In the high school yearbook, Zhao Jing’s name was listed first, so his motto read: “Starting the list from the letter Z because other than my name, all I have are As.” It was even voted one of the best mottos in the school’s history.
Looking back now at the age of 28, it seemed a bit showy, but the sentiment still held true. As everyone knew, Zhao Jing had always excelled at problem-solving, though he had never quite mastered the art of not excelling at school.
After stepping off the duck boat, Zhao Jing headed back to the guesthouse with Wei Jiayi and Lini. As he taught Lini about construction vehicles along the way, he glanced at Wei Jiayi in the driver’s seat and thought about what he needed to do next.
Zhao Jing’s special feelings for Wei Jiayi had become a settled fact, something he could neither ignore nor change. Thus, the first step in his plan was to explore and clarify the nature of their relationship.
According to his therapist, there was a possibility that Wei Jiayi already liked him.
However, Zhao Jing hadn’t ruled out three other possibilities:
- Wei Jiayi might not like him much yet but could harbor a budding fondness with the potential to grow deeper.
- Wei Jiayi might already have feelings for him but hadn’t realized it yet.
- Their time together had been too brief, and the island’s conditions had limited Wei Jiayi’s ability to fully recognize Zhao Jing’s merits and trustworthiness.
The third point might also be related to Zhao Jing’s incomplete recovery from his leg injury. If that’s the case, Zhao Jing would need to accelerate his rehabilitation process.
As for Zhao Jing’s feelings toward Wei Jiayi, he lacked prior experience to draw upon and couldn’t reach an immediate conclusion.
In the past, Zhao Jing had always been indifferent to matters of emotion, showing no interest or engagement in such topics. This was one of the exceedingly rare areas where he had almost no theoretical knowledge and absolutely no practical experience.
Simply thinking about words like “love” and “feelings” irritated and bored Zhao Jing; work was far more engaging. However, when it came to Wei Jiayi, Zhao Jing experienced something entirely different. The 50 photos he had taken within two minutes of Wei Jiayi praying with his eyes closed, now stored in his phone’s gallery, served as proof.
The situation felt even more complicated than that overcast afternoon years ago, when Zhao Jing had stood on the balcony of his newly acquired commercial property, overlooking the city. On that day, he had called his real estate agent, rejected a potential tenant who wanted to negotiate the rent, and decided to start his own company.
Of course, self-reflection was rarely objective enough. Zhao Jing resolved to first confirm Wei Jiayi’s feelings for him before making any further moves.
Despite having no prior study in the area, Zhao Jing was still an adult with sharp observational skills and an excellent memory. Even without much interest in the topic, he could recall things he had overheard or seen in passing and piece together basic standards for evaluation.
For example, who did Wei Jiayi seek out first in emergencies? Did he seem shy when in close contact with Zhao Jing? Did he proactively reach out to Zhao Jing in day-to-day life? Was there a noticeable difference in how he treated Zhao Jing compared to others?
In this situation, Zhao Jing’s disadvantage was his lack of experience, but his advantage was that Wei Jiayi indulged his every whim.
As decisive as ever, Zhao Jing had already made up his mind by the time they arrived at the guesthouse. When Wei Jiayi parked the car, opened the door, and lifted Lini out, Zhao Jing carefully observed the way Wei Jiayi’s slender arms encircled Lini and the gentle smile on his lips. He resolved to seize the next opportunity to take action.
Lini had so much fun on the duck boat that he was completely worn out. After dinner, Wei Jiayi drove him back to his aunt’s house. The boy nodded off in the back seat, his head bobbing up and down.
Today, Lini had barely cried at all. Only during a few moments, when he likely thought of his parents, did he fall into a brief daze. After they disembarked from the boat, Wei Jiayi had bought him a golden duck boat model from the souvenir shop, which Lini carefully placed in his small backpack.
After dropping Lini off with his aunt, Wei Jiayi drove alone along the mountain road. At first, he was too tired to think about anything. But as he rounded a curve, his thoughts turned to Zhao Jing.
His mind wandered through chaotic memories—Zhao Jing silently holding an umbrella over him and Lini, or loudly asking, with noise-canceling earbuds still on, “What does the 5 mean?”
Did he still dislike Zhao Jing? Wei Jiayi’s current answer would probably be no. However, Zhao Jing felt like a massive nuisance with a good heart—like an alien ship hovering over a city in some sci-fi novel. That much was 100% certain.
Wei Jiayi couldn’t help but feel that he preferred his earlier life, when he spent all his time alone outside of work. Back then, everything felt safer.
When Wei Jiayi returned to the guesthouse, both Li Mingcheng and Zhao Jing were still in the living room.
Li Mingcheng asked if he wanted to join them for a movie. Wei Jiayi glanced at the screen and saw it was a newly released but mediocrely rated horror movie. He wasn’t interested, but Zhao Jing said, “Why not? Then you pick something.”
Left with little choice, Wei Jiayi sat down.
Li Mingcheng settled into the armchair, leaving Wei Jiayi to share the couch with Zhao Jing. To set the mood, they turned off the lights.
Having watched many horror movies before, Wei Jiayi found this one predictable. He wanted to pull out his phone but worried Zhao Jing might think he was being disrespectful, so he simply hugged a pillow and zoned out on the couch.
Halfway through the movie, Wei Jiayi shifted his position. Suddenly, Zhao Jing leaned closer and asked, “Wei Jiayi, you’ve been sitting so still—are you frozen with fear?”
Wei Jiayi, distracted by thoughts of work, reflexively answered, “Mm.” When he realized what Zhao Jing had actually asked, he glanced at him. In the dark, all he could make out was Zhao Jing’s statue-like profile and his glowing eyes, which were very close. Amid the shifting light and shadows, he caught a glimpse of anticipation in Zhao Jing’s gaze.
Misinterpreting his response, Zhao Jing seemed to believe Wei Jiayi was genuinely frightened by the movie and said, “If you’re afraid, you can move a little closer to me.”
“Thank you, President Zhao,” Wei Jiayi politely acknowledged his kindness but brushed off the offer with an excuse. “But it’s fine. Hugging this pillow works for me. Besides, I’m strong, and it wouldn’t be good if I got scared and accidentally knocked into your leg.”
Zhao Jing said, “Oh,” and leaned back.
After the movie ended, Zhao Jing appeared very tired. Without saying a word, he returned to his room.
The next morning, Wei Jiayi noticed that Zhao Jing had become even harder to figure out. Before breakfast, Zhao Jing hobbled around him on his crutch, keeping an odd distance, as if caught in a tug-of-war between morality and boundaries.
Wei Jiayi couldn’t make sense of Zhao Jing’s behavior. He exchanged a puzzled glance with Li Mingcheng, who appeared just as baffled. Wei Jiayi finished breakfast as soon as possible, packed his things, and left to avoid him.
When he returned that evening, he overheard Zhao Jing’s secretary reporting the itinerary for their departure from the island the day after tomorrow. Seizing the moment, Wei Jiayi said, “President Zhao, I’ve decided to stay two more days. You can take me off the passenger list.”
After speaking, Wei Jiayi realized that the day after tomorrow, he wouldn’t see Zhao Jing again. The thought brought him a sense of relief but also an inexplicable emptiness. Few people were like Zhao Jing, who traveled with a 20-person entourage and created such a lively atmosphere. Not to mention, his chef’s cooking was exceptional.
Soon enough, Wei Jiayi would be back to eating dried rations.
Hearing this, Zhao Jing glanced at him with that familiar unhappy expression. Li Mingcheng didn’t notice and asked, “Jiayi, are you sure you won’t leave with us? It’s still pretty inconvenient to get in and out of here.”
“It’s fine.” Wei Jiayi smiled. “I already spoke to the mayor. I can take the supply ferry to the mainland.”
“I’ll leave a helicopter for you,” Zhao Jing said coldly. “Why take a ferry?”
Before Wei Jiayi could respond, Li Mingcheng chimed in, “Exactly. Otherwise, once you’re on the mainland, you’d still have to transfer by car to get to the airport.”
Wei Jiayi considered the suggestion. Declining Zhao Jing’s offer might upset him further. So, he sincerely thanked him, adding a few extra words of appreciation, which seemed to improve Zhao Jing’s mood slightly.
Once the secretary left, the doctor arrived to check Zhao Jing’s brace.
Meanwhile, Wei Jiayi and Li Mingcheng chatted. Li Mingcheng sighed, “We’ve been here so long, it feels strange to leave. Going back to the company means diving into nonstop work again.”
Wei Jiayi wholeheartedly agreed. He had several postponed commitments that would make his schedule even more hectic. “I went over my calendar with my agent yesterday. For the remaining ten days of November, I’ll have to fly more than ten times, switching between two locations in a single day. I’m not even sure I’ll have time to sleep.”
Sitting close to Li Mingcheng, he showed him his flight app, scrolling through a long list of flights. Li Mingcheng was astonished. “That’s a lot.”
“Let me see,” Zhao Jing interjected from the side as the doctor examined him. His tone was still cold, and he glanced over, trying to catch a glimpse of Wei Jiayi’s phone screen from seven or eight meters away.
The doctor immediately said, “President Zhao, please don’t move.”
Wei Jiayi got up and walked over, holding out his phone for Zhao Jing to see. Standing while Zhao Jing sat gave Wei Jiayi a rare chance to look down at him. Zhao Jing’s thick black lashes cast shadows over his eyes, his lips pressed downward, making him look difficult to please. In a quiet voice, Zhao Jing asked, “Then when will you come to visit my museum?”
Wei Jiayi felt Li Mingcheng glance at him, and his hand holding the phone froze for a moment. He hadn’t expected Zhao Jing to remember—he had assumed it was something Zhao Jing had said casually. But on second thought, given Zhao Jing’s excellent memory, it wasn’t all that surprising.
When Wei Jiayi had first come to the island for the wedding, he barely knew Li Mingmian and hadn’t been particularly enthusiastic about attending. He never imagined he’d end up staying on the island for so long or that he’d be lucky enough to receive an invitation to view Zhao Jing’s private collection.
“Maybe next month,” Wei Jiayi replied.
Zhao Jing remained silent, as if deeply disappointed by Wei Jiayi’s cold and noncommittal response.
Noticing Zhao Jing’s reaction, Wei Jiayi quickly added, “I really want to see it. But even if I have a free day, I’m not sure our schedules will align. You’re definitely busier than me.”
“Time can always be made. Even if I’m busy, is it possible for me to have no time at all?” Zhao Jing lectured him unhappily. “This isn’t a public museum. It can open at midnight if needed. Just let me know when you’re free, and I’ll pick you up.”
