okay, we can communicate again and maybe we can revise it to be ‘more objective’.”
Wei Ting stubbed out his cigarette in the ashtray, his tone icy: "If President Li feels the report is not objective, he can have a lawyer send a letter. There's no need to make things difficult for a reporter." His gaze fell on Ning Zhichu's face, carrying a familiar warmth, but more intense than usual, as if he were afraid she would be taken away by someone else.
Mr. Li's expression changed, and he gave an awkward laugh before leaving. The wind on the terrace was strong, causing Ning Zhichu's dress to sway gently. Wei Ting took off his suit jacket and draped it over her shoulders; the jacket still carried his familiar scent of cedarwood mixed with a faint smell of cigarette smoke.
“Be careful, he’s not a good person.” He looked down at her, his eyes full of worry. “If there’s any risk in the report, don’t publish it. I can support you.”
These words were like a thorn, instantly bringing tears to Ning Zhichu's eyes. She grabbed his hand: "Wei Ting, I know what you mean, but I don't need you to support me."
As she turned and walked into the banquet hall, she didn't see Wei Ting standing frozen in place, nor did she see the silver ring in his palm, which was being gripped so tightly it was burning hot—the "W&N" lettering on the ring shimmered under the terrace lights, like a tear hidden in his eye.
Halfway through the dinner, Ning Zhichu received a WeChat message from Wei Ting containing only a photo: her interview outline. Next to the red-marked revisions, he added a small line of text: "No evidence found for Huayu's new battery patent number; query link attached." Below that was another sentence in his usual gentle tone: "Aunt Zhang made bird's nest porridge and put it in a thermos. I had the driver deliver it. Remember to drink it while it's hot."
Ning Zhichu stood before the floor-to-ceiling window of the revolving restaurant, phone in hand, gazing at the dazzling night view outside. The lights on both banks of the Huangpu River reflected in the ripples, like countless scattered stars. She remembered that morning in Florence when Wei Ting helped her adjust the camera's focus, saying he wanted to capture all the light in the world for her; she remembered that rainy night in Shanghai when he waited for her downstairs at the editorial office, holding an umbrella, the hot cocoa in his hand just the right temperature.
My phone vibrated again. It was a message from Su Xiaoran: "Lu Zexu said that Wei Ting has given up the R&D subsidy in order to avoid making things difficult for you, President Li. The financing plan for Green Energy has also been revised three times in order to avoid direct competition with Huayu."
Ning Zhichu's tears finally fell, splashing onto her phone screen and blurring the message Wei Ting had sent. She looked up towards the terrace; Wei Ting was still standing there, his back to her, leaning alone against the railing, holding the untouched glass of red wine.
The lights in the revolving restaurant slowly rotated, casting long shadows of the two people. One was in the hustle and bustle of the banquet hall, the other in the silence of the terrace. Although they were only separated by a glass door, it felt like an entire winter had passed between them. Ning Zhichu knew that this cold war was not over yet, but she also knew that in the warmth hidden in her suit jacket, in the revisions marked in red pen, in that ever-warm cup of bird's nest porridge, there was a concern they hadn't spoken aloud—but this concern needed time to overcome their stubbornness and embrace each other again.
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