Chapter 47 But it was precisely at that moment...
In fact, Zhou Yue had known all along that he would see her sooner or later.
This thought, like a thin thread, had been silently tugging at his heart for far too long. Until that day at the high-level meeting, Zheng Yaotian flipped through the documents and said casually, "Lin Xiao's family has suddenly encountered an accident, and he needs to take a leave of absence temporarily. We need to send someone to Tianxing Fanglue as soon as possible to keep an eye on things."
In that instant, Zhou Yue's heart skipped a beat. He almost subconsciously looked up, his gaze falling on Zheng Yaotian's face through the documents and light cast across the conference table.
"I'll go," he said calmly. It was just a routine job rotation, yet it suppressed all the memories and names that suddenly surged into his mind.
After the meeting ended, everyone left one after another.
Zheng Yaotian didn't say anything, but just gave him a wink. The two of them went into his office at the far end of the floor, one after the other. The moment the door closed, it shut out the footsteps and conversations outside.
Zheng Yaotian walked behind his desk, casually tossed the files aside, turned around, leaned against the edge of the desk, and slowly asked, "You already knew who was behind Tianxing Fanglue, didn't you?"
Zhou Yue did not deny it, but lowered his eyes and softly hummed in agreement.
“Your father probably won’t be too happy.” Zheng Yaotian’s lips curled into a meaningful smile, a smile that concealed a knowing wisdom.
“He came to see me a while ago and said that since you had just returned to China, he wanted you to take a steady and solid first step and not be too aggressive. I still remember the worry in his tone.”
“I know, but he can’t interfere with our company’s internal scheduling.” Zhou Yue’s answer remained concise. As he spoke, he opened Tianxing’s company introduction. On the first page, the names of several partners were listed one by one, each with their own signature.
Xia Zhiyao's name appears in the lower right corner, yet her handwriting is extremely distinct, a unique style of cursive script that defies gender distinction.
Zhou Yue stared at the three words for a few seconds, his gaze gradually darkening. It was as if he were seeing her in person: calm, self-possessed, full of power, leaving no room for doubt, and not easy to approach. Even if it was just a signature, it was still the same woman he knew: flawless and beautiful to the point of being hard to look at directly.
Zheng Yaotian squinted at him for a good ten seconds, then chuckled softly, "Although Tianxing Fanglue is my brother's company, I still have to give you a piece of advice."
He paused, his voice losing some of its playfulness and gaining a rare seriousness: "Think thrice before you act."
Zhou Yue lowered his head and remained silent, standing quietly as if weighing something. But the next second, he raised his head and met Zheng Yaotian's gaze directly.
At that moment, his eyes were so clear that they almost washed away all pretense; there was no hesitation or retreat whatsoever.
Sunlight streamed obliquely through the floor-to-ceiling windows, casting a faint golden glow on his cool profile. His usually taciturn and calm face now held an unexpected firmness.
"If you want a reason, I can tell you the truth."
“I returned to China for her sake,” Zhou Yue blurted out.
"It was for her that I decided to go to Tianxing Fanglue." As he said this, he felt the taut string in his chest finally loosen, and the words that had been held back for so long finally found their way out.
Zheng Yaotian did not reply immediately, but looked at him thoughtfully, his eyes showing both surprise and a sense of confirmation that "I knew it".
He clicked his tongue softly, his voice carrying three parts teasing and seven parts sentimentality, then chuckled softly: "Well done, Zhou Yue, I never knew you were such a romantic."
“However…” His voice suddenly turned serious, carrying a kind of intimidating power unique to a seasoned businessman, “I admire your honesty.”
The night before leaving for Tianxing, Zhou Yue didn't sleep a wink. The living room of his new home was unusually empty, and outside the window was the city in the early morning, completely silent.
He lit a cigarette, half-sitting on the sofa. As he exhaled the first puff of smoke, he tilted his head back, his gaze fixed on the endless ceiling, while his heart was already churning like a stormy sea.
He had asked these questions countless times before, in the dead of night, in the snow, among the towering buildings of New York, and on that sleepless night before returning home.
He thought time would give him the answer, but time remained silent, letting those questions accumulate in his heart, becoming thicker and deeper.
How will she respond?
He didn't know, nor dared to hope to know, that he had traveled so far, traversing time and geography, and enduring countless self-doubts, all just to stand before her again at the point where fates intersected once more, even if only once.
He didn't intend to pressure her. He wasn't even sure if he would have the energy to ask a second time if she refused to answer.
But the voice in my heart kept asking, like the tide trapped in the cracks of my bones, crashing against me again and again: Why did you come?
And why did you leave?
He simply couldn't bear the silence of complete ignorance any longer, the feeling of being left behind without warning or explanation—it felt too much like being abandoned, too much like being discarded.
He could endure waiting, but he couldn't withstand the silent collapse of being left out.
The moment Zhou Yue saw her, he almost lost his composure.
She remained as calm and capable as ever, her aura restrained yet sharp, her smile faint, as if all the past events and people were irrelevant to her.
But only he knew that he was finished.
Those emotions that were unspoken two years ago, those thoughts that should have been worn down by time, and the love that should have dissipated with insomnia, sleeping pills, and silence, all collapsed the moment she appeared.
He stood at the conference room door, his fingertips trembling slightly, his fingers unconsciously clenching, his knuckles turning white, his palms damp and warm. He held his breath, forcing himself to say in the calmest, most polite voice, "It's an honor to meet you."
But he knew he couldn't let go. He had been anxious for far too long, so long that he couldn't even remember how he got through those nights. He thought time had healed him; he saw a doctor, took his medication on time, exercised... but the moment she appeared, all the self-control he had cultivated instantly collapsed.
He could only hide himself in logic and restraint, sitting at the conference table, using a flat tone to dissect her plan bit by bit, questioning, analyzing, and rejecting it one by one with the indifferent mask of an "investor," like a businesslike interrogator.
But only he knew that the more questions he asked, the more he forced himself to calm down.
The more composed she remained, the more he wanted to break free of all reason, tear apart her expression, kiss her, hug her, and fiercely grab her chin to demand: Don't you really love me at all? How could you... just leave like that?
He was so restrained, but that restraint itself was a form of hysteria.
On Saturday, Zhou Yue drove to his mother's and stepfather's house. The car radio was broadcasting a weather forecast, predicting a sudden drop in temperature and possible rain in the evening.
He lowered his voice and caught a glimpse of himself in the rearview mirror—calm expression, neat shirt, as always, presentable, composed, and impeccable. But his mind began to resurface memories he thought he had long since buried.
It wasn't the kind of sharp arguments or tearing scenes. His childhood didn't have the exaggerated storms seen in TV dramas. He was less than five years old when his parents divorced. He was too young to realize what it meant for "a family to be split into two."
They both remarried later. His mother gave birth to his younger brother not long after her remarriage. He mainly lived with his father when he was young, and only went to his mother's house on weekends or during winter and summer vacations.
He always knew that his parents treated him very well. He lacked nothing in terms of material things, companionship, or educational resources. From childhood to adulthood, he never missed any of the schools, courses, or classes he was required to attend. Like all children in Beijing, he learned to play the piano, to paint, and also learned how to maintain a proper balance between his two families.
It wasn't the kind of emotional criticism, but rather the implicit pressure hidden in "for your own good." He knew from a young age what he should do, what he should say, and what emotions he shouldn't let be seen. He wasn't allowed to lose control, and he shouldn't let anyone worry.
His life was well-planned; he only needed to follow the steps to become a reliable "model child," and he certainly did.
He learned self-control from a young age and how to hide his excessive emotions. He was used to being expected of and was good at responding to expectations.
He always knew that his parents owed him nothing; they had simply gone their separate ways and tried their best to be good to him in their own ways.
That's why he lost control when Xia Zhiyao left.
Just like when he was a child, he sat alone outside the piano classroom, watching other children being picked up by their parents one by one.
As darkness fell, he went from standing and waiting to sitting in a corner, looking at the clock on the wall over and over again. Every sound at the door made him subconsciously look up, but the person who came in was never the one who was there to pick him up.
He was all too familiar with that feeling of being left behind, with nowhere to channel his emotions. But this time, he thought he was grown up and could handle it. However, it turned out that he had overestimated himself.
The lawn outside the villa had just been mowed, and a row of understated yet expensive green plants were scattered along the fence. As soon as the door opened, the mother came out.
The door clicked open, and Zhou Yue's mother, Wei Ran, appeared. She wore a light camel-colored wool shawl, her features were well-maintained, and she possessed an elegant demeanor; her age was almost impossible to guess from her appearance. Her gaze fell on Zhou Yue, her usual scrutinizing look: "You're here. You didn't even tell me you were coming back."
But she didn't stop moving. While talking, she bent down to get his slippers and then took his coat and hung it on the coat rack by the door. Her movements were so natural that it seemed she had done them countless times before.
"It was a last-minute decision." Zhou Yue lowered his head to change his shoes, his tone gentle but revealing a hint of fatigue.
She frowned: "Work is temporary, life is temporary? How old are you this year, still drifting around?"
“I didn’t drift away,” he said softly, with a weary yet resolute air. “I’m back to make long-term plans.”
"So you finally decided to come back." She sneered, her gaze sweeping from his hair to his face. "You've been back in the country for over a month, and not a word. You never keep your word. You haven't even cut your hair, and you've lost weight. Did you come back to work, or to suffer?"
He didn't reply, only muttering, "Very busy."
Her mother's tone suddenly sharpened: "You're busy, but what about your brother? He's left there all alone..."
He lowered his gaze slightly, a trace of weariness followed by calm flashing in his eyes: "Qiran told me a long time ago that he wants to live on his own."
He paused, his tone still calm, but with a hint of sharpness: "You saw what he was like at UNC. His schedule was well-organized, he managed his life very well, and he had a lot of friends. He's not a child anymore."
Wei Ran stared at him, her lips moving slightly, but she didn't reply immediately. Of course, she knew her youngest son was living a good life, but this was never the answer she wanted to hear.
Zhou Yue knew all too well what she wanted to hear, but he simply wouldn't say it. He couldn't bring himself to say it.
Wei Ran didn't say anything more, only saying, "Wash your hands and let's eat." She turned around, walked back to the dining table, pulled out a chair, and sat down opposite him.
She didn't look at him or say anything more. She just sat there. The food was already laid out, with several home-style dishes neatly arranged on a porcelain plate, still steaming.
The soup pot contained her signature old hen soup, with a few red dates and bright yellow goji berries floating on the surface. Wei Ran always valued the sense of ritual in life, and she never compromised on anything, even when it was just the two of them eating.
"Isn't Uncle Jiang coming back for dinner?" Zhou Yue sat down and picked up his chopsticks.
“He has social engagements,” Wei Ran answered crisply, his voice light and emotionless.
“You used to really like this braised pork with preserved mustard greens,” she said, placing a piece into Zhou Yue’s bowl. Her tone was gentle, as if she were just mentioning it casually. “It’s cooked quite well today.”
Zhou Yue glanced at the plate of braised pork, murmured "hmm," and neither agreed nor replied.
Halfway through the meal, Wei Ran suddenly said, "You're still too much like your dad."
Zhou Yue paused slightly as he picked up some food, but remained silent.
Her tone was calm, but every word was sharp: "You don't talk much, and you keep everything to yourself. You say it's for your own good, that it shows maturity and independence, but you never tell me what you're really thinking."
She paused, her gaze falling on a dish on the table, but it seemed as if she were looking through the color of the dish to a more distant past. "Your father was like that when he was young. He would leave whenever he wanted, and never look back, as if he had never been there."
Having said that, she put down her chopsticks, her movements so light they were almost silent. "I don't want you to become like that." Her voice finally softened, carrying a hint of reluctance and weariness, like a grudge that had been kept silent for years, now gently seeping through.
This time, Zhou Yue looked up at her. His eyes were indifferent, calm to the point of being almost waveless, yet they concealed a weariness worn down by time.
He said calmly, "Mom, I won't leave. Don't compare me to him."
Wei Ran responded softly and said nothing more.
But at that moment, Zhou Yue suddenly realized that even the only person in the world who would still nag him was becoming more and more distant and less and less approachable.
After lunch, Zhou Yue did not go home immediately.
The car drove out of the villa area and onto the city's main road. He drove aimlessly, and before he knew it, he had driven back to the street where he had attended high school.
He got out of the car and slowly walked along the sidewalk. The streetlights had just come on, and the orange light flickered in the wind, like the rhythm of the city's heartbeat, silent and weary.
He smoked a cigarette, bought a bottle of water at the corner convenience store, turned at the intersection, passed a bookstore that was still open, and further ahead was a small barbecue stall made of tin roof. Several students in school uniforms were gathered around the stall, noisily scrambling to order.
The school uniform was a familiar style, with the emblem of his high school embroidered on the left chest.
Zhou Yue paused, feeling a strange sense of disbelief, as if he were just a teenager who had just finished evening self-study, waiting here for a skewer of freshly roasted mutton, eating and laughing with a few friends.
Zhou Yue casually bought a few skewers, and steam rose up, carrying the aroma of smoke and spices.
He stood aside and waited, his gaze falling on the students who were chatting animatedly about which teacher was annoying, which girl was pretty, and also complaining about the monthly exam and cursing the tutoring classes.
He suddenly remembered that he had actually been in this school since junior high school. Back then, the thing he looked forward to most every day was waiting for Xia Zhiyao to leave school together.
After she finished her college entrance exams, she left school early. From then on, the road home from school seemed to become particularly long. Without her walking briskly ahead of him, he was no longer in a hurry to go home.
The surroundings were bustling with the sounds of everyday life, and the voices and laughter of young people were so clear and bright. But he felt like someone who had been swept out of the boundaries of his memory. Yet, in that instant, Zhou Yue suddenly wavered.
He didn't know what he was reminiscing about as he sat there—was he reminiscing about her, or about his younger self?
He suddenly realized that perhaps he wasn't completely without anything.
The time he had with her wasn't forever, but it was enough for him to remember it to this day.
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