October arrived, and the team-building trip finally took place.
On the day of departure, Chen Boyu sent a WeChat message saying he would come upstairs to pick her up. Five minutes later, Lan Yan heard a knock at the door. She responded and headed to the entrance.
The large suitcase had already been packed ahead of time and placed in the entryway. She slung her backpack—with the U-shaped pillow attached—over her shoulders, opened the door, and said at the same time, “I forgot to ask, the passports are we ourselves…”
Her words came to an abrupt halt.
The man standing at the door wore a thin black windbreaker jacket over a black T-shirt. The dark colors framed his face, making it look exceptionally cold and stern, though his expression had relaxed. He stood with his arms crossed in a somewhat lazy posture.
Lan Yan went on high alert in an instant. “Where’s Chen Boyu?”
“He got a call just before getting out of the car. I suggested I pick you up instead, and he was more than happy to agree.” Liang Jingchuan explained unhurriedly.
Lan Yan pressed her lips together and said nothing.
Liang Jingchuan extended his arm.
She didn’t move.
He chuckled. “I’m just the baggage handler here. Are you picky about who does it? Then call Chen Boyu yourself and have him come up.”
Lan Yan shoved the suitcase toward the door. The wheels bumped against the doorframe and stopped. She warned, “You’d better not do anything inappropriate.”
Liang Jingchuan raised an eyebrow slightly, gripped the suitcase handle, and said, “Will you tattle to Chen Boyu?”
His tone made it sound like he hoped she would.
Lan Yan decided that from now until the end of this trip, she wouldn’t say a single word to him. The more she responded, the more encouraged he got.
She did a final check of the water, electricity, doors, windows, documents, and keys, locked the door behind her, and followed Liang Jingchuan downstairs.
At the building entrance, he held the door open for her to go first and casually answered the question she hadn’t finished asking. “Everyone keeps their own passports. You’ll hand them over to admin at the hotel for check-in.”
The private car Chen Boyu had called was parked by the roadside. He must have finished his call, because when he saw them, he opened the rear door and got out to take the suitcase from Liang Jingchuan.
Liang Jingchuan didn’t stand on ceremony with him. He pushed the suitcase toward Chen Boyu, then turned to open the passenger door without any hesitation.
Lan Yan got in the car and took off her backpack and the jacket draped over her arm.
Chen Boyu stowed the suitcase, climbed in beside her, and naturally draped his arm over her shoulders. He yawned and said, “There was an issue in the lab last night. Luckily, Jingchuan and Sister Shan pulled an all-nighter to fix it, or we wouldn’t have made it today.”
Lan Yan paused for a moment.
Liang Jingchuan, seated up front, said indifferently, “Wake me when we get to the airport. I’m going to sleep.”
The team-building group had split into two batches on a rotating schedule because Chen Boyu had been out of the country for several days. The heads of the departments scheduled for the next batch called to check on some details they’d forgotten to communicate.
Afraid of disturbing the person in the front seat, Chen Boyu deliberately kept his voice low.
But as soon as he finished his call, someone from the technical department that Liang Jingchuan oversaw called him.
Once that call ended, WeChat messages started coming in.
By the time they reached the airport an hour later, Liang Jingchuan still hadn’t managed a full nap.
They met up with the rest of the team at the check-in counter.
Clear Source Creation had held a team-building event the previous year too, but Lan Yan and Lu Ying had booked their Eastern Europe trip half a year in advance, so she hadn’t joined as a family member.
The company wasn’t large—only around forty people total. Some had met Lan Yan before, others hadn’t. The boss bringing his girlfriend on the trip sparked some curiosity, and she noticed a few appraising glances, but they were all friendly.
Perhaps to demonstrate sharing joys and hardships, Chen Boyu—who always flew business or first class—opted for economy this time as well.
The line was long. He stood behind Lan Yan, yawning as he lowered his head and rested his chin on her shoulder.
They looked like a pair of clingy high school sweethearts.
Lan Yan whispered, “Your employees are right next to us.”
“I’m just leaning on you. I’m not kissing you in public.” Chen Boyu lowered his voice too.
She smiled faintly.
Before the smile faded from her lips, she sensed a gaze so tangible it felt solid.
Liang Jingchuan was in the line next to theirs.
She glanced up, and the look in his eyes was hard to describe in one word—cool, but mostly a detached composure, like someone watching a play from afar.
Lan Yan looked away uncomfortably.
After a while longer in line, the sound of clack-clack-clack footsteps approached. A figure pushing a suitcase appeared beside the line. She stood with hands on hips, catching her breath, and called out, “Second Brother…”
It was Chen Boyu’s cousin, Chen Youying.
Things had gotten tense with the family, so Chen Boyu originally had no intention of honoring his promise to let Chen Youying join the team-building trip. His mother, Tang Peiling, had called repeatedly, insisting that his dad and older brother were the ones in the wrong—Youying hadn’t done anything, so why take it out on her?
Unable to withstand the barrage of calls, Chen Boyu had relented. Right before departure, he specifically warned Chen Youying that Liang Jingchuan was not easy to deal with. He wouldn’t help play matchmaker; if she wanted to pursue him, she’d have to do it on her own.
Chen Boyu said, “You’re late.”
“I didn’t hear the alarm and almost overslept…” Once her breathing steadied, Chen Youying turned and waved casually at someone in the other line.
“Hey.” Her tone was deliberately nonchalant.
Liang Jingchuan nodded politely. “Hello.”
Chen Youying turned back to Chen Boyu. “The line’s so long, Second Brother. Can I cut in?”
“You’re not in our line. You’re in business class.”
“…Huh?”
“What huh? I paid out of pocket to upgrade you. Don’t get used to economy and then complain to Third Aunt.”
Chen Youying was speechless. “…Are you an idiot, Chen Boyu?”
“Don’t get fresh with me.”
She glanced at Liang Jingchuan, who wore a faint smile of complete innocence.
With a sigh, she wheeled her suitcase toward the business class check-in counter.
Lan Yan hated flying because the process dragged on forever. By the time they queued for security, she already felt world-weary.
At least they boarded the plane.
She found her seat and, before sitting, scanned the cabin. Liang Jingchuan’s spot was far away, so she settled in with relief.
The cabin filled up gradually, with a few last passengers trickling in.
It was a wide-body plane with a 2-3-2 seating layout. Lan Yan had the window seat.
Young Master Chen next to her seemed shocked by the cramped economy space afforded to common folk. His legs had nowhere to go, so he stretched the outer one into the aisle a bit, looking like a giraffe crammed into a pen one size too small.
Lan Yan put on her U-shaped pillow and stowed the pocket novel she’d brought to pass the time in the net pocket on the seatback in front of her.
At that moment, voices came from behind. “Mind switching seats with me? I need to talk to Mr. Chen in a bit.”
It was the CTO requesting a seat swap. No one who wanted to keep their job would refuse.
Lan Yan couldn’t help turning to glare.
The man who made them both stand to let him through showed no awareness of the inconvenience. Meeting her gaze, he just smiled.
She turned back to face forward and ignored him.
There was still some time before the cabin door closed when Chen Boyu got a call.
An assistant from an investor group’s lead was asking about the progress on new material filings.
The questions were detailed, and the call went on for a while.
Liang Jingchuan sat with his eyes closed and arms folded, tormented by drowsiness. He let out a long yawn.
A moment later, he heard two gentle taps on the window beside him.
He opened his eyes and froze for a second.
A hand reached through the gap between the window and the seat, palm up with two lemon-green disposable earplugs.
Back when the four of them traveled as a family, they always picked seats together at check-in— the two young ones in one row, the two elders in another.
She never spoke to him the whole trip, but whenever he fell asleep and a flight attendant came around with meals, she would nudge his arm lightly to wake him.
Her ears always had mechanical white earbuds or lemon-green earplugs.
Liang Jingchuan paused, then reached out and took them.
The hand withdrew without lingering a second longer.
He wasn’t a masochist, of course. He wouldn’t fall for someone who treated him with malice.
But her harsh words had never crossed into personal insults, while her small kindnesses had always accumulated drop by drop.
Fever reducers when he was sick; the sticky note reminding him about the loose bathroom drawer; during Gaokao prep week at home, when she gossiped excitedly on the phone with her best friend, she always remembered to take the call to the hallway to keep the indoor space quiet…
And now, these earplugs she was willing to share.
The earplugs expanded to fill his ear canal, blocking out the noise.
He turned toward the window, closed his eyes, and a faint, uncontrollable smile reflected on the glass.
The company wasn’t profitable yet, so the team-building trip could only afford a Southeast Asian tropical island. But they’d maxed out the budget on accommodations and meals. Coconut groves at sunset, boat shadows on white sand—it was enough to make anyone forgive the world for a week.
Admin handled check-in for everyone and distributed the key cards.
True to his spirit of sharing joys and hardships, Chen Boyu hadn’t booked anything beyond the standard: a regular king room like everyone else’s.
To let people rest, dinner was a hotel buffet.
Everyone took their cards and headed upstairs on their own.
Chen Boyu wheeled two suitcases and walked into the elevator shoulder-to-shoulder with Lan Yan.
Just as the doors closed, someone pressed the button to open them again.
Chen Boyu lifted his chin slightly toward the person who’d followed them. “What floor?”
Liang Jingchuan said, “1706.”
Chen Boyu glanced at the key card holder. “Next door to us.”
Liang Jingchuan’s voice was emotionless. “What a coincidence.”
From entering the elevator to walking down the hall and into their rooms, only Chen Boyu and Liang Jingchuan exchanged a few inconsequential words. Lan Yan stayed silent the whole time.
Liang Jingchuan stopped at the door to 1706, swiped his card while casually asking, “Drop your stuff and go to dinner together?”
Chen Boyu said, “You go ahead. We might be a bit late.”
Liang Jingchuan said nothing, just lowered his gaze and swiped the card.
Once inside, he took a shower, changed clothes, drew the blackout curtains, and lay down on the bed.
He couldn’t sleep, even though the room was well soundproofed and he heard nothing.
He connected to the Bluetooth speaker he always carried, opened his playlist.
“Close your eyes, give me your hand, darling. Do you feel my heart beating? Do you understand…”
A knock sounded at the door.
He paused the music and realized it was coming from next door.
He could faintly make out their voices through the wall.
Chen Youying: “Let’s go to dinner together, Second Brother. Call Liang Jingchuan too.”
Chen Boyu: “…Couldn’t you send a WeChat first before knocking?”
Chen Youying: “What’s the point between upstairs and downstairs neighbors?”
Perhaps too exasperated to reply, Chen Boyu didn’t answer.
Chen Youying’s voice rang out again. “Sister Yanyan, going to dinner?”
Lan Yan: “Sure.”
Chen Youying: “Which room is your brother in? I’ll call him too.”
After a brief silence, Lan Yan said, “Next door.”
A few seconds later, the knocking started.
Liang Jingchuan got up and opened the door. He greeted Chen Youying politely, but his gaze passed over her head to the two people emerging from the next room.
Chen Boyu had changed clothes. Lan Yan hadn’t.
The hotel had multiple restaurants. They’d booked the largest one for the employees, but there was also a seaside bar where you could dine outdoors and watch the sunset.
Wooden tables, a candle flickering—the sunset glow was richer than the flame.
This awkward foursome made the beautiful scenery only amplify the discomfort.
Chen Youying’s pursuit lacked all subtlety. Her questions felt like an interrogation, and there were moments when Lan Yan envied her straightforwardness—how could someone ask “So, how many girlfriends have you had?” without any mental barriers?
The man seated across from Chen Youying lifted his wine glass for a sip and answered, “None.”
Chen Youying: “…Not even once?”
Liang Jingchuan: “Mm.”
Lan Yan was mildly shocked. Liang Jingchuan had never mentioned any relationships to the family, but she’d assumed he’d had some—just nothing stable enough to bring home.
Miss Chen’s eyes lit up like the amber wine reflecting the sunset. “Then you…”
Liang Jingchuan: “But there is someone I like.”
Lan Yan felt like the orange-red sunset had scalded her. Her eyelids fluttered.
Chen Youying froze. Chen Boyu looked surprised too. “Who? You’ve never mentioned it.”
Chen Youying looked at Liang Jingchuan again, still harboring the hope that he might be saying this deliberately as a shield.
Liang Jingchuan’s tone was flat. “Then you’ve heard about it today.”
Chen Youying’s expression completely fell. She gulped down a mouthful of bitter iced pure brew. She didn’t even know why she had come here or how things had turned out like this—just landed and already heartbroken.
“So who exactly is it? Someone from our company? Or one of your classmates?” Chen Boyu asked curiously.
Lan Yan felt Liang Jingchuan’s gaze brush over her face like the thin mist of night.
“I’ll tell you once I catch her,” he said.
Chen Boyu laughed. “So you’re already certain you can catch her?”
Lan Yan picked up her glass and took a sip of lemon water. She said faintly, “Do you know that most women really hate men who are too confident?”
Liang Jingchuan didn’t look at her. He just took another sip of wine, a faint hint of laughter in his voice. “Is that so? Then I’ll send her a WeChat right now and ask.”
Lan Yan immediately glanced at her phone on the table.
Diagonally across from her, Liang Jingchuan picked up his phone. His fingers tapped the screen unhurriedly.
She stared at his movements, her breathing tightening. She was afraid her phone would suddenly vibrate.
She couldn’t just grab her phone and hide it temporarily—otherwise, it would be no different from throwing herself into the net.
Her heart raced. She couldn’t tell whether the restlessness or the dizziness felt stronger.
Liang Jingchuan stopped typing and glanced at her.
Finally, he placed his phone face down on the table. That slight smile seemed to say: Fine, I’ll let you off this time.