After hanging up the phone, Li Ran came back in dejectedly, and Qi Zhi watched his face with amusement.
High school students had long honed their eating speed, and in just a few minutes, the seats next to them had been taken by new faces.
Li Ran himself hadn’t even realized that his lips were not only slightly pursed but his lower lip was also protruding a bit, with his Cupid’s bow puffed out.
It wasn’t very obvious, but Qi Zhi could tell he was sulking.
“Your girlfriend mad at you?” Qi Zhi asked with a laugh. “She wouldn’t dump you over this, right?”
“It’s not my girlfriend…” Li Ran emphasized for the umpteenth time, muttering glumly under his breath.
But Qi Zhi wanted to know who it was, and Li Ran refused to say even on pain of death. He didn’t buy it at all—only a secret romance would be hidden away like this. Qi Zhi brushed it off. “Uh-huh.”
He asked, “What happened with her? She’s pissed at you? What did you send? You didn’t follow my advice, did you? No way, you dummy, you can’t even copy what I told you?”
“No…” Li Ran poked at his rice with his chopsticks, feeling even more depressed.
It was precisely because he’d learned too well that Chi Mo was angry. This guy… why did he have to act like this? Did learning something require consulting him first?
And how did he know his desk mate was Qi Zhi? Li Ran frowned and racked his brain. Had he mentioned Qi Zhi’s name when he was with Chi Mo? No, he hadn’t. Li Ran had strong boundaries; if two friends didn’t know each other, he wouldn’t talk about one to the other.
He chewed his food slowly and finished his meal, but still couldn’t figure it out. In the end, he gave up and thought, whatever… These big shots could cover the sky with one hand anyway. Knowing a name was no big deal.
At six in the afternoon when school let out, Li Ran didn’t ride home. Instead, he headed toward the company again.
Before going, he messaged Chi Mo.
Li Ran: [Mr. Chi, I just got out of school and am heading to see you now.]
Chi Mo: [Come on over.]
When he arrived downstairs, Li Ran’s reaction wasn’t much different from last time, though this time he was a bit more familiar with the place.
He parked his mountain bike in the public area, locked it up. His movements were unhurried, even a bit sluggish.
“Li Ran!” someone called.
Li Ran looked over. “Mr. Shen.”
Shen Shu waved him over. “I’ll take you up. Hurry, don’t waste my time—I’m off the clock now!”
With that attitude of not wanting to spend even half a second longer at the company, Li Ran didn’t dare delay. He agreed immediately and ran over.
They passed through the glass revolving doors into the company lobby. Even though Li Ran had to walk quickly to keep up with the eager-to-clock-out Shen Shu, he casually glanced at the building’s layout and was still awestruck.
He didn’t know civil engineering, tech, or gaming, and he had no idea what Chi Mo’s company actually did.
But the entire design resembled a towering universe, making the space feel both grand and oppressively enclosed.
The interior walls were smooth as glass, seamless, silently playing videos. Not celebrities, movies, ads, endorsements, surveillance, or 2D games—but ordinary people from real life.
Millions of life threads unfolding simultaneously.
On every “glass” panel, a human figure moved. They went about their business, occasionally greeting someone when their eyes met, then diving back into the next round of activity.
Someone confessed successfully and jumped to hug their lover, the roses in their arms scattering petals in celebration; someone drowned their career failure in alcohol, drove out, and crashed—the car’s front crumpled, windshield shattering into a spiderweb that nearly killed him; someone was reborn in a hospital, their family kneeling in thanks to nurses, doctors, God, and Buddha; someone lost their family; someone found true love but as a same-sex couple, scorned by family and society, abandoned by all; someone divorced in a vicious battle; someone married in a grand ceremony, showered with blessings…
Though silent, the lives weren’t fragmented clips but complete, continuous flows.
All the heart-pounding moments continued to unfold slowly afterward…
No rewind, no fast-forward.
If these had sound, the whole world would be too noisy.
Just like the real world.
These were just performative fake people on video—Li Ran shouldn’t have been shocked. But as he and Shen Shu walked past without greeting any receptionists, heading straight to the president’s exclusive elevator, he spotted a video of a high schooler in a similar uniform following a man in a suit into an elevator. The similarity in behavior made Li Ran instinctively glance at Shen Shu, who was dressed in standard business attire. A bewildering, eerie feeling flooded him.
Li Ran broke out in a cold sweat.
In that instant, it felt like he’d become one of the people in the videos, stepping into a parallel world.
The elevator shot up quickly. Li Ran first felt a rush of weightlessness, then normalcy returned moments later.
Then he saw Shen Shu reaching out to him.
“What is it?” Li Ran asked.
Shen Shu said almost in unison, “Give me your bike key. You’ll go find Chi Mo yourself later. I’ll ride your bike back, and you go home in his car. I’ll park it at Chi Mo’s place, and you can ride it back when you get there.”
Last time, making Shen Shu ride Li Ran’s mountain bike had led to a three-street tirade of F-bombs.
He hadn’t expected Shen Shu to volunteer this time. Li Ran said “oh” and unzipped his backpack, fishing out the key and placing it in his palm.
It was a small silver key, half the size of a pinky fingertip pad, shiny and well-cared-for. Attached was a large keychain, about half an adult man’s palm, shaped like a green leaf. A fluffy, chubby hand puppet dangled from it, washed clean but with slightly matted fur.
It was clearly an old relic—the more it was washed, the uglier the fuzz got.
It didn’t match the dainty key at all.
Shen Shu said, “Whoa, your little toy is pretty cute. It even has eyes. Is that its face? Are those red stripes it blushing? How much did it cost? Where’d you get it? Do they still sell it?”
“Won’t keys get rusty and ugly after a while? How’s yours still like new? Chi Mo said you’ve been riding that mountain bike for years. Back then you were small and the bike was big—did it look funny? Why are you so quiet? Do you always talk with your eyes? Back in the day, if someone ignored me, I’d kill them in secret.”
“Of course, I wouldn’t do that to you. Besides, this is China—you guys love world peace. Oh, I love peace too. For real.”
“Hey, your school uniform looks pretty good. Can you buy it? How much for a set? I could get some for the brothers I have stashed in hotels. So youthful.”
“I can’t be stuck in a wheelchair forever, damn that Garcia…”
“Chi Mo has dirt on me, or I wouldn’t… Hey, you’re here. I’m out, bye!” The elevator doors opened. Li Ran, sensing Shen Shu was about to unleash a torrent of chatter, had already hugged his backpack and squeezed into the corner. Shen Shu’s tone shifted from slow to rapid-fire, but Li Ran just nodded along, pretending to listen.
Even if most of it made no sense.
Why were his brothers in a hotel? Who was Garcia?
Shen Shu’s words cut off as the elevator reached the top floor. He elegantly gestured for Li Ran to exit, then the doors closed, and he left on his own.
“Office is to the right. Go straight there,” he said last.
Since that first time a few days ago when Shen Shu’s machine-gun chatter and speed had stunned him, and Li Ran had sought refuge with Chi Mo, he recalled Chi Mo mentioning that Shen Shu couldn’t help talking a lot once he knew someone.
It was just his personality.
In the days that followed, whenever Li Ran saw Shen Shu, he’d chat like they were brothers, nonstop, without tiring.
So when Shen Shu suddenly went quiet one day, Li Ran thought he’d hurt his feelings by not responding enthusiastically enough and felt guilty. Chi Mo immediately saw through it and explained that it was also Shen Shu’s personality—he only had so many topics per person, and once he exhausted them, he stopped.
But right now, Li Ran didn’t know that.
He shouldered his backpack and went right.
Two frosted glass doors blocked the way, opaque from the outside. Li Ran worried about disturbing Chi Mo if he was busy and stood there agonizing over whether to knock for a good while.
Knock knock.
Li Ran rapped twice quickly.
“Who is it?” Normally, when subordinates knocked to deliver files, President Chi would let them in without looking up. Today, he sat steadily at his desk, putting on an act as he asked.
“Mr. Chi…” The top floor was just Chi Mo’s domain—vast and empty. Li Ran’s soft voice echoed like a shout. “It’s me.”
Chi Mo asked again, “Who are you?”
“…I’m Li Ran.”
“Mm, come in.”
Li Ran pushed the door open and entered.
Like a kid with terrible grades facing the parents, full of anxiety and unease.
Head bowed, eyes on the floor, standing ramrod straight.
Extremely obedient.
The walnut desk was huge, the office decor minimalist. Li Ran felt cold the moment he stepped in, sensing no human warmth.
Chi Mo sat behind the desk without rising.
Six-thirty, dusk falling, city lights twinkling, a stubborn streak of white lingering on the horizon. The floors below glittered with neon, but the brightly lit 32nd-floor penthouse stood out.
Li Ran stood near the center of the office, fully visible to Chi Mo, who appraised him from his seat like an object of study.
From Chi Mo’s view, Li Ran’s lashes were half-lowered, casting faint shadows below his straight nose. His hands fidgeted unconsciously with the zipper pull of his uniform in front, coffee-chestnut curls framing his forehead in gentle arcs. He was very fair, and under the lights, it was like he had a soft glow filter, dazzlingly pale.
“Li Ran,” Chi Mo said, standing.
The other’s lashes trembled slightly, obedient as if in training. He lifted his eyelids, revealing foggy violet eyes with a searching, pleading gaze that bewitched the heart.
“…Mr. Chi.” He watched Chi Mo walk out from behind the desk, approaching step by step. His fingers paled on the zipper, wanting to back away but staying put. In a small voice, “I… I messaged my desk mate today instead of you because… I was afraid you’d be busy, and it’d disturb your work. That’s why I…”
“Please don’t be mad at me.” Chi Mo was almost upon him, and Li Ran forced out the last words.
“Li Ran.”
“…Mm.”
Chi Mo stopped right in front of him, his imposing frame mere ten centimeters away. He looked down openly at Li Ran’s eyes, nose, and lips.
He desperately wanted to press down and bully him.
He said, “Five years ago—or maybe even longer—what do you remember about me?”
