Chapter 7 It was as if they had never...
Five minutes later, Zhou Yue started the car again, and the car slowly drove into the streets of New York at dusk. The orange lights stretched the shadows of the trees to an extremely long length. The trees swept past the window one by one, like frames of time rewinding in an old film. It was quiet, nostalgic, but also made people feel inexplicably melancholy.
"Sister Yaoyao," he said softly, as if testing the waters, "is your schedule full during this trip to New York?"
Xia Zhiyao was scrolling through her phone with her legs crossed when she heard this. She just clicked her tongue and didn't even lift her eyelids: "Are you my parents? You're checking up on me right away."
Zhou Yue chuckled: "I just wanted to be a good host and treat you to a meal."
She finally put her phone face down on her lap and looked at him lazily: "I'm fine with eating, but I haven't finished my project yet these past few days, so don't act like you're my dad, it scares me." She spoke in a joking tone, but her eyes were direct and straightforward.
Zhou Yue's eye twitched slightly, a movement so subtle it was almost imperceptible. Then he spoke in a low voice, his tone as if he had returned to the boy who could be happy all summer long just from having her hold his hand once: "It's been years since we last had a meal together."
He stopped halfway through his sentence, as if he realized that continuing would be too explicit, or as if he deliberately left a gap to see how she would respond.
He didn't make a fuss or cause a scene; he just spoke while driving, his voice low, like a shadow hidden in the city noise, so quiet that it was almost non-aggressive.
But he knew in his heart that he had rehearsed this entire conversation hundreds and thousands of times in his mind, thinking about the tone, the pauses, and even her possible reactions.
Xia Zhiyao didn't speak, her gaze fixed on the scenery outside the car window, but her mind suddenly flashed back to the child who always loved to come to her house for meals, sitting at her dining table, resting his chin on his hand and looking at her.
She leaned back in her chair, raised a hand to brush a stray hair from her forehead, and smirked, "Your trick is really old-fashioned, playing the emotional card?"
Zhou Yue was taken aback, and subconsciously wanted to explain something.
She added lazily, "...but I might consider treating you to dinner."
She glanced at him sideways, her tone implying an interrogation: "Then it depends on your sincerity."
Zhou Yue chuckled softly, a relaxed feeling that had been hidden for so long, like a night breeze rippling across the surface of rain-soaked water. "...Okay." His voice was low, yet held a hint of brightness.
Xia Zhiyao leaned back in the passenger seat, her brows furrowed slightly, as if she had sensed something was amiss. That keen intuition, the kind that only comes from years of familiarity and shared breaths, quietly surfaced.
"What's wrong with your voice?" She glanced at him, her tone indifferent but direct, "It sounds a little hoarse."
Zhou Yue coughed lightly, his throat hoarse and deep, but his tone carried a casualness that concealed his true feelings: "I guess I'm just a bit feverish. It's been hurting a lot these past few days, and drinking water hasn't helped."
Xia Zhiyao didn't reply for a few seconds before speaking, "I'll get you some medicine later." Her tone was still restrained, but with an understated gentleness, she said, "I brought some Niuhuang Jiedu tablets."
She was still Xia Zhiyao, always clear-headed, always calm, and always cleaning up the mess for others.
Zhou Yue glanced at her secretly, and in that instant, he felt as if he had seen something extremely soft, like watercolors that had accidentally spread on a canvas, the colors starting from the corner of his eye and seeping into his heart little by little.
He didn't say thank you, nor did he try to force himself on; he simply replied softly, "Okay."
The city outside the window casts dappled light and shadow on the glass, flickering and dreamlike. A breeze slips in through the window cracks, carrying a touch of the softness unique to a spring night, flowing gently between them.
Xia Zhiyao leaned back in her chair, closed her eyes, as if taking a breather in this brief moment of peace.
Zhou Yue chuckled softly, his eyes still fixed on the front, but hidden deep in the light and shadow was a trace of obsession that the wind could not dispel. He was not in a hurry, he could wait, he had enough time to pry open the world that she had sealed with her own hands, little by little.
Over the next few days, Xia Zhiyao led her team to push things forward aggressively. Every day, she would sit in the conference room on time, dressed in a sharply tailored suit dress, her hair tied up high, her steps brisk, every movement like a command, requiring no repetition, and everyone had to keep up with her pace.
This wasn't negotiation; it was an attack. She flipped through models, verified valuations, and revised terms, every word sharp and intimidating. She spoke slowly, but every word was compelling, her gaze direct, her tone clean, decisive, and ruthless.
Across from me was Robert Chen, in his fifties, a graduate of Columbia Business School, a typical "gentlemanly old fox," impeccably dressed in a suit, with a gentle voice and a humble manner, as if every word was dipped in honey.
But Xia Zhiyao wasn't buying it at all. She saw through his tricks in half an afternoon: his gentle and refined manner was just a sugar coating to cover up his desire for control.
He likes to lay in the details, scrutinizing every point, from word order and punctuation to the placement of parentheses, using "low-intensity tactical fatigue" to drag people into the mire.
But she refused to get involved. When he said "if necessary," she would calmly reply, "Then you need to figure out what 'necessary' means first. It's not up to you to decide, it's up to the market."
She seemed to be tearing away his facade of respectability bit by bit. In every verbal exchange, she took the initiative and never let herself be led by the nose. Logic was like a nail gun, and tone was like a whip. She didn't curse, but she made it impossible for him to move an inch.
A newcomer in the team whispered that the atmosphere changed the moment she sat down. No one dared to lose focus; she herself was a battlefield, sharp and decisive.
Robert tried several times to change the subject, using "gentle reminders" to persuade her to loosen the terms.
She chuckled lightly, looked up at him, and a sharp smile played on her lips: "Mr. Chen, if these details are truly important, we can dedicate a separate page to them. But if it's just to 'appear meticulous,' then we're all too busy to be acting." For a moment, her expression was like that of a commander eyeing his prey on the battlefield.
The agenda finally came to an end, and the last page of the agreement was printed out, the edges of the paper still warm.
After signing the papers, Robert took off his glasses and let out a long sigh of relief. He picked up his coffee cup, leaned back in his chair, and sounded much more relaxed.
“Ms. Xia, it was a very pleasant collaboration,” he said.
Xia Zhiyao nodded slightly and shook his hand: "I look forward to the smooth progress of the follow-up."
She stood up, her smile restrained and graceful, and gently shook his hand. Her voice was steady: "I look forward to a smooth transition." But a chill ran through her: You're happy, but I'm not happy at all.
Robert's smile revealed a hint of relaxation, and his tone was both serious and joking: "I actually quite like working with people like you, simple, direct, and clear."
Just as she was about to respond, he changed the subject: "It's just... not like a woman."
Xia Zhiyao raised an eyebrow. "Then you should get to know more female professionals in China." Her tone was light. "Those of us don't really follow the gentle and refined path."
After saying this, she stopped smiling, nodded in acknowledgment, and said crisply, "I wish us a pleasant cooperation."
After signing the papers, Robert took off his glasses, picked up his coffee, and leaned back in his chair, as if he had finally shed the armor of a gentleman he wore during the confrontation. His expression relaxed, and he suddenly smiled and asked, "Beijing, it's doing pretty well now, isn't it?"
He spoke slowly, but with a familiar Beijing accent, soft yet firm, revealing that it wasn't learned but rather a habit ingrained in his bones.
Xia Zhiyao was slightly taken aback, then nodded: "That's good."
Robert said softly, “I haven’t been back for a few years… My parents are both from Beijing. Although I grew up here, I always feel like I’m still half a Beijinger.”
As he spoke, a feeling of long-awaited reunion welled up in his eyes, like some kind of root slowly awakening. Even though he had been away from home for many years, the thread connecting him to his homeland had never been broken.
Xia Zhiyao looked at the white hair at his temples: "I'm reminded of a poem, 'I left home young and returned old, my accent unchanged, my hair gray.'" In an instant, the smell of cooking smoke from the deep alleys of Beijing's spring streets was blown back into this conference room in a Manhattan high-rise.
Robert paused for a moment, then chuckled softly, "That's a very apt saying: 'Children meet but do not recognize each other, laughing and asking where the guest comes from.'" He raised his coffee cup and gently touched it to her, his eyes filled with a long-lost warmth.
Xia Zhiyao smiled and added, "Then you're welcome to come to Beijing again next time, oh, no, I mean come back to Beijing."
The atmosphere softened at that moment, like a long-strained game of chess finally coming to an end, leaving behind a slight sense of mutual appreciation after overcoming the challenge side by side.
Robert put down his coffee cup, the bottom of which lightly tapped the table with a barely audible sound. He looked at her, his smile relaxed yet slightly intrigued: "By the way, I heard you're also an alumnus of Columbia?"
Xia Zhiyao raised an eyebrow slightly, a hint of surprise flashing in her eyes, then nodded: "Yes, Master studied there."
Robert visibly relaxed, and his smile became more natural: "What a coincidence. I also studied at Columbia University back then."
As he said this, his gaze drifted slightly into the distance, as if recalling a distant period of his youth. After a moment, he looked at her and suddenly suggested, "Why don't we go back and take a look? It's been a long time since I've been there."
Xia Zhiyao thought for a moment. Her schedule for the day was finished, and she had some free time, so she gently replied, "Okay."
They packed up their materials and made a last-minute drive to their alma mater. In April, New York was bathed in the unique brightness of early spring, gentle and restrained. The familiar Low Memorial Library stood quietly under the green shade and blue sky.
Following the path she had walked countless times, Xia Zhiyao's pace unconsciously slowed down. Her high heels clicked on the clean stone slabs, making her steps much lighter.
It was as if the body remembered the rhythm of this land before the mind, and those tense nerves relaxed without the awareness.
Everything seemed unchanged, but she knew that what had truly changed was not the campus, but herself standing there.
The afternoon sun cast a soft glow on the campus lawn, and the area around the field was bustling with activity as a group of boys ran freely across the green field. The ball struck the goal with a dull, powerful sound, eliciting cheers from the crowd.
Zhou Yue was among them, his short black hair damp with sweat, water droplets sliding down his forehead. He sprinted, stopped, grabbed the ball, and shot, his movements clean and efficient, his eyes carrying the sharpness and arrogance of a young man.
He was preparing for his next sprint when he suddenly caught a glimpse of a conspicuous figure in the crowd on the sidelines, and he stopped in his tracks.
Xia Zhiyao stood quietly on the sidelines, her figure clearly outlined in a well-tailored navy blue suit. With her black hair and red lips, she seemed to have come from another world. Standing between the light and shadow, she exuded a cool and aloof aura that did not belong to this world.
Her beauty was never the delicate kind, but rather a cold and restrained beauty that carried a sense of distance, serene yet oppressive.
At this moment, a faint smile played on her lips, as if admiring or scrutinizing, carrying a gentle condescending quality that stirred the heart.
Zhou Yue was stunned for a moment, as if he had been pulled out of the timeline, as if he had returned to a certain afternoon many years ago, just like this.
He was sweating profusely on the court, while she stood on the sidelines watching him. Her school uniform fluttered in the wind, and her hair swayed gently. He looked up at her, and that one glance was etched into the background of his long life, never to fade.
And now, she is still there, but between them, it is no longer just a basketball court, but years, experiences, choices and fate.
He stood frozen in place, as if he had forgotten where he was.
"Zhou Yue! Pass the ball quickly!" His teammates shouted anxiously from behind. He was jolted awake, stumbled, and missed the ball, which drew laughter and jeers from the crowd.
But he just stood there, staring at her without blinking, while she continued talking to someone.
But that touch of red burned quietly on her lips, like a fire that had never been extinguished deep in his memory, slowly churning and spreading in his chest, like some kind of destined fuse, ready to ignite at the slightest touch.
At that moment, Zhou Yue suddenly felt an almost primal urge. What if he walked through the crowd right now, grabbed her by the back of the neck, and kissed her?
His throat tightened, and his emotions, like surging undercurrents, crashed against the shore, dragging him into the abyss. His heart felt like it was being burned by flames, and the impulse that almost broke through his reason was like a wildfire that instantly burned his internal organs.
Xia Zhiyao turned her head slightly, her gaze seemingly consciously sweeping slowly across the bustling crowd until she spotted Zhou Yue.
Her eyes flickered, revealing a bright, direct, and unreserved big smile, like the warm spring sun spreading across her face, instantly softening her originally calm and aloof temperament. She waved to him: "Zhou Yue."
Just like they never missed it.
In that instant, the burning fire in his chest was as if a bucket of cold water had been poured over it, and with a hiss, it was forced deep into his bones and blood. The fire did not go out, but it was hidden even deeper, concealed under his skin, buried in his breath, and turned into a series of barely audible tremors.
He looked at her smiling face, his eyes softening inch by inch. His throat was still sore, but he still managed to speak, his voice hoarse, carrying an inappropriate softness, and hiding a longing that he could no longer conceal: "Sister."
Zhou Yue walked briskly through the crowd, his jersey half-open, sweat dripping down his temples, his short hair damp and disheveled, exuding a youthful and unrestrained spirit.
He rushed into the sunlight and into her eyes. He stood in front of her, his cheeks flushed from exercise, his breathing still unsteady, but his eyes were only for her.
Xia Zhiyao looked up at him. His eyes were clear and intense. She didn't say anything, but took out a wet wipe from her bag and handed it to him.
"Wipe it off," she said calmly, with a silent concern, "You're all sweaty."
He paused for a moment, took the tissue, and his fingertips accidentally brushed against her fingers. He felt a warmth on his fingertips, and his heart tightened.
She stepped aside and introduced casually, "This is my neighbor's younger brother; he's studying financial engineering."
Zhou Yue stepped forward, nodded in greeting, and said in a calm and restrained voice, "Hello, I am Zhou Yue."
Robert Chen turned his head, his gaze lingering briefly on his face before he smiled, reached out and shook hands: "Financial engineering? Not bad, not bad. Take advantage of your youth and try your hand at many things; you'll have plenty of opportunities in the future."
Zhou Yue grasped his hand, leaned forward slightly, and said in a humble yet clear voice, "Thank you for your guidance, senior."
Xia Zhiyao stood to the side, her eyes and brows holding a perfectly measured smile. She stood there quietly, like a painting, every stroke just right, yet without any gaps, allowing people to truly get close to her.
Zhou Yue stood beside her, so close yet he suddenly had a strong sense of disorientation, as if he were looking at another world slowly turning through a thick, clean glass window.
That world was too neat, too respectable, too orderly, and he never truly belonged there.
He just stared at her, her profile showing a smile, her head turned to the side, exactly as he remembered her, so familiar it almost made his heart tremble.
But from some point onward, it was as if a silent glass film had been placed over her, blurring the warmth, diminishing the intimacy, and severing all his impulses to get close.
She has changed, yet it seems nothing has changed; it's just that the clarity of "she no longer needs me" came suddenly.
Just then, Robert's phone rang. He glanced down at it, his eyebrows twitched, and then he looked up at Xia Zhiyao with a slightly apologetic smile: "Sorry, my wife is calling me. We'll catch up properly another day."
"Okay." Xia Zhiyao nodded, her expression calm, and walked a few steps to see him off naturally.
Once Robert's figure disappeared at the end of the crowd, the square became much quieter.
Xia Zhiyao suddenly stopped and turned to look at him, as if calling out to a familiar person who had never truly gone far. Her tone was light, and her eyes held a playful glint in them: "You're leaving? Did you want to die of heat here?"
Zhou Yue was taken aback. The relaxed tone was so familiar that it softened his heart.
"Wait for me a moment, I'll tell my friends." He walked quickly to the sidelines, greeted a few teammates briefly, but his expression remained somewhat detached, as if his body was still on the field, but his mind had already wandered far away.
When he turned back, Xia Zhiyao was standing where the sunlight met the shade of the trees, looking down at her phone.
He walked towards her. She looked up and saw him, then slowly put her phone away. That glance was so calm, yet so unfamiliar.
Zhou Yue suddenly realized that the way she looked at him seemed no different from how she looked at anyone else, but he still smiled, his casual tone masking all his inner turmoil, and asked with a hint of sincere inquiry, "Shall we go eat?"
A note from the author:
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