Perhaps his heart had truly been broken by those words, for after that night, Jiang Tong never contacted Xiao Fengtai again.
Life without Jiang Tong seemed no different than before. For the first few days, Xiao Fengtai even felt a long-lost sense of lightness, like a wild horse slipping its tether—head held high, neighing as it galloped with the wind, feeling the vastness of the world and an inexhaustible surge of energy.
And so, he stopped going to the office. Instead, he spent his days and nights hosting parties, dancing, drinking, and clipping cigars, kissing the lips of different beautiful boys and girls every night. Xiao Fengtai thought he must have been a fool to ever consider giving up the entire forest for the sake of Jiang Tong. What right did that man have?
This continued until one morning, when Fang Zhixing let himself in using the spare key he had snatched from the secretary. Stepping over a floor littered with scattered clothes, wine bottles, vinyl records, streamers, silver cutlery, and unidentified packaging, Fang Zhixing yanked the curtains open. Brilliant sunlight poured in through the floor-to-ceiling windows.
Xiao Fengtai was still deep in sleep. Suddenly exposed to the daylight, he instinctively knit his brows and rolled over, wrapping himself in the duvet to face away from the window. Seeing this, Fang Zhixing decided to go all the way and forcefully whipped the duvet off him with one hand.
"...Are you sick?" Xiao Fengtai groaned, dragging the duvet back to cover his head. "I'll give you three seconds. Get the hell out."
"That’s enough," Fang Zhixing said coldly, looking down at him. "Look at this pathetic state you're in—getting addicted to playing the part of the heartbroken lover."
A muffled mumble came from under the covers: "You're fired."
"You're firing me? I don't even want the job anymore!" Fang Zhixing’s voice grew louder, his anger flaring. "Count for yourself how many days it's been since you showed your face at the office! You don't reply to emails, you don't pick up the phone—what, you want to just wash your hands of it? Fine, but pay everyone their damn wages first! Once six months' severance hits everyone's accounts, I don't care how crazy you go! You could lie like a corpse at the gates of Gongti for all I care; I wouldn't even bother to pick you up!"
"Shut up!" A roar erupted from under the duvet. Xiao Fengtai grabbed a book from the bed and hurled it at Fang Zhixing. Fang Zhixing dodged, and the book traced a graceful arc through the air, accurately striking an opened bottle of red wine on the cabinet.
With a series of crashes and splashes, like a silver vase abruptly shattering and its contents surging forth, the crisp, fruity aroma of Chardonnay diffused through the room.
Silence fell over the bedroom.
Xiao Fengtai kept his eyes open in the darkness. Minutes passed, or perhaps hours, until it felt long enough that he thought Fang Zhixing had left.
"What's in the past is in the past. A person has to look forward."
"You were the one who pushed him away."
Footsteps followed, then the faint sound of glass scraping against the floor and the slosh of water. Fang Zhixing seemed to be helping him clean up the mess, albeit reluctantly, muttering complaints under his breath that were too distant to hear clearly.
"Act like a man and show up for work on time tomorrow morning. If you don't come, I really am resigning."
With a soft *click*, the door closed gently.
Xiao Fengtai threw off the duvet and sat up in bed. The floor was clean, the remains of the wine bottle gone, but the white wall was splattered with flecks of dark red. To call it dark red wasn't quite accurate; the wine stains were somewhere between rose-purple and vermillion. Unless the wall was repainted, they would never come off.
The small red dots were distributed in a spray pattern. Xiao Fengtai’s gaze followed the trail until it stopped at the standing coat rack. The rack was crowded on all sides, hung with a haphazard mix of wool overcoats, pea coats, jackets, suits, trench coats, and scarves. An old-style trench coat was squeezed into the innermost layer—a classic designer piece, but with frayed edges and an outdated cut. It was something Jiang Tong had forgotten to take with him after a visit.
Xiao Fengtai fished his phone out from the bedding and called his secretary.
"Find me a moving company."
And so, the parties were disbanded. The contact information for every minor star and model in his phone was blocked. During the days spent choosing furniture for the renovation of his new place, Xiao Fengtai dragged his luggage into a hotel near the office. In truth, he didn't stay at the hotel for long. The newly raised funds finally arrived, and Xiao Fengtai was busy flying everywhere to meet with companies. By the time he finally returned to Beijing, his new residence was fully furnished. It was a clean house, without a single trace of Jiang Tong.
When he was with Jiang Tong, every minute was a minute, every second a second. It was only when he began living alone that Xiao Fengtai suddenly realized how fast time could pass. It felt as though he had closed his eyes and opened them again, only to find that the day of the Huaqing shareholder vote had arrived.
| Chinese | English | Notes/Explanation |
| :--- | :--- | :--- |
| 工体 (Gōngtǐ) | Gongti | Short for the Workers' Stadium in Beijing, a famous landmark and nightlife hub. |
| 银瓶乍破水浆迸 | Like a silver vase abruptly shattering, its contents surging forth | A line from the Tang Dynasty poem "Pipa Xing" by Bai Juyi, describing a sudden, sharp sound. |
