Gu Zhuoyan Looks Toward the Doorway

Zhuang Fanxin strolled around silhouette for a bit, familiarizing himself with the environment, and by the way, went to the HR department to ask for a complete list of names. Midway, he received a call from Pei Zhi, who had just gotten off the plane and was a little worried about him.

"It's fine, you go ahead and get busy," he said, "Oh, right, send me your home address. If your grandmother is home alone and needs anything, I'll go over."

After hanging up, Zhuang Fanxin returned to the Design Department. In the distance from the doorway to his office, he felt like he was being sized up from head to toe. Everyone was silently and quietly observing him—his appearance and clothes, his posture and expression. They even seemed to want to see through his skin to find out what he was made of, how much skill and talent he possessed.

Once the office door closed, it quieted down. Zhuang Fanxin took a breath and downed more than half a glass of plain water. The excessive dryness of the north made him a little uncomfortable.

The supervisor knocked and came in, holding a stack of folders. "Director Zhuang," he said, "these are the documents you wanted. The hard copies are all here, and I've sent many more to your email."

"Thank you." Zhuang Fanxin said the polite words soullessly. "To have to trouble you with such a small matter, thank you for your hard work."

He was insinuating that these things should be done by an assistant, but unfortunately, his assistant wasn't up to snuff. The supervisor understood and took two steps closer to ask, "The assistant assigned to you is an intern who doesn't know anything. How about we arrange a new one for you?"

As the supervisor, he was responsible for these things and could have just replaced the assistant and sent a new one over. But it was only because the intern had been arranged by General Manager Cheng Jiama that he didn't dare to act on his own. And since Zhuang Fanxin was brought in by the boss, Pei Zhi, he couldn't be offended either. So, he asked for Zhuang Fanxin's opinion, letting Zhuang Fanxin make the decision.

Zhuang Fanxin knew perfectly well but deliberately said, "No need, that kid is quite good."

The supervisor said, "That's good, then. Xiao Wen also properly studied design; he's a good person." He stepped back a bit. "I'll be heading out then. Call me if you need anything."

All beginnings are difficult. A glance at the files piled high on his desk made that clear. Zhuang Fanxin thought with the benefit of hindsight, was it really the right decision to have a moment of weakness and agree to Pei Zhi's request?

But even though he had a headache now, he didn't regret it.

His friend was more important than his old job. Over the years, he had also gotten used to lingering and staying in various places. And this city, he had long wanted to come and see it. Zhuang Fanxin cast aside his myriad thoughts and dove into the pile of files.

To put it simply, the finance department managed the accounts, the sales department managed distribution, and the advertising department was responsible for publicity and promotion; their functions were all relatively unified. But for the core department of a fashion company, the Design Department, the personnel structure was much more complex. Designers, assistant designers, cutters, fabric specialists, graders... seven or eight different roles were all here, working together to bring a piece of clothing into being.

Zhuang Fanxin had made a high-profile debut, and now it was time to settle down and work.

He carefully familiarized himself with every aspect. The superficial introductions were still not enough. He compared each designer's works to see their style, checked attendance records, noted the general work efficiency of the pattern makers, and even pulled out fabric samples archived for several months to study the fabric specialists' changes in material usage.

Before he knew it, it was almost four o'clock. He had forgotten to eat lunch. Zhuang Fanxin ignored his rumbling stomach, only feeling the soreness in his eyeballs. He took out the eye drops he carried with him, tilted his head back to apply a drop, and after closing his eyes for a moment, pressed the intercom button.

What was that intern's name again? He had forgotten. "Come in for a moment."

Wen Lin came in and couldn't help but be dazed for a second when he met Zhuang Fanxin's gaze, caught off guard by those moist, tear-like eyes. "Director, were you looking for me?" he asked, a beat too late.

Zhuang Fanxin instructed, "Do a headcount and order some afternoon tea for our colleagues." As he spoke, he reached for his wallet, but with a thud, the kid had already closed the door and gone out to count people.

What's with kids these days? Zhuang Fanxin pulled up Wen Lin's resume. If he wasn't up to par, he would end his internship early and let him find a better position elsewhere. One look, and wow. He had been painting since elementary school, studied fashion design in France, and while his work had its shortcomings, it was pretty good for a recent graduate.

When the afternoon tea arrived, those sitting in their offices all came out as if from their cages. Zhuang Fanxin went outside to eat with everyone. Since it was his treat, the tense atmosphere of everyone secretly observing him dissipated. After a joke or two, the mood became relaxed.

Petty favors are the most basic way to win people over. Zhuang Fanxin didn't actually have that intention; he mainly wanted to find a reason for everyone to sit down so he could remember who was who.

Designers didn't have to be in the office every day. The buyers and researchers were almost never around, and the lead pattern maker was on a business trip. Zhuang Fanxin silently made a mental note, planning to treat the absent few next time.

With his stomach full, Zhuang Fanxin returned to his office to organize his things. He had just arrived, and everything was numerous and messy. By the time he capped his pen, the sky was as black as ink. When he got off work, it felt like it was already late at night.

He hadn't done anything substantial all day, yet it was extremely mentally taxing. As he was leaving, Zhuang Fanxin forgot to call a car and stood by the roadside waving for a taxi after exiting the silhouette building.

It was a busy time of day, and there were basically no empty taxis to be seen. Just then, the familiar roar of an engine sounded, and the Pagani supercar he had glimpsed that morning passed in front of him and braked to a stop.

The window rolled down, and Wen Lin leaned out from the driver's seat. "Director, are you waiting for someone or hailing a cab?"

Zhuang Fanxin felt that this was bizarre. Had the country's economy developed this quickly? A recent college graduate was driving a supercar? Leaning down slightly, he answered, "Hailing a cab."

"It's hard to get one during rush hour." Wen Lin unlocked the doors. "Let me give you a ride."

Zhuang Fanxin completely gave in to the biting north-westerly wind. He got in the car, moving from the wide roadside into the cramped cabin. Just as he fastened his seatbelt, the entire supercar shot out at an incredible speed.

Wen Lin asked, "Director, where are you headed?"

"Sofitel Hotel," Zhuang Fanxin said.

"Ah... I'll have to make a U-turn then." Wen Lin looked ahead, turning the steering wheel at the intersection to make a turn.

Zhuang Fanxin noticed that the other guy was no different from how he had been during the day—indecisive. Even while speeding down the road, he kept his lips tightly pressed, looking like a novice who had just gotten his license. He asked one more question, "How many years have you been driving?"

"Three years." Wen Lin glanced at him quickly. "What's wrong, Director?"

Zhuang Fanxin said, "Nothing, what are you so nervous about?"

"I'm a little scared of you," Wen Lin said in a small voice.

Zhuang Fanxin roughly understood. He had made a high-profile, even somewhat flamboyant, debut today, so he gave off the impression of being hard to get along with. He did it on purpose. His grandfather once said that whether a person can lead others—to put it bluntly—a certain air of formidability is very important. When combined with other talents, it evolves into "authority."

Besides, if he was going to help Pei Zhi manage the Design Department in the future, someone had to play the bad cop, right?

Seeing Zhuang Fanxin remain silent, Wen Lin grew even more anxious. "Director, I couldn't answer any of your questions today... Will you let me pass my probation period?"

Zhuang Fanxin also turned his head and gave Wen Lin a quick look. For some reason, he vaguely saw himself from many years ago—procrastinating, timid, muttering under his breath—it was all very similar.

He didn't respond to the question. Whether he could stay depended on his performance. If he was qualified, he'd stay; if not, he could go home to his parents for comfort. Remembering the resume, he said, "You studied fashion design at a good school, so how did you end up as a regular assistant?"

Wen Lin pouted. "I applied to be an assistant designer, but I don't know how it was arranged. I ended up as a designer's assistant."

Zhuang Fanxin let out a laugh. This kid before him had the air of someone who'd been spoiled—driving a luxury car, wearing designer brands, and casually spending several thousand yuan on afternoon tea for his colleagues. A typical young master from a rich family. He couldn't help but wonder, since he was so pampered, was he really willing to work as an assistant?

Wen Lin said, "I've loved silhouette since I was a student. I bought every piece of clothing designed by Teacher Pei each season. Besides, I don't care how much the salary is; it's not enough to maintain my car anyway."

Anything related to personal aesthetics requires a sense of resonance. Boya meeting Ziqi was in music; art and design are the same. When you encounter something you like, you pay attention to it, appreciate it, and even strive to get closer to it.

After a bit of small talk, they arrived at the Sofitel Hotel. Zhuang Fanxin said, "No need to drive in, just pull over to the side."

Wen Lin did as he was told. After stopping, he smiled obediently. "See you tomorrow, Director."

Zhuang Fanxin unbuckled his seatbelt. The wild ride had made him a bit carsick and nauseous. As he opened the door, he fought back the nausea and tossed out a "Bye, drive safe."

Just as the car door closed, Wen Lin's phone rang. It was an unfamiliar local number. He answered it while waving at Zhuang Fanxin through the windshield.

"Hello, who is this?"

"Hello, this is Gu Zhuoyan."

Wen Lin was brought back to his senses by that slightly deep voice. He went from one kind of nervousness to a new one, sounding clumsy as he introduced himself, "Ah, Brother... Brother Yan, this is Wen Lin."

The two exchanged a few pleasantries. As the awkwardness thickened, a low, faint laugh drifted from the phone, probably out of a sense of helplessness and absurdity. Wen Lin gripped the steering wheel. "Brother Yan, if you don't have time, we can just forget it..."

Gu Zhuoyan asked, "Which evening are you free in the next few days?"

"I'm free any day," Wen Lin said. He also felt his parents' arrangement was ridiculous. Since it was an ordeal he had to face sooner or later, he might as well get it over with. "Is tomorrow evening okay?"

"Okay," Gu Zhuoyan agreed. "I'll let you know once I've decided on a place."

Having arranged the private meeting, Gu Zhuoyan grabbed his coat to attend a business one. GSG had started in real estate and later branched into various investments. Their business was large, and they had many business partners and official allies, so there were always endless matters to discuss.

In the past two years, Gu Zhuoyan had come to understand the difficulties Gu Shibo and Xue Manzi faced in the past. There were many occasions where he truly couldn't get away, many jobs that couldn't be delayed for a single second. Take drinking, for instance. He didn't particularly enjoy it, but he couldn't avoid the social engagements that required bonding over drinks.

The gathering ended close to dawn. Gu Zhuoyan didn't contact Wen Lin again; it was too late.

Zhuang Fanxin, however, was still awake. He had finally finished reading through the documents on his laptop. All sorts of information were jumbled together in his mind, mixed into a pot of porridge. He lay down and casually clicked open a housing rental website. He couldn't keep living in a hotel; he had to rent an apartment as soon as possible.

Exhausted to the point of his hands cramping, his phone fell and hit his face, as if it had pressed a button on his body. His eyes closed and he automatically shut down, not forgetting to reach out and grab a Monchhichi.

Zhuang Fanxin booked a car service for the week. In the early morning, he commuted efficiently. Seeing that the sun was out, he boldly wore a pair of thin jeans, his ankles faintly visible. As a result, he spent the entire car ride rubbing his thighs. It was so damn cold.

First time strange, second time familiar. His appearance on the second day was much more familiar than the day before. The people in the Design Department were also much more enthusiastic. He glanced at an empty seat; his assistant hadn't arrived yet.

Zhuang Fanxin was taking over the project Pei Zhi had been working on and was in the middle of organizing it when Wen Lin, ten minutes late, finally sauntered in. He knocked on the door and proactively asked for work, "Director, any instructions?"

Zhuang Fanxin said, "Take my onboarding documents to the HR department."

Wen Lin took the documents and left. After finishing up at the HR department, he got a call from Gu Zhuoyan as soon as he stepped out of the elevator. Lacking the awareness of a junior employee, he answered the call, walked into the Design Department, and returned to his seat while still on his personal call, completely oblivious to the supervisor shooting him a look.

"Brother Yan?" he said. "I just got to work."

Gu Zhuoyan said, "You found a job?"

"Mhm, an internship." Wen Lin was suddenly enthusiastic, wanting to tell Gu Zhuoyan that he worked at silhouette and wanting to chat with him about this brand he liked.

However, Gu Zhuoyan didn't catch on and said in the next sentence, "Seven-thirty tonight, Weijing Restaurant, 6037."

Wen Lin tore off a sticky note to write it down. He felt a tap on his shoulder and turned to see Zhuang Fanxin. By this time, Gu Zhuoyan had already said "goodbye" on the phone.

"Bye-bye," he ended the call. "Director, you called me?"

Zhuang Fanxin had discovered that a material testing report for a ready-to-wear garment was missing. The person in charge was Team Leader Cao, a pattern maker, who was on a business trip visiting factories. He had contacted him; his flight back to the city was in the evening. He planned to have dinner directly with him. Besides the report, there were other issues he wanted to discuss.

But he wasn't familiar with the area, so Zhuang Fanxin asked, "Are there any good restaurants?"

Wen Lin's mind went blank for a moment, and he answered off the top of his head, "Weijing Restaurant."

Zhuang Fanxin said, "Book a table, seven-thirty tonight."

Wen Lin had no choice but to agree. He made a call to book a table, then tore off another sticky note and wrote down: 6073.

Before he had time to give it to Zhuang Fanxin, another designer, Designer Xu, called him over. He assigned him a small design task, saying it was Director Zhuang's idea. He was overjoyed, not expecting to be able to start on design work so soon. He couldn't help but fantasize about clothes he designed bearing the label of his favorite brand.

He was excited for a long time. Ten minutes later, Wen Lin pushed open the door. "Director, I made you some coffee." He brought it in and said with immense gratitude, "Thank you, Director, for appreciating my abilities and giving me this opportunity."

Zhuang Fanxin didn't say a word from beginning to end. He didn't appreciate his abilities; it was just a thank you for the ride last night. The hot coffee was steaming. He peeled off the note stuck to the cup. On it was written: Weijing Restaurant 6037.

He didn't get a moment's rest the entire day. During his lunch break, Zhuang Fanxin video-chatted with Pei Zhi, discussing the designs at hand for a long time. He didn't move all afternoon. Just before the end of the workday, Cheng Jiama came by, wanting to hold a welcome dinner for him.

Zhuang Fanxin naturally refused. He left work at six-thirty. The traffic on the way to the restaurant was heavy, but luckily, Team Leader Cao's flight was going to be delayed.

Gu Zhuoyan had already parked his car. The restaurant had been booked by his secretary; he hadn't tried it before. Only after going up did he discover it had a modern Chinese decor. Inside the room were celadon vases with white plum blossoms, gauze lanterns, and round pillows. A small folding screen with a "butterfly lovers" motif stood there, and every table and chair exuded elegance.

Just as he sat down, Wen Lin called. He had been kept behind by a designer to work overtime and couldn't leave for now. Overtime was common in the design industry, so Gu Zhuoyan didn't say anything, and deep down, he even felt a faint sense of relief.

He first ordered a pot of tea to drink. It was hot, so he moved to the sofa to look at the chess set on the coffee table. Next to the chessboard was a copy of Six Records of a Floating Life for passing the time. He wandered around the room, amusing himself, hoping Wen Lin would be even later.

The door opened, and a waiter brought in two plates of refreshments, set them down, and retreated.

The door had just closed when it seemed to open again.

Gu Zhuoyan looked toward the doorway. He couldn't see clearly, only vaguely making out a slender figure.

Zhuang Fanxin arrived with a gust of cold air, led to 6037. As soon as he entered, he was greeted by the sight of a carved screen with milky-white gauze and double-sided embroidery. He had assumed his colleague hadn't arrived yet, but amidst the flickering lamplight, he saw the silhouette of a person in the room.

Zhuang Fanxin walked further in, rounded the screen, and saw the face behind the table clearly.

Gu Zhuoyan had also raised his eyes, meeting the newcomer's gaze directly.

Time, space, and everything in them seemed to stop in an instant.

They froze together. Amidst the light fragrance of tea, ten years of separation like a lone swan and a lost wild goose, the slow torture of loneliness over more than three thousand days and nights, the past love and hate sealed in the depths of their hearts... all of it was awakened as their eyes met.