Qiao Jin kept his hand on the door, voice low and hoarse: “I’m leaving.”
Lu Pingzhang’s eyes locked on the hand resting against the frame.
Qiao Jin pressed his lips together and slowly opened the door under the weight of that stare.
Lu Pingzhang reached out to stop it from closing. “Wait.”
Qiao Jin looked back at him. Lu Pingzhang hesitated, then said, “Let Xiao Chang drive you.”
Qiao Jin stood just outside the doorway, suitcase in hand. When he turned back, his voice was devoid of warmth under the entryway light. “No need.”
He stepped down the porch, pulling his suitcase behind him, walking the little stone path through the garden.
Lu Pingzhang’s eyes followed him the whole way. Qiao Jin didn’t look back.
Everything that had happened tonight left him rattled—especially that look Lu Pingzhang gave him when he turned. He had the chilling feeling that if he’d stayed even one second longer, he would’ve been dragged back and bound all over again.
Past the garden, beside the wintergreen bush, Qiao Jin stopped and looked up.
Snow was falling—light, like powdered salt, brushing softly across his nose and eyebrows.
It was snowing.
No wonder Lu Pingzhang’s clothes had been soaked earlier.
Qiao Jin pulled his scarf tighter around his neck and wheeled his suitcase forward, the wheels crunching gently over the thin layer of fresh snow.
He walked very slowly.
He was free now.
Lu Pingzhang stood by the door, watching Qiao Jin’s figure slowly disappear. The light from the living room spilled out, illuminating only his back—it couldn’t reach the darkness clouding his face or the abyss in his eyes.
He picked up his phone and made a call.
“Follow Qiao Jin. Make sure he enters the hotel room.”
“Got it,” said Xiao Chang, who was already waiting across the street. He glanced at Qiao Jin’s fading figure in the rearview mirror, then hesitated. “President Qiao… is he okay?”
Lu Pingzhang completely lost his temper. He snapped, “Just go!”
That night, Qiao Jin checked into the Jiali Hotel. It was probably the room Lu Pingzhang had booked for the whole year. There were still two sets of his clothes hanging in the wardrobe, and all the toiletries were fully stocked.
Qiao Jin stood at the door, suitcase in hand, staring into the room.
He wasn’t sure if anyone else besides Lu Pingzhang had ever stayed the night here. He guessed maybe someone had—there were a few boxes of condoms on the table, and two bottles of lube.
He was free now, but it didn’t feel like it.
He felt trapped.
There was no way out.
Without touching anything, Qiao Jin backed out of the room in silence and went downstairs to the front desk to book another one.
Lying in bed, he couldn’t fall asleep for a long time. He got up to turn off the lights, then drew both sets of blackout curtains until the room was pitch dark.
It was already too late. His head throbbed, and his eyes felt dry and strained.
He needed sleep.
He kept repeating that to himself.
No one knows how long it took, but eventually, in that rustling, suffocating darkness, he drifted into a restless sleep.
At 9 a.m. the next morning, Fu Linxiao called.
Same question as always: “Are you okay?”
Qiao Jin had barely been asleep when the phone rang. He moved his stiff shoulders and stared up at the hotel’s fancy ceiling light. His voice was raspy. “I moved out.”
Fu Linxiao was shocked. It took him a long while to respond. “…He actually let you? What now?”
“We’ll see,” Qiao Jin said, glancing at the time and sitting up. “It’s fine. He backed off.”
After hanging up, Qiao Jin got up and rushed to the office. He’d taken work trips before, so being gone a few days wasn’t unusual. No one in the company had a clue that something had spiraled out of control the night it snowed.
Yu Feng handed him a warm carton of milk. “Drink this, Qiao-ge.”
Qiao Jin looked at the milk, then at Yu Feng.
Yu Feng pointed at his own face and whispered, “You don’t look so good today.”
Qiao Jin didn’t explain. He gave him a small smile and thanked him, then drank the milk right there in front of him.
Lunch break lasted an hour, but Qiao Jin didn’t eat in the company cafeteria. He went across the street to a nearby restaurant instead.
Fu Linxiao rushed in, grumbling, “Traffic at noon, traffic at night—just kill me already.”
He checked his watch and shrugged off his coat. “I’ve gotta head back to the office after this. Damn it.”
Qiao Jin slid a bowl of seafood porridge toward him, gesturing for him to eat first.
“This little bowl gonna fill me up?” Fu Linxiao raised his hand to order two more side dishes, then chugged a perfectly warm glass of water. “Seriously, what’s going on with you guys? You really moved out? Lu-zong agreed?”
Qiao Jin nodded, slowly sipping his porridge.
Fu Linxiao tried a spoonful and winced from the heat, then set it down, deciding not to touch it for a while.
Outside, traffic crawled—start, stop, start again. Inside, the restaurant was packed and noisy, voices overlapping in a midday cacophony.
“This might be for the best,” Fu Linxiao said amid the restaurant’s noisy clatter, supporting Qiao Jin’s decision. “Saves you from staying silent every time he gets photographed with someone else.”
Qiao Jin quietly finished his porridge, wiped his mouth with a napkin, then looked out at the building across the street.
“I’m thinking of quitting.”
Fu Linxiao froze for a moment, then reacted. “Can you?”
Qiao Jin didn’t answer directly. He exhaled. “I think so. I want to take some time off. Spend it with my mom.”
“Yeah, makes sense.” Fu Linxiao knew the situation at the hospital wasn’t great. After thinking for a moment, he picked up his phone and transferred some money to Qiao Jin.
“Here. Use this for now. If your mom’s care needs more, I’ll figure something out.”
Right on cue, Qiao Jin’s phone dinged with the payment notification. He glanced at the amount and couldn’t help but chuckle.
“Your entire savings? Not bad.”
“Please,” Fu Linxiao snorted. “I just sold my place by the waterfront last month. Was thinking of upgrading, but haven’t had time. Can’t buy anything decent in this market anyway. Just use the money.”
“No need,” Qiao Jin said, trying to transfer it back. Fu Linxiao quickly reached out to block him. Qiao Jin sighed and half-joked, “It’s not like I left with nothing. Most of my savings are still in the hospital account. I checked this morning—there’s still plenty left. If I run short, I’ll come begging.”
Fu Linxiao pointed at him, and the two stared each other down briefly before Qiao Jin dropped his eyes with a slight smile.
“Thanks.”
As Fu Linxiao continued eating the shrimp Qiao Jin had peeled for him, his mind was still caught between concerns. On one hand, he worried Qiao Jin was being too stubborn about Lu Pingzhang. On the other, he feared Qiao Jin wouldn’t be able to handle the emotional strain of his mother’s situation. After a while, he spoke, albeit vaguely:
“Honestly, Lu-zong might not even stop paying for your mom’s caregiver.”
“If he does, so be it.” Qiao Jin paused, slowly wiping his hands with a damp towel.
“I’ll repay him, little by little.”
That afternoon, Qiao Jin really did submit his resignation.
As a department manager, he was supposed to hand in his notice to the company’s VP—but the VP was abroad for the New Year, so Zheng Rongguang was the one managing things through the office system.
The second Zheng saw the notification, he practically launched himself down the hall and barreled into Qiao Jin’s office like a missile, staring at him in disbelief.
“What the hell is this!?”
Qiao Jin leaned back in his chair to avoid the overly excited spray of spit.
Zheng leaned over to peek at his screen. The resignation form was still open. The listed reason: “Need to take care of family.”
“If you need time for your family, just take a leave. No need to quit,” Zheng muttered, frowning as he read over the page again and again. Finally, he turned to stare at Qiao Jin. “Not enough pay or what?”
Qiao Jin raised an eyebrow and pushed his chair back with one foot, giving Zheng more space at the desk.
His silence only made Zheng more nervous.
With a pained groan, Zheng rubbed the half-healed scratch on his cheek.
“You had a fight? With Lu-ge?”
Qiao Jin gave a soft “mm,” and said calmly, “Didn’t want to take a long leave and slow things down for the company.”
“Don’t give me that crap.” Zheng cut him off immediately, clearly seeing through the excuse—and confirming his suspicions.
“So you had a fight. Big deal. Couples fight and make up. Some even get divorced and then remarry. You don’t have to go this far. Just cool off for a few days and talk it out. Why quit?”
Ever since Qiao Jin made up his mind, he had a calmness about him. Even his eyes had the hint of a smile.
“You and your wife remarried?”
“We never got divorced!” Zheng snapped. Then, realizing he’d been baited into changing the subject, he narrowed his eyes. “So why’re you really quitting?”
Just days ago, Zheng had submitted a request to raise Qiao Jin’s salary next year—citing Lu Pingzhang’s personal request to take care of him. The moment he sent it up, Lu Pingzhang approved it without hesitation.
Now? It was all going down the drain. That stung worse than the scratch on his face.
“You can’t leave. HR is full of troublemakers you hired yourself—no one else can keep them in line.”
Qiao Jin leaned farther back, still avoiding him, and said with a smirk,
“Who cares about that? After New Year, I’m jumping ship.”
Zheng choked for a second, frustrated and trying to figure out what Qiao Jin was really feeling.
In public, Qiao Jin never showed much emotion. He always wore crisp, well-fitted shirts and slacks, with neatly styled hair. There was always a certain distance between him and others—never too aloof, but clearly set apart. His presence blended seamlessly with the high-rises in the city center.
Composed. Refined. Effortless. Always in control.
Qiao Jin stood up. Zheng Rongguang thought he was leaving and immediately grabbed his arm. “No—you can’t go until you explain.”
Qiao Jin helplessly dragged him a couple steps forward, tossing some scrap paper into the trash can before pulling him back and sitting down again.
“Let go of me first,” Qiao Jin tugged his hand free, clearly annoyed by the clinginess. “I’m not leaving yet. I still have to work overtime today.”
Zheng Rongguang instantly pulled out his phone, trying to call Lu Pingzhang.
Qiao Jin reached to stop him but was a second too late. He watched as Zheng dialed the number and shouted into the phone, “Secretary Yin? I need to talk to Lu-ge. It’s urgent—very urgent.”
Qiao Jin looked at him with exasperation and turned away.
A moment later, Zheng’s voice shifted into an overly eager tone. “Lu-ge, hey, did you know Qiao Jin submitted his resignation?”
Whatever Lu Pingzhang said on the other end made Zheng reply, “Yes, he’s here,” followed by “Okay,” before switching to speakerphone.
From the phone, a sharp exhale could be clearly heard.
Then Lu Pingzhang’s voice came through: “When we hired you, I was the one who personally signed off. Qiao Jin, if you want to resign, you’ll have to submit it directly to me.”
Qiao Jin stared at the phone in silence for a long moment, then finally said, “Okay.”
He asked calmly, “President Lu, I’d like to resign. Do I have your approval?”
Lu Pingzhang hadn’t expected him to ask so bluntly. He nearly crushed the phone in his hand.
For a moment, both offices connected by the call fell into dead silence.
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