🌸 Chapter 2: Sesame Rice Balls
Qi Ye stood in the elevator on the 17th floor of Huanyu Group, adjusting his tie against the metal doors. The reflection showed the faint blue under his eyes. He had stayed up until three in the morning revising the proposal, all so he could hold his own in front of Cheng Shubai today.
“Qi Gong, your tie is choking you,” Xiao Lin pressed down his wrist. “Relax. We’re the winning bidder, not defendants in court.”
The elevator dinged open. Qi Ye looked up and saw the project name on the wall in bold letters: Urban Memory Garden — Textile Factory Site Redevelopment.
The designer’s nameplate underneath was still blank, but everyone knew this was the first major project Cheng Shubai had taken on after returning to the country.
The conference room already had more than a dozen people seated. Qi Ye’s eyes landed on the empty seat beside Cheng Shubai, clearly reserved for him as the lead designer. A chilled bottle of water sat on the table, beads of condensation sliding down its surface.
“Please, everyone, take a seat.” Cheng Shubai stood and gestured, his gaze behind his glasses calm and unreadable. “Let’s begin with the project timeline.”
Qi Ye pulled out the chair and sat down, deliberately dropping his notebook on the table with a loud smack. The room fell silent for a few seconds, Huanyu employees exchanging glances. Cheng Shubai, unfazed, opened the PowerPoint and began.
“According to the bid documents, the detailed plan must be completed within two weeks.” The red dot of his laser pointer circled the Gantt chart. “However, because the old tree preservation plan requires special approval from the forestry bureau, I suggest we move this deadline up to—”
“Impossible.” Qi Ye cut him off. “Soil testing alone takes five days, unless President Cheng can convince the plane tree to shed its leaves early.”
Someone gasped. A designer daring to challenge the client on their own turf was a rare sight.
Cheng Shubai set the pointer down, bracing both hands on the table. Qi Ye noticed he was wearing cufflinks today, silver ones shaped like plane tree leaves. Definitely intentional.
“Qi Gong,” Cheng Shubai leaned forward slightly, “what if I told you the soil report is already in your inbox?”
Qi Ye froze, instinctively pulling out his phone. Sure enough, a message had arrived at two in the morning from Cheng Shubai’s personal email, with an attached report stamped and signed. At the end, there was even a note: pH levels slightly high, recommend amending with leaf mold ~ C.
The familiar initial sent a jolt through his fingertips. Back in university, whenever they worked on projects together, Cheng Shubai would doodle a little sun in the corner of the drawings with a “C,” while Qi Ye would add a compass with a “Q.” They called it their “longitude and latitude certification.”
“…Thank you, President Cheng.” Qi Ye forced the words out and shoved his phone back into his pocket. “Ten days will be enough then.”
A faint smile tugged at Cheng Shubai’s lips before he continued.
Qi Ye lowered his head to take notes, only to realize he had unconsciously sketched a little sun on the page. He quickly scratched it out, pressing so hard the pen tore through the paper.
Useless paper.
When they reached the material selection section, Qi Ye was explaining the paving design when he noticed Cheng Shubai scribbling something. From his angle he could only see slender fingers moving swiftly across a sticky note with a fountain pen.
“President Cheng, do you have any feedback on my design?” Qi Ye deliberately raised his voice. “Or are your private notes more important?”
All eyes turned to Cheng Shubai. Calm as ever, he adjusted his glasses and slipped the note beneath his folder. “I was sketching a floor plan.”
“Really?” Qi Ye sneered. “Then please share your masterpiece with us.”
The air froze. Cheng Shubai studied him for two quiet seconds before sliding the note across the table. “I would appreciate your feedback, Qi Gong.”
On the paper was a chibi-style drawing: a spiky-haired little figure flailing on stage while explaining a design, with a speech bubble overhead that read, This black needs to be rainbow-colored! The lines were vivid and lively, down to the loose thread on the character’s cuff.
Heat rushed to Qi Ye’s ears. It was clearly based on his outburst at the bid presentation last week. Worst of all, Cheng Shubai had captured his expression perfectly, making it impossible to deny.
“…President Cheng’s floor plan is very creative,” Qi Ye gritted his teeth, pushing the note back. “Perhaps a career in comics would suit you.”
Cheng Shubai tucked the paper away, the corners of his lips lifting slightly. “You flatter me. It is just a diversion.”
For the rest of the meeting, Qi Ye kept a rigid face, unwilling to give Cheng Shubai more inspiration. Only when they discussed lighting did he finally re-engage.
“We want something warm but not harsh,” the marketing director gestured, “something like… like…”
“Like moonlight filtering through plane tree leaves,” Qi Ye and Cheng Shubai said together.
The room fell silent. Qi Ye turned sharply toward Cheng Shubai, who was already looking at him, something flickering in his eyes.
Seven years ago, on a summer night, they had lain on the roof of the abandoned factory. Cheng Shubai pointed at the moonlight shining through tree shadows and said, One day I will design this light into architecture.
“Yes, exactly that feeling!” the marketing director broke the tension. “You and President Cheng really are in sync.”
Qi Ye buried his head in the documents to hide his fluster. “Just industry jargon.”
By the time the meeting ended, it was noon. Qi Ye gathered his papers and noticed Cheng Shubai’s insulated mug near his elbow, lid open, with half a cup left inside. Drawn in, he leaned closer to catch the scent. Jasmine tea blended with the bitterness of coffee, the odd mix he had accidentally poured yesterday.
“Interested in my coffee?”
Cheng Shubai’s voice sounded right behind him, making Qi Ye nearly spill the mug. At some point, he had come up close, shirt sleeves rolled to the elbow, arm brushing his shoulder.
“I…” Qi Ye blurted the first excuse he could. “I was just checking if the mug would work as a pen holder.”
Cheng Shubai chuckled softly, took a sip, and replied, “Not bad, though a little weak.” Setting the cup down, he pulled a folder from his bag. “This is the additional material required by the forestry bureau. If you are free this afternoon—”
“I am not.” Qi Ye snatched the folder. “I will submit it on time.”
Cheng Shubai said nothing, simply walked over to his secretary. Qi Ye caught a fragment of words as the door closed: “Postpone the afternoon meeting, I need to visit the site…”
“Qi Gong,” Xiao Lin whispered with a mischievous look, “do you know President Cheng? The way he looks at you…”
“No.” Qi Ye stuffed the folder into his bag. “Lunch. We still need to revise the plan this afternoon.”
They went to a tea restaurant across the street. Qi Ye poked at a pineapple bun absentmindedly, his eyes drifting to the seventeenth floor windows of Huanyu Tower, where silhouettes moved behind the glass.
“I’m going to get coffee.” He suddenly stood.
“Huh? But this afternoon—”
“I’ll be quick.”
He fled to the café. While waiting in line, his phone buzzed. A text from an unknown number: There’s a Vietnamese noodle place in the basement level, better for your stomach than pineapple buns. ~ C
Qi Ye nearly threw his phone. He spun around, scanning the crowd, but there was no sign of Cheng Shubai. How did he even know about his weak stomach? And his new phone number?
Grinding his teeth, Qi Ye typed back: President Cheng has too much time. Does stalking the winning bidder count as workplace harassment?
The reply came instantly: Just happened to be watching the site feed in the control room. PS: you poke bread exactly like you did in college.
Heat burned his ears. He shut off his phone and returned to the restaurant with his coffee. On the table was a packed box of Vietnamese noodles.
“Someone from Huanyu dropped it off,” Xiao Lin said with a grin. “Said it was from President Cheng.”
Qi Ye stared at it, his chest tightening. Seven years ago, whenever his stomach hurt from overwork, Cheng Shubai would always buy noodles from that shop, saying the broth was mild. After the shop moved, Qi Ye had never eaten it again.
“…Share it among yourselves,” he pushed the bag away. “I’m not hungry.”
Back at the office, Qi Ye buried himself in revisions, determined not to think about the text, or why Cheng Shubai still remembered his habits, or the taste of those noodles.
“Qi Gong, the files on the plane trees.” Xiao Lin dropped a stack of papers on his desk. “Oh, and Manager Wang said someone from Huanyu will come tonight for coordination. He wants you to stay late.”
“Send someone else. I’m meeting with the contractors.”
“But he asked for you by name—”
“Tell him I’m dead.”
The words had barely left his mouth when the door opened. Cheng Shubai stood there with a briefcase, jacket draped over his arm, tie slightly loosened. “Pardon the intrusion. I came to discuss the old tree protection plan.”
Every eye turned to Qi Ye, silently mocking him for what he had just said. He forced a stiff smile. “President Cheng, here in person?”
“My secretary had something urgent.” Cheng Shubai’s gaze swept across Qi Ye’s desk piled with documents. “Convenient for you?”
Qi Ye swallowed down the words not at all. “Meeting room, please.”
In the small conference room, they sat across from each other. Qi Ye opened his laptop, deliberately avoiding his eyes. “The forestry bureau requires a three-dimensional scan of the tree roots, but the scanner…”
“Already arranged. Nine tomorrow morning.” Cheng Shubai pulled out a USB. “The equipment manual is on here.”
Qi Ye took it and plugged it in, only to freeze. Along with the manual, there was a folder named Q-Graduation Project. He looked up quickly, but Cheng Shubai was calmly scrolling through his phone, as if the folder meant nothing.
“Regarding root protection…” Qi Ye forced himself to continue, though his heartbeat was frantic.
That file was his senior-year thesis, shared with only one person.
When they finished, it was nearly nine. Closing his laptop, Qi Ye saw Cheng Shubai staring out the window, the setting sun casting striped shadows across his face through the blinds. It made him look strangely younger, like they were back in university.
“Uh… any other questions, President Cheng?” Qi Ye broke the silence.
Cheng Shubai returned to himself, pulling a photo from his inner pocket and sliding it over. “Found by the construction crew in the plane tree.”
It was an old, yellowed photograph of young factory workers standing in front of the textile mill, the tree behind them only as thick as an arm. On the back, written in fading ink: May Day 1988, a keepsake.
“This…” Qi Ye carefully held it. “We can display it in the memory section.”
“As you like.” Cheng Shubai stood. “Shall I drive you home?”
“No!” Qi Ye blurted, too fast. “I… I have to feed a cat.”
“A cat?” His brows lifted.
“The stray behind the office.” Qi Ye instantly regretted it, the excuse sounding ridiculous. “I call it Blueprint, because its stripes look like CAD lines…”
What am I even saying!
He wanted to bite his tongue off. But Cheng Shubai smiled. “A fitting name.”
They walked to the back door together. The night breeze was cool. A tabby cat perched on a box, meowing when it saw Qi Ye.
“Blueprint.” Qi Ye crouched and poured out food, his voice softening unconsciously. “Look at you, all dirty again, hm?”
Only after speaking did he remember Cheng Shubai was still there. He froze.
A quiet laugh came from behind, followed by the rustle of fabric as Cheng Shubai crouched down too, scratching the cat under the chin.
“It likes you,” Cheng Shubai said.
“Of course. I’m its food supply.” Qi Ye muttered, then watched in betrayal as the cat rubbed into Cheng Shubai’s palm.
Traitor.
The wind tousled his hair. When Qi Ye looked up, Cheng Shubai was gazing at him, eyes impossibly gentle.
The streetlamp’s light scattered in his eyes like stars sinking into deep water. Qi Ye was suddenly thrown back to the night before graduation, when Cheng Shubai had looked at him the same way, then kissed him.
“I…” Qi Ye scrambled to his feet. “I’m going.”
“Qi Ye.” Cheng Shubai’s voice was so soft it was nearly lost in the wind. “Did you look at the folder?”
Qi Ye’s heart skipped. “What folder?”
Cheng Shubai held his gaze for a few seconds, then shook his head. “Nothing. Good night.”
Watching his figure disappear into the night, Qi Ye finally pulled out his phone. After a long hesitation, he turned it back on. The text message was still there. He saved the number, labeling it Sesame Rice Balls.
Back in his apartment, Qi Ye showered and sat on his bed, staring at the USB. Reason told him not to open the folder, but his hand was already sliding it into the laptop.
Inside Q-Graduation Project was the complete thesis PDF. On every page, a little sun symbol had been added in the corner. On the very last page, in what used to be a blank acknowledgments section, there was now a line of handwriting:
For my little longitude-and-latitude designer: no matter where you go, remember to look up at the moonlight. ~ C
The blank space from seven years ago, finally filled.
Outside the window, a full moon hung in the night sky. The shadow of the plane tree swayed in the breeze, just like the one they had seen in their youth.
Comments
Post a Comment