Chapter 44 Let's Go Home
"Wesley, come with me on a field trip today."
Lin Zhesi knocked on Meng Weishen's desk.
Meng Weishen was caught in the act of slacking off, and his instinctive action of turning off the screen of his mobile phone also made it seem as if he had hidden something behind the scenes.
He was fretting over Jiang Ranxu's refusal to accept the rent transfer, wondering if he'd pissed him off again. He kept writing and deleting unsent messages. Suddenly, he couldn't recall what field work he needed to run. "But I still have a few requests to complete, and they're due next week..."
"Just assign the simple tasks to Mia." Lin Zhesi was in a hurry and didn't have time to bother with him slacking off. He simply grabbed his shoulder bag and threw it into his arms. "Come with me now. We have a rare and good job today."
"What good job?"
Lin Zhesi didn't have time to answer, and said impatiently: "Just tell me whether you want a promotion or a performance bonus."
“…I think everyone doesn’t want to.”
"Then seize the opportunity and follow me."
This was not the first time Meng Weishen heard the other party mention a "good job", but until he followed the other party out of the company park and went to the nearby badminton court, he still didn't understand what a "good job" meant.
On a weekday, the badminton courts were bustling with activity, the clanging of balls audible even from the perimeter. Many people in Beijing weren't working, and today Meng Weishen was one of them, his nerves still tense.
"Manager Lin, are you sure you want to come to the stadium for field work?"
"Your field work today is badminton."
"What kind of job is this?"
Lin Zhesi unzipped his backpack, pulled out a badminton racket, weighed it, and thrust it into his hands. "Don't try to shirk your duties. I've done some research. You participated in a badminton tournament organized by the union last year, and you usually go to the gym. You definitely know how to play."
“My level is very amateur.”
Meng Weishen wasn't being modest. He'd taken a badminton class in undergraduate studies, but THU's PE classes were a living hell. Even after spending the entire semester practicing on the courts, he only managed a mediocre grade at the end of the semester. After starting work, he'd completely abandoned his studies and was now living off his savings.
"I'm not asking you to fight an Olympic champion. It's enough for you to just spar with a fifty-year-old man." Lin Zhesi gestured with his chin to look diagonally across the court, where an old man was standing alone on the court practicing his swing. "Did you see that old man? Don't you recognize him? He's President Zhuge. Do you know why the union organized a badminton event? Because the old man has become addicted to badminton in the past two years."
...It turns out that playing ball with the boss is also considered field work.
Meng Weishen's athletic abilities were amateurish, and his social skills were abysmal. He was well aware of his shortcomings, having chosen R&D in part because it didn't require socializing. As for playing ball with his superiors, it was definitely not a good job for him.
But Lin Zhesi insisted on dragging him into the fight: "You made Mr. Zhuge happy today, which is more useful than writing code for a lifetime. Later, pretend you can't catch his ball, and I will praise his beautiful smash and good coordination. Is this instruction clear enough? Go and execute it now."
As a veteran of the company, Mr. Zhuge witnessed the rise of the internet era. He advocated innovation and refused to accept his age. In his fifties, he disliked fishing and tea drinking, preferring instead to competing in sports with younger people. He appeared lean and tanned, but his skin had collapsed, leaving him looking like a well-polished walnut.
Lin Zhesi's expression completely changed: "Senior Brother!"
As someone watched, the old man swung his racket more passionately. "Wow, you brought a new player to play today? Who is this?"
"Wesley, from our group. He's also Professor Wen's student, so he's considered a junior fellow."
Meng Weishen hesitated for a moment, then awkwardly called out, "Hello, Senior Brother Zhuge."
Hearing Professor Wen's name, the old man's expression was quite interesting. "Wen Hui has many students all over the world now. Time flies. When we were in college, she was the youngest in the class, and we were all happy to take care of her."
Lin Zhesi continued his sales pitch: "You complained about my poor skills before, so I definitely have to find you a rival of equal caliber. I wanted to invite my friends from the national team, but they have to go to training camp. So I asked Wesley to come over to help out. He's also a decent player, and I guarantee you'll have a blast."
Meng Weishen thus took advantage of the national team and occupied the opposite half of the field from the old man.
He had just picked up a badminton when the old man had already spread his legs parallel to each other, lowered his center of gravity, and stood on his tiptoes, looking quite professional. Meng Weishen was skeptical. The old man had probably caught more balls than he had eaten. If he let it go too obviously, wouldn't he be easily exposed?
During the warm-up phase, the two exchanged a few rounds. Meng Weishen lost control of his strength and the ball hit the old man's head. The old man retreated repeatedly and almost fell to the ground in public.
Lin Zhesi rushed to the rescue: "Brother, are you okay?"
The old man said stubbornly, "It's a small problem. Young people are really energetic. Not bad, not bad. I feel relieved to see that the company has such excellent reserve talents."
While the old man was taking a break to drink water, Lin Zhesi pulled Meng Weishen aside and scolded him in a low voice: "What are you doing! You should give Mr. Zhuge a chance to kill the ball, not give him a chance to be hospitalized!"
Meng Weishen felt innocent: "I thought Mr. Zhuge had a lot of playing experience."
"What major? ... He used to like playing football, but a twenty-something intern at the company slipped and tackled him on the field, breaking his toe. That's why he switched to badminton. Do you understand?"
The situation was urgent, so Meng Weishen had no choice but to nod awkwardly.
He temporarily adjusted his strategy. No matter which tricky direction the old man returned the ball, he would ensure that the ball flew back steadily to the opponent's racket. He also paid attention to controlling the score of the match point, allowing the old man to feel the thrill of the score being tied repeatedly. In the end, the old man won the match two out of three.
Playing ball with the boss was a test of both physical and mental strength. Meng Weishen felt like he was practicing his serve against a constantly changing wall, and after half a day, he was exhausted. No wonder Lin Zhesi didn't want to be a sparring partner. He let his subordinates do all the work, and took all the credit himself. This is the art of being a middleman.
Fortunately, the old man had a great time and offered to treat his two junior brothers to dinner.
Before the hot dishes even arrived, Lin Zhesi chuckled and pulled out a bright red Moutai bag. Meng Weishen thought the fake wine he'd given him had found a new job, but upon closer inspection, he realized it was actually 50-year-old Moutai. While the appearance was difficult to tell, the taste was enough to fool Mr. Zhuge. The old man took a sip from his glass and praised the wine.
Lin Zhesi drank and chatted with Zhuge Zong, barely moving his chopsticks. Meng Weishen didn't feel like drinking or chatting, so he simply helped them finish their food, devouring a whole plate of scallions, ginger, and Australian abalone, earning back his half-day sparring fee.
He finally had time to check the new message notifications on his phone. Jiang Ranxu sent him many photos of Ditan Park.
The camera panned across a vast expanse of emerald green. A gray-blue old wall peeked through the gaps in the trees, resembling a faded ocean. A figure stood before the wall. To the centuries-old park, she was merely a passing visitor—his mother, Meng Lirong.
Even through the screen, Meng Weishen could smell the scent of water-laden plants, and his heart began to melt. He also wanted to go to the park.
But he could only sit there in boredom. Lin Zhesi didn't forget to nudge him: "Brother, Wesley's a good basketball player, right? Ask him to play basketball with you more often in the future."
The old man just smiled. He turned his head and asked Meng Weishen, "I heard you were Wen Hui's graduate student? Have you kept in touch with your supervisor since graduation?"
"Before I got married, I rented a house near the university, and I often walked the dog with Professor Wen. Her dog, Ciba, was very cute."
"She has always been so kind. There was a fight between stray dogs at school, and a black and white dog was bitten to the bone. She picked up the dog, paid for it to be taken to the vet herself, and she actually cured it."
No, who asked you?
Perhaps his confused expression discouraged the other party from sharing, so the old man turned the topic back to Meng Weishen: "Wesley, what is your current rating, P6 or P7? Also, have you received stock options? How much dividend can you get a year?"
"Mr. Zhuge, just tell me what you need from me. I'm not just going to play basketball with you, am I?"
Meng Weishen finished speaking and immediately received a roll of the eyes from Lin Zhesi.
The old man wasn't embarrassed at all, and smiled at Lin Zhesi: "Junior Brother Lin, this new guy you found is quite interesting, like a professional killer. He does things for money and doesn't talk much."
Lin Zhesi quickly made up for him: "He, he's just a little slow in talking. But his ability to get things done is no problem, and he's trustworthy."
"Hey, come on," the old man said leisurely. "You said before that you were looking for your own people. What was their name, Gavin? Your own people are so talkative and leak information everywhere. We almost got ruined together."
"Gavin is too wild. Wesley is different. We're all from Tsinghua, we're family. And as you've seen, Wesley is very tight-lipped and reliable."
"Can you judge people accurately?"
"Really? Trust me." Lin Zhesi's eyes were visibly tense. "Brother, give it a try. Give him some work and see how he performs. Even if we take a step back, he and Professor Wen are very close. I've seen them walking the dog together. It wouldn't be wrong to ask him to help with the dog leash, right?"
The old man said nothing and just took the wine glass.
Lin Zhesi instructed Meng Weishen: "Why are you standing there? Toast to Brother."
The old man reached out to stop Lin Zhesi and asked, "Wesley, when are you going to go walk the dog with Professor Wen? I also want to visit my alma mater. Let's make an appointment."
——
In the adult world, if you want to develop feelings with someone, you have to provide benefits to that person; if you want to gain benefits from someone, you have to have close personal relationships with that person.
Meng Weishen had understood the rules, but adapting to them was still difficult. He felt like he was performing on stage in a dress that was the wrong size, his hands and feet were restricted, and every move was particularly laborious.
Interests and feelings are obviously two different things, why can't we distinguish them clearly?
There was no place to park in front of the restaurant, so Meng Weishen decided to wait for Jiang Ranxu across the street. Perhaps because he had exhausted too much energy today, he felt exhausted after climbing the steps of the overpass. He rested against the railing and shared a cigarette with the blood-red setting sun.
In the distance, the Internet Tower was already ablaze with fluorescent lights. Beside him, a beggar played an unpleasant flute. Down below, traffic jammed the Fifth Ring Road. Everything was folding in this great city. But he didn't belong to the tower, the overpass, or the Fifth Ring Road. His life was just an illusory bubble floating in a foreign land.
Meng Weishen had finished smoking, but before he walked down the overpass, Jiang Ranxu called him and asked about his whereabouts.
In the neon lights of the overpass, Jiang Ranxu's facial features were softer than usual, but still very beautiful. Jiang Ranxu also brought him some flower tea ice cream, which was rich in tea flavor and delicious.
Meng Weishen had to admit that seeing Jiang Ranxu was the happiest thing for him these days. But today, Jiang Ranxu repeatedly returned his transfers, and he couldn't swallow the ice cream he bought with peace of mind.
Jiang Ranxu could naturally sense his melancholy, but didn't press him to ask the reason: "It's okay to eat sweets occasionally. Don't worry about tooth decay."
"Thank you." The ice cream between his lips and teeth melted into a pool of sugar water, and Meng Weishen slowly swallowed it. "I transferred the rent to you today. Why haven't you received the payment?"
Jiang Ranxu scanned his face with his dark pupils. "Your ears must be inflamed. Don't stand outside in the wind. Let's go home."
Yes, he wanted to go home, and fortunately he had a home to return to now.
Meng Weishen and Jiang Ranxu returned home. Outside, the sky had completely darkened. They turned on the reading light in the house. Meng Weishen liked the warm yellow light; it reminded him of a mother hen and her chicks cuddling together.
Jiang Ranxu went to get the medicine box, Meng Weishen spread a layer of paper towels on the coffee table, and took off his earrings by himself.
Blood and the earring landed on the paper. Meng Weishen panicked at the sight of the blood and tried to plug the bleeding spot with the earring, but his vision was obstructed and his technique was clumsy, so blood oozed out of the puncture point of the earlobe again. He didn't dare move.
Jiang Ranxu prepared a saline-soaked gauze and pressed it between his ears. The damp, slightly cool touch overwhelmed his ears, and the sounds of the outside world suddenly became blurry. All he could hear was the hissing sound of the other person's fingers rubbing against the gauze.
To help stop the bleeding, Jiang Ranxu pressed his entire palm against his cheek. They were so close that they could share a breath, and he could clearly count each other's breaths. They had exchanged breaths for the forty-second time, and Jiang Ranxu hadn't left his cheek.
The inflammation was causing his cheeks to burn intensely, while Jiang Ranxu's body temperature was always low. The interplay of hot and cold made his sense of touch so distinct that he could practically trace the lines in the palm of his hand.
Meng Weishen's mind was in a state of confusion, as if a tide was pouring in from his ears, hitting his tongue, chest, and tailbone, leaving a sour and itchy feeling in his body that was unbearable. He couldn't remember anything, and he didn't want to think about it. When he regained his willpower, he had already kissed Jiang Ranxu on the lips.
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