Li Xun pressed his forehead to hers, eyes softly closed, and said quietly: “Don’t be afraid. There’s nothing to be afraid of… A pebble cannot trip an elephant, nor can it dam a flood.”
His words proved as exact as ever. Four days later, Feiyang received an invitation from Huajiang VC expressing their interest in investing — and this was before the seventh day of the New Year had even arrived.
Dong Siyang came over with Zhang Fang and Zhao Teng — partly to discuss business, partly to gather and celebrate. The moment Zhang Fang stepped inside, his eyes didn’t know where to look.
“Oh my — oh my — oh my! What a mansion!” He tiptoed around the room in wonder. While Li Xun was talking with Dong Siyang, he whispered to Zhao Teng: “Li-sir is really something. We’re barely back on track, and in one year he’s spent more than I could earn in a lifetime.”
Zhao Teng squinted at him. “Is that seriously the limit of your ambition?”
Dong Siyang sat in the living room with the air of a sage, drinking tea and remarking that the tea the housekeeper brewed was far better than anything Zhu Yun could manage.
Zhu Yun sat nearby reading, not rising to the bait. Dong Siyang laughed and added: “You should just quit already. Stay home, support your husband, raise your children.”
Zhu Yun said evenly: “Quit? I’m thinking about asking for a raise over the New Year.”
Dong Siyang’s thick brows shot together, and he sat bolt upright.
“A raise?!”
Li Xun brought his laptop out from the bedroom and set it on the coffee table. Zhu Yun stopped teasing Dong Siyang and went back to her book.
After Dong Siyang and Li Xun discussed the project for a while, Dong Siyang cut straight to the point: “I’ve made arrangements to meet with the Huajiang people tomorrow. Does that work?”
Li Xun: “Fine by me.”
Dong Siyang: “Can we close it?”
Li Xun: “Of course.”
Zhu Yun listened from the side, the corners of her mouth lifting without her noticing. She held up her book to hide it and turned toward the window.
Beyond the floor-to-ceiling glass, snow blanketed the sky.
Everything around her felt strangely quiet.
Zhang Fang and Zhao Teng were making a racket in the kitchen; Dong Siyang and Li Xun were deep in conversation right beside her — and yet she felt perfectly still, as if she could hear every individual snowflake falling outside.
Those landing on the rooftop, those settling in the trees, those drifting to the ground… she felt she could distinguish between each one, just as she could read every glance, every expression, every word of Li Xun’s and understand the full truth behind them.
Li Xun needed to go back to the office with Dong Siyang to retrieve some documents. Zhu Yun walked them to the door. Li Xun headed out first; Dong Siyang paused in the doorway to put on his shoes. Zhu Yun said: “Drive carefully in the snow.”
Dong Siyang glanced up, smiled, and said: “You’ve come a long way from when you first arrived.”
Zhu Yun: “What do you mean?”
Dong Siyang waved it off. “You wouldn’t understand even if I told you.” He turned to leave — and Zhu Yun caught a sharp glimpse of the bandage wrapped around his wrist. She immediately asked: “What happened to your hand?”
Dong Siyang raised his arm and glanced at it. “It’s nothing. I knocked it a couple of days ago.”
Zhang Fang called out from behind: “Nothing?! Director Dong was working overtime on New Year’s Eve talking business! He drove in the ice and snow and hit a guardrail! His wrist was fractured and he still wouldn’t leave the front lines! He’s practically a model for his generation!”
Dong Siyang turned to look at him without expression; Zhang Fang immediately fell silent.
Zhu Yun couldn’t help saying: “Take care of yourself. Your life matters more than anything — if something’s too much, let it go for now.”
“Let it go?” Dong Siyang let out a short, dismissive sound, a puff of white breath shooting from his nose. “I’ve already let things go for far too long. And besides —” He looked at Zhu Yun, his rugged face radiating fierce confidence. “Don’t ever say ‘too much’ to me again. I hate hearing that phrase. And let me warn you — don’t go thinking that just because you’re having a son you can get cocky with me. I’m still your boss! There’s a hierarchy here!”
Zhu Yun: “Why are you also calling it a son?”
Dong Siyang straightened his coat, gave her one final glare, and declared with absolute certainty —
“It’s a son!”
Then he turned and walked away.
Zhu Yun leaned against the door frame, watching as the two men stepped one after the other into the ice and snow.
What was that old saying?
A dragon doesn’t cross shallow rivers.
Zhu Yun closed her eyes and listened to the distant sound of the wind. It felt, somehow, as if the heavens were speaking — telling all those who had endured hardship in the first half of their lives and never given up on themselves: the suffering you have borne has now given rise to dragons.
She opened her eyes, laughed coolly into the wind and snow, and said to herself: “I’m going to have a daughter just to spite every last one of you insufferable people.”
---
Zhu Yun went into labor on a day Li Xun wasn’t there.
The timing could not have been worse.
The baby arrived three days before the due date. Li Xun was in Beijing attending Huajiang Investment’s press conference. Huajiang’s first round of investment in Feiyang had reached four hundred million — the loudest shot fired in that year’s internet financing race.
The press conference was held at Huajiang’s Beijing headquarters, personally hosted by their president, Yao Naixin. Li Xun had originally wanted to stay home with Zhu Yun, but she had sent him away.
“You have to be there. This isn’t something you can skip — how important do you think you are?”
“But then I won’t see my son being born.”
“The press conference is still a little before the due date. You might be able to make it back in time.”
Li Xun leaned lazily against the headboard. “That’s impossible. My son can’t wait — he wants to come early.”
Zhu Yun scoffed.
Li Xun was quiet for a moment, then said softly: “Well. There’s always going to be something we miss.”
Zhu Yun found it strange that he seemed so certain.