LA ⋆ Chapter 19: After Work

The three of them sat on the sofa, eyeing each other warily.

Chen Siyu cleared his throat: “From what we know so far, Sheng Yao rejected romance in the past, prioritized work, and even confessed to a man for the sake of his career.”

At this, Shuitan covered her mouth and laughed. Cheng Ai glared at her fiercely.

Chen Siyu continued: “He has a younger brother—judging from the fact that he picks people up in the rain, their relationship should be decent. He agrees with Schopenhauer’s core philosophy, which means he’s actually convinced that life is suffering and prepared to spend it alone. He hasn’t shown much resistance to contact with men, but he only wants to maintain a work relationship with you. The question is how to develop a romantic connection with him and make him less averse to it.”

Shuitan hugged a pillow and sat cross-legged, leaning against Chen Siyu’s chest. She sighed: “Actually, on the surface, you can’t tell his inner world is like this. How could Mantou be so pessimistic!”

Chen Siyu: “Cognition usually comes from experience. It’s probably related to his upbringing. By the way, have you looked into his family?”

Cheng Ai recalled: “When he joined, I collected some basic information. His mother is listed as deceased, and his father is just a name.”

Cheng Ai suddenly made a sound of realization, understanding belatedly: “I just remembered—he doesn’t go home for the New Year.”

“Emotional deprivation,” Chen Siyu snapped his fingers. “So if you suddenly confess your feelings to him, he’ll reject you strongly.”

Shuitan looked at Chen Siyu: “So what do we do? I can help.”

Chen Siyu: “Boil him like a frog in slowly heating water—just let him get used to a happy environment.”

Cheng Ai: “So basically, don’t say anything, just be nice to him.”

“You could put it that way, but there’s a problem,” Chen Siyu raised a finger. “When he realizes he’s become dependent on something and can’t control himself, he might choose to cut ties.”

Shuitan looked at Cheng Ai: “Do you really have to pursue a romance this difficult?”

Cheng Ai: “Do I have a choice?”

Chen Siyu: “Anyway, you two work together, so you spend more time together than anyone else. You need to increase your concentration in his memory, you know what I mean?”

Cheng Ai gave Chen Siyu a blank look: “Listening to you speak is like listening to… well, you speaking.”

Shuitan: “Why don’t you come downstairs and smoke with us?”

Cheng Ai shook his head: “That’s not a good idea. That’s his private space.”

Cheng Ai went back and pondered many methods for increasing his presence, but they all felt strange. Everything he could think of was essentially a direct confession.

In the end, he decided to hold his ground and do nothing.

Cheng Ai had Assistant Liu run a background check on Sheng Yao.

When he got the file, he sat alone in the conference room for a long time. He, who almost never smoked, suddenly wanted a cigarette.

Sheng Yao’s resume was simple and sparse. Before university, he’d lived in a fifth-tier county town in the south, and his family address had changed several times—almost every year. Calculating backward, when his mother passed away, he was in his third year of high school. His father had also passed away—just a few months ago.

Outside the conference room was an ancient-style fish tank with circulating water that dripped steadily. Cheng Ai stood there for a moment, dropping a few fish pellets in. Two orange-red goldfish scrambled for the food, and the ripples they stirred sent the duckweed drifting.

On Friday, when it was time to leave work, Sheng Yao suddenly walked up to Cheng Ai and set down a kraft paper bag.

Cheng Ai’s heart leaped into his throat. Damn! He’s giving me a gift!? Oh God, are you finally listening?

Sheng Yao: “This is the scarf you gave me that day, President Cheng. I had it dry-cleaned. Thank you.”

Cheng Ai couldn’t help but twitch slightly: “Dry… dry-cleaned?”

Sheng Yao: “Yes, that’s right.”

Cheng Ai leaned against the desk, propping his forehead on his hand, and said softly: “That was thoughtful.”

Sheng Yao: “Um… then I’ll head out. See you later, President Cheng.”

“Hey! Wait!” Cheng Ai suddenly stood up. “Come… come to my place for dinner.”

Sheng Yao turned his back to Cheng Ai, his feet freezing in place.

Cheng Ai continued calling out: “I mentioned it last week. Is that okay?”

Sheng Yao thought for the ten-thousandth time that he should not want to go.

When he came to his senses, he was already sitting in the passenger seat of Cheng Ai’s car.

Sheng Yao turned blankly toward Cheng Ai, who was driving. There seemed to be a barely perceptible curve to the corner of his mouth.

Cheng Ai glanced back at him twice, then refocused on the road ahead. “What’s wrong?”

Sheng Yao suddenly grew bold and stared directly at Cheng Ai without hesitation: “Why would President Cheng want to have dinner with me?”

“Everyone seems to have their own lives,” Cheng Ai said evenly. “I’m more familiar with you at work, and it’s easier to be dining buddies outside of work, isn’t it?”

It’s easier with you. Who wants to see their boss after work.

Actually… it’s not so bad. Sheng Yao had never worked under other leaders. Though he’d always thought of Cheng Ai as his boss, their interactions really didn’t carry that heavy pressure.

Sheng Yao asked: “Don’t I have my own life?”

Cheng Ai countered: “So what do you do during your off-work hours?”

This time Sheng Yao was silent for a long while and didn’t answer in the end.

He really didn’t have his own life. Sleep. When there was no work, he was sleeping.

Sheng Yao asked: “What do you do during your off-work hours, President Cheng?”

“Me?” Cheng Ai thought for a moment, then answered quickly. “Work out, watch movies, travel, cook, take walks, find some local lectures, participate in all sorts of weird activities. Lately I’ve been third-wheeling at Chen Siyu’s place.”

Sheng Yao leaned against the window, dark blue and deep red light flickering rapidly across his face. He watched the landscape flowing past outside and asked: “Don’t you want to be in a relationship, President Cheng?”

This time it was Cheng Ai’s turn to not respond for a long time.

“Sorry, I overstepped.”

“It’s fine. After work, we’re just friends,” Cheng Ai’s voice dropped slightly. “I like someone, but he doesn’t seem ready to start a relationship.”

“Oh, I see.”

Sheng Yao blinked, remembering last Saturday morning, Cheng Ai’s bed, the soft fuzzy sensation at his ear—that kiss that hadn’t been left behind.

Cheng Ai: “Sheng Yao, what about you? Why don’t you pursue a relationship?”

Sheng Yao gave a low laugh: “I’d like to, but with my circumstances, I don’t want to hold anyone back.”

“You don’t have to answer, but you don’t need to brush me off either, Sheng Yao. I’m saying—we can be friends too.”

Cheng Ai watched the road, Sheng Yao watched the window outside. Though they weren’t looking at each other, it was as if they could see each other’s eyes in the void.

Sheng Yao’s throat moved: “Sorry.”