Chapter 33

On the plane, Xu Zhiyi opened her laptop and sat down across from Jiang Sixun.

“President Jiang…” she began.

Jiang Sixun smiled, cutting her off. “Are you addicted to reporting work now?”

Well, what else was there to talk about?

Work was the only topic that kept their conversations going endlessly.

Outside of that, their personal interactions over the years had been almost non-existent. Apart from her birthday and her family’s banquets, it was rare for her to see him at all.

For her birthday, his gifts were always the same—jewelry, luxurious and expensive. That was just his style: one word, pricey.

At every family gathering, the most discussed topic was his stance on staying single—uninterested in love or marriage, no matter who tried to persuade him. Uncle Lu had even complained to her father about it, but no one could change his mind.

If they weren’t talking about work, the awkwardness was palpable, just like six years ago when she first came home. Back then, her conversations with He Yian were always stiff, reduced to a series of dry, awkward questions and answers.

Jiang Sixun closed her laptop without asking. “Not tired?”

Xu Zhiyi replied, “If we stop talking about work, I’ll probably get tired.”

“Go get some sleep,” Jiang Sixun said, turning his phone to silent. “I’ll sleep a bit too.” He pointed toward the couch in the rear of the plane. “I’ll take the couch; you rest in the cabin.”

As the flight attendants began pulling down the window shades and dimming the cabin lights, Xu Zhiyi stood up, cradling her laptop. With the sofa bed taken, she had no choice but to retreat to the back.

Once the door to the rest area closed, Jiang’s bodyguard reported that Shen Qingfeng had been spotted at the airport and had watched him and Xu Zhiyi for a while.

“Don’t worry about her,” Jiang Sixun responded. “Has she met Xu Ningwei recently?”

“About two weeks ago, but not recently.”

Jiang Sixun nodded. He knew that Shen Qingfeng had been pulling strings for years to win favor with his uncle, secretly funneling benefits to her company. But men in the Lu family were not known for being sentimental. Shen was now scrambling to secure her position in the boardroom before she lost her influence entirely.

The plane’s lights were fully off now.

Xu Zhiyi lay in bed, surrounded by darkness, the faint scent of cedarwood lingering in the freshly replaced linens—the same cool, crisp scent that always clung to him.

She had flown on his plane before, but it was always for business, with other colleagues around. They rarely sat together, and sometimes, hardly exchanged a word. The only difference in her case was that the flight attendants would always brew her a special Italian coffee with half a packet of sugar. Luna, one of the attendants, once joked about her unique taste: “You like it bitter, so why add sugar?”

The coffee cups they used on the plane were part of a lavender-colored set he had personally picked out during a business trip to Boston. Plain and simple, yet she had always wondered why he liked them.

Suddenly, she remembered she hadn’t turned off her phone. Fumbling for it beside her pillow, she set it to silent mode, deciding to make the most of this rare vacation by catching up on sleep.

The years between twenty and twenty-six felt like a blur—a dream. She was so exhausted that she fell asleep before her mind could wander.

When she woke up again, it was deep into the night. Xu Zhiyi pulled up the window shade to peer outside. Below, a city sparkled like a golden web, though she had no idea which one it was.

She cleared her head by watching the city lights for a while, then got out of bed to rummage through her luggage for something to wear. You couldn’t dress too formally on a plane, and after sitting for hours, comfort was essential. She pulled out a long black dress adorned with pink embroidered roses, loose-fitting and ideal for the flight.

She brushed out her long hair and checked her reflection in the mirror. Barefaced, she was dressed simply in a comfortable, flowy gown.

With her phone in hand, she headed to the front of the plane, hunger gnawing at her, and canceled her phone’s silent mode. A message from Shang Yuan, sent three hours earlier, lit up the screen: “When do you have time for dinner?”

She replied: “On vacation. What can I do for you, Mr. Shang?”

He quickly responded: “I wouldn’t dare give orders. Just a money-making opportunity I think you’d like.”

Xu Zhiyi texted back: “Let’s meet when I return.”

Shang asked: “When will that be?”

“I’ll have to ask my boss,” she replied.

Shang Yuan answered: “Your boss and I are natural enemies. Come back soon; business waits for no one. Let’s talk when you’re back, Ms. Xu.”

She put her phone away just as she reached the front cabin.

Jiang Sixun was already up, dressed in a sleek black pinstripe suit. He had a meeting scheduled as soon as they landed, but after that, his day would be dedicated to spending time with her.

Hearing her footsteps, Jiang turned around, his eyes lingering on her floral embroidered gown. Finally, he allowed himself a comment: “That dress looks great on you.”

Xu Zhiyi sat beside him, feigning calm. “Thank you.”

Jiang flipped a page in his project files and said casually, “After the meeting, I’ll change into something that matches you.”

She glanced at his shirt beneath the suit—he rarely wore white. The crisp, clean look added to his composed, restrained aura.

“Zhiyi.”

“Hmm?”

Jiang Sixun looked at her. “Make me your top WeChat contact.”

Xu Zhiyi said nothing but pulled out her phone to do as he asked.

Jiang added, “Only me.”

She looked at him, their eyes locking for a few seconds.

“Can’t be anyone else,” he said firmly.

Her gaze drifted to the top of her contact list, where her second brother, Qi Zhengchen, had always been her pinned contact. Ever since she’d had WeChat, he’d been the only one.

She re-labeled him and moved him up in her contact list, but removed the pinned status.

His profile picture vanished from the top of her chat screen, leaving a brief emptiness in her heart.

Just as the weight of old memories began to press down on her, a shadow fell over her. Xu Zhiyi realized what was happening, but before she could react, Jiang’s hand was on her shoulder, and his lips brushed against hers.

For a brief moment, her world went dark, and her breath was taken away. She didn’t know where she was.

In those two seconds, his warm lips pressed against hers.

When he pulled away, he took her phone from her hand and set it on top of his own, a silent gesture sealing their moment.

Xu Zhiyi couldn’t even register what a kiss was supposed to feel like—her mind was too scattered. All she knew was the lingering warmth of his cheek near her nose.

Jiang Sixun asked, “Want some coffee?”

Xu Zhiyi snapped back to reality. “Sure, I’ll take a cup,” she added, “No sugar.”

Jiang Sixun called over the flight attendant, ordering a cup of coffee and a bottle of ice water.

After a few sips of the bitter brew, Xu Zhiyi started to feel more like herself. She glanced over at Jiang, who was still absorbed in his work.

Back when he was her boss, she had to restrain herself from staring too much. But today, she allowed herself a lingering gaze, tracing the line of his throat to his shirt collar. Two buttons were undone on his crisp white shirt. “Maybe you should button one up,” she suggested.

Without looking up from the data he was reading, Jiang replied, “Then why don’t you button it for me?” His tone was so casual, as if it was the most natural thing in the world.

After hesitating for a moment, Xu Zhiyi reached for his collar. Jiang shifted slightly to make it easier for her.

As she fumbled with the button, her face flushed with embarrassment under his steady gaze. Her fingers slipped, and the tiny button refused to go through the hole.

In a flustered move, she lifted her right hand and placed it over his eyes. “Don’t look,” she muttered as she tried again, this time with one hand.

Jiang chuckled softly but said nothing.

Once she finished fastening the button, he took hold of her hand, the one that had been covering his eyes, and gently lowered it.

As her hand slid down the bridge of his nose, it grazed his lips. His breath was warm against her palm, and before she could pull away, he kissed it.

It felt like her hand had been burned. Xu Zhiyi fanned her palm, trying to cool it down.

Jiang laughed quietly. “That hot?”

With an air of seriousness, she responded, “I can’t handle heat—no warmth, no sweat.”

Jiang raised an eyebrow. “Well, what are you going to do in the future then?”

For a split second, Xu Zhiyi was confused, but then the meaning behind his words hit her. Her entire body started to burn.

Sensing her embarrassment, Jiang changed the subject. “What would you like to eat?”

“Bread,” she answered.

“You like bread that much?”

“I’ve never had anything as good since that time.”

Jiang paused for a moment, remembering the bread dipped in tomato sauce he had once given her six years ago to cheer her up.

“We’ll have to make do with what we’ve got on the plane,” he said.

As their conversation went on, Xu Zhiyi began to relax in his presence, her rigid posture softening.

Jiang leaned in. “Any regrets you want me to fix?”

With her chin resting in her hand, Xu Zhiyi looked at him thoughtfully. “Too many to count. I can’t think of them all right now.”

He closed his documents, turning his full attention to her. “Is there one big regret?”

“There is one.”

“What is it?”

“I didn’t confess properly that day.”

Jiang looked at her slightly downcast eyes. “That’s not a regret. It doesn’t need fixing.”

If Qi Zhengchen hadn’t called him that day, he would have been the one to take the initiative, not her.

“Let’s not talk about that anymore,” Xu Zhiyi quickly changed the subject. “Let me see your hand.”

Jiang chuckled. “What’s so special about my hand?”

Without waiting for an answer, he extended his left hand.

Xu Zhiyi took it, feeling the distinct bones under his skin. She remembered the first time he poured her coffee at the airport during her internship at Yuanwei, and how he had later swapped concert tickets for her in New York. Over the years, it was these strong, elegant hands that left the deepest impression on her.

Lost in her thoughts, she didn’t notice when her dress strap slid off her left shoulder.

Jiang reached over with his other hand and gently lifted the strap back into place.

“I can do it myself,” Xu Zhiyi said, letting go of his hand to adjust the strap’s rose embellishment. She stood up to get some water and asked, “Want anything?”

“Another bottle of ice-cold soda water,” Jiang replied.

By the time the plane landed, he had already gone through three bottles.

To this day, he still runs 10 to 20 kilometers every morning—too much energy can be a problem too.

---

When they arrived in London, they each went to their own places. Fortunately, their homes were close—just a ten-minute drive apart.

Jiang Sixun had an afternoon meeting but still had some time before it started, so he dropped off his luggage at home first.

The butler greeted him, mentioning there were cigars in the living room and that Mr. Lu had been there for two days already. He had left early that morning and hadn’t returned for lunch.

Jiang nodded in acknowledgment. He knew his father rarely stayed at the family estate anymore—perhaps it was age catching up with him. Unlike his younger days, he no longer craved peace and solitude. Each time he came to London, he stayed at Jiang’s place instead. Gradually, this house had become their shared home. Now, the butler no longer reported his father’s comings and goings.

As Jiang ascended the stairs, he sent Xu Zhiyi a message: “Get some rest. I’ll pick you up for dinner around six.”

At that moment, Xu Zhiyi was enjoying a meal. He Yian, worried that she hadn’t eaten well on the plane, had asked the family cook to make her extra food, including her favorite Sichuan dishes.

These were meals you couldn’t get on a flight, and she was halfway through a bowl of rice when her phone buzzed.

She snapped a photo and sent it to Jiang: “I’m having a feast! There goes my afternoon nap.”

Jiang replied: “Save some for me. I’ll be over to join you.”

Xu Zhiyi blinked in disbelief. “Don’t you have a meeting this afternoon?”

Jiang responded quickly: “Meeting’s at 3 PM. I’ll make it.”

Not wasting a minute, he told his driver to head to Xu Zhiyi’s place.

As they drove, he closed his eyes for a quick rest. “Mr. Jiang,” his bodyguard called out. They normally didn’t interrupt his naps unless it was urgent.

Jiang Sixun suddenly opened his eyes and followed his bodyguard’s gaze. Across the street, at the outdoor seating of an old Western restaurant, Shen Qingfeng sat in a striking red dress, sipping afternoon tea with Lu Jianbo.

The bodyguard commented, “Shen Qingfeng didn’t come here for nothing. She’s definitely up to something with Mr. Lu. It won’t be long before pictures of this meal reach Chairman Jiang.”

Jiang Sixun’s thoughts turned to his mother, and then to Xu Zhiyi. It seemed the time had come to settle things with Shen Qingfeng. He instructed the bodyguard, “Take more photos.”

“Got it. Should I have someone leak them to the media through a middleman?”

“No need for that. I’ll handle my own father.”

The car pulled over, and the bodyguard stepped out.

Jiang kept his eyes on the pair, sitting just a few meters away. Odd memories from his childhood flashed through his mind.

“Let’s go,” he said to the driver. He still had dinner plans with Zhiyi and no time to waste here.

Ten minutes later, Jiang Sixun and Xu Zhiyi were reunited, despite having just parted ways.

She had left a small bite of rice in her bowl, waiting for him to join her for the meal.

She handed him a pair of chopsticks, “The food’s a bit spicy.”

Jiang took a seat next to her, smiling, “That’s fine.”

Just two weeks ago, neither of them had dared to hope they’d be sitting together like this, sharing a meal.

Xu Zhiyi quickly finished her rice and sipped her soup, waiting patiently for him to eat.

“So, what have you been up to all these years?” she asked.

Jiang replied, “Not much. I don’t have as much free time as it seems. When I do, I’ll hang out with Cohen and the others, or I’ll go back to China. I’ve even tried those regional dishes you recommended.”

Xu Zhiyi swallowed her mushroom soup hard. She vividly remembered September 12th, six years ago. She had a full day of classes, and he had taken her out for a fancy meal to reward her. That night, they had gone to a Cantonese restaurant, where they chatted about different cuisines.

She had told him that while she had no real preference for a specific cuisine, there were many amazing regional dishes across China. The best ones, though, could only be truly experienced locally.

He had asked her which places had the best dishes, and she’d eagerly shared all the places her grandparents had taken her throughout her childhood.

Back in the present, as they cleared the last few dishes of Sichuan food, Jiang glanced at his watch. “I have to go,” he said, reaching for the soup bowl in front of him.

“That’s mine! I already drank from it,” Xu Zhiyi said quickly.

Jiang didn’t put it down. “Can I have a few sips?”

“…Leave me half,” she replied.

He smiled, “Alright.” He lifted the bowl and drank only half.

A warm, unspoken tension hung in the air between them.

Even after he left and the car had driven off, the cool, crisp scent of him still lingered in the air around her.

That afternoon, instead of taking a nap, Xu Zhiyi opened her suitcase and began trying on outfits for dinner later that night.

Before she could decide on what to wear, her phone rang—it was her brother, Xu Heng.

“When are you planning to come back?” he asked.

“Bro, I just got here today.”

“Who are you traveling with?”

There was a brief hesitation before she answered, “A friend.”

“A boyfriend?”

“…Not yet.”

Xu Heng picked up on the subtlety of those three words. “So, it’s going to happen soon,” he said, probing further. “How old is he?”

Of course, she couldn’t give a straight answer. “Why are you asking how old he is?”

“Too young is no good, too old is worse. Ideally, someone around your age. A year or two older is fine. How old is he?”

“…Three years older.” She couldn’t bring herself to say the real number, so she multiplied it by two in her head.

“Barely acceptable. And how does he look?”

“Of course, he’s handsome,” she said with certainty.

Xu Heng, already feeling annoyed with this potential future brother-in-law, pressed on. “Where’s he from?”

“Same hometown as me.”

“…Beijing?”

“Yep.”

“How’d you two meet?”

“At work. Bro, stop with the interrogation.”

“Before you commit to him, video call me. I want to see what he looks like.”

Xu Zhiyi sighed. “…” If you saw what he looked like, it might just give you a heart attack.

Only Shang Yuan knew about her and Jiang Sixun. No one else.

Xu Heng continued to ask about her itinerary and when she was heading to Madrid.

Used to her brother’s meticulousness, she replied, “I’ll be flying over the day after tomorrow.”

There was a concert on Saturday, and Xu Heng calculated the timing. It seemed she had plenty of time. “Have you booked your hotel yet? Don’t let him book it for you.”

“I booked it a while ago,” she reassured him.

He made sure to remind her once again, “Before anything happens, video call me first, alright? Don’t forget.”

“I know, I know,” she waved him off.

After hanging up, Xu Heng checked the time. It was only 9:30 PM, not too late. He debated whether or not to call Qi Zhengchen.

He was planning to invite Qi to Madrid for the concert. Lately, Qi had been sinking deeper and deeper—rumor had it that he’d even invested in a golf club for Zhiyi.

If today it’s a golf club, who knows what he’ll invest in tomorrow?

The man was married now. What he was doing wasn’t right.

Maybe seeing Zhiyi with the person, she really liked would help him move on and stop clinging to false hopes. He needed to get on with his own life.