“Make who leave?”
Before Gao Jianhong could respond, Fang Zhijing, his fury barely contained, cut in: “The one who should be leaving is you.”
Li Xun ignored him as before. He kept his gaze on Gao Jianhong, waiting for his next words.
All the speeches had ended, and the conference had moved into its main session. The chairman of a ride-hailing software company, speaking on behalf of the many entrepreneurs present, shared his perspective on the increasingly complex market landscape and the mounting wave of challenges. He expressed that the private equity market for the O2O sector had seen an extremely severe bubble in recent years, and that the market would not be able to sustain it indefinitely.
He quipped: “Living standards in major cities have risen considerably lately, because venture capitalists from around the world have poured in hundreds of billions of dollars — and most of it has essentially been subsidized right into the pockets of residents in Beijing, Shanghai, and Guangzhou.”
“And the market is growing increasingly restless,” he added, with pointed implication. “A lot of companies are going straight for whoever can pay the quickest. They grab what they can and run, with no regard for reputation. If this continues, fewer and fewer companies will be willing to put in the patient, serious work of building a real product.”
Fang Zhijing was also staring at Gao Jianhong. Everyone was looking at Gao Jianhong.
Gao Jianhong pressed his fingers to his temples again, then turned to Li Xun. “My answer is the same as his.”
The one who should leave is you.
Fang Zhijing let out a breath of relief, the color returning to his face. Nearby, Wu Zhen came walking over, only to be stopped by a staff member for not having a guest pass.
“What are you doing?” Wu Zhen said, displeased.
“Miss, you’ll need a pass to enter the guest section.” He’d already been reprimanded once today for failing to stop the man in black, and he wasn’t taking any more chances.
“Ridiculous — do you know who I am?” Her makeup was heavy and she was wearing sunglasses in the dim venue, so it was understandable that the staff member hadn’t recognized her.
Fang Zhijing, hearing the commotion, came over and scolded the staff member.
“What are you stopping people for? Did you even go through training?”
The staff member looked absolutely miserable.
“Forget it,” Wu Zhen said, surprisingly easy-going about it. She twisted past him and walked inside. Coming to stand before Gao Jianhong and Li Xun, she didn’t recognize Li Xun, and studied him discreetly. Since the guest section was organized by company, she assumed he must also be from Jili, and asked, “Who are you? Haven’t seen you before.”
Li Xun, naturally, paid her no attention.
Wu Zhen was not pleased at being ignored. “I’m talking to you. Who are you? Isn’t this the Jili Company section?”
“Don’t bother with him,” Fang Zhijing said, coming up behind her with a sneer. “Just a stray dog.”
Wu Zhen’s gaze settled on Li Xun and she let out a long, drawn-out “Oh.”
Li Xun turned and walked away.
“Li Xun.” Gao Jianhong called out to his retreating figure, that dark silhouette in black. “You’ve always been the one doing the talking. Today, out of respect for an old classmate, let me say something to you.”
Li Xun turned back to look at him.
Gao Jianhong sat in his chair, his voice measured and unhurried. “A man has to know his place in the world. Things are different now — they’re not how they used to be. Going it alone, you can’t climb that mountain.”
“Ah,” said Fang Zhijing, frowning, deliberately finding fault with Gao Jianhong’s words. “That’s not quite right of you. Old classmates and all — why not lend a hand? Help him find a company to go to. Otherwise, with a resume like that — half-finished — where’s he supposed to find work?”
Gao Jianhong nodded thoughtfully and asked Li Xun, “Do you need that?”
Li Xun slowly curved the corners of his mouth.
Everything that had anything to do with warmth or sentiment vanished completely.
A meek, hunched-over young man was making his way through the crowd, head bowed, handing out business cards. When he drifted into the guest section, a staff member moved to stop him — only to be held back by a colleague.
“Leave it.”
“…Aren’t people not supposed to go in there to hand things out?”
“Who knows what the rules are anymore — the CEO of Jili has completely lost it. Let’s just stay out of it.”
And so Guo Shijie kept his head down and made his way all the way to Li Xun.
The moment Fang Zhijing caught sight of this hapless figure entering his field of vision, all the pent-up frustration that Li Xun had stirred in him came surging out — and he directed every bit of it at this insignificant nobody.
But just as he was about to open his mouth and lash out, Li Xun reached over and plucked the business cards right out of Guo Shijie’s hand.
“Hey — sir, you took too many…”
Guo Shijie had absolutely no idea where he had wandered or what sort of territory he had stumbled into. He had been handing out flyers and business cards for several hours straight now, and his head had gone completely fuzzy. He did still remember, however, that the boss had personally counted out these cards and printed them one by one, with strict orders: one card per person. If he gave out extras, he’d be answering for it with his head.
Fang Zhijing watched Li Xun tuck the cards away and laughed out loud. “What — found a job just like that?”
Gao Jianhong looked at Guo Shijie’s hunched, shuffling posture and also chuckled.
“You really haven’t changed at all — still acting on a whim without a moment’s thought.”
Li Xun held his gaze for a moment, then said quietly, “You haven’t changed either. You still can’t see very far.”
Gao Jianhong’s expression went cold. Wu Zhen, overhearing, raised an eyebrow.
Guo Shijie still had no idea what had just happened, and stood there looking bewildered, glancing left and right. Li Xun strode off; Guo Shijie hurried after him. But Li Xun’s strides were long, and the aisles were congested — Guo Shijie was quickly left behind. By the time he made it to the entrance of the main hall, Li Xun had long since vanished.
Guo Shijie wiped the sweat from his face, still catching his breath, when a dark blur flashed past him. It surged toward the exit, then screeched to an abrupt halt and doubled back, snatching the last few business cards from his hand before dashing for the door again.
Zhu Yun ran out of the hotel and caught a distant glimpse of Li Xun getting into a taxi, which slowly pulled away.
She stood there for a moment, waiting until the tightness in her chest gradually eased. Then she looked down and studied the business card in her hand again.
Feiyang Network Co., Ltd.
The threads of fate in this world resist any orderly logic. Heaven, in its idle amusement, scatters them at random — and yet somehow binds together the most unrelated of things in an inextricable knot. Staking all of one’s stubborn pride and dignity, from here on out, the fortunes of all involved would rise and fall together.
Guo Shijie was fretting over his missing cards when his phone rang. He looked at the name on the screen — and his whole body went rigid. He answered with trembling hands, and out came a lazy, unhurried voice.