Chapter 110

Shang Zhitao poured all her energy into this annual gala.

Lingmei's annual gala was the highlight of corporate culture each year—awards, prize draws, performances, and announcements of important decisions. As the project manager, Shang Zhitao requested Lumi from the marketing department to assist her. This was her selfish wish. She wanted to spend her final days at Lingmei working alongside the person she liked most.

It felt like returning to the beginning, the days when Lumi took Shang Zhitao around the venue. The two of them spent two days refining the plan, then brought it to Josh, Will, and Tracy for approval. Once everything was settled, they moved into the preparation phase.

They asked company employees to submit their favorite photo from their lives. No one knew what it was for, but they happily handed them over. They also edited many clips from the company's archives of past fun events, making it all quite interesting.

On the day of the rehearsal, Luan Nian, who had been away on a long business trip, finally returned. He arrived at the venue with his luggage and saw the event company bustling about with the setup. Shang Zhitao was holding a pre-rehearsal meeting with the performers. Luan Nian sat in the last row, watching her.

They hadn't spoken in a very, very long time.

Sometimes, when they crossed paths at the company, Shang Zhitao’s gaze never shifted to his face. Once or twice, when Luan Nian wanted to say a word or two to her, he would recall her words:

A dirty, ugly, disgusting relationship.

I never considered you my boyfriend.

By now, Shang Zhitao had shed the naivety of her twenty-two-year-old self, yet she remained clean and pure, standing straight and solemn as she always did.

How strange—it was 2016, and there were still people who stood like that.

When it came to the executive performance segment, Shang Zhitao invited the department heads to the front and earnestly explained the program designed for them. Luan Nian stood opposite her, a little closer now, and noticed the dark circles under her eyes—she must have stayed up many nights preparing for the gala.

Shang Zhitao handed out the pre-printed program scripts to them: "We kindly ask for your cooperation. This year’s program for everyone is a retro disco. We’ve specially hired a dance instructor who will teach you shortly. The moves aren’t difficult, but they look great." It was Lumi’s mischievous idea; she said she wanted to see Will and the stubborn mule shake their hips—it should be quite sexy.

"Then why not arrange a striptease for them?" Shang Zhitao teased her.

"That won’t do—Will still has bite marks from me!" Lumi winked at Shang Zhitao.

"Why did you bite him?"

"He annoyed me."

Lumi never let herself suffer. As the wealthy demolition heiress with relatives even more sharp-tongued than her, who would dare provoke her? Except Will.

The department heads exchanged glances, all feeling a bit resistant. Tracy, the only female executive, was delighted: "I’ll dance, I’ll dance! I was the disco queen back in the day."

The others looked at Luan Nian, hoping he would refuse. Poetry recitals or piano performances would be much better. Frankly, the higher the position, the harder it was to let go of dignity.

But Luan Nian nodded: "We’ll follow the director’s arrangements."

Lumi whistled and pointed to the costumes nearby: "These are the outfits for the executives, pre-ordered and cleaned. They were rented according to the sizes you provided for the company T-shirts."

Sparkling clothes.

Luan Nian had always known that whenever Shang Zhitao was with Lu Mi, things would go off the rails.

While others practiced dancing, Luan Nian sat there playing with his phone. No one dared to follow his example, practicing earnestly instead. When it came time for the group rehearsal, everyone stood in their assigned positions. The spotlight beams shone down, their outfits glittering brightly—so cool, so retro, so reminiscent of Lu Mi.

Luan Nian hadn’t practiced, yet he remembered the moves and danced better than anyone else. Will was too rigid, refusing to sway his hips. Lu Mi raised a megaphone and shouted at him, “Boss Will, you’ve got to sway! You’re falling behind!”

“Sway slower!”

“Make your movements bigger!”

Shang Zhitao stifled her laughter nearby. Her gaze finally swept over Luan Nian, and she suddenly remembered the first year, when she worked as a crowd guide, standing offstage watching him perform rock music with his friends. Lu Mi had told her back then: “A man like this, you can sleep with him, but never fall in love with him.”

On the day of the actual annual gala, the bosses’ performance indeed drove everyone wild.

As soon as the spotlights hit the stage, the audience below erupted in applause and cheers. The music began—a remixed version of “Stupid Love.”

Luan Nian remained as confident and arrogant as ever, still driving people crazy. Standing by the side of the stage, Shang Zhitao noticed Song Ying’s gaze from the second table—the same look she herself had once given Luan Nian. This time, Shang Zhitao felt that none of it had anything to do with her anymore.

It felt so good to be detached from it all.

The Lingmei New Year’s Eve party at the end of 2016 was a retro-themed gala. Every performance was designed with exceptional sophistication and creativity, lively and engaging. Someone asked, “Who directed this year’s event? It’s amazing!”

“Flora, of course! Who else could it be?”

After the seventh segment, Shang Zhitao went backstage. She also had a performance—the final act of the evening, where she invited a few workplace friends to join her on stage.

The last time she had sung in public was probably eight years ago. Time truly waits for no one.

She stepped onto the rising platform, gradually emerging onto the stage. She, too, had a spotlight—a soft, gentle beam. Behind her played a video they had edited in advance. It began with laughter from their team-building trip to Phuket years ago, followed by clips of laughter from various company events over the years. Some of the laughter was even recognizable, belonging to specific people.

The stage fell silent as Shang Zhitao sang the first line: “That laughter reminds me of my flowers~”

Luan Nian finally looked up and saw Shang Zhitao on stage—a version of her he had never seen before. How strange. They had been together for six years, yet he never knew she could sing so beautifully.

Everyone watched Shang Zhitao. Before, they had thought of Flora as someone ordinary but hardworking. Today, they finally understood that everyone has their own moment to shine. Shang Zhitao looked stunning, standing there in a simple white dress without any adornments, as pure as dew on a lotus leaf at dawn or the gentle ripples on an early spring lake.

Her voice was equally clear.

The scenes playing behind her were even more moving.

Everyone saw their most cherished photos. Shang Zhitao’s photo was from Christmas 2010, showing her standing in the snow with Sun Yuanzhu and Sun Yu. Time, rich and fragrant, had taken away much but also left much behind.

As the song gradually faded, another video played, pieced together from moments over the past five or six years—deep conversations in various settings, emotional moments that brought tears to their eyes more than once.

Lu Mi stood on a table, raised a light-up sign, and shouted loudly, “Shang Zhitao, I love you!”

Everyone was calling out Shang Zhitao's name.

At Lingmei, it was customary to use English names, but on this day, they all called out a Chinese name together. Regardless of who usually feigned courtesy toward whom, regardless of whose family was wealthy and influential, at this moment, everyone understood who the truly beloved person was.

It was Shang Zhitao—always upright, kind, helpful, and generous in the workplace; the Shang Zhitao whose words were always followed by action, the most reliable one; the Shang Zhitao who genuinely rejoiced in others' progress and achievements; the Shang Zhitao who dared to stand up against sexual harassment despite the pressure.

Six years had passed. Shang Zhitao had completed her transformation through humility and resilience—a transformation that could belong to any ordinary person.

Luan Nian suddenly felt his eyes grow warm and lowered his head.

It was on that day, after all the performances had ended, that Luan Nian encountered Shang Zhitao in the backstage dressing room as she was changing. They stood a few meters apart, gazing at each other.

Their eyes met, as if both had much to say.

Shang Zhitao merely wanted to bid farewell but ultimately didn’t speak.

"Shang Zhitao, I have to fly urgently to the U.S. tomorrow. When I return, let’s have a proper talk, okay?" he finally spoke—the first words they had exchanged alone since that day.

Shang Zhitao nodded. "Okay."

"You sang very well," Luan Nian added.

"Thank you."

"Flora, group photo time!" Lu Mi called out to her. Shang Zhitao glanced back and said to Luan Nian, "It’s time for the group photo."

"Okay."

The two walked toward the stage together. Everyone was already waiting there. Shang Zhitao picked up the megaphone and organized everyone into formation. Once everyone was in place, Lu Mi asked, "Where will you stand?"

"Anywhere is fine."

"That won’t do. The director stands in the center! Next to Luke!" said Shelly, who had come from afar. A spot quickly opened up beside Luan Nian for Shang Zhitao. She put down the megaphone and took her place, arms behind her back, a fist’s distance away from Luan Nian.

The photographer called out, "One, two, three, cheese!"

Everyone shouted "cheese," but it felt restrained.

"Is this still Lingmei? Lingmei people need to get lively!" the photographer complained. Everyone burst into laughter, unleashing their true selves with all sorts of wild poses. Only Luan Nian and Shang Zhitao stood straight, smiling slightly, as they completed the group photo.

And just like that, it was over.

As the excitement faded, Shang Zhitao and Lu Mi slumped in their seats in the venue, looking at each other with the melancholy that follows the end of an event.

"Want a drink?" Lu Mi asked her.

"Sure, let’s invite Sun Yu."

The three women drank together that night, and they drank a lot. Deep into the drinks, they hugged each other and cried. No one knew exactly what they were crying about. It seemed like women, when they drank too much, loved to cry. If they didn’t cry, it meant they hadn’t drunk enough.

Sun Yu pinched Shang Zhitao’s cheek. "You have to take good care of yourself."

"You too."

Lu Mi wiped away her tears nearby, sobbing, "Damn it! I hate goodbyes the most."

"What a coincidence, so do I."

On Shang Zhitao’s last working day at Lingmei, her resignation approval had already been processed, pending only Josh’s sign-off. Coincidentally, because she hadn’t been rated as an expert, the approval process was released once it reached Josh.

That day, Lingmei held a flea market, saying it was to bid farewell to the old and welcome the new. Shang Zhitao brought the bag Luan Nian had given her, transporting it in Lu Mi’s car.

Lumi never knew Shang Zhitao had so many luxury items—fourteen brand new bags: "You're actually loaded! Shang Zhitao, you never told me you were that rich!"

Shang Zhitao smiled: "It's a long story. Let's not talk about it."

For the first time, Shang Zhitao unwrapped the gifts Luan Nian had given her—so many bags. Luan Nian had excellent taste; he hadn't bought a single mainstream design. Every bag he picked for her was beautiful.

"Holy shit!" Lumi stood beside her and asked, "How much are you planning to sell them for?"

"I don't know. You help me set the prices."

"Ninety-seven percent of the retail price should sell."

"Then ninety-seven percent it is. Help me put price tags on them."

Lumi was particularly knowledgeable about bags. She knew all the prices and started writing quickly. Shang Zhitao stopped her hand: "Wait."

"What?"

"Which one do you like? I'll give it to you."

"It's too expensive."

"Fifty percent off. You see, I have money."

Lumi laughed and pointed to the most expensive one: "This one. Even though I own several properties, I couldn't bring myself to buy it."

"How much?"

"Almost two hundred thousand."

Shang Zhitao nodded. Luan Nian really didn't hold back on spending. Neither did she: "I'll sell it to you for fifty percent off."

"No way. No matter how close we are as sisters, I can't take advantage of you for a hundred thousand yuan. If you sell it to me for fifty percent off, I'll give you two of my old bags in return. I don't want to carry them anymore anyway."

Shang Zhitao was amused by Lijuan: "Alright."

She also sold one at fifty percent off to Tracy. Tracy refused at first, but Shang Zhitao insisted on the sale. She told Tracy: "Tracy, I really love you. It's just a bag—I even wanted to give it to you."

"Don't." Tracy hugged her: "Flora, no matter which company you go to, no matter where you are, I hope you understand that you are exceptionally talented, the most outstanding employee I've ever seen. Don't believe anyone who tries to belittle you. Just believe in yourself."

"Okay." Shang Zhitao's eyes reddened: "Thank you."

Everyone in the company was shocked. They never expected Shang Zhitao, who usually didn't own a single luxury item, to have so many high-end bags. They whispered about her background. Shang Zhitao remained unfazed. When she left work, she carried her bag and walked away without even saying goodbye to anyone.

On the day she left Beijing, it snowed again. Luke had already been driven back to Ice City by a friend the day before.

She dragged her suitcase to the door and took one last look at the apartment she had lived in for six years. It held her most beautiful and most painful memories. Tears fell without warning. Tomorrow, Sun Yu would also move out, marking the end of their shared story here.

"Let's go," Sun Yu said to Shang Zhitao.

The car drove all the way to the train station, just like when they first arrived. That day, it was raining. Sun Yu, who had just lost her job, greeted the newly arrived Shang Zhitao in Beijing with a smile and took her to a market in a raincoat.

As they passed that market, Shang Zhitao kept looking back. It was as if she could see four people in their twenties walking out, laughing and carrying meat and vegetables—the four of them, so very young.

At the train station, she bid farewell to Sun Yu and Lumi, saying: "I will change my phone number and start a new life. The day I call you will be the first day of my true rebirth. Thank you."

The three girls held each other tight, all holding back their tears.

Lumi said, "I'm not gonna cry! How embarrassing!"

But as the train slowly pulled away from the platform, she suddenly burst into sobs.

Watching Lumi suddenly break down in tears outside the window, Shang Zhitao's own tears overflowed. The train rumbled heavily over the tracks, and her heart felt as if it had been crushed.

Finally, she took out her phone and, with tears streaming down her face, sent a message to Luan Nian: "Thank you for six years of companionship. I wish you all the best."

Then she deleted all of Luan Nian's contact information.

During those years, the trend of "escaping from Beijing, Shanghai, and Guangzhou" suddenly went viral online. As her train left Beijing, Shang Zhitao thought: This isn't an escape—it's a grand retreat.

Because I want to embrace another possibility.

Goodbye, Beijing.