Chapter 68 I dream of you every single night
The mornings on Fushan Avenue are very peaceful.
This is not a traditional wealthy area, because there is only one estate here, and the land alone is worth 6.5 billion yuan. It is a location that even the rich cannot afford.
Winding along the avenue is a low, black wrought iron railing, its design minimalist yet carrying an unmistakable weight.
Inside the railing, the meticulously maintained dark green privet wall is impenetrable, its height perfectly blocking any attempt to explore.
The estate is nestled within these walls of privet hedges.
It's five in the morning.
The sky was still barely light when a man sat frozen on a bench in the garden.
He crossed one arm over his chest and bent the other hand on the armrest, supporting his drooping forehead.
His brows were furrowed, his eyelids were closed, and his eyelashes cast a shadow under his eyelids, but it still couldn't hide the tired, pale blue tinge.
The butler saw his young master's back from the window, hurriedly went to the garden, bowed and whispered, "Young master, go and get some sleep. You have to see guests later."
Although Xu Shaoting usually gets up around this time, the housekeeper knows that things have been particularly unusual these past few days—
He learned from the greeter stationed at the guard post that the young master had not slept a full night for three or four days.
These past two days have been alright; I've only gone into the garden to sit around 3 or 4 a.m. The two days ago, I simply sat in the garden all night long.
He just sat there quietly, not reading, not speaking, just thinking, but no one knew what he was thinking.
Seeing that he didn't move an inch, the butler shook his head worriedly and wisely turned and left.
Finally, it was six o'clock, and the servants began to busy themselves, preparing breakfast for him as usual. The butler stepped into the garden once again, "Young master, please have some breakfast."
Xu Shaoting pressed his forehead against his thumb and forefinger, casually waving his two long fingers, "I won't eat yet."
His voice was weary, and especially hoarse.
Another half hour passed before the stiff figure finally moved and stood up.
He was wearing a bathrobe, which did not conceal his height, but his upright posture revealed a hint of obvious dejection.
The black hair wasn't styled with hair clay as usual; instead, it fell down a bit, making the person look younger, or rather, much more approachable.
The casual messiness was something no outsider had ever seen; only she had ever seen it.
The days of being temporarily suspended from his duties were not as difficult as he had imagined. He should thank Xu Bozheng, because his mind had not been this relaxed in a long time.
I just keep thinking about her as always.
He slowly walked into the walk-in closet on the second floor.
This walk-in closet wasn't one he used often, but it was spacious and had a split-level design. Instead of suits, shirts, and vests, it was filled with all sorts of racing suits.
These racing equipment are cleaned and tidied by servants every day, and even though he hasn't touched them for a year, they are not dusty at all.
Xu Shaoting took out a red and white racing suit, changed into it, and moved slowly and deliberately, as if he had finally found something interesting to do after days of numbness.
The zipper snapped shut at his collar, and the uniform, full of speed and aesthetics, made his shoulders appear even broader and his waist narrower, highlighting his superior physique.
The dignified and restrained air of a sharp suit is replaced by the unrestrained and rebellious spirit of a racing suit.
These two qualities in him are not separate, but rather like two completely different sides of the same coin.
Once everything was ready, he walked to the transparent cabinet, his finger hovering in the air before finally stopping in front of a helmet of the same color. He picked it up and walked unhurriedly toward the back gate of the manor.
Behind the manor, there is a long and winding road.
He never told her that a large part of the reason he bought the land was that the hillside was perfect for building a private racetrack.
The racetrack winds its way along the mountainside for three miles, with more than ten curves scattered throughout, like a graceful ribbon winding through the lush green mountains.
After the racetrack was built, countless organizers wanted to rent this top-notch track to host professional races, but he rejected them all.
This place is never open to the public; only occasionally, late at night, can you hear the roar of engines.
This is one of the few times that Xu Shaoting can completely relax.
It allowed him to focus more than reading and to clear his mind more than thinking.
Five race cars were parked at the entrance of the venue, their sleek lines and low chassis giving them the appearance of fierce beasts poised to pounce.
He favored the limited-edition McLaren F1 GTR, with its black and red paint job and front air intake resembling a roaring maw, exuding a raw and aggressive aggression.
The car door opened upwards, gracefully resembling a pair of wings. Xu Shaoting carefully put on his helmet and got into the car.
The low-slung car felt somewhat cramped for a tall, long-legged man like him, but at this moment, this suffocating sense of urgency actually made him feel a little at ease.
He calmly put on his gloves. His hands gripped the steering wheel, but he didn't start the engine.
Beneath the helmet, a pair of deep eyes seemed lost in thought, and he subconsciously glanced towards the direction outside the arena.
The action was an instinctive, instantaneous movement. For a moment, he didn't even know what he was looking for; it was simply because he heard two voices, one male and one female, echoing in his ears.
"When are you going to show me? It'll be so cool if you drive it..."
There will always be a chance.
He blinked, his gaze sweeping quickly across the area until he reluctantly confirmed the emptiness.
He turned his head and started the engine without a second thought.
McLaren boasts top-of-the-line specifications, with monthly maintenance costs reaching seven figures. Even after a year of inactivity, its performance remains at its peak.
Xu Shaoting's left hand tightened its grip on the steering wheel. His right hand deftly shifted gears, pressed the clutch, and the engine let out a low roar.
He turned his heel slightly and pressed the accelerator to the floor with his toes, the strong push-back feeling instantly pressing him into the racing seat.
The gear shifting action was smooth and fluid, completed with a flick of the wrist, without the slightest hesitation.
He prefers the traditional H-shaped gear lever, which requires him to depress the clutch to shift gears. This is the purest and most engaging experience.
The roaring sound lingered halfway up the mountain for more than ten seconds before finally subsiding.
The extreme speed allowed the McLaren to travel hundreds of meters in just a few seconds.
However, the gaze beneath the helmet was extremely calm, showing no excitement whatsoever when engaging in extreme sports, and even appearing somewhat detached and nonchalant.
He deftly moved his wrist again, shifting to a higher gear, as if he could get rid of something as long as he was fast enough.
The car's speed continued to increase, and the pointer on the dashboard swung violently to the right.
The wind howled outside the window, creating a blurry noise. The speed he longed for had finally arrived, enough to tear apart everything that was weighing on his chest and leave it behind.
At the moment he reached peak speed, he felt incredibly free, and all his pain and sorrow drifted away with the wind outside the car window.
There is an extreme, fleeting, almost hallucinatory relief.
Finally, the McLaren completed a straightaway and was about to enter a sharp turn. Xu Shaoting deftly turned the steering wheel, slightly released the accelerator, and in that instant, the speed suddenly decreased...
A face barged in without warning.
It wasn't that he actively tried to recall things; he just barged in without explanation.
So clear, so cruelly clear.
He saw her smiling at him with her eyes crinkled.
The next second, she saw that night again, crying and asking herself if she would get married the next day.
At that moment, all the pain that had been forcibly suppressed by speed surged back fiercely, transforming into an invisible hand that gripped his heart.
The sudden, excruciating pain suffocated him, and his breathing stopped.
In that terrifying vacuum, the world seemed to slow down. He forgot the steering wheel, the accelerator, the clutch, the curves, and everything else.
The tires screeched, the car veered out of control and drifted sideways in a sharp and desperate drift, finally coming to rest across the middle of the racetrack.
The sharp whistle made even the howling, fierce wind seem ashamed.
Inside the driver's seat, Xu Shaoting held the steering wheel with both hands, his head slightly bowed, his eyes tightly closed, but not because of the McLaren's loss of control.
It was not because of the sudden pain in my heart.
It hurt so much that he couldn't breathe and couldn't stretch out.
"Wen Jia..." He murmured almost aloud for the first time in his life.
-
A few days later, Ding Qianru arrived at Xu Shaoting's hillside manor on time as agreed.
The butler knocked on the study door to announce, "Young master, we have a guest."
In the study, Xu Shaoting was staring intently at the computer screen.
Although Xu Bozheng has temporarily suspended his duties, he should relax properly.
But he was unwilling to truly relax.
He needs to numb himself with busyness, losing his sense of time.
He looked up, his interest waning. "Let's cancel it."
"The other party said that you invited her first, and the registered name is Ding Qianru."
Upon hearing the name, Xu Shaoting's usually calm eyes finally showed a flicker of emotion. He turned off the computer, got up, and walked out of the study: "Bring her in. Let her wait a little while."
On the first floor, Ding Qianru was invited to the reception room by the housekeeper. She carefully placed her Birkin bag down; inside were nothing more than the things Xu Shaoting had specifically instructed her to bring.
After about fifteen minutes, the hot tea reached a temperature just right for drinking, and Ding Qianru saw the man slowly walk down the stairs.
He descended the stairs into the sunlight, his face obscured, a shadow trailing behind him. Tall and imposing, from a distance, he seemed a man worthy of admiration.
"Good morning, Chairman Xu." Ding Qianru greeted him politely as he walked towards her against the light.
She was actually a little apprehensive. Although Wen Jia had told her not to be afraid of him, his innate sense of oppression was still impossible to ignore.
It's not simply due to height, but rather the result of years of experience and refinement in a high position.
How did Wen Jia manage to be unafraid of him? For a moment, she couldn't figure it out; only one sentence came to mind.
Those who are favored are often fearless.
Xu Shaoting extended his hand, saying, "Nice to meet you."
It wasn't until he was right in front of her that Ding Qianru could see his face clearly.
He was still very handsome and dashing, as dignified as ever, far superior to any male celebrity she had ever seen.
However, she had lost a lot of weight since the last time we met.
They also seemed much more tired.
Ding Qianru grasped his hand back, feeling a strange sense of unease.
"sit."
She sat down and took something out of her bag.
This is the first draft sample of "MAVEN" magazine. In fact, the content of the magazine was finalized and the layout was completed a month in advance. The cover photo taken by Wen Jia was even considered the last step. After the photoshoot, it was immediately sent to the editor-in-chief's office of "MAVEN".
Five days later, I received the first edition.
At that moment, it was handed to Xu Shaoting.
The woman on the cover is wearing a very stylish evening gown, the skirt flowing gracefully like a fishtail, paired with luxurious fur trim, making her seem to be immersed in a charming atmosphere.
Xu Shaoting looked at it and accepted it with almost treasuring.
Across from him, Ding Qianru cautiously observed him, but she couldn't understand his gaze, which seemed to be a mixture of sorrow, pain, and relief.
Is it really necessary to be so sad when you see your girlfriend?
Confused, she swallowed hard. "What...is the matter that Chairman Xu invited me here today?"
Hsu Shao-ting smiled faintly, "When is the magazine expected to be released?"
He spoke in a very serious tone, as if he were genuinely discussing business with her.
"The first quarter of next year."
He closed the magazine and said without hesitation, "I will contribute 200,000 copies of the digital edition within 24 hours of its release."
Ding Qianru nearly choked on her tea. What does 200,000 sales mean? This is a top-tier women's magazine; sales are directly linked to commercial value. These are hard data points that fans can incorporate into their performance records, and they are the most direct proof of a brand's ability to make money.
"Two...two hundred thousand...books? Or the amount?"
Two hundred thousand copies.
The feeling of wanting to kneel down before him back then came rushing back. Ding Qianru composed herself and knelt down to him with her expression and words, "Chairman Xu... what a generous gesture... I will tell our CEO Ada and Editor-in-Chief MAVEN. Thank you very much for your support."
We really made the right choice in hiring this spokesperson.
The maid entered the reception room to refill the tea for the two of them, and the conversation paused briefly.
Ding Qianru took a sip in high spirits, then looked up and suddenly heard the man opposite her ask a seemingly unrelated question:
How has she been lately?
He used the word 'recently' after only a few days.
He wasn't always the type to feel like each day is an eternity.
Ding Qianru blinked twice. "Chairman Xu...who are you talking about...?"
Her gaze slowly descended, and she saw Xu Shaoting's thumb gently stroking the woman's face on the magazine cover. The next moment, she saw him stroke the ring on her ring finger.
His movements were so gentle, almost tender and precious.
"Wen Jia, how is she doing lately?" Xu Shaoting lowered his eyes and asked calmly again.
Ding Qianru's teacup trembled, and goosebumps rose all over her body.
"Wha...what...does that mean...? Mr. Xu...you and Wen Jia...have broken up?"
Xu Shaoting then raised his eyes, looked at her, and smiled with relief, "Yes, it seems she didn't tell you that I broke up with her."
Ding Qianru took a deep breath of cold air. In that instant, she recalled what she had said to Wen Jia on the day of the magazine shoot, and it seemed that not a single word of it should have been uttered.
Then, she subconsciously looked into the living room, as if she could see the man sitting on the sofa a year ago, and the woman running happily to him, lifting her skirt and twirling around, saying, "I like this one the most."
She's as innocent as a little girl.
At that moment, she was spinning around, so she couldn't see his gaze, but Ding Qianru, standing outside the situation, saw it clearly and distinctly.
His gaze was so deep and focused, with a tenderness bordering on piety.
Their tenderness and affection were so profound that Ding Qianru could hardly believe that the man and woman had already broken up.
how so?
She didn't dare ask, and only apologized repeatedly: "I'm sorry, Chairman Xu, she really didn't tell me, I didn't know..."
"It's not your fault." Xu Shaoting smiled and muttered to himself, "You've always been so strong-willed."
Ding Qianru suddenly realized that this was the real reason he had invited her here today.
Just to catch a glimpse of her.
She looked at his gaze fixed on the magazine cover, her throat tightened, and she slowly spoke:
"She's fine, Mr. Xu."
Ding Qianru knew that no one wanted to see her doing well more than him.
Xu Shaoting smiled, seemingly relieved, "That's good, thank you."
Later, Ding Qianru stayed at the manor for a full hour. Xu Shaoting didn't mention that name again, but just talked to her about Velra.
Before leaving, the maid led Ding Qianru to the door of the reception room.
Ding Qianru stopped in her tracks, pursed her lips as if considering her words, and turned her head. "Chairman Xu, I don't know if I should say this..." After a few seconds of pause, she continued:
"She asked to wear that ring herself."
Xu Shaoting's gaze froze as he looked at the magazine cover, but he quickly composed himself and gave her a refined smile, this time a genuine and heartfelt one. "Thank you for informing me."
-
Zhao Xinglan knew that Xu Shaoting was usually busy, so she was reluctant to call him and would choose to come to the manor to see him if there was anything to do.
But these past few days, she has been tossing and turning, unable to sleep, feeling a tightness in her chest. It's not because of her unsteady youngest son, but because of her usually steady eldest son.
In the middle of the night, she couldn't help herself and got up anxiously to walk to the living room. Regardless of whether it would disturb him or not, she made a phone call to Xu Shaoting.
"Mother."
At two in the morning, his voice was unusually clear.
Zhao Xinglan felt a chill in her heart. After she turned sixteen, Xu Shaoting never called her that again. The mother and son were close and did not adhere to formal titles. He usually just called her Helen, or at the very least, Ms. Zhao.
"Shao Ting, has something happened to you lately?" Zhao Xinglan said, patting her chest. "I haven't been sleeping well these past few days, and I've been worried about you."
“No, Mom,” Xu Shaoting forced a smile, “I’m fine.”
"Then why aren't you asleep yet? Tell Mom the truth, you can't lie to Mom."
Xu Shaoting, wearing a bathrobe, sat with his legs crossed on the sofa in the master bedroom. He should be smoking, but there wasn't even half a cigarette butt in the ashtray in front of him.
"It's just catching up on some work left over from before."
Zhao Xinglan sighed, "You should relax a bit."
“Hmm,” Xu Shaoting gently closed his eyes, “It seems Dad didn’t tell you.”
"say what?"
“It’s nothing,” he opened his eyes. “I’m fine. Don’t worry about me. If you worry about me, I’ll worry about you too.”
After hanging up the phone, he strolled into his study and continued practicing calligraphy.
This time, what he wrote was neither about being cautious from beginning to end, nor was it some lofty and famous quote.
Just two simple words, two words that carried his obsession.
After he finished writing, he didn't have the heart to crumple it up and throw it away. Instead, he left it there quietly, waiting for the ink to dry completely.
Next to the inkstone sat a fountain pen, a gift she had given him on Qixi Festival (Chinese Valentine's Day). She said she wanted to give him something he used often, something he could see every day, something that would remind him of her.
He did think of her.
I miss her too.
He pulled out a brand new sheet of paper, but since there was no envelope, he didn't intend to send it to her.
With the pen nib hovering at the beginning of the letter, he struggled with what to say in his address.
What should I call her?
Calling her "Miss Wen" seems too formal, but would calling her "Baby" be offensive?
After much thought, he decided not to write a title.
"The day we broke up, you told me to be happy. I've been thinking about it these past few days, but I can't come up with an answer. How can I be happy without you? A few days ago, I saw your magazine. You're still so beautiful. The moment I saw it, I finally felt relieved. You really deserve to be such a big star. But I don't want to admit it. I only felt relieved for a second because I selfishly wanted you to put aside all these identities and come back to me."
I really miss you. I dream about you every night, but to be more precise, these aren't dreams, they're memories. In my dreams, I see you liking the dress I gave you, liking the piano I gave you, wearing the diamond ring I gave you, seeing your stubbornness, your strength, and your understanding. I see the love lock we hung together rusty, but I seem powerless to make it new again. I feel helpless in the dream and wake up startled.
Sometimes I don't even know whether I should fall asleep or stay awake. In my dreams, I see you from the past; in reality, I can't see you.
The day we parted, you said we might see each other again, or we might not. Now, I want to thank you for giving me such an ambiguous answer, at least leaving me with something to look forward to. But I don't want it to just be a thought; I want to see you, even if it's just a glimpse from afar.
But I know you're stubborn and strong-willed, and you wouldn't want to see me.
A while ago, Kaiqing told me you weren't doing well. Later, I met Ding Qianru, and she said you were doing well. I'm happy for you, even though I know she might be lying to me. But I hope you get better and better, so that our separation will have been worthwhile.
Wenjia, I used to think that snow would last a long time, but now I realize that the time between us was only as long as one snowfall.
Why was it only a single snowfall, and that was so brief?
Give me another chance; I want to walk with you through a snowstorm that never stops.
Why was their relationship so fleeting, like a firework display?
He wanted to give her another chance, and he wanted to set off a fireworks display for her that would never fade.
He finished writing the letter, capped his pen, and then reluctantly opened it again.
The snow will always stop, it will always melt. Rather than letting the snowflakes disappear, he would rather the snow fall in a more meaningful way.
He picked up his pen and wrote at the end of the letter:
"I am still waiting, as snow falls on every step we've taken."
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