The sky gradually darkened bit by bit, turning into a deep purple.
Sea breezes swept in, and the candle sheltered inside a glass protected the flame, keeping it steady.
Chen Youying looked listless, wilted like a frostbitten eggplant. Chen Boyu changed the topic and chatted with Liang Jingchuan about work again, though the latter responded only halfheartedly. Lan Yan buried her head in her dessert until her stomach truly could hold no more.
Aside from Chen Boyu, no one felt particularly at ease.
The knives and forks had been set down long ago. The server came by twice to refill their water, and the sea wind grew stronger.
Lan Yan reached out and lightly touched the back of Chen Boyu’s hand, interrupting him in a low voice. “Are you still eating? I’m heading back to the room first.”
Chen Boyu glanced at the table and asked Chen Youying, “Full yet?”
Chen Youying gave a dispirited “Mm.”
“Then let’s go. Everyone head back and rest.”
Chen Youying said, “I want to go drinking. You’re paying.”
“Fine, fine. Drink as much as you want. Put it on my room’s tab.”
“Does your company have any handsome single young guys? Doesn’t have to be single. Call some over to drink with me…”
“This isn’t your personal harem. Keep messing around and I’ll change your return flight to tomorrow.”
“Then I’ll go find some at a bar myself!” Miss Chen stood up and left, treating her cousin’s words like a passing breeze.
Chen Boyu called the server over to pay by card. The three of them rose.
Chen Boyu looked at Liang Jingchuan. “We’re heading back to our rooms. You…”
“I’m going for a stroll by the sea.” Liang Jingchuan tucked one hand into the pocket of his black shorts and gazed toward the ocean.
“Alright.” Chen Boyu took Lan Yan’s hand. “Let’s go.”
Lan Yan didn’t hear Liang Jingchuan respond.
As they climbed the steps and reached the corridor, she glanced back.
That figure had already reached the beach. Twilight deepened to purple, dyeing his white shirt a similar hue. Gentle waves lapped the sand, and sea wind billowed the hem of his clothes.
They pushed open the door and entered the dimly lit interior of the bar restaurant.
People of various races conversed softly in different languages. Lan Yan and Chen Boyu held hands as they wove through the aisles between tables and chairs.
The phone gripped in her other hand suddenly vibrated.
She took it out. Facial recognition unlocked it instantly, opening straight to the WeChat interface from before the lock screen.
Beneath the pinned avatar of Chen Boyu, a gray tropical fish with a tiny red dot popped up.
No need to tap it—she could see the gray small text listed under the black name.
【ljc: Do you hate me?】
It was the message he had edited but not sent at the dinner table just moments ago.
Her heart nearly stopped.
Lan Yan quickly turned off the screen.
Chen Boyu turned his head. “Who’s looking for you?”
She shook her head. “No one. Group message.”
Her heartbeat blended into the noisy crowd but still pounded so fiercely it made her jumpy as if every bush hid an enemy.
The impromptu team-building group chat had someone organizing a night market tour, but responses were few. Exhausted from travel, everyone retired early.
The next morning a little after seven, Lan Yan and Chen Boyu got up, freshened up, and headed out for breakfast.
They had only brought their phones and room cards, planning to return after eating to pack gear for the day’s water activities.
The instant they closed the door, the door to room 1706 next door opened.
Out came a young woman in pajamas topped with a thin jacket, probably also heading for breakfast.
She seemed to be from administration—Lan Yan found her familiar but couldn’t recall her name.
The woman looked over and greeted them. “Good morning, President Chen.”
“Morning.”
Chen Boyu restrained his instinctive urge to glance inside the room out of surprise.
The woman realized what his hesitation meant and hurriedly explained, “President Liang swapped rooms with me yesterday! He moved to the 21st floor, next to Xu Yuan’s, saying it was convenient for aligning on next cycle’s R&D targets.”
She blurted it out in one breath, afraid a second’s delay would turn it into a massive scandal ruining her reputation.
Chen Boyu said, “Oh… got it. He mentioned it to me. I forgot.”
Lan Yan knew he said this to spare the woman’s embarrassment. It was one of his strengths—as a leader, he was always mindful of protecting his subordinates.
But sometimes she couldn’t help wondering why this thoughtfulness wasn’t extended to her at certain moments. Was it because they were too familiar, breeding neglect? Or because she usually seemed so independent that he thought she didn’t need it?
The woman visibly relaxed.
Chen Boyu asked, “Heading for breakfast?”
“Yeah… You two go ahead, President Chen. I forgot something.”
No employee liked sharing an elevator with the boss, and Chen Boyu knew this well, so he nodded and went ahead with Lan Yan.
In the restaurant, they spotted scattered members of the team. Some greeted them as they passed; others invited them to join. Chen Boyu smiled and responded, then found an empty four-person table and sat down with Lan Yan.
They each went to get food.
Lan Yan wanted to try the local rice noodles and waited in line for a bit.
When she returned with her bowl, someone had joined Chen Boyu across the table.
Her gaze skimmed over his face without lingering.
Chen Boyu smiled at the seating Liang Jingchuan. “You swap rooms without a word, and seeing Jiang Ke come out of your room this morning scared me half to death.”
Liang Jingchuan set down his tray and said flatly, “Shows how little you’ve seen.”
Chen Boyu laughed and cursed him.
Still needing fruit, Chen Boyu stood. “Want any fruit, Yanyan? I’ll grab some.”
“Sure.”
Once Chen Boyu left, the atmosphere instantly grew tense.
Lan Yan kept her head down, picking rice noodles with her chopstick tips and eating them. She sensed Liang Jingchuan diagonally across watching her but didn’t look up, pretending he wasn’t there.
But clearly, he wouldn’t let it go. Out of nowhere, he asked, “Were you surprised?”
Her movements paused for the briefest instant. She said coolly, “None of my business.”
Liang Jingchuan took a sip of coffee from his cup, his tone equally flat. “I didn’t want to spend the whole night unable to sleep.”
It felt like her teeth had hit a peppercorn. Numbness spread from her tongue tip. Lan Yan quickly grabbed a napkin and spit it out discreetly.
She said nothing more.
Liang Jingchuan ate little for breakfast—just two slices of bread and a black coffee—then left first.
Lan Yan and Chen Boyu finished breakfast, left the restaurant, and returned to their room to change.
By the time they gathered in the lobby downstairs, Lan Yan didn’t see Liang Jingchuan. Those skipping water activities formed another group for a city walk; she guessed he might have joined that.
They played until noon, then headed to the pre-booked restaurant for lunch.
The first group meal after arrival was at a popular upscale seafood spot.
With so many in the team, they took three private rooms.
Lan Yan’s room had two empty seats reserved for Liang Jingchuan and Luo Shan.
Seafood dishes arrived one after another. Just before starting, Liang Jingchuan and Luo Shan arrived fashionably late.
Liang Jingchuan wore the same outfit from breakfast: loose white short-sleeved shirt jacket over ash-gray shorts, looking neat and refined. He carried a black PU leather backpack that seemed unfamiliar, probably not his.
His seat was next to Chen Boyu. After he pulled out the chair and sat, Chen Boyu turned and teased, “Big star, huh? Making a grand entrance last.”
Liang Jingchuan didn’t blink. “Knew you were waiting anxiously.”
“…”
Fortunately, Chen Boyu at the table didn’t inherit his father Chen Yongmao’s habit of lecturing before eating. He just said, “Everyone’s worked hard. Eat your fill. Order more if needed.”
Someone joked, “What if we exceed the meal allowance?”
Admin replied, “President Chen pays out of pocket!”
Chen Boyu laughed. “Fine. You won’t let me out until I’m bankrupt today, right.”
Lan Yan thought Chen Boyu was like the most popular guy in her high school class—everyone liked him, flocked to him, followed him.
…Setting aside other things, working under him must be pretty nice.
They’d just started eating when someone knocked on the private room door. The admin at the serving end went to open it.
Lan Yan glanced over—it was Jiang Ke, the one who had swapped rooms with Liang Jingchuan.
She looked troubled, leaned in to whisper something to the admin, who nodded, returned to the room, and said something to Liang Jingchuan.
He nodded, took the PU leather backpack off the chair back, and handed it to the admin.
The admin carried it over and passed it to Jiang Ke, who nodded, backed out, and closed the door.
Chen Boyu said, “Yo.”
Liang Jingchuan replied, “Yo what?”
He was about to say more when the HR director came over with a glass to toast, so he swallowed his words for the moment.
The island seafood was fresh and succulent. Everyone ate until stuffed and returned satisfied.
The restaurant was a kilometer from the hotel. Some took taxis; others walked. Tall palm trees lined the way, and strolling in their shade wasn’t too hot.
They passed a local supermarket en route, its large ice cooler at the entrance tempting them to stop.
The five or six walkers gathered around.
The cooler door opened, billowing cold air.
Liang Jingchuan stood beside Luo Shan, peering over her shoulder at Lan Yan, who bent to pick out ice cream.
She wore a white sun-protective shirt over denim shorts, her even, slender legs gleaming dazzlingly white in the sunlight.
Sunglasses perched on her nose bridge, her face shadowed grayish by the brim of her sun hat. Her pale skin resembled a cool, sweet chilled milk cake.
After searching, she found nothing appealing and hesitantly grabbed a glass-bottled iced cola, stepping away to the register for someone to open it.
Liang Jingchuan stepped closer, reached in, and rummaged.
Back in university, the family had traveled to another island in the country. There was a local brand’s mango ice cream bar that Lan Yan loved and ate one every day.
It wasn’t in the cooler—either out of stock or sold out.
Refreshed with cold drinks, the group pressed on. The heat receded somewhat.
They reached the hotel in one go and returned to their rooms for a nap.
Lan Yan had showered at the water activities spot earlier but hadn’t washed her hair. Back in the room, she did so and changed into loose clothes.
She blow-dried her hair to mostly dry, turned off the dryer, and emerged from the bathroom. Then it was Chen Boyu’s turn.
She sprawled on the sofa, browsing group photos everyone posted. A notification popped at the top—from Liang Jingchuan.
She switched over. The red dot from yesterday, unclicked, had gone from “1” to “2”.
She paused, then tapped it.
【ljc: Come to the elevator for a sec.】
Lan Yan bit her lip. Her gaze shifted up slightly.
【Do you hate me?】
Two minutes later, she irritably sighed, climbed off the sofa, grabbed her room card, and headed out.
The corridor was short—one could see to the end right outside the door.
Liang Jingchuan stood by the elevator, arms crossed.
He had been paying attention to this side, so the moment the door opened, his gaze locked on her face.
Not long ago, she had watched him approach from the car. Now the roles reversed.
Sure enough, once stared at, one’s hands and feet lost control.
When she reached him, she saw Liang Jingchuan flash a “what goes around comes around” smile, instantly souring her mood. “What?”
He raised a brow, said nothing, and handed her a small paper bag he held.
She hesitated before taking it and peered inside.
A mango-patterned ice cream bar and a pack of sealed incense sticks—maybe something he bought while wandering earlier.
Lan Yan froze, then looked up.
Liang Jingchuan pressed the up elevator button before saying, “The bag isn’t Jiang Ke’s. It’s Xu Yuan’s—he left it in a taxi. Xu Yuan’s my direct junior colleague, and I’m strict with him. He’s afraid I’ll call him scatterbrained, so he asked Jiang Ke to retrieve it from me.”
“…Has nothing to do with me,” Lan Yan said flatly, lowering her gaze.
“I know.”
The elevator reached the 17th floor.
His voice sounded with the ding of the opening doors.
“Lan Yan, there’s only ever been one person in my sights.”