Chapter 31: The Meeting

"Yan Jianyuan?"

Fang Qingzhou called out his name, her gaze flitting past the two tall, burly bodyguards behind him. She paused, then asked with unconcealed surprise, "Mr. Yan, you are in City B as well?"

The last time the two had met was five years ago, when Yan Jianyuan came to their studio to negotiate the agency rights for a product. After signing the contract, they had shared a meal, but there had been no interaction between them since.

Yan Jianyuan stepped aside, leaving room for her to exit the car, and asked with polished gentility, "If you don't mind, would you care to join me for a cup of tea?"

·

In a private room facing the street on the second floor.

Hot water was poured into a glass pot. The twilight light, layered with white steam rising like soft clouds, created a hazy, ethereal atmosphere that rendered the people at either end of the table somewhat indistinct and distant.

"I just arrived in City B at noon today," Yan Jianyuan said, placing a cup in front of Fang Qingzhou and lowering his gaze. "I lived here for a while when I was a child. Since I happened to have the opportunity this time, I decided to come back for a look."

Fang Qingzhou returned the courtesy with a simple, "I arrived two days ago."

She had no appreciation for the inefficient elegance of tea drinking. She politely picked up the cup, took a sip, and used a mobile app to order a bowl of chicken soup rice noodles for herself.

She then set her phone down and met Yan Jianyuan’s eyes.

This was a somewhat strange encounter. Fortunately, Fang Qingzhou had an extremely high adaptability to her environment; she rarely felt awkward or embarrassed by external atmospheres, allowing her to handle complex situations with seasoned maturity.

Fang Qingzhou said, "I have seen reports about your company in the domestic media; they were all positive. Congratulations."

Yan Jianyuan’s outstanding appearance and refined temperament gave the illusion of being entirely non-aggressive upon first glance. Paradoxically, this was countered by his sharp and formidable talent. This contradictory nature, blending softness with strength, combined with his legendary and turbulent life story, created a level of buzz around him that was nearly inescapable.

Even though their lives were completely unrelated, Fang Qingzhou occasionally heard people around her discussing news about him, knowing that his career expansion in Country Y had been quite successful.

However, Lu Shengxing had always firmly believed that Yan Jianyuan engaged in extensive marketing to cover up the illicit methods he used during the early stages of his startup—such as plagiarizing a niche game that Lu Shengxing happened to love.

Hearing her matter-of-fact congratulations, Yan Jianyuan smiled and said, "You are still as bad at small talk as ever."

Fang Qingzhou recalled the details of their last meeting: because there were many people dining together, there was no need for her to liven up the atmosphere, and the two had only exchanged a few brief words throughout the entire meal.

Yan Jianyuan mentioned, seemingly without intent, that a friend of his was suffering from a severe mental illness. He had heard that it could now be treated using brain-computer interface electrical stimulation and asked for her opinion.

Fang Qingzhou explained that this was not her primary area of expertise. She had previously worked with her mentor on the interpretation and encryption of brain data, but that was mainly targeted at paralyzed or severely disabled patients. As for the treatment of mental disorders, according to her understanding, it was theoretically feasible and some teams had achieved considerable results, but it would still take some time before it reached the stage of clinical implementation.

Fang Qingzhou asked with concern, "How is your friend doing?"

Even when Yan Jianyuan smiled, there was a sense of lingering melancholy in his brow. He toyed with the thin rim of his cup, and it took a moment of daze before he grasped whom her out-of-the-blue mention of a "friend" referred to. He said indifferently, "Probably better."

"Probably?" Fang Qingzhou repeated.

Yan Jianyuan’s loose sleeve slipped down during his movement, revealing a centipede-like, winding scar on his forearm. He was completely unaware of it, but Fang Qingzhou’s gaze had already been drawn to it.

Fang Qingzhou stared at it for two or three seconds, then asked, "Do you have to wear suits and shirts all the time?"

Yan Jianyuan had noticed her arguably intrusive gaze halfway through. He rolled up his sleeve with unhurried grace, revealing the full extent of the scar, and said, "I'm used to it."

The scar was years old; the surface had become flat, leaving only a slight color difference and a thick skin texture.

Yan Jianyuan pulled his sleeve back down, his expression revealing a mix of nostalgia and sorrow. "I got this scar when I was young because I was disobedient, throwing a tantrum at home, and was struck by a metal ornament I’d knocked over. I don't think much of it, but my mother always felt guilty, feeling she hadn't taken good care of me. So even in the summer, I don't dare to wear short sleeves, afraid that seeing it would make her sad."

Fang Qingzhou was as dull as a block of wood, remaining unmoved by this, and simply asked, "What about your father?"

Yan Jianyuan laughed. "He was a rough and boisterous man who didn't care about such minor injuries. He was careless in everything he did, and my mother often called him a savage, frequently quarreling with him over it."

When Yan Jianyuan spoke, he usually did not hold eye contact for long, avoiding direct gazes to leave the other person a relaxed and comfortable psychological space. Yet, while describing this past, his light-colored pupils remained fixed on Fang Qingzhou’s face.

His gaze was deep, subtle, and winding, as if hiding a cold, stubborn urgency, waiting for the listener's response.

...

Fang Qingzhou lowered her eyes to look at her own hands, fingers pressed tip-to-tip, and said with a neutral expression, "So, you eventually immigrated to Country Y?"

Yan Jianyuan said dejectedly, "No. My mother passed away from illness when I was in middle school, and not long after, my father left as well, leaving me all alone. I didn't have many relatives, and in the end, I had to follow an elder to live in Country Y. That person was financially strapped and couldn't get along with me. After living under someone else's roof for a while, I tried relying on the internet to make money. I was quite lucky and achieved financial independence quickly, which is how I finally got on the right track."

Fang Qingzhou licked her lips, feeling a bit parched. She picked up the now-cooled tea and took a sip, responding with a bland, "I see."

The water in the pot bubbled incessantly, bursting with one air bubble after another. Outside the window, car horns blared; those stuck in traffic pressed their horns impatiently, emitting short, sharp noises that tightened the heart.

Yan Jianyuan’s voice remained flat. He said apologetically, "You are the first person I've met to react that way. Did I bring up a topic that you found uninteresting?"

"No, I just thought that when a person is lying, they don't want to be called out on it."

Fang Qingzhou met his gaze, then looked away a moment later. The sound of her cup hitting the table was slight, yet it shattered the remaining warmth, harmony, and illusions in the air.

Fang Qingzhou asked, "I don't understand; is this your ideal of a happy family?"

Outside the door came a series of "knock-knock" sounds, and the rollers of the sliding door emitted a harsh screech.

A waiter entered with a starkly different, fiery energy, carrying the rice noodles: "Your order!"

·

Sizzling, savory stir-fried dishes were brought to the table one after another, steam rising with their aroma. Unfortunately, Wang Da’s mind was so filled with anxiety that he only focused on clutching a beer bottle, his face a mask of bitter resentment as he pondered.

Zhou Suirong tapped his bottle, drank, and then rested a hand on his shoulder, patiently consoling him. "Brother Wang, it’s not that there’s no room for maneuver. I was just analyzing the pros and cons for you, exaggerating a bit to prevent you from getting in too deep. If you get any more involved, you might really end up in jail for that guy Liang. I suggest you find Xu Youxiang immediately and see if you can reach a private settlement."

Wang Da frantically searched for a long time, found Xu Youxiang’s account, and sent him an emoji. He was so angry his features contorted. "Xu Youxiang blocked me!"

Zhou Suirong suppressed a laugh and clicked his tongue. "What now? Why is he holding such a grudge?"

Wang Da turned to look at him, truly desperate. "Can you put in a good word for me?"

Zhou Suirong quickly demurred. "How can I intercede for you? I only heard a few words; I don't even know what the conflict is between you all. I’ve already turned down requests from Xu Youxiang’s side to avoid causing trouble for Fang Qingzhou. Are you still drinking?"

Wang Da hadn't eaten more than two bites of food, and empty beer bottles were already scattered on the floor. Trying to find courage in the alcohol, he opened the floodgates, drinking heavily. Then, he leaned toward Zhou Suirong and asked with mock mystery, "You know about that incident where Liang Yizheng was blinded, right?"

Zhou Suirong nodded, puzzled. "I know."

Wang Da hiccuped and leaned closer. "What do you think?"

Zhou Suirong hesitated, then lowered his voice. "Brother Wang, it’s not that I have a dark mind and want to smear him without cause. I went back and re-watched the clips where Liang Yizheng talked about this, and the more I analyze it, the more wrong it feels.

"You’d think that when a person describes being harmed, they’d describe how fierce or brutal the other party was, right? The more time passes, the more fear and hatred should feature in the account. But every time he talks about it, he focuses on how the guy went crazy, using a rock to smash his eye, the blood spraying out, and how he couldn't react in time. That narrative perspective gives me the feeling—hiss—that he’s looking down at his prey. Between the lines, there’s anger and disbelief. Do you understand what I mean?"

Wang Da slapped his arm hard. His face was flushed crimson by alcohol and agitation, his eyes glassy, and he nodded vigorously, looking at Zhou Suirong as if he had found a kindred spirit.

"You’re not the only one!" Wang Da complained bitterly. "Look at the class reunion held for Liang Yizheng this time; how many men actually came? Two of them were his own studio assistants. Anyone in the class with the ability to leave City B wouldn't deign to associate with him. It’s my own fault for being blinded by greed, wanting to ride his coattails, which is how I got caught up in this mess. It’s pure bad luck."

Wang Da opened another bottle, shoved a few chopsticks of stir-fried beef into his mouth, cleared his throat, and said thickly, "How did Xu Youxiang offend Liang Yizheng? He knew the inside story. When he heard people in school sucking up to Liang Yizheng, he couldn't keep his mouth shut and let it slip."

Zhou Suirong asked curiously, "What inside story? I feel like he’s a bit unhinged."

Wang Da said, "He’s from the same village as the guy who attacked him! They’re about the same age and played together when they were kids. What was that guy’s name again? Anyway, his surname is also Xu; half the village has the surname Xu. They are all distantly related; go back three or four generations, and they might all be one family.

"That guy’s family only had two people: him and his father. His mother ran off long ago, and his father didn't treat him well. Xu Youxiang said that kid was good-looking, unlike his father in any way. People in the village loved to gossip behind his back, and his father was constantly being poked in the back, told he was wearing a green hat. Over time, the father started to suspect the boy wasn't his own, and he’d beat and scold him at the drop of a hat. It was a miserable situation."

Zhou Suirong listened intently, occasionally chiming in.

Wang Da’s alcohol-induced state was peaking. His whole body was hot, his eyes unfocused, and he recounted the story vividly: "After that guy blinded Liang Yizheng, that same night, their school teacher led police officers from the local station to his house to find him. Those people must have been fishing for something. Xu Youxiang said half the village heard the boy’s screams. To make amends, his father pinned him down and beat him mercilessly. It was raining that night, but that sound didn't cover it up. Xu Youxiang was too scared to sleep, so he snuck out in the middle of the night to peek from the corner of their house. When the noise stopped, he prepared to leave and saw the police officers who had been there during the day sneaking out of their house. From then on, no one ever saw the Xu father and son again. The two of them just vanished, as if washed away by that night’s rain."

Zhou Suirong’s expression turned grave, and the feigned smirk on his face disappeared. He asked in a low, cold voice, "Xu Youxiang said he saw the police walk out with his own eyes? Why didn't he say anything before? Or did he, and no one investigated?"

Wang Da shook his head, his tone malicious. "How would I know? Why would I ask that closely? Besides, Xu Youxiang was just a young kid then. Even if he’d said it, who would take it seriously? And even if they did, who would dare to dig deep? It’s a society based on connections; there are plenty of ways to handle things."

...

Zhou Suirong asked, "When did Xu Youxiang tell you this?"

Wang Da mumbled, "I was trying to lure him out, so I made up some stuff about planning to sue Liang Yizheng. He’s not very bright; he spilled the truth in no time."

Zhou Suirong said, "You mean just now? It’s been over twenty years; perhaps it’s just a mental block. People's memories aren't necessarily real."

Wang Da slapped the table, his face red and his neck strained. "See! Even you don't believe it! It was a waste of breath for him to even say it."

Wang Da’s phone vibrated. He glanced at it, saw the name of the caller on the screen, and his fury overcame his drunkenness. He cursed loudly, "Liang Yizheng’s grandfather, how dare he still call me?"

As he reached out to hang up, Zhou Suirong quickly stopped him, holding his arm. "Xu Youxiang’s words might not be true either. Maybe he’s trying to incite you to go after Liang Yizheng? Why are you burning bridges with Liang Yizheng right now? String him along, deal with him, and find a way to make them fight each other."

Wang Da’s brain cleared up a bit in the wind. Following Zhou Suirong’s train of thought, he suddenly realized, "Brother, you’re right. You can’t believe a word out of these animals' mouths!"

He slapped his cheeks hard to wake himself up. He realized he couldn't untangle the truth from the lies on either side; he only knew he was screwed either way. He cursed, "Damn it! What evil thing did I do? Both that Liang guy and the Xu guy are pulling every dirty trick on me—why?!"

"They have a conflict of interest, and I’m just the one meddling," Zhou Suirong said, his proud eyes filled with disdain. "I just can’t stand someone who has done all sorts of evil and is still there, parading around and acting like a good person. If Liang Yizheng is truly just a facade, I want to peel that human skin off him."

Wang Da’s head was spinning. His nature as a fence-sitter resurfaced, and this time, he leaned heavily toward Zhou Suirong, giving him a thumbs-up with an involuntary fawning tone. "You’re right, Old Zhou. Among all the people I know, you’re the only one I truly admire."

Those who could live off others really were different; their backbones were much stiffer than the average person’s.

Zhou Suirong silently reviewed the accounts of Xu Youxiang and Wang Da, realizing that they kept circling back to the missing person.

The case was clearly long in the past, the person remained missing to this day, and only a few baseless rumors remained—nothing that could be turned into useful evidence. Theoretically, it should have little to do with Liang Yizheng’s current troubles, yet both men consistently focused on this old affair.

If Wang Da was influenced by Xu Youxiang, then what about Xu Youxiang?

Zhou Suirong whispered, "Do you think it’s possible..."

Wang Da looked up, swaying with his beer bottle.

Zhou Suirong’s throat moved, and he raised an eyebrow. "That kid from back then... he didn't actually die?"

·

Yan Jianyuan laughed at himself. "Why don't you believe me?"

Fang Qingzhou, who had been eating her noodles, paused and answered earnestly, "I don't know how to describe it. Many people have misunderstandings about me. I am not good at handling emotions, but my ability to identify lies is higher than most people think. Your performance is not natural. I suggest you skip the roundabout steps and talk openly."

"Professor Liang says you are a person who cannot be swayed by emotions and can always digest various information with rationality," Yan Jianyuan leaned back slightly against the chair. "I don't quite believe it. That’s why I went to see your speeches, listened to your reports, learned about your projects, and analyzed your life. I wanted to know if you are rational, or if you have a congenital lack of emotion."

"That is very perverted of you." Fang Qingzhou lost her appetite and pushed the bowl away. "Do you have emotions you cannot digest?"

Yan Jianyuan sighed wearily. "I do. Many."

Fang Qingzhou deliberately scanned the scar on his arm. "Do you need to construct lies to heal yourself?"

Yan Jianyuan’s expression remained the same. "I am used to spinning stories. A large part of my success relies on the fact that people love to hear my stories. Perhaps you look down on this kind of happiness and love that extends from falsehoods, but most people need it."

Yan Jianyuan held his hands loosely on his knees. His posture was not tense, and there was no sense of hostility between them, only an indescribable, suffocating pressure. It was like being in the deep sea, several kilometers down, relying on extreme suppression to maintain a surface peace.

Fang Qingzhou set down her chopsticks and asked, without much emotion, "For example, Shen Zhiyang?"

Yan Jianyuan watched her intently and nodded. "For example, Zhou Suirong."