🌸 Chapter 6: Ring Mark, Boundary
Qi Ye stood under the plane tree, mechanically answering the questions from the Forestry Bureau officials. His voice was calm and professional, as if nothing had just shaken him. But the laser pointer in his hand trembled, its red light drawing an unsteady line across the design drawing.
“Engineer Qi?” Director Wang frowned. “Are you certain about this root protection range?”
“Of course.” Qi Ye snapped back to himself, steadying the pointer on the blueprint. “We’re using three layers of protection. The outermost layer is…”
“Steel framework with breathable waterproof membrane.” Cheng Shubai’s voice came from behind him, slightly hoarse. “The construction photos are on page thirty-seven.”
Qi Ye did not need to turn his head to know Cheng Shubai was standing very close. Close enough that he could catch the faint trace of sandalwood from him. He stiffly flipped to page thirty-seven, and sure enough, there were detailed construction records—all prepared by Cheng Shubai. The dates showed that this work had been completed even before they won the bid.
He had planned everything for this tree long ago.
“President Cheng thought of everything.” Director Wang nodded in satisfaction. “Being able to preserve this ‘witness tree’ will mean a lot to the veteran workers.”
Cheng Shubai inclined his head slightly, his left hand sliding naturally into his trouser pocket. Qi Ye’s gaze, against his will, swept across Cheng’s ring finger. It was bare, but perhaps because Cheng’s skin was so pale, that faint lighter circle was stark under the sunlight, the mark of a ring that had been worn for a long time.
“I’ll go check the progress at Section B,” Qi Ye said abruptly, snapping the folder shut and turning to leave.
The gravel crunched under his shoes as he walked faster and faster, almost breaking into a run. He needed distance. Distance from the man who bore the mark of a marriage yet kept dangling between closeness and distance. Distance so he could untangle the mess of emotions inside.
“Qi Ye.”
Cheng Shubai’s voice was like a net, catching him effortlessly mid-step. Qi Ye stopped, drew in a breath, and turned back. “Does President Cheng have more instructions?”
Cheng stood only a few steps away, his eyes behind the glasses unreadable. “You left this.” He held out a pen, a Montblanc.
“Leave it on the desk,” Qi Ye said flatly. “After all, it was a gift from you.”
“It wasn’t a gift,” Cheng corrected him. “It was being returned to its rightful owner.”
Qi Ye froze. “What do you mean?”
“The day of your thesis defense,” Cheng’s voice was very soft, “you used it to finish your final drawing, and then…”
And then they had never seen each other again. Qi Ye suddenly found it hard to breathe. The memories from that day surged back. The model he had built after three sleepless nights. The pen Cheng had quietly placed on his desk. And the promise that had never been kept.
“Seven years, and President Cheng remembers so clearly.” Qi Ye forced a smile. “But saying all this now is meaningless.” He deliberately let his gaze fall on Cheng’s left hand. “Does your wife know you’ve kept something from your ex?”
Cheng’s expression froze. In the distance, the roar of an excavator startled a flock of sparrows into the air.
“I don’t…”
“President Cheng!” The secretary ran over, cutting him off. “Director Li has called an emergency video meeting, regarding that trending post on Weibo…”
Cheng closed his eyes briefly. “I know.” He gave Qi Ye one last look, then set the pen on a nearby concrete pipe. “I want the final version of the construction drawings tomorrow.”
Qi Ye watched his back disappear into the dust of the site before slowly picking up the pen. The barrel was cold, but it seemed to hold traces of Cheng’s warmth. Unscrewing the cap, he found a line of small words engraved inside:
To My Q
2009.06
The year they graduated.
Qi Ye snapped the cap shut. This pen had never belonged to Cheng, it was meant to be his. A graduation gift prepared for him seven years ago. Cheng had spoken the truth: it was being returned to its rightful owner. The pen should have been his all along.
So why hadn’t Cheng said so in the beginning?
His phone buzzed. A multimedia message from an unfamiliar number. Qi Ye opened it, and a photo slowly loaded. Cheng Shubai, at the airport departure hall, standing beside a woman in a red dress. Both wore matching wedding bands. The timestamp was three months ago.
Qi Ye’s fingers turned ice cold.
“Engineer Qi?” Lin’s voice called from not far away. “Why are you standing here? President Cheng said the design needs adjusting…”
“Tell him,” Qi Ye heard his own voice, frighteningly quiet, “I’ll deliver the drawings on time. Nothing else needs to be discussed.”
He slipped the Montblanc into his jacket and walked toward the construction shed. The sunlight stretched his shadow long across the gravel, lonely and stark.
Far away, inside Huanyu Group’s temporary office, Cheng Shubai stood at the window, watching Qi Ye’s departing figure through the glass. His right hand rubbed unconsciously at the pale ring mark on his finger, while his other hand opened his phone gallery. Inside were clippings of every report about Qi Ye’s awards over the past seven years. The latest was a group photo from last week’s industry summit.
In the photo, Qi Ye stood at the edge of the crowd, his shirt cuff pinned with that same ginkgo leaf badge.
Cheng zoomed in on the tiny flash of metal and let out a bitter smile.
How many truths between us have never been spoken?
By the time Qi Ye parked beneath his apartment, the rain was pouring hard. He sat motionless in the driver’s seat. The wipers scraped rhythmically, cutting the halo of streetlights into blurred fragments. His phone screen glowed, it was Cheng’s message from half an hour ago with revisions for the construction drawings. At the end, Cheng had added one more note:
“The plane tree restoration plan needs supplementary monitoring data.”
Qi Ye killed the engine and pulled the Montblanc from his pocket. Under the interior light, the engraved words shone faintly, like a secret brand.
What exactly did Cheng Shubai mean?
He kept a graduation gift from seven years ago, yet appeared at the airport with another woman wearing matching wedding rings.
Qi Ye twisted the cap back on hard. The metal click rang harshly in the closed space.
His phone chimed. A WeChat notification. He assumed it was Cheng again, and irritably opened it only to find the university alumni group had exploded.
“Holy crap! Did you guys watch the Architecture Society live stream today?”
“When Cheng Shubai went on stage to accept the award, the camera caught a gorgeous woman in a red dress in the audience!”
“Cut the crap, just say it!”
“She kept staring at him! And she had a diamond ring on her finger!”
“Could that be his wife? I heard he’s been secretly married for years.”
A link to a video followed.
Qi Ye’s finger hovered above the screen. His reason told him to close it immediately, but his body betrayed him. He pressed play.
On the screen, Cheng Shubai stood at the podium in a perfectly tailored gray suit. The host teased, “President Cheng, as the youngest recipient of the Lifetime Achievement Award in the industry, how do you feel?”
Cheng smiled slightly. “I want to thank my alma mater, and… a very important colleague.”
At that moment, the camera cut to the audience. A woman in a red dress was watching him intently, the diamond on her finger sparkling under the lights.
Qi Ye instantly locked his phone.
Rain streaks warped the outside world on the window. He stared at his own blurred reflection and felt it laugh at him.
Seven years, and still every move Cheng made could pull at his emotions.
A knock on the window startled him. Qi Ye turned his head. A tall figure stood in the rain, holding a black umbrella.
Cheng Shubai.
Raindrops streamed down the ribs of the umbrella, forming a curtain around him. In his left hand he carried a file folder. On his right hand’s ring finger
No ring.
Qi Ye lowered the window. The cold rain spattered his face. “President Cheng, another late-night inspection?”
“Your drawings.” Cheng handed over the folder. “You left them at the site.”
The envelope was warm and dry, carefully protected. As Qi Ye took it, his fingers brushed Cheng’s palm.
“Thanks,” Qi Ye said stiffly. “Anything else?”
Cheng was silent for a moment, then reached inside the car and switched off the wipers.
The world fell into sudden quiet, only the muffled drumming of rain on the roof remained.
“The pen,” Cheng said softly. “You saw it?”
Qi Ye tightened his grip on the steering wheel. “I saw it.”
“Then you know…”
“Know what?” Qi Ye looked him straight in the eye. “That you kept my graduation gift? Or that you come to toy with me while claiming to be married?”
Cheng struggled to keep his composure. “I am not—”
“Cheng Shubai.” Qi Ye cut him off, his voice raw. “We’re not students anymore. Some games we cannot afford to play.”
The rain fell heavier. The black umbrella trembled in the wind. Cheng stood there, his white shirt damp and almost translucent, faintly showing the lines of his collarbone.
“Qi Ye, it isn’t what you think.”
Qi Ye gave a cold laugh and started the engine. “See you tomorrow, President Cheng.”
The window rose, sealing Cheng outside in the downpour. In the rearview mirror, he stood unmoving, until the car turned the corner and his figure vanished.
At home, Qi Ye tossed the folder onto the coffee table. The papers slid out and spread open—not construction drawings, but a hand-drawn sketch of the plane tree, with two small figures sitting beneath it.
Qi Ye stared at the sketch for a long time. Finally, he folded it into a paper plane and threw it into the trash.
Later, Qi Ye stood by the floor-to-ceiling windows on the seventeenth floor of Huanyu Group, holding that same crumpled sketch in his hand. Outside, the rain poured, soaking the entire city in misty gray.
“Engineer Qi, President Cheng left on a last-minute trip,” the secretary said, handing him a cup of tea. “He asked that you chair the project meeting.”
Qi Ye accepted the cup. Through the steam, he noticed the secretary’s ring—a diamond, identical to the one worn by the woman in the video.
“Where did he go?” He regretted asking the moment the words left his mouth.
The secretary smiled politely. “Sorry, that’s confidential.”
Confidential.
Qi Ye shoved the sketch back into his pocket and headed for the meeting room. The glass door reflected the sharp line of his jaw, and the frustration in his eyes he could no longer hide.
Halfway through the meeting, a video call request popped up. The screen flickered, then Cheng Shubai’s face appeared. Behind him was the airport lounge window, rain hammering the glass, a mirror of Qi Ye’s own view.
“Continue.” Cheng’s voice came through the speakers with a faint crackle. “Engineer Qi, has the pipeline conflict in Section B been resolved?”
Qi Ye stared at the empty ring finger on the screen. “Resolved. The slope is kept at five point eight degrees.”
“The monitoring data for the plane tree?”
“Uploaded to the cloud.”
Question after question, answered with precision. Occasionally Cheng glanced at his watch. Qi Ye’s eyes swept over the background, no red dress in sight, but two suitcases sat on the luggage rack.
“Catching a flight, President Cheng?” someone in the room asked.
Cheng gave a faint “Mm,” but his gaze went through the screen to Qi Ye. “To Germany.”
Germany.
The place where he had vanished seven years ago.
The nib of Qi Ye’s pen bled a blot of ink onto the paper. After that silent disappearance, all of Cheng’s contacts had gone dead. Until three months ago, when he suddenly reappeared as the client.
“Everyone,” Cheng suddenly said, standing up, “for any follow-up, contact Secretary Zhou.”
Just before the video cut out, Qi Ye saw a manicured hand reach into frame, offering Cheng a cup of coffee.
The screen went black.
The meeting room was silent. Everyone sneaked glances at Qi Ye, they had all seen the trending news.
“Meeting adjourned.” Qi Ye shut his notebook. “I want the Section A construction plan on my desk tomorrow.”
He strode into the fire escape, pulling the Montblanc from his pocket. In the dim light, the engraved words gleamed faintly, like a scar that would never heal.
Footsteps echoed on the stairs.
“Brother Qi Ye?” The secretary in the red dress appeared, carrying a parcel. “President Cheng asked me to give this to you.”
Qi Ye tore it open. Inside was a photo frame made of plane tree wood, holding an old photograph. A young Cheng Shubai stood before the Reichstag in Germany, holding a placard that read, Day 99 for my little architect.
On the back, a date was written in German: the ninety-ninth day after Qi Ye’s birthday seven years ago.
“President Cheng wanted me to tell you,” the secretary said softly. “This trip is only three days.”
She smiled and added, “And about this,” she gestured at her diamond ring, “this was from my fiancé. President Cheng never wears jewelry, but…”
“But what?”
“Years ago at a team retreat, he got drunk and said he’d lost the most important thing. Later we found a woven grass ring in his wallet, dried out like a specimen. After that, he had an identical one remade and wore it every day. We always wondered why a man as wealthy as him would treasure something so cheap. But these past months, he hasn’t worn it.”
The sound of rain seemed far away.
“I don’t know much. If you really want to understand, you’ll have to ask him yourself.”
Qi Ye pulled out his phone and opened the photo from that unknown number. He zoomed in. The woman beside Cheng in the airport photo, though hidden by sunglasses, had a star-shaped birthmark near her collarbone the same as the secretary standing before him.
“Then you two…”
“I’m his cousin. Honestly, we’re not even that close.” She blinked. “Didn’t he tell you? President Cheng…”
She didn’t finish. Qi Ye was already running down the stairs.
The rain struck his face like ice. He sprinted, dialing Cheng’s number.
“The number you have dialed is switched off…”
From the airport broadcast in the rain came the muffled announcement: “Passengers for Flight CAxxxx to Berlin, boarding now.”
Qi Ye stood in the storm, watching as a plane slowly taxied down the runway.
His phone buzzed. A message from an unknown number. A photo. Cheng Shubai, seated in the cabin, the window beside him filled with roiling clouds.
The rain came down harder. Qi Ye wiped his face and turned toward the parking lot.
Three days.
This time he would see if Cheng Shubai dared vanish again.
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