Chapter 58 We've done so much...
Halfway through the meal, the effects of the alcohol began to set in, and a more relaxed expression appeared on everyone's faces.
Mr. Zhou put down his chopsticks, raised his hand to smooth his sleeves, and looked at Xia Zhiyao. His tone softened a bit: "I'm actually quite relieved to send Zhou Yue to your Tianxing this time."
As he spoke, he glanced at his son sitting opposite him, his eyes filled with the patient and mature expectation of a father: "He's been working hard outside these past few years without much rest, it's time for him to settle down. With you guiding him, he can learn well over there, and as his father, I can rest easy."
He paused, his gaze shifting from Xia Zhiyao back to Zhou Yue, and nodded intentionally or unintentionally: "Of course, I don't necessarily want him to stay. Once he's had enough experience, he's welcome back to the company if he's willing. He'll have to take care of things at home sooner or later."
These words, though not harsh, carry a calm and steady implication typical of capital. They are spoken earnestly, yet they convey a sense of belonging, even a subtle certainty that "we will eventually get back on track."
Zhou Yue paused slightly in his chopsticks. He didn't look up, but simply picked up a piece of cabbage and said in a calm but determined tone, "I don't have that plan for the time being."
Mr. Zhou frowned and stared at him: "What do you mean?"
“I said,” he put down his chopsticks, finally looked up at his father, his voice not loud, but very steady, “I don’t plan to go back home for the time being. The company is doing well, and I’m quite comfortable there.” It didn’t sound like a retort, but more like a premeditated statement of his position.
Xia Zhiyao sat to the side, noticing the atmosphere suddenly become heavy. Her tone was gentle yet clear: "Actually, Zhou Yue has been making great progress on several projects recently and has adapted very quickly. We and several cooperating investors all recognize his judgment and pace, and think that he reacts quickly and has a clear mind."
At this point, she smiled slightly: "He has his own rhythm, and of course we won't waste such a good piece of talent."
She paused, as if carefully considering her words, and continued, "Actually, it's not really about where to go, but about doing things well. Once he finishes this period of training at Tianxing, he'll definitely return to Zhengyuan. When he's done a great job on the project and gained solid experience, his reputation will be different both internally and externally."
She spoke with great tact, neither directly refuting nor offering empty flattery, but gently arranging the order of "process" and "belonging," cleverly transforming Zhou's father's previous hints into a future tense of "things falling into place naturally."
"And..." Her voice lowered a little, sounding both joking and serious, "Uncle Zhou, didn't you just say that I've made something of myself these past few years? Besides, I'm a girl, so boys should rely on their own hard work to earn their own confidence, so they can stand taller when they come home, right?"
After she finished speaking, she raised her glass and gently touched the two elders with her smile, which was both humble and playful, yet perfectly measured.
The tense atmosphere around the dinner table eased at that moment. Xia's father glanced at his daughter, nodded gently, and his expression showed undisguised satisfaction.
Mr. Zhou lowered his head and took a sip of wine, but his gaze softened and his tone relaxed: "What you say... makes sense."
Mr. Xia glanced at Zhou Yue, then at his daughter, and took a sip of wine with a smile: "It's good that young people have their own ideas, and Zhiyao is right. What difference does it make where you do things? Just think it through." This statement contained both the tolerance of an elder and a subtle reminder.
Mr. Zhou finally sighed and said slowly, "I'm afraid he'll miss the starting point the family gave him, go too far, and then be tired when he looks back."
Zhou Yue paused for a moment before speaking again: "I know you mean well."
His voice was a little hoarse, but his tone was calmer and more firm than ever before: "But in this life, you can't always be thinking about looking back, can you?"
After the dinner ended, Zhou Bingcheng patted Xia Zhongming on the shoulder with a smile: "Let's go, Lao Xia, let's continue chatting in the car. I'll give you a ride."
Xia Zhongming initially wanted to decline, but seeing the other party's warm expression and sincere words, he smiled and nodded: "Okay, then the children can go back by themselves."
Zhou Bingcheng turned and waved to Zhou Yue, his tone natural yet carrying a hint of meaning: "Take your sister Zhiyao home."
Zhou Yue nodded: "The designated driver will be here soon, let's take her there first."
The two fathers walked side by side toward the other side, their suits and overcoats casting long shadows under the lamplight, gradually disappearing into the distance until only the two of them remained on the street.
Zhou Yue took out his phone, looked down and selected a designated driver. Then, he took out a cigarette from his coat pocket, put it between his lips, and flicked the lighter with a soft "click".
The firelight flickered in the wind, illuminating his deep-set eyes and brows. His single eyelids appeared particularly sharp behind his glasses, and his gaze, half-lit and half-shadowed, revealed a quiet sharpness.
Smoke slowly billowed out. He tilted his head slightly, his lips pressed tightly together, his profile hidden in the night, the streetlights slicing out cold, hard lines.
High cheekbones, a straight nose, and a clean, sharp jawline; the brow bone naturally exudes a sense of pressure, yet at this moment it reveals an unintentional restraint.
He casually leaned against the roadside railing, one hand in the pocket of his wool coat and the other holding a cigarette. His fingers were long and well-defined.
Xia Zhiyao turned to the side, her gaze involuntarily falling on him. She knew she shouldn't look at him too much, but she was still captivated by his indifferent yet focused expression.
The alcohol made her lose her composure, and the smell of tobacco mixed with the night wind wafted towards her, carrying a familiar scent that made her heart tremble.
She suddenly recalled many scenes: his composed demeanor as he spoke at the other end of the conference table, his soft voice calling her name in the corridor late at night, and those times of unguarded intimacy.
After a long silence, Zhou Yue turned his head and glanced at her through his glasses. His voice was low and hoarse, tinged with hesitation from the alcohol and a barely suppressed impulse: "Where do you want to go?"
As soon as he said those words, he was stunned for a moment. It was no longer a pleasantry, but a direct invitation that crossed the line.
She turned her head at the sound and met his gaze. His eyes trembled slightly, as if he were drunk, and though his expression remained indifferent, they were veiled by a barely perceptible softness.
Zhou Yue felt as if he had been gently struck in the chest. Last time, it was in this ambiguous and out-of-control space that they reached a point of no return.
The cigarette between his fingers was almost burned to the end, the embers flickering in the night, but he forgot to flick it. His Adam's apple bobbed, and his voice was even lower than before, as if he were suppressing his breath as he said, "Then come with me."
Xia Zhiyao did not answer immediately, nor did she look away. She quietly looked at him, the wind blowing through her hair.
A faint smile curved her lips; the smile neither denied nor agreed, yet it was the clearest answer.
The next second, she gently turned to the side and took half a step closer to him. That step was so short it was almost imperceptible, yet it brought the silence, the tentative exploration, and the memories between them to within reach. Zhou Yue watched her approach, feeling his heart pounding so loudly it almost drowned out the traffic. They had come close to this distance countless times before, but never so truly.
He stared at her, the impulse fueled by the alcohol in his eyes becoming uncontrollable. The cigarette between his fingers burned to its end in the night wind, but he seemed oblivious.
Zhou Yue's breathing gradually calmed down, his body leaned forward slightly, his gaze locked onto her eyes, and he moved even closer. Just as the distance between them was about to be completely erased, Zhou Yue's breathing became even more rapid.
"You called for a designated driver," the driver said with a smile, sticking his head out.
Neither of them moved, only exchanging a fleeting glance. Zhou Yue turned his head, stubbed out his cigarette by the railing, and said in a voice so low it was almost carried away by the wind, "Let's go."
He walked around to the car, opened the back door, and got in first. His actions seemed casual, but they carried an air of undeniable authority.
Xia Zhiyao paused for two seconds, then silently sat down beside him. The carriage was unusually quiet, which made Zhou Yue even more aware that she was right next to him. The faint scent of her perfume filled the small space.
The street scene outside the window slowly receded, neon lights flashing by frame by frame, casting a hazy and unfathomable shadow on her profile, like a pool of water that could pull her in at any moment.
Xia Zhiyao felt his gaze, but deliberately avoided looking at him. Zhou Yue glanced at her, said nothing, and simply loosened the buttons on his collar. His gaze fell on the ends of her hair, which still had a few strands of static electricity from the wind.
He raised his hand halfway, intending to help her straighten it, but stopped at the last moment.
After a moment of silence, he finally spoke, his voice low and hoarse: "If you regret it now, it's not too late."
Xia Zhiyao didn't look up, but a slight smile played on her lips: "You look at me like someone who regrets something?"
He didn't reply, but instead turned his head to lean against the car window, gazing at the blurry streetlights outside. His thin lips curled slightly, and he chuckled softly, "Doesn't seem like it."
After he finished speaking, his hand moved slowly between the seats, seemingly casually, yet with a clear direction. His fingertips first lightly brushed against the back of her hand, then paused for a moment, as if waiting for her reaction.
She didn't pull her hand back, nor did she look at him; she simply let the warm touch slowly wash over her.
Zhou Yue's fingers curled slightly as he tentatively took her hand in his palm. The pressure was light, yet it carried an undeniable sense of possessiveness.
The night receded from outside the window, and the lights in front of the hotel shone into the car, illuminating her profile. Her face was clean and serene, yet it held a softness that was softened by the alcohol and the night.
When the car came to a stop, Zhou Yue got out first, but the moment he held her hand, it was with an undeniable force.
After checking in, the two stepped into the elevator. In the enclosed space, Zhou Yue could clearly hear his own heartbeat, heavy and louder than his footsteps. With each step, the tension tightened like a taut string.
They walked side by side, neither speaking nor stopping. The thick carpet in the corridor swallowed most of their footsteps. The door drew closer, and they deliberately kept an arm's length apart.
This distance represents their last shred of rationality and their last act of tenderness. They both understand that if they take another step closer, there will be no turning back.
Zhou Yue swiped his room card, the door lock clicked softly, and he pushed the door open and went in without looking back, as if he was certain she would follow.
Xia Zhiyao paused for a second at the door, her fingertips tightening slightly on the bag strap, before finally stepping inside, the door closing behind her.
The next second, Zhou Yue seemed unable to contain his anger any longer, and suddenly turned around and pulled her into his arms.
The action was almost instinctive. From the moment she stepped through the door, all his restraint began to crumble. He had waited too long and endured too long. He needed to confirm that she was really here and that this was not the hallucination he had been having dreamt about repeatedly.
He held her waist, pressing her firmly into his arms, his breath hot and almost scorching, his forehead close to hers, his voice low and deep, as if grinding from the bottom of his throat: "Why did you come with me?"
That wasn't an interrogation, but a forced confession, forcing her to admit that she, like him, longed for it.
Xia Zhiyao tilted her chin up, forced to meet his gaze directly. She didn't struggle; instead, the corners of her lips curled up slightly, and her eyes revealed a hint of drunkenness and provocation: "Didn't you tell me to go with you?"
She leaned forward slightly, her voice low, her breath brushing against his lips, "I was just... going along with you."
The darkness in Zhou Yue's eyes deepened, as if a fire had been ignited and then suppressed. He chuckled softly, a mixture of anger, desire, and an unyielding satisfaction: "If only you were really that obedient..."
His fingertips tightened, pinching her chin with a force that was both punitive and dangerously tender.
At this moment, Zhou Yue's gentle and refined exterior shattered. Standing in front of her was a man with a obsessed gaze and an oppressive aura, whose entire being exuded an unquestionable declaration of "you are mine".
Xia Zhiyao was forced to tilt her head back, a soft laugh escaping her lips, but her eyes shone with an astonishing brightness: "If you came here just to say such things..." She paused for half a second, her gaze falling directly into his eyes, "Then I can leave."
Zhou Yue's eyes darkened, and the next second he tightened his grip, pressing her against the door. The two were so close that there was almost no air between them; their breaths mingled, and their noses brushed against each other.
In that instant, she clearly felt the strength of his body and the long-suppressed desire for control. Trapped between him and the door, her heart pounded with excitement. She knew that she had deliberately crossed his final line.
Zhou Yue stared intently at her, his eyes burning not with fire, but with the imminent collapse that had been brewing for two long years of desolation and oppression.
For two years, all the longing, all the resentment, all the pain have converged into this look in my eyes at this moment, heavy and suppressed, yet sharp enough to cut.
He wanted her, her body, and even more so, her heart. But he was also afraid—afraid that it was just a momentary impulse on her part, afraid that when he woke up tomorrow, she would revert to that rational, indifferent, and unlovable persona.
His voice was so low it sounded like it was being forced out from between his teeth, hoarse and restrained, carrying an almost painful question: "That time, we did it so many times..." His breathing was rapid, and his eyes held a complex, almost pathetic, emotion. "Why didn't you kiss me?"
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