🌸 Chapter 4: Memory, Events, Things
The bidding center’s main hall.
Today was the proposal competition against Huajian Design. The winner would secure the second phase of the textile factory renovation project. Behind him, Kobayashi was nervously checking the model.
“Engineer Qi, do you think Huanyu will favor a local firm or a big foreign one like Huajian?”
“It depends on the proposal, not the background.” Qi Ye tugged at his tie, Adam’s apple shifting slightly. Those were words Cheng Shubai often said back in university, but now, spoken from his own mouth, they carried a strange sense of familiarity.
The elevator chimed open and the Huajian team filed out. Leading them, Director Zhou spotted Qi Ye and gave a meaningful smile.
“Engineer Qi, I’ve heard so much about you. Word is, you and Huanyu’s President Cheng are… old acquaintances?”
The last three words were emphasized heavily. Several Huajian staff exchanged looks. Qi Ye’s fingers dug into his palm, but his face carried a professional smile.
“Director Zhou, your information network is impressive. You even know which scholarships President Cheng won back in university?”
“Oh no, not at all.” Director Zhou patted him on the shoulder. “I’m just curious. If the proposals are of equal standard, would the judges… lean a certain way?”
Qi Ye was about to retort when the bidding hall’s doors suddenly opened. Cheng Shubai entered with the review panel, his charcoal-gray suit accentuating his straight shoulders. His gaze swept across the room, pausing briefly when it landed on Qi Ye.
“Thank you all for waiting.” Cheng Shubai’s voice was calm and measured. “Today’s review will be fully recorded. The scoring criteria have been sent to your inboxes.” He gestured for staff to distribute the forms. “Huajian will present first. Senye, please prepare.”
From the waiting area, Qi Ye’s eyes unconsciously followed Cheng Shubai’s figure. Since last week’s jasmine thermos incident, they hadn’t met in person. They had only exchanged a few work-related messages on WeChat about proposal details. The last one from Cheng still sat in his phone: ‘I recommend adjusting the rain garden slope to 5.8°’. Precise to one decimal place, exactly his style.
Huajian’s presentation began. Director Zhou enthusiastically outlined their “City of the Future” concept, slides flashing one after another on the big screen. The more Qi Ye looked, the deeper his frown grew. Huajian planned to demolish the entire old textile factory site and replace it with two glass skyscrapers, keeping only a token “Memory Garden.”
“…and finally, we’ve applied BIM technology for full lifecycle management.” Director Zhou concluded confidently. “Any questions from the judges?”
The experts whispered among themselves. Only Cheng Shubai sat motionless, fingers lightly tapping the table. Qi Ye knew that gesture too well—it meant dissatisfaction. Back in university, whenever Cheng disliked a proposal, he did the exact same thing.
“I have a question.” Cheng’s voice was like chilled metal. “In your ‘Memory Garden,’ which memories are you preserving exactly?”
Director Zhou froze. “Well… we’ve kept the factory gate and some walls…”
“The sycamore tree planted in 1958 by the first generation of female textile workers,” Cheng pressed on. “The labor medals in the history hall, the stone table where the old workers played chess during lunch breaks. Aren’t those memories?”
Sweat beaded on Zhou’s forehead. “Those could… could be turned into reliefs or photo walls…”
Cheng said nothing further, simply closing his folder with a soft snap. That gesture was sharper than any criticism.
Suddenly Qi Ye remembered what a professor once said in class: “A good design should be like a hand, able to hold the past and also lift the future.” Back then, Cheng had drawn a hand in his notebook and quietly slid it over to him.
He… had changed so much.
But what exactly had changed?
“The next presentation, Senye Design.” The host’s voice pulled Qi Ye back to reality.
Taking a deep breath, he stepped onto the stage. The spotlight fell on him, and he could feel Cheng Shubai’s gaze like invisible threads wrapping around him. He opened his PPT. The first slide showed a faded old photo—female textile workers eating lunch under the sycamore tree, their smiles simple and bright.
“Good afternoon, judges. I’d like to begin with a story.” Qi Ye’s voice was steady. “In 1958, after completing their production tasks, these women voluntarily planted this sycamore tree. Sixty years have passed. The tree has grown tall, but many of them are no longer with us.”
The next slide showed the current construction site. “Our proposal is called ‘Weaving Dreams’. We translate the factory’s warp and weft lines into spatial language. All historical buildings are preserved, allowing the new and old to intertwine like threads.”
When the technical section came, Qi Ye presented the rain garden adjusted to Cheng’s recommendation. He didn’t say it was Cheng’s idea, but when he pointed out the precise 5.8° slope, he thought he saw the faintest smile at the corner of Cheng’s lips.
“…and finally, about that sycamore tree.” He switched to fresh monitoring data. “Thanks to our restoration efforts, it has sprouted new roots. This photo was taken yesterday”
The screen lit with an image of the lush crown shading a group of elderly women in wheelchairs, their hands gently touching the bark as dappled sunlight fell across their faces.
“These are the first-generation textile workers, average age eighty-five.” Qi Ye’s voice softened. “When they touched the tree, they said, ‘I never thought I’d live to come back here again.’”
The hall fell silent. A few judges discreetly wiped at their eyes. Cheng, however, was calmly writing something on his evaluation sheet, his glasses reflecting the light so that his expression was unreadable.
“My presentation is complete. Thank you.” Qi Ye bowed slightly, his back already damp with sweat.
A white-haired expert raised his hand during the Q&A.
“Engineer Qi, I appreciate your commitment to preserving history. But if investors demand more commercial space, how would you balance it?”
That was exactly the weakest part of his plan. Qi Ye gripped the laser pointer, when suddenly he noticed Cheng Shubai adjusting his glasses slightly. That was their old signal, use the data.
“In fact, we’ve already calculated.” Qi Ye switched to the economic analysis slide. “Preserving the historical buildings does reduce commercial space by fifteen percent, but it brings a thirty percent brand premium and a twenty percent increase in visitor flow. In the long run, this kind of ‘memory economy’ is actually more…”
“More sustainable.” Cheng Shubai suddenly spoke, his voice so quiet it was almost to himself.
Qi Ye’s heart skipped a beat. That exact phrase was from his written report. Cheng had remembered it.
Even stranger, the analysis model he had just instinctively used was the same one Cheng had taught him in university, the “Full Lifecycle Value Evaluation Method.”
By the time the reviews ended, it was already noon. Qi Ye splashed cold water on his face in the bathroom. When he looked up, Director Zhou entered.
“A wonderful performance.” Zhou smirked from behind him. “Especially that touching story. President Cheng must have been deeply moved.”
Qi Ye turned off the tap. Water dripped along his jawline onto his shirt collar.
“Director Zhou, perhaps you should put that storytelling energy into your proposal instead.”
“Stop pretending.” Zhou lowered his voice. “Everyone knows about you and Cheng Shubai. College classmates? Roommates? Or something… closer?”
Qi Ye’s fist clenched at his side, but his face broke into a bright smile.
“Director Zhou, you seem awfully concerned about President Cheng’s personal life. Planning to jump ship to Huanyu? Want me to pass along your resume?”
Zhou’s face darkened as he stormed out. Qi Ye leaned against the sink, taking deep breaths. His stomach twisted with familiar pain. It had always been like this since college, stress triggered it. Back then, Cheng would tease him as the ‘designer who thinks with his stomach.’
When Qi Ye returned to the hall, the results were already posted. Senye Design had won by a landslide. Even Huajian’s people admitted their plan had more warmth. Cheng Shubai was speaking with the judges, but when he noticed Qi Ye, he gave a slight nod.
“Engineer Qi! We won!” Kobayashi grabbed his arm excitedly. “The experts said our plan has both professional depth and human warmth!”
Warmth, warmth, warmth… could they not find another word?
Qi Ye forced a smile, stomach cramping hard enough to draw cold sweat across his forehead. He needed to sit down.
“Engineer Qi.”
The voice behind him made him turn. Cheng Shubai held out a cup.
“Your team is excellent.” His words were polite, utterly formal.
Qi Ye accepted it and realized it was honey pomelo tea, at just the right temperature.the very drink that soothed his stomach.
“Thank you, President Cheng.” Qi Ye answered in the same businesslike tone. His fingers brushed Cheng’s for a fraction of a second before parting.
“Three o’clock this afternoon, seventeenth-floor conference room. The phase two kick-off.” Cheng spoke, then walked toward the elevator. As Qi Ye watched his back, he noticed a faint pale mark circling Cheng’s left ring finger, the imprint left by long-term wear of a ring.
The sight made his stomach hurt even more. Seven years had passed. Was Cheng already… married? Divorced? Or did he just like wearing rings? Qi Ye took a gulp from the thermos. The taste was sweet with a hint of bitterness.
“…Why does it taste bitter?”
On the taxi ride back, Kobayashi suddenly yelped over his phone.
“Engineer Qi! You’re trending!”
Qi Ye leaned in. The third hottest topic on Weibo read: #DesignerQiYeHuanyuInsiderDeal#. Clicking in, he saw a long post from a popular account: ‘Exposing the special relationship between the winning designer Qi Ye and Huanyu’s Vice President Cheng Shubai.’ Attached was their old graduation photo, the two of them in gowns, Cheng’s hand resting on his shoulder.
The comments were explosive.
“No wonder he won. Pillow talk privilege, lol.”
“Watch your mouth. A hand on the shoulder equals pillow talk? I saw you holding your boyfriend’s hand, does that mean you’re cheating?”
“Is the design industry this messy too?”
“Being good-looking really is an advantage. Damn, I want those privileges too.”
Qi Ye’s fingertips went cold. That photo, he had only printed one copy, tucked in his diary. How could Cheng have it?
“Engineer Qi…” Kobayashi’s voice was uneasy. “Should we respond?”
Qi Ye opened his mouth, but his phone buzzed. A message from Cheng: ‘Don’t respond yet.’
For some reason, it calmed him. Qi Ye shut down Weibo and turned back to work on revisions. No matter the uproar online, the job had to continue.
The atmosphere at the afternoon kick-off meeting was tense. The moment Qi Ye entered, he felt countless probing stares. Cheng Shubai sat at the head of the table, announcing the agenda with an unchanged expression, as if the trending scandal didn’t exist.
“Phase two’s focus will be the cultural and creative commercial district.” He pointed at the master plan. “Engineer Qi, your team’s Zone A has a special requirement—”
The conference room door burst open. A woman in a Prada suit rushed in. “President Cheng! The media are swarming downstairs!”
Cheng didn’t even lift his eyes. “Director Li, we’re in a project meeting.”
“But the public opinion-”
“I said, we’re in a meeting.” His voice had chilled a degree.
Director Li backed out awkwardly. The meeting resumed, but Qi Ye noticed Cheng’s fingers tapping lightly against his knee beneath the table.
He was angry.
When they moved on to material samples, Qi Ye displayed several stone swatches. Cheng picked up a deep gray one and examined it.
“This color code…”
“It’s called ‘Industrial Memory.’” Qi Ye replied without thinking. “Inspired by the old concrete factory walls.”
Damn. Why did I just blurt that out…
Cheng paused, his eyes darkening.
“Those walls… when it rained, they turned a deeper gray, as if washed by tears.”
Qi Ye’s heart jolted. That was his own line, spoken years ago on their first date, standing under a checkered umbrella. He had pointed at the wall and said it, half-jokingly poetic. Cheng remembered.
When the meeting ended, Qi Ye was told to give interviews downstairs. In the elevator, he straightened his tie against the reflective doors. A voice spoke behind him.
“Don’t be nervous. Just tell the truth.”
Qi Ye turned. Cheng was there, standing half a step behind. Their reflections overlapped in the polished doors, like puzzle pieces fitting together after years apart.
“That photo…” Qi Ye asked quietly. “Where did you get it?”
“You left it with me.” Cheng’s voice was soft. “I had thought of returning it.”
The elevator dinged, interrupting them. Before stepping out, Cheng slipped a folded note into his hand.
“Read this.”
The lobby was packed with reporters. Flashbulbs exploded as soon as Qi Ye appeared. He opened the note, neat handwriting spelling: ‘Professionalism recognizes professionalism. Sentiment illuminates sentiment. We simply both remember the shade of that sycamore tree.’
“Friends from the media.” Qi Ye raised his head, voice clear. “Regarding today’s rumors, I’ll just say this. If knowing a college classmate is a crime, perhaps your company should check your own boss’s graduation photos first.”
A reporter shot back. “So you and President Cheng are really just classmates?”
Qi Ye’s gaze swept across the crowd and landed on Cheng standing in the shadows at the edge.
“President Cheng is the most professional and demanding client I’ve ever worked with. If you insist on calling it a special relationship, then it’s only that we share an obsession with that sycamore tree.”
The answer satisfied them. The interview quickly shifted to professional topics: design highlights, tree preservation, revitalization of industrial heritage. Qi Ye handled each with ease, tossing out technical terms to hold the stage.
Afterward, he found Cheng in a stairwell, speaking in a low voice over the phone.
“The photo was leaked by Li Cheng. Check his computer for backups… No, don’t issue a public rebuttal. That would only harm Qi… Senye Design’s reputation.”
Hearing his own name swallowed back halfway made Qi Ye’s chest tighten painfully. He retreated and walked in again, pretending he had just arrived.
“President Cheng, the interview is done.”
Cheng hung up, giving him a once-over.
“Well done.”
“Thanks to your cheat sheet.” Qi Ye waved the note. “The last line was mine though.”
Cheng’s lips lifted faintly. “Very vivid.” He checked his watch. “Dinner together? We need to discuss some phase two details.”
Qi Ye’s stomach cramped again. “…Alright.”
They went to a private dining room near Huanyu Tower. The window overlooked the city lights. Cheng ordered several dishes, all ones Qi Ye liked, even including the spicy chicken that always upset his stomach.
“You still remember I like spicy food.” Qi Ye stared at the bright red dish.
Cheng poured him warm milk. “And I also remember it hurts your stomach.”
The contradiction was obvious. He allowed indulgence, but prepared remedies.
Qi Ye took a bite. The heat stung his eyes. He didn’t know if it was the chili or something else.
“I’m sorry about the photo,” Cheng suddenly said. “I’ve already asked people to investigate.”
“It wasn’t you who posted it,” Qi Ye muttered, hesitating. “That photo…”
“Graduation day.” Cheng’s voice softened. “You were wearing my shirt. Your own got coffee spilled on it.”
Qi Ye’s hand trembled. He had forgotten to return the shirt, forgotten the moment itself. Even that pale blue shirt hadn’t lasted.
“There’s a cultural bookstore in phase two,” Cheng shifted the subject. “I want you to design it personally.”
“Why me?”
“You know books well. You once said a bookstore should be like a forest, a place where people can lose themselves.”
Qi Ye’s throat bobbed. Words he once threw out during a date were now the official reason for a commission. The absurdity made him want to laugh and cry at the same time.
Dinner ended in a strange peace. Cheng insisted on driving him home. When the car stopped at his apartment building, both grew awkward.
“See you tomorrow,” Cheng said, his gaze drifting to a point behind him.
Qi Ye nodded. But before getting out, the words slipped out of him.
“That ring mark on your finger…”
He regretted it immediately. Cheng stiffened, his left hand unconsciously rubbing the faint mark on his right ring finger.
“It’s been off for a long time.”
Qi Ye didn’t dare ask what that meant. He said goodbye quickly and hurried upstairs. The apartment was dark. He collapsed onto the sofa. His phone lit up with a message from Cheng: ‘I’ve sent the bookstore concept to your email. Take a look when you can.’
The attachment was a concise PPT. On the last page, a hand-drawn sketch: a bookstore shaped like a forest, with a small sun and compass drawn in the corner—the same symbols they had once scribbled on each other’s designs in college.
Qi Ye snapped the laptop shut and stepped out to the balcony. The May night wind carried the scent of flowers. Down below, the black Maybach still hadn’t left. He couldn’t see inside, but he knew someone was watching in his direction.
Just like seven years ago, when Cheng would stand downstairs after dropping him at the dorm, smoking a cigarette before leaving. Back then Qi Ye would hide behind the curtain, thinking he was unnoticed.
Until graduation day, when Cheng finally said, “I always knew you were watching. That’s why I stayed longer.”
His phone buzzed again. This time it was Kobayashi: ‘Engineer Qi! Check Huanyu’s official Weibo!’
Qi Ye opened the link. Huanyu Group had posted a statement: ‘A solemn declaration regarding today’s online rumors.’ Legal language dismissed the insider claims, but the final paragraph shifted tone:
‘Mr. Cheng Shubai and Mr. Qi Ye indeed became acquainted in university. This experience gave them shared professional ideals and humanistic values. Like the sycamore tree they both helped save, which grows stronger after weathering storms, their respect and collaboration are precious. Huanyu Group values the professionalism of every partner and respects all genuine bonds.’
The post was accompanied by a close-up of the sycamore tree. On the bark faintly visible were the carved initials “C & Q.”
Qi Ye remembered Cheng’s expression earlier, when he had said “I’ve taken it off long ago.” It wasn’t coldness. It was cautious expectation, as if waiting for him to recognize something.
Recognize what?
Downstairs, the car finally started and drove off into the night. Qi Ye went back inside and pulled out an old biscuit tin from the bottom shelf. Inside lay a grass-woven ring, dried and yellowed with age. Cheng had made it on graduation day from blades of grass on campus, joking that when he had money, he’d replace it with a real one.
But afterwards… there was no afterwards.
Qi Ye held the brittle ring in his palm. Seven years had left cracks on it, but hadn’t broken it completely. Just like memories deliberately buried, but not gone. Only sleeping.
Do I still like him?
No… probably not.
Outside, the full moon hung in the night sky, just as bright as it had been the night they parted seven years ago.
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