Chapter 5#
Chapter 5#
Tan Xiao was telling the truth. That “old European dude” had indeed come to China back then to expand his logistics business.
At that time, Tan Xiao’s grandfather was still in his prime, and the scepter of that world-ranking shipping company had not yet been handed over to Tan Xiao’s father.
Talking further about this topic would inevitably involve some unnecessary details. Tan Xiao didn’t want to lie to Zhang Xingchuan.
So he turned the question back to Zhang Xingchuan: “What about you? I heard your family background wasn’t good when you were a child. Is that true?”
Zhang Xingchuan said, “False. It was a well-off family with harmonious relationships. Let’s put it this way: before starting my business, I never suffered a day.”
His parents were each other’s first loves. Before retiring, they both had stable jobs, and they lived in perfect harmony.
Zhang Xingchuan had excellent grades since childhood and was both talented and handsome—truly a “son of fortune.” Starting a business was hard, of course, but he hadn’t encountered any insurmountable difficulties.
Moreover, as a CEO, he was healthy with no stomach problems, always smiling, liked making friends, loved life, and was emotionally stable—a quite rare “happy CEO.”
Tan Xiao said, “Relying on your own efforts to become a successful first-generation entrepreneur, you’re truly impressive.”
Zhang Xingchuan said, “No matter how hard an individual works, without the opportunities of the times, it’s no use. I was lucky. I caught both the internet and tourism industry waves.”
Tan Xiao said, “Others didn’t seize the opportunities of the times, but you did; you’re just very capable. During the half-month I spent in operations, I was tasked with monitoring Wencheng’s public opinion. Many loyal Wencheng users have a better impression of you personally than of the Wencheng app itself.”
As one of the founders of Wencheng, a top travel app, Zhang Xingchuan had a good reputation on the internet. The public was naturally more inclusive towards self-made elites with a technical background. Additionally, Zhang Xingchuan’s own image and style of doing things made it easy for people to feel fond of and trust him.
Zhang Xingchuan accepted the praise calmly and said, “That’s true. I certainly have some real skills.”
Tan Xiao smiled and said, “Aren’t you going to be modest for a few more sentences?”
“Anymore modesty would be hypocrisy,” Zhang Xingchuan said. “In fact, I’m very narcissistic. All those posts you see online praising me were written by myself using a crawler.”
Zhang Xingchuan was good at joking, and his timing and boundaries were well-handled. For instance, now, hoping to move quickly past the topic focused on himself, he made a light-hearted joke.
Of course, the style of the joke also needed to be adjusted according to the other party’s identity. This kind of self-deprecating humor, which playfully invents things, was just right for a member of the post-00s generation like Tan Xiao, who was accustomed to “abstract” humor.
In fact, almost every conversation since they met had been very congenial—except for the time Tan Xiao declared his intention to be a “salted fish.”
In the meantime, Zhang Xingchuan used the excuse of going to the restroom, intending to quietly pay the bill.
The manager told him with a smile that Mr. Tan had already paid.
He had no choice but to drop it. Looking at the bill, he felt a bit guilty. This really cost Tan Xiao a lot; a month’s internship salary at Wencheng wouldn’t even cover this meal. He had only plucked a thin layer of wool, and now it was all used back on the “sheep CEO.”
It was not yet 9 PM when they finished eating. Upon leaving, the restaurant gave them a plush horse toy as a New Year souvenir, with a red mane and a golden saddle, cute big eyes, and looking very spirited.
The restaurant’s parking lot was outdoors, and the two went to get the car together.
Tan Xiao walked while playing with the New Year-themed little horse and asked Zhang Xingchuan, “Do you have the habit of watching the Spring Festival Gala?”
Zhang Xingchuan said, “No, I’m a Southerner.”
Tan Xiao had recently read some of his interviews. He had told the media that his ancestral home was on the Jiaodong Peninsula, but the older generation had moved south in response to the call for national construction, and he had lived in a new first-tier provincial capital on the south bank of the Yangtze River before university.
“I’m also a Southerner,” Tan Xiao said. “I actually quite like watching the Spring Festival Gala. It’s lively and has a lot of New Year flavor.”
He had studied in Beijing since childhood and went back to Europe for winter and summer vacations, so he hadn’t spent much time in the South. But because his mother was from Zhejiang, he identified himself as a Southerner living in Beijing.
Zhang Xingchuan was driving, and Tan Xiao was in the passenger seat with his seatbelt fastened.
Driving out of the parking lot onto the road, the streets were decorated with lanterns and streamers on New Year’s Eve, filled with the festive red color of the New Year. There were almost no pedestrians.
In such a strong festive atmosphere, lonely people seem even lonelier.
Zhang Xingchuan suddenly had a thought: Tan Xiao returning to his quiet and empty doctoral dormitory, sitting under a solitary incandescent light, watching the noisy Spring Festival Gala alone.
“Don’t go back to school,” Zhang Xingchuan said after some thought, finally extending the invitation, “Come to my house for the New Year.”
Tan Xiao was taken aback and said, “Wouldn’t that be inconvenient?”
Zhang Xingchuan said, “There’s nothing inconvenient. My house has many rooms.”
Tan Xiao wanted to go. Spending the New Year in a place with some “human warmth,” although the experience was still unknown, was better than spending the holiday alone and bored. He quickly said, “Then I won’t be polite.”
The helpers at Zhang Xingchuan’s house were also on holiday, and like the driver, wouldn’t return until the third day of the New Year.
He lived near the Olympic Park, in a garden villa.
From the moment they entered the main gate, the yard was empty, and the whole house was quiet. Every sound had a hollow echo.
Tan Xiao felt a bit sorry for Zhang Xingchuan again—spending the New Year alone in this house so big it could be haunted. How pathetic, CEO.
Of course, his “wealthy young master” sympathy was quite niche. For an ordinary person to own a house this large, every day would feel like a holiday, and they would wake up smiling from their dreams. It wouldn’t be pathetic at all.
After entering, Zhang Xingchuan took off his coat and then took Tan Xiao’s down jacket to hang them up together.
Tan Xiao was very conscious of following the host’s lead. He also had the knowledge and experience to not feel constrained in any place.
“Your house is quite beautiful.” He looked around, though the praise wasn’t entirely sincere.
Zhang Xingchuan didn’t notice his expression and took it at face value: “Right? The previous owner was a painter and decorated it. Although I don’t quite understand it, everyone who comes says it’s beautiful, and it’s well-maintained, so I didn’t change the decor.”
Tan Xiao wondered, “Why did you buy a second-hand house?”
He was genuinely asking because he didn’t understand. Why buy a house someone else had lived in? It wasn’t like a courtyard house in an old hutong.
He only had one property in Beijing, bought over ten years ago because he needed to commute to middle school. He liked courtyard houses, but since he was only one person, it would be boring to live in one. After much hesitation, he didn’t buy one and chose an uninteresting flat instead. He rarely went back there after living on campus for university.
Zhang Xingchuan, on the other hand, knew that many college students have a vague understanding of the wealth level of “successful people.”
He still explained to Tan Xiao: “Because I only started having some money in the past few years. There are very few new houses in Beijing now, so I only had second-hand houses to choose from. This house still has an outstanding mortgage.”
Tan Xiao gained a further understanding of the financial situation of Zhang Xingchuan, this new Chinese internet elite.
He remembered Zhou Ruofei’s jokingly saying he was “suitable as a live-in son-in-law” and couldn’t help but smile slightly. If he were Tan Yun, rather than an arranged marriage with some unknown wealthy family, it would truly be better to choose a handsome middle-class man with a stable personality to spend a lifetime with.
From this perspective, Zhang Xingchuan was indeed a very suitable candidate. Unfortunately, both he and Zhang Xingchuan were male.
“Make yourself at home,” Zhang Xingchuan said. “Find whatever you want to eat or use yourself. Honestly, I’m not quite sure where everything is in the house.”
The house was well-heated, and Tan Xiao wanted something cold to drink. He went to open the refrigerator in the living room and then looked at the wine cabinet next to it. Finding it well-stocked, he said, “Can I mix a drink myself?”
Zhang Xingchuan went to turn on the television, which hadn’t been used many times, and tuned it to the Spring Festival Gala broadcast, saying, “Of course. Can you make one for me too?”
To suit the New Year’s Eve atmosphere today, Tan Xiao specifically wore a gorgeous new shirt of peacock blue velvet, with small pearls at the collar. He was very fair-skinned, and standing under the warm light of the bar, he looked like a graceful lake with shimmering ripples.
Zhang Xingchuan sat on a high stool outside the bar, watching Tan Xiao with admiration.
Tan Xiao folded up his cuffs and began mixing the drink. He poured a vodka base into a cocktail glass, then added cranberry juice, followed by orange liqueur, and finally cut a small lime in half, squeezing the juice into the drink. He had made a Cosmopolitan.
Finally, using two fingers, he pushed the glass to Zhang Xingchuan, who was waiting at the bar.
Zhang Xingchuan had thought “mixing a drink” meant a basic long drink like orange juice with base liquor. He didn’t expect him to actually know how, and to do it so elegantly.
“You don’t have a measuring cup,” Tan Xiao said. “I mixed the proportions by feeling. It should be more or less right. Anyway, just make do with it.”
Zhang Xingchuan tasted it. It wasn’t something to just “make do” with; it was mixed very well.
Tan Xiao then mixed a Martini for himself.
Zhang Xingchuan looked at the pale pink cocktail in front of him and said, “So, what do you mean by making me a ‘pretty lady’s drink’?”
Tan Xiao said, “Who says pretty drinks are only for ladies? A good-looking cocktail should naturally be mixed for a good-looking person.”
Inside the bar, he was just folding his sleeves back to their original state, looking at Zhang Xingchuan with a roguish, handsome smile.
Zhang Xingchuan sat on the high stool outside, quietly watching his movements and expression. Once a young and handsome guy starts subconsciously acting cool, it naturally brings to mind a male peacock spreading its tail.
Is this spreading his tail for me? Zhang Xingchuan couldn’t help but think. But I’m really not gay.
Tan Xiao thought it was just an ordinary joke, but Zhang Xingchuan suddenly looked a bit serious.
A joke only works if both parties find it funny.
So Tan Xiao also restrained his smile, picked up his glass, and drained the Martini in one gulp.
Zhang Xingchuan quickly adjusted his thoughts.
As a heterosexual himself, he wouldn’t just have fantasies about women for no reason.
So even if Tan Xiao really were gay, it was just an orientation. In normal social interactions, there was no need to have groundless sexual associations.
He also finished his drink and said to Tan Xiao, “Get me a can of beer. Cocktails are too sweet for me.”
Tan Xiao did as he was told, turned around to get a beer from the fridge, and took a can for himself as well.
Zhang Xingchuan said, “Do you want to sit over there and watch the Spring Festival Gala?”
Tan Xiao said, “No, this is fine. Just having the festive atmosphere is enough.”
Zhang Xingchuan hummed, tapped the can with his right hand, pulled the tab with one hand, and took a sip.
Tan Xiao observed his movements and genuinely felt this “older brother” was exceedingly handsome—a kind of handsomeness that Tan Xiao could never possess at his own age.
“Did I offend you just now?” Tan Xiao sincerely apologized, saying, “I’m really sorry. I truly just wanted to praise your good looks.”
“I wasn’t unhappy,” Zhang Xingchuan intended to brush it off, “I was just thinking about something else and got distracted.”
He quickly threw out another question: “Did you also learn bartending?”
During a summer break after he became an adult, Tan Xiao was hanging out with Zhou Ruofei and some other friends. When he was bored, he learned a bit from a teacher who was a world champion in flair bartending.
“Mixing drinks is very simple,” Tan Xiao said, taking advantage of his youth to act cool, “Anyone with hands can do it.”
Zhang Xingchuan smiled.
Tan Xiao said, “Do you usually drink? I don’t think I’ve ever seen you smoke.”
Zhang Xingchuan said, “I don’t usually drink, except for a little during social engagements. I’ve never smoked. Isn’t life good enough?”
Tan Xiao also laughed and said, “I thought all you programmers were chain smokers.”
“That’s truly the biggest misconception about programmers,” Zhang Xingchuan said. “You have to be fully focused when writing code. How can you have time to free up a hand for anything else?”
“True. When I’m in a ‘flow’ state writing a paper, I don’t even have time to take a sip of water.” Tan Xiao pushed his beer in front of Zhang Xingchuan and said, “Please open this for me, like you did with your can just now.”
Zhang Xingchuan said, “What?”
Tan Xiao said, “Opening a can with one hand. How do you do it? Let me see again.”
After all the talk about smoking and drinking, it turned out he wanted to learn this.
“It’s very simple,” Zhang Xingchuan said, opening the can of beer purposefully so fast that Tan Xiao couldn’t see clearly. Then he said, “See? Anyone with hands can do it.”