Although Xiao Fengtai had long since stopped discussing his life with Xiao Zhizhong, his father’s gift arrived right on schedule shortly after the music festival. Returning home from school one day, Xiao Fengtai found a brand-new mechanical watch resting on his desk.
The watch was nestled in a teak box lined with black velvet, its stainless steel bracelet gleaming under the light. Xiao Fengtai studied the precisely interlocking gears visible through the dial. Timepieces were once symbols of the increased efficiency of capital during the Industrial Revolution. He wondered why anyone would still spend a fortune on such a contraption in an age when digital timers were ubiquitous.
His father’s new secretary hadn't done his homework; Xiao Fengtai never wore watches. He found himself missing the previous secretary and the long-standing "friendly agreement" they had shared. That strikingly beautiful single mother used to split the budget for his father's gifts with him, seventy-thirty.
Ultimately, he did nothing, mostly because he didn't want Xiao Zhizhong to flatter himself by thinking his son actually cared about his displays of affection.
He hadn't expected Xiao Zhizhong to actually take the matter to heart. At dinner, a rare occasion where Xiao Zhizhong remained at home, the man raised his glass to Xiao Fengtai before they began eating. "Well done," he said.
Xiao Fengtai did not return the toast. The chairman was a man of a thousand affairs whose time was far too precious to be squandered on aimless domesticity.
After a stretch of awkward silence, Xiao Zhizhong continued regardless. "A subsidiary of the group is spinning off for a listing on the Hong Kong Stock Exchange. Next week, I’ll be hosting a small banquet in your name to meet with potential cornerstone investors."
"Since I’m using you as the occasion, I’ll have you perform a solo piece, after which I will officially introduce you to the public." He spoke with the air of an emperor addressing his court. "Perform well. Do not disappoint me."
Xiao Fengtai swallowed a mouthful of steak. "I’m not going."
Xiao Zhizhong remained indifferent to his resistance. "Come home straight after school tomorrow. The tailor is coming to take your measurements."
"Do whatever you want, but I won't be there." Xiao Fengtai dropped his cutlery onto the table with a sharp clatter. "I’m finished."
He returned to his room and slammed the door shut. On his desk, the teak box remained open to the air. The mechanical watch sat perched on its velvet lining, its hands pointing to eight-fifteen like a crooked, malicious, mocking grin.
Xiao Fengtai harbored no grand musical ambitions. He frequently performed at various semi-formal events, serving as a decorative "wallflower" to polish Xiao Zhizhong’s nearly flawless public image. Xiao Zhizhong didn't understand music, and the guests he invited usually didn't either; their interests lay elsewhere. Occasionally, Xiao Fengtai would deliberately play a few notes out of tune just to watch those high-ranking figures in their business suits applaud with feigned sophistication. It filled him with a sense of boundless irony and a twisted sort of joy.
Xiao Zhizhong’s image was tied to the interests of the conglomerate. The Xiao family—his mother’s side—were the controlling shareholders, so upholding Xiao Zhizhong’s reputation was tantamount to protecting his mother’s legacy. Initially, he’d had to use this self-hypnosis just to pick up his bow. Over time, it became second nature, and he even began to find a certain amusement in the charade.
But things were different now. Because of Jiang Tong, his performances and his music had been imbued with a meaning that was purer, more romantic, and far loftier. What had once been a tolerable routine had now become insufferable.
He only had to close his eyes to be transported back to the concert hall, where Jiang Tong’s silhouette remained vivid in the darkness. He had been leaning forward, eyes fixed on him, watching with rapt, undivided attention. Xiao Fengtai would do anything for a gaze like that.
A week later, on the day of the banquet, violin case in hand, he ran away from home for the first time in his life.
