🌸 Chapter 1: The Ex’s Thousand Layers of Tricks
Qi Ye stood backstage at the bidding venue, checking for the eighth time whether the model tree was positioned correctly.
“Engineer Qi, stop adjusting it already. If you keep fiddling with that beech, you’ll polish it down to nothing.” His assistant, Xiao Lin, handed him an iced Americano. “The judges are all here. We’ll start in five minutes.”
Qi Ye took the coffee and downed a gulp, his Adam’s apple moving as the cold liquid slid down his throat. Today he wore a navy suit, a silver ginkgo-leaf pin from his alma mater at the cuff, and even styled his hair into a look that was casual yet professional.
“I heard the vice president of Huanyu Group is coming in person,” Xiao Lin whispered. “That Cheng Shubai, who became VP in his twenties.”
Qi Ye’s fingers gave the slightest tremor. The coffee sloshed dangerously in the cup.
He set it down and adjusted his tie as if nothing had happened. “Oh. The legend who can shut up a client with just a single floor plan?”
“Yes! Apparently he just won the Asian Architects Association Gold Award in Shenzhen last week. He flew back today just for this review.” Xiao Lin scrolled through her phone excitedly. “Look at this candid shot at the airport. That profile, that waist-to-hip ratio, he’s literally—”
“Check the model again.” Qi Ye cut her off, his voice dropping eight degrees colder than usual.
Xiao Lin shrank her neck and obediently returned to the sand table.
Turning to the wall, Qi Ye drew a deep breath, his molars aching from the pressure. Seven years. It had been seven years since he thought he’d ever hear that name again.
The lights dimmed, and the host’s voice came over the microphone. “Next, let’s welcome Mr. Qi Ye, chief designer of Senye Landscape Design, to present the proposal ‘City Memory Garden’.”
Qi Ye smoothed his suit and strode to the podium under the spotlight. Each step of his leather shoes on the carpet landed like a drumbeat against his racing pulse.
“Good afternoon, judges. I am Qi Ye from Senye Design.” He raised his head with a smile, but the instant his gaze swept the panel, it was as if lightning struck.
Front and center sat Cheng Shubai, dressed in a perfectly tailored three-piece charcoal suit. Behind his glasses, his gaze was as calm as water. The nameplate before him was so simple it bordered on arrogant: Huanyu Group, Cheng Shubai.
Compared to seven years ago, his features were sharper, the dimples that once enchanted Qi Ye reduced to the faintest hollow, as if time had hidden them away.
Qi Ye’s nails dug into his palm. Perfect. Absolutely perfect. His ex-boyfriend had become the client, and not just any client, but the one holding his future in his hands. The odds of this were lower than sketching a perfectly straight line freehand.
“Mr. Qi?” The host’s gentle reminder jolted him back.
The laser pointer trembled across the screen. He cleared his throat, miraculously steady. “This project site is located at the old textile factory in the city center. Our concept ‘Interwoven Threads’ transforms industrial memory into…”
For the next twenty minutes, Qi Ye entered that professional state of flow. His pace was quick but structured, his pointer tracing firm lines over the renderings. He even countered several tough questions from other judges with sharp technical responses. The only thing he refused to do was look at Cheng Shubai, though he could feel that gaze resting on him, feather-light against the back of his neck.
“…Finally, our rain garden system addresses the site’s drainage issues, and the savings from this design can be reinvested into the cultural exhibition area.” Qi Ye flipped to the last slide. “Thank you.”
Applause followed. He bowed slightly, sweat cooling on the back of his neck.
“Excellent presentation,” one female judge beside Cheng Shubai said warmly. “I especially liked the emotional treatment of the industrial heritage.”
“I have a question.”
Cheng Shubai’s voice wasn’t loud, but it silenced the hall instantly. Qi Ye looked up, finding him tapping a fountain pen against his notes. Seven years had passed, but some habits were impossible to erase.
“Please, Mr. Cheng,” Qi Ye heard himself say.
“You proposed to preserve all the old trees on site.” Cheng Shubai opened the file before him. “But on page 37, the cross-section shows the plane tree’s roots clashing with the underground parking structure. Will the roots pierce through the concrete, or is the parking deck supposed to work by magic?”
Laughter rippled through the hall. Heat crawled up Qi Ye’s ears. This bastard could have just said “your drawings contradict each other,” but no, he had to make it sound like mockery.
Qi Ye forced a breath and quickly switched to the technical diagram.
“Thank you, Mr. Cheng, for catching that.” He zoomed in. “We designed a suspended tree pool with steel supports protecting the roots above the parking deck. It does raise costs by two percent, but given that this plane tree was planted in 1958 as a ‘Witness Tree’—”
“You know it’s called the ‘Witness Tree’?” Cheng Shubai cut him off suddenly.
Qi Ye froze.
Seven summers ago, Cheng had snuck him into the abandoned factory and, under the moonlight, pointed to that plane tree. “It’s watched this place turn from factory to ruin, and one day it will watch the ruins turn into something new.” Back then, Qi Ye had mocked him for being pretentious, but secretly he’d written it in his diary.
“The workers told me during the site visit.” Qi Ye lied smoothly, face unreadable. “We believe keeping this kind of memory is worth more than twenty extra parking spaces.”
Cheng Shubai narrowed his eyes slightly, tapping his pen once. “Idealism doesn’t get you a construction permit.”
“But good design should build a bridge between ideals and reality.” The words left Qi Ye’s mouth before he realized it. He froze, because it was something Cheng used to say all the time in university.
The atmosphere shifted. The judges exchanged glances. Cheng’s expression remained unreadable. Just when Qi Ye braced for another jab, Cheng closed the file. “I have no further questions.”
The presentation ended, and Qi Ye all but fled backstage. He loosened his tie and crunched down the leftover ice cubes from his Americano.
“Engineer Qi! You were amazing!” Xiao Lin burst in, hugging the files. “Especially that final exchange with Mr. Cheng. Total knockout! Director Wang said during deliberations the judges kept praising our design as warm and human.”
“Warmth?” Qi Ye sneered. “Cheng Shubai’s face could freeze a room without air conditioning.”
Xiao Lin blinked. “Wait… you two know each other?”
“We don’t.” Qi Ye cut her off. “Pack up. We’re leaving.”
In the taxi back to the office, Qi Ye stared blankly at the blur of city lights outside. His phone buzzed with messages in the alumni group chat:
“Whoa! Cheng Shubai’s back in the country! Photo.jpg”
“He’s VP of Huanyu now, show some respect.”
“Wow. Our former classmate is now VP Cheng…”
“Rumor has it he’s leading the old city redevelopment project.”
“Don’t mention it, we’re just lowly office drones compared to him.”
Qi Ye’s thumb hovered, then tapped open the photo. At the airport arrivals hall, Cheng pushed a luggage cart, white shirt sleeves rolled to the elbow, a Patek Philippe glinting on his wrist. The very watch Qi Ye had saved half a year of tutoring money to buy him as a graduation gift.
“Driver, pull over at the convenience store ahead,” Qi Ye said suddenly.
He bought two cans of beer, drained one on the spot, but the burn in his chest refused to die down.
Seven years. How could Cheng appear so casually, looking at him with eyes as if they were strangers? And the most infuriating part… how could he still be devastatingly handsome at thirty-one?
Halfway through the second can, his phone buzzed again. Director Wang’s voice message played, jubilant: “Qi! Guess what? We won the bid! Huanyu specifically requested your team to lead. Mr. Cheng even praised your concept of the ‘memory carrier’…”
Qi Ye nearly hurled his phone. His reflection in the glass door showed a man with mussed hair and a crooked tie, like a furious cat with its fur on end.
Behind him, a black Maybach pulled up. The window rolled down, revealing Cheng Shubai’s arm resting on the sill, the familiar watch catching the sunset.
“Engineer Qi,” Cheng tilted his head slightly. “Shall we discuss the project?”
Qi Ye crushed the can in his hand until it groaned under the pressure, much like his sanity.
“Mr. Cheng.” He turned, a professional smile pasted on. “I keep business and personal matters separate.”
“What a coincidence.” Cheng’s face was expressionless. “I was just heading to inspect the ‘Witness Tree’. Would you call that business or personal?”
Qi Ye’s smile froze. He knew this look too well, the innocent curve of lips hiding a mind full of schemes. Seven years ago, he had fallen for it completely. Not this time.
He tossed the empty can into a bin with a clang, opened the passenger door, and buckled in with a snap. “Fine. But we talk business only.”
Cheng chuckled softly and pressed the accelerator. The car stereo played The Scientist: Nobody said it was easy… No one ever said it would be so hard…
Qi Ye stared out at the rushing streets. What cruel coincidence. A punishment, perhaps.
In the corner of his eye, Cheng’s profile was sharper than ever, the fading light tracing his jawline. At a red light, Qi Ye noticed his left ring finger, bare but marked by a thin scar. He remembered it well: the time Cheng had shielded him from a shard of acrylic while they built a model.
“Your computer desktop is… unusual,” Cheng said suddenly.
Qi Ye’s heart skipped. His laptop wallpaper was a black-and-white photo of two hands clasped over blueprints, watch and ginkgo badge side by side. He had snapped it secretly after their graduation defense. He had never changed it.
“It’s system default.” His tone was clipped.
Cheng didn’t press further. The car turned into the abandoned factory, startling a flock of sparrows.
The plane tree’s shadow stretched long in the sunset. Qi Ye walked straight to it. The carvings on the trunk remained, the letters “C & Q” weathered and worn. His thumb traced the grooves until a sudden click made him turn.
Cheng stood with his phone raised, lens aimed at him and the tree.
“Evidence,” he said lightly, waving the phone. “Proof that Engineer Qi really conducted a site survey.”
Qi Ye laughed bitterly. “Do all clients waste time like this now?”
“Not usually.” Cheng stepped closer, the faint cedar scent of his cologne drifting over. “Only when it’s with you.”
The dusk deepened, the last rays of sunlight filtering through the leaves, scattering between them.
Qi Ye remembered graduation day, standing here when Cheng had said, “When this project finally begins, let’s design it together.” The project had stalled, they had broken apart, and only the tree had kept that empty promise.
“Why us?” Qi Ye asked abruptly. “There are firms with far more experience.”
Cheng plucked a sycamore leaf, setting it gently in Qi Ye’s palm. “Only your proposal mentioned ‘Interwoven Threads’.” He smiled faintly. “It was the concept I wrote in my old proposal. I knew it was you.”
Qi Ye’s breath caught. He remembered the notebook Cheng had left before going abroad, the inscription on the first page: For my little warp-and-weft designer. Because he used to say design was like weaving, intertwining threads into a whole.
“Coincidence.” Qi Ye shoved the leaf back into his hand. “It’s just common industry jargon.”
Cheng suddenly grasped his wrist as he tried to pull away. Heat seeped through the fabric, making Qi Ye shiver.
“Qi Ye,” Cheng’s voice was barely above a sigh. “That proposal I gave you…”
“Mr. Cheng!” A shout came from the car. “The directors are waiting for your video call!”
Cheng released him, retreating a step, his vice president’s composure snapping back into place. “Tomorrow morning, ten o’clock. Huanyu headquarters, 17th floor. Project kick-off meeting.” He started toward the car, then paused. “By the way, that jasmine tea you poured into my thermos…”
“That… was yours?” Qi Ye’s eyes widened. “I thought—”
“It was refreshing.” Cheng opened the door. “Next time, add sugar.”
The engine faded into the distance. Qi Ye stood under the tree, the leaf crumpled in his fist. His phone buzzed. Xiao Lin had texted: Engineer Qi! Huanyu just wired the first payment! Director Wang says we’re celebrating tonight!
Qi Ye looked up at the plane tree, its leaves rustling in the evening wind, as if mocking him. Grinding his teeth, he typed: Tell Director Wang I want to apply for a different client contact.
Message sent, he opened his photo album, scrolling to a picture buried long ago. A young Cheng Shubai smiled into the sun, dimples full of summer light.
“Bastard.” Qi Ye cursed under his breath, but set the photo as his phone wallpaper.
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