“He clearly doesn’t like me,” Jiang Luo said quietly. “Not in the way I like him.”
“Forget it, Old Wang.”
Jiang Luo looked at Wang Chuang again. “I really think we should just drop it.”
“Huo Zongzhuo is far too good to me.”
“I can’t do that to him.”
“I don’t want things to end with him feeling trapped, or for the two of us to fall out and turn ugly.”
“So what about you?”
Wang Chuang was a real brother—after everything he’d said, this was what he cared about most.
Jiang Luo shrugged, his tone easy, almost careless. “What about me? Nothing special.”
“We stay friends. I stay a good ‘son.’”
“When he meets a girl he likes, I’ll help him think of ideas, help him figure out how to woo her.”
“When he gets married, I’ll be his best man, help him block drinks.”
“When he has a kid, I’ll—”
He couldn’t go on. He stopped, closed his eyes briefly, a wave of discomfort rising in his chest.
Wang Chuang felt just as stifled. “Didn’t things used to be fine? We already talked it through—boiling the frog. Why are you suddenly—”
“It’s fine.”
Jiang Luo waved his hand, looking unconcerned. “Let’s leave it at that. No more boiling.”
“Huo Zongzhuo’s too good to me.”
“I can’t screw him over.”
Wang Chuang straightened up, frowning. “You like him and hope he’ll like you too—how is that screwing him over?”
“You’re not going to hurt him.”
“How is it not hurting him?”
Jiang Luo’s expression stayed blank. He looked at Wang Chuang. “What if I liked you instead?”
“If it were you, how would you accept my feelings?”
“Would you feel trapped? Would you feel torn—conflicted, uncomfortable, unable to accept that kind of affection?”
“How would you face me? How would you interact with me?”
“Could we still be friends?”
“If your parents and family found out, would they have opinions about me?”
“Someone like me—wouldn’t I be getting in the way of you dating, getting married, living the normal life a normal person is supposed to have?”
“Forget it.”
Jiang Luo said it again, his voice firm.
Forget it. He couldn’t hurt Huo Zongzhuo.
Huo Zongzhuo was too good to him.
And he couldn’t betray that kindness.
He wouldn’t be able to live with it.
He was also afraid that one day he’d regret it—regret having dragged Huo Zongzhuo down, regret making it impossible for him to live the normal, happy life a normal man was supposed to have.
So… just like this.
Forget it.
—
In Jinling, Xue Zhizhong—out on a business trip—yanked open a car door and slid into the back seat, a brick-sized mobile phone pressed to his ear, his face twisted with irritation.
“I don’t give a damn whether you have a way or not—where the hell is he?” he snapped.
“I paid for this! That means you get it done!”
“He’s not in Haicheng? Then camp it out until he goes back!”
“He’s got a factory that big in Juxiang Town—what, you think he can just abandon it and never return to Haicheng?!”
“Isn’t he close with that what’s-his-name—Zheng Bin? Jiang family’s brother-in-law, the one whose wife’s brother is in Shanxi. Are they tight or not?”
“Then stake them out, damn it!”
“So what if someone’s following them already?”
“You telling me they don’t eat, piss, or take a crap?”
“You think anyone can watch someone twenty-four hours a day?!”
“Stake them out! All of you! Send more people!”
“When he goes back to Haicheng, stake him out!”
“The moment there’s a chance, drug him, knock him out, and haul him away!”
“Hell, I want to see how long it takes you idiots to actually bring him to me!”
“Don’t talk to me about money!”
“Get me the person—whatever it costs, I’ll pay!”
“You’d better get your hands on him!”
“I want him! Him!!!”
He hung up and angrily tossed the phone onto the front passenger seat, cursing under his breath.
Grinding his teeth, he thought: Damn it, just the son of some bureau chief. I don’t believe I can’t make this happen.
Even if the King of Heaven himself showed up, he’d still have the guy delivered straight into Huo Zongzhuo’s bed.
—
Huo Zongzhuo was out. At noon, Wang Chuang deliberately brought his lunchbox into the office to eat with Jiang Luo.
Across the tea table, Jiang Luo held his food container, eating while studying several sample-pattern blueprints laid out in front of him.
Wang Chuang ate too, sneaking glances at him, worry weighing heavily on his mind.
“What’re you looking at?” Jiang Luo asked when he noticed Wang Chuang staring. He lifted his eyes. “Got potatoes on my face?” Wang Chuang loved potatoes.
Wang Chuang chewed and asked, “So… you really stopped?”
“Yeah.”
Jiang Luo kept eating, eyes on the blueprints.
“Aren’t you hurting?” Wang Chuang asked.
Liking someone and not being able to do anything about it—just liking them in silence—how could that not hurt?
“So what if I am?” Jiang Luo said calmly. “Am I supposed to cry my eyes out? Make a scene?”
Wang Chuang sighed. “You weren’t like this before.”
“Didn’t you say you had it all figured out?”
“You even said forced love is still love.”
Jiang Luo stayed composed. “Yeah. It’s love. So what?”
“Love doesn’t put food on the table.”
“My thinking changed.”
“People change. Thoughts change. That’s normal.”
Wang Chuang started, “But you clearly like him so—”
Knock, knock.
The door opened.
Jiang Luo looked up, immediately straightened, and said naturally, “You’re back already? I thought you’d eat out.”
Huo Zongzhuo walked in. “Didn’t eat. Chatted with someone, had a couple cups of tea, and wrapped it up.”
“I’ll go get your lunch,” Jiang Luo said, heading out.
As he passed by, he deliberately bumped Huo Zongzhuo with his arm.
Huo Zongzhuo laughed. “Careful—don’t trip.”
Watching from the side, Wang Chuang sighed inwardly.
Other people might not know Jiang Luo, but he did.
Everything about Jiang Luo looked normal—but inside, who knew how bad he felt?
Wang Chuang sighed again, stood up with his food, and headed out, gesturing to Huo Zongzhuo. “President Huo, have a seat. Go ahead.”
As Wang Chuang left the office, Jiang Luo was just coming back with two boxed lunches.
Lowering his voice, Wang Chuang asked, “Wanna grab some drinks tonight?”
Jiang Luo shot him a baffled look and hurried past. “Drink what? You got nothing better to do?”
—
That night, at a street-side food stall not far from the industrial zone, Jiang Luo tilted his head back and finished a bottle of beer. Bang—he slammed it onto the table, then immediately toppled sideways like a sack of mud, collapsing onto Wang Chuang beside him.
That dead-fish expression on his face clearly said: I’m heartbroken. I don’t want to live anymore.
A few tables behind them, Lao Si, Lao San, and Wang Junqing were drinking and eating together.
Lao Si glanced over. “Hey, what’s up with President Jiang?”
Lao San looked too, thought for a moment. “Too many factories to manage. Probably just work stress.”
That night, Jiang Luo didn’t go back to the Silver Lake villa. He went to the hotel where Wang Chuang was staying.
In the room, Wang Chuang—face flushed from drinking—sat on a chair by the bed, staring at the scene in front of him.
On the bed, Jiang Luo hugged a pillow and sang:
If I’d known heartbreak was unavoidable
Why did you have to give your heart so deeply?
Because love is always so hard to let go
Why care about just a little tenderness…
He sang with gut-wrenching intensity, utterly devastated.
Wang Chuang: “……”
—
The next morning, Jiang Luo brushed his teeth in the bathroom while Wang Chuang stood beside him. “You know how many songs you sang here last night when you were drunk?”
“One full side of a cassette,” he said, “plus the other side.”
Jiang Luo: “……”
At breakfast, Jiang Luo drank congee to sober up and clear his head.
Wang Chuang deliberately pulled a chair next to him and stared. “You sang ‘When the Dream Ends’ really well last night.”
Mimicking Jiang Luo’s hoarse voice from the night before, he sang, ‘If I’d known heartbreak was unavoidable…’
Jiang Luo almost sprayed his congee.
Back at the factory, Jiang Luo was behind his desk flipping through documents, with Wang Chuang still hovering nearby. “You know how many bottles you drank last night?”
Jiang Luo took a deep breath. “Get lost.”
Wang Chuang kept yapping.
“Dock your pay,” Jiang Luo said. “Dock—”
Wang Chuang spun around and fled instantly.
When the door closed and Jiang Luo was alone, his temple throbbed. He raised a hand and pinched the bridge of his nose and the corner of his eyes.
What’s wrong with drinking a little after a breakup? What’s wrong with singing? I sing even when I’m sober! I’ll sing if I want!
In his head, When the Dream Ends started playing automatically:
You said you loved someone you shouldn’t have
Your heart is full of scars
You said you made mistakes you shouldn’t have
Your heart is full of regret…
Almost the entire day, the song looped endlessly in Jiang Luo’s mind.
During the day, Huo Zongzhuo stopped by. He didn’t ask why Jiang Luo drank so much or why he hadn’t gone back to the villa—he only said, “That much?”
Even after a night, Jiang Luo still carried a faint smell of alcohol.
Outwardly, Jiang Luo said, “Yeah.”
In his head, Chen Shuhua’s voice sang: If I’d known heartbreak was unavoidable, why give your heart so deeply…
Not deeply. Not deeply anymore. Stop singing, Jiang Luo told himself.
Later, while Huo Zongzhuo was temporarily out of the office, Wang Chuang passed by the window outside, pushed it open, and poked his head in, clicking his tongue twice, his expression asking: So it’s really over? You okay?
I’m great.
Jiang Luo looked normal, waved him off, and told him to go do whatever he needed to do.