Chapter 25

Ji Qingyu wanted to extract more useful information from Assistant Zhang, but this shrewd office worker was smart. After putting down his cup, he held his girlfriend’s hand and stood up, smiling apologetically at them before heading to the dance floor.

“Strange, are you avoiding the boss’s wife?” Assistant Zhang’s girlfriend wrapped her arms around his neck, and he felt helpless. Undoubtedly, he was an excellent subordinate; even at home with his close girlfriend, he never disclosed his boss’s private affairs. However, he was still shocked when his boss married his wife and shared his concerns quietly with his girlfriend across the ocean. He didn’t think Mr. Feng would silence him with drugs—it was a law-abiding society, after all—but could he continue climbing the ladder, getting promotions and pay raises, reaching the pinnacle of life? He felt his future looked bleak.

The couple whispered closely on the dance floor. Ji Qingyu reluctantly withdrew her gaze and took another sip of her drink. Fearing she might get drunk, she restrained herself, resting her cheek on her hand with an unusually heavy expression. Mao Feifei locked eyes briefly with a young man, and they went off to flirt elsewhere. Chu Ning, a busy person, didn’t completely relax even at the bar, constantly typing on her phone to handle business and occasionally muttering curses.

Ji Qingyu bowed her head, took out her phone from her bag, and scrolled through her WeChat contacts. She instinctively wanted to find Feng Chengze. In just a few days, he had surpassed Feng Yu to become her “top priority.” Not knowing what to say to him, she took a sip of her drink and looked through their chat history in the dim booth.

Boss Dad: [Still mad?]
Me: [Don’t get close to men, you’ll be unhappy.jpg]
Boss Dad: [Image]
Boss Dad: [There are still ten minutes until tomorrow. I didn’t break my promise. I’m in the basement. Come down.]
Me: [!!! Didn’t you say you’d be back the day after tomorrow?]
Boss Dad: [So now I only have half a life left. Hurry down.]

Ji Qingyu took a few minutes to understand the whole situation. It turned out that Feng Chengze had promised to come back on a certain day, but there was an accident on the production line overseas. She wasn’t really angry; it was just playful banter between husband and wife, but he still rushed back. Their conversations, when scanned, were seventy percent explicit. The rest were ordinary yet warm exchanges between a married couple. She paused when she saw him call her “wife” and quickly returned to their most recent chat, hesitating as she sent him a message: [Are you home?]

…

Feng Chengze naturally had close friends. But gatherings became less frequent when he was in his thirties. He was quite surprised when, instead of meeting at the usual private club for drinks, they met in a private tea room.

Feng Chengze: “…” He was sure he wasn’t old enough to appreciate tea yet. He couldn’t really enjoy them, whether it was Maojian, Liu’an Guapian, or Taiping Houkui. Drinking tea was a hobby that required time, unlike the convenience and quickness of coffee. Slowly raising his eyes, the man sitting opposite him took a sip of tea and sighed, “It has to be Liu’an Guapian, fresh and mellow.”

This was his childhood friend, Shao Qin, who had been arrogant and reckless since they were kids, always seeking thrills and excitement. However, Shao Qin was also extremely smart; he spent money on racing to form a car club and made a fortune. One year, while watching a series of bad movies with elders, he got so mad he turned around and funded an overlooked director. That movie later became a hit both at the box office and in reviews.

Feng Chengze thought that, if he remembered correctly, a few days before he was transported five years into the future, Shao Qin had gotten into motorcycles and dyed his hair silver, much to the dismay of their elders. Shao Qin smiled and turned to another friend, Chen Xiuren. “Old Chen, call and have the tea room’s temperature increased. It’s too cold, and letting the cold seep into the body isn’t good.”

Feng Chengze symbolically sipped his tea and put it down. “How come you have time to come over today?”

Chen Xiuren looked at Feng Chengze, smiling. “Isn’t your wife in Jing City?” Though phrased as a question, his tone was very certain.

Feng Chengze detected the teasing but spaced out for a few seconds when “wife” referred to Ji Qingyu. “She’s here, why?”

“The sun must be rising in the west,” Shao Qin teased. “Why didn’t you bring her along? Not that I mind, but you two are like glue. No wonder Old Chen is surprised.” He had asked before, sincerely—was marriage really that good? How could anyone stand having no private space at all?

Feng Chengze replied that he could stand it, very much so, and sarcastically added that a real man (with a wife and daughter) didn’t need private space unless that “private space” had something to hide.

“She has plans too,” Feng Chengze said casually, hoping to piece together their past five years from snippets of conversation.

Chen Xiuren scrolled through his moments, laughing briefly. “Her life seems quite colorful. Look, she’s at a nightclub.”

Twenty minutes ago, Ji Qingyu couldn’t resist showing off, taking photos, and posting two pictures—one of a row of glasses on the table and another of three women posing cheek to cheek—with the caption, “Mondays can be fun too.”

Shao Qin leaned over for a look and said with great seriousness, “Nightclub, huh? Now, I don’t have the energy to dance, but this is the marriage of a couple six years apart? It’s normal. Ji Qingyu is in her twenties, still young. There’s a generation gap with someone in their thirties.”

Chen Xiuren couldn’t help but chuckle. “Mind your own business.”

Feng Chengze’s phone vibrated, interrupting his thoughts on the “age gap” and “generation gap.” He looked down and paused for a few seconds; it was a message from Ji Qingyu. He opened it, and his brows relaxed, replying with one hand, [Not yet, why?]

Ji Qingyu: [Ran into Assistant Zhang at the bar…]

Shao Qin gave Chen Xiuren a look. See, married men, even when they’re finally having tea with their buddies, still have to chat with their wives on WeChat.

Feng Chengze typed: [And then?]

Ji Qingyu: [He seems to know something, but he’s avoiding me, ran off with his girlfriend😡😡😡]

Feng Chengze smiled a little, relaxing back into the rattan chair, replying: [Don’t waste your time; you won’t get anything out of him.]

…

Ji Qingyu looked at Feng Chengze’s message, wanting to tell him she did manage to get some useful information but hesitated, deleting the line she had typed. Back at the home screen, she downloaded a few apps for booking flights and hotels, ones she had used frequently five years ago. She thought she wouldn’t need them, but it was good that her phone number hadn’t changed, allowing her to log in easily and search for her old orders. Soon, she found the ticket information for a flight from Jing City to Nan City. She left on July 9th, met Assistant Zhang at the hotel restaurant early the following day, then returned to Jing City on July 16th, staying in Nan City for about seven or eight days. Could she interpret this as meaning she had already broken up with Feng Yu before the 9th and went on this trip to heal her heartbreak?

Ji Qingyu nestled in the booth, switching between several apps repeatedly. Soon, she focused on the screen, realizing there were many five-star hotels in Nan City. Coincidentally, Feng Chengze chose the same one on his business trip. However, it wasn’t surprising since business travelers wouldn’t choose remote hotels.

“What’s going on?” she muttered.

Five years ago, she booked a three-night king-size room, which was her habit. No matter where she went, she wouldn’t book only one night, worrying about poor soundproofing or wanting to explore other areas. So, she’d book three nights at most, and if the stay were pleasant, she’d extend it; if not, she’d cut her losses in time. But from the night of the 12th to the 16th, where did she stay for those four nights? She scoured every app she could think of but couldn’t find the hotel orders for those nights. She couldn’t have slept in a park or on the street, right? Although there was almost half a year during which she didn’t post any updates on Weibo or Moments, and everything was vague with no clues, it didn’t stop her from having that bold and wild guess: Could she have moved to another room? For example, Feng Chengze’s presidential suite?