Xuanji Optical World, Global Headquarters Building.

In the President's Office.

Tang Song didn't know how long he had been looking.

When he finally regained his senses, the dark blue suitcase open on the desk was already empty.

Yet his heart felt as if it had been filled with something.

Filled to the point of aching slightly, aching until the corners of his eyes felt a little warm.

Each of Su Yu's sticky notes wasn't just recording years and cities; it was recreating for him a span of time he had never been present for.

Her confusion, her waiting, her habit of looking again and again at the empty seat amidst the sea of thousands of people...

It was a sacrifice and a journey spanning years, given without reservation.

Few people could remain unmoved in the face of such sincerity of heart.

He reached out and touched a small stone, his fingertips tracing its rough edges, feeling the wind from a certain autumn seaside;

He picked up a seashell, its patterns seeming still soaked with the coolness of the tidewater.

He looked at each item, touched each one, just like that.

Those concerts he had missed.

Those cities she had walked through alone.

Those longings he had never seen.

All converged before his eyes at this moment.

After a long time, he finally gathered those things back together and put them away.

When the clasp closed, it made a faint "click" sound.

He picked up the suitcase, carrying its heavy weight, walked into the cloakroom of the lounge, and placed it neatly in the innermost layer of the cabinet.

Turning around, he returned to the spacious desk.

His gaze fell once more on the black and gold desktop.

Ouyang Xianyue's jade pendant, Secretary Jin's ginkgo leaf bookmark.

These two items also carried special significance.

One was something the noble lady had kept close to her since childhood; gifting it this time carried the weight of an ancient love token.

And Secretary Jin's bookmark originated from their first business trip together.

It was autumn of 2016.

Having just handled a key investment, Tang Song, on a sudden whim, took Secretary Jin for a walk along a forest path in the Beijing suburbs.

An ancient ginkgo tree was in full golden glory, its fallen leaves carpeting the ground, rustling underfoot.

He bent down, picked up two leaves with the most perfect shapes, turned and handed them to her,

saying he had never given her a gift before, so this would be it.

Secretary Jin took them, looked down at them, and said nothing,

but after returning that day, she personally turned those two leaves into bookmarks. One was inscribed with "Smile," the other with "Tang Song."

The one inscribed with "Tang Song" was given to him as a gift on his birthday the following year.

And the one inscribed with "Smile," she kept for herself.

Seven years.

From 2016 to 2024.

From the ginkgo forest in the Beijing suburbs to the skyscrapers of Shen City.

Now, this bookmark had traversed seven years of time and lay quietly before him.

Tang Song gently closed his fingers, holding the bookmark in his palm.

As if through it, he could see Secretary Jin from back then, silently accepting the leaf in the forest.

A moment later, he bent down and opened the safe beneath the desk.

He placed these two gifts inside.

Staring at them for a few seconds, he closed the door and turned the combination lock.

A soft "click" sounded.

He stood up, raised his wrist, and checked the time.

Unknowingly, it was almost ten o'clock.

The night over Shencheng Bay outside the window was deep, the distant lights connecting into a flowing river of light.

Tang Song gave the office one final sweep with his eyes,

turned, and pushed the door open to leave.

The corridor was very quiet.

The charcoal gray carpet completely swallowed his footsteps, only the light strips overhead casting a soft, warm glow.

He walked through the corridor to the elevator lobby.

Just as he turned the corner, his steps paused slightly.

In front of the elevator door, a figure stood ramrod straight.

Still that same impeccable attire.

A smart suit dress, exquisite makeup, hair neatly tied up. Holding a briefcase, standing tall and straight, with the very professional demeanor of an executive assistant.

It must be said, Luna was truly outstanding in this regard.

"President Tang, you're out!" Lin Muxue quickly took two steps forward, her voice filled with pleasant surprise.

"How long have you been waiting?" Tang Song looked at her. "Why didn't you come in to find me?"

"Not long." Lin Muxue shook her head, explaining, "I was sitting in the secretariat earlier, afraid of disturbing you. I just came over here, thinking you should be finishing up soon..."

Seeing the affection and concern in her eyes,

Tang Song suddenly smiled, stepped forward, wrapped one arm around her waist, gently lifted her chin with his other hand, lowered his head, and kissed her lips.

Gentle, filled with affection.

Lin Muxue let out a soft hum, her entire body going limp.

She closed her eyes, her hands climbing up his shoulders, completely surrendering to the kiss.

In the empty elevator lobby, only their faint breaths and intertwined scents remained.

The warm yellow light from the overhead strips cast their elongated, overlapping shadows on the floor.

A long time later.

They slowly parted.

Lin Muxue opened her eyes, a hazy, watery glint still lingering in them.

"Shall we go?" Tang Song asked with a smile, tilting his head.

Lin Muxue stood still, bit her lip, and suddenly spoke: "President Tang..."

"Hmm?"

"I have a gift for you too."

Tang Song was slightly taken aback, then said with delight, "What gift?"

Lin Muxue opened the briefcase in her hand and took out two exquisite small gift boxes.

Dark blue velvet texture, not large, but exuding thoughtfulness.

"Qianqian and I had these custom-made together." She handed the boxes over. "One for each of us."

Tang Song took them and opened them one by one.

On the velvet cushion lay two cufflinks.

Platinum casings, polished to a warm, smooth luster. Inside were bases as deep as the night sky, dotted with fine, scattered stars, each one sparkling brilliantly.

Under the light, that deep blue shimmered with a subtle glow, as if a small piece of the night sky had truly been embedded within.

Extremely gorgeous.

Tang Song picked up one, gently turning it.

He discovered that on the back, besides the three letters "LMX," there was also a string of precise latitude and longitude coordinates.

Lin Muxue explained softly, "What's written on it... are the latitude and longitude coordinates of the place where we first met."

"Oh?" Tang Song was surprised. "Yunxi Building?"

"It's Shengwei Pavilion." Lin Muxue's face reddened slightly. "Although at that time... I hadn't noticed you yet, but..."

She didn't finish.

But Tang Song naturally understood.

Looking at the fake socialite, Tang Song lowered his head again and kissed her on the cheek.

"Thank you, Luna. I really like this gift; I'll wear them often from now on."

Lin Muxue pursed her lips, a sweet smile spreading in her eyes.

"As long as President Tang likes them!"

Tang Song picked up the other cufflink, engraved with "ZYQ" and another string of coordinates.

This should be the area where Zhao Yaqian worked at "Yizi Beauty," also the place where his story with that beautician began.

He carefully put the two cufflinks away and placed them in his pocket.

"Let's go."

"Mhm!"

Side by side, they walked towards the elevator.

The elevator doors slowly closed, the numbers descending.

...

Over twenty minutes later.

Shencheng Bay Tower 5, the Large Flat.

"Dili-li——"

The soft sound of the fingerprint lock recognizing success was particularly clear in the quiet foyer.

The door was pulled open, and Tang Song walked in.

Only a motion-activated night light was left on in the foyer, its dim, soft yellow light casting a small patch of warmth on the beige wall.

He bent down to change out of his leather shoes, stepping barefoot onto the warm solid wood floor without making a sound.

The living room was dark.

The night view of Shencheng Bay outside the floor-to-ceiling windows lay quietly before him like a giant scroll painting.

Tang Song didn't linger, heading straight for the master bedroom.

The door was slightly ajar, leaving a thin crack.

He gently pushed it open.

The room was even darker, only a sliver of city light leaking through the curtain gap, casting a few slender beams of light on the floor.

On the large bed, Liu Qingning lay on her side, already asleep.

Her jet-black long hair was scattered on the pillow, like a soft piece of silk.

One hand rested gently by her cheek, fingers slightly curled, sleeping very peacefully.

The warm light from the night light outside the door seeped in, softly outlining her quiet, lovely sleeping face.

Tang Song stood at the doorway, watching for quite a while.

Then he gently closed the door.

Turning around, he headed for the guest bathroom.

After washing up and changing into comfortable loungewear, he went straight to the study.

This was where Liu Qingning usually worked.

Two monitors sat on the desk, next to a pot of pothos.

The bookshelves were crammed with professional books, along with some leisure reading on literature and history.

A comfortable armchair was placed by the window, a beige woolen blanket draped over its armrest.

Tang Song sat down behind the desk.

Picked up his phone.

The moment the screen lit up, his eyebrows raised slightly.

A dense flood of unread messages surged forth.

The red dot on the WeChat icon had already turned into "...".

He tapped it, scanning from top to bottom.

Among them were quite a few university classmates, colleagues from Jinxiu Commerce, employees of Songmei Apparel,

and some, business contacts added during events.

Some sent congratulations, some tentatively suggested meeting for a meal, some directly asked, "President Tang, when are you free? I'd like to pay a visit."

Scrolling further down were private messages from the wings.

The situation was still developing.

He had stepped into the spotlight, accepted media coverage; those labels—"genius," "26-year-old," "Unicorn CEO"—were spreading outward at a geometric rate.

Today it was still just the tech and finance circles; tomorrow, the day after, it might become even broader.

He replied to some of the important messages.

Put down his phone.

Picked up the glass of lemon water on the desk and took a sip.

Slightly cool, with a faint sour tang.

He leaned back in the chair, closing his eyes in contemplation.

Next, he was going to formally enter [Xuanji Optical World].

The launch and market release of the first-generation product would soon be on the agenda. That was the real hard battle—not today's ceremonial debut, but putting the product before consumers, facing the test of the market.

And then there was Songmei Apparel.

Offline stores were already in preparation, Bei Yuwei's endorsement had been officially announced. After spring arrived, there would be a major push.

Two matters, two lines, both needed close attention.

As he thought, somehow, those faces—some bright and radiant, some cool and aloof, some stunningly beautiful—quietly surfaced in his mind again.

He opened his eyes again, his gaze sweeping over another classically styled rosewood desk.

Quietly placed there were ink, brush, paper, and inkstone.

It seemed Su Yu had prepared them before.

Tang Song suddenly felt inspired and got up to walk over.

Standing before the spacious writing table, he poured a little water into the ancient Duan inkstone, picked up a stick of Hui ink, and began grinding it unhurriedly.

The scent of ink, along with his steady movements, gradually diffused in the quiet air, carrying the aged fragrance of pine soot, calming the mind.

Then, he spread out a piece of processed xuan paper, selected a comfortable small regular script brush, and dipped it fully in the thick ink.

The tip of the brush hovered for a moment before his wrist applied steady force, and as it descended, it formed Su Shi's poem "Gazing at Jiangnan · Written on the Chaoran Terrace":

"Spring is not yet old, the breeze fine, willows slanting.

Try climbing the Chaoran Terrace to gaze afar: half a moat of spring water, a city of flowers. Misty rain darkens a thousand homes.

After the Cold Food Festival, sober from wine, yet sighing.

Don't face old friends thinking of the old country; instead, try new tea with new fire. Poetry and wine seize the years of youth."

The final stroke fell.

He stared at the five characters "seize the years of youth" and suddenly felt a little dazed.

Unknowingly, he was already twenty-six years old.

He spaced out for a while.

"Buzz——"

His phone screen lit up at the other end of the desk, showing an incoming call from [Liu Qingning].

The ringtone had just sounded once before it was hung up on the other end.

Bai Yueguang was awake, calling him over in this way.

Tang Song glanced at the time.

Only 5 minutes until midnight.

He put down the brush, picked up his phone, and walked out of the study.

Entered the master bedroom.

Pushed open the master bedroom door.

Tang Song's footsteps halted abruptly, his gaze instantly nailed in place.

Liu Qingning wasn't lying in bed. Instead, she had changed into an extremely loose white shirt and was standing charmingly in the center of the bedroom.

Her long hair was neatly tied back, and she even wore light makeup.

The collar of the shirt was tightly closed, but the hem only barely covered the tops of her thighs. At the boundary between black and white, a certain dangerous suggestion vaguely showed through.

Childlike face, incredibly cute, boyfriend shirt, nothing underneath.

These words combined were practically the ultimate kill move against men.

Tang Song's Adam's apple bobbed with difficulty, his breathing instantly turning scorching.

His deep gaze rested on her without any concealment, as if trying to see through that thin shirt.

Noticing his intensely aggressive gaze,

Liu Qingning tilted her head slightly, the corner of her mouth curving into a sly smile:

"Why are you staring at me like that?"

"To do you."

"Go to hell, you jerk!" Liu Qingning instantly broke character, two blushes flying onto her cheeks as she raised her hand, pretending to hit him.

"Wasn't it you who dressed like this to tempt me?"

"I..." Liu Qingning blushed. "Last night, you hurt me. I was busy all afternoon today, and now it really hurts."

Tang Song looked at her pitiful appearance, a flicker of heartache and regret flashing in his eyes. He gently patted her back: "Alright, it's my fault. I'll let you off tonight."

The two looked at each other, falling into a brief silence.

Liu Qingning suddenly lifted her foot and lightly kicked his calf.

"What's wrong?" Tang Song asked, puzzled, looking down.

"Why are you being so well-behaved today?"

Tang Song laughed: "What, are you hoping I won't behave?"

He took a step forward, his imposing body drawing close, looking down at Bai Yueguang's pure, lovely face and that explosive figure hidden beneath the white shirt, completely unconcealed.

"I didn't say that." Liu Qingning turned her face away.

After a moment of silence,

she suddenly turned her head back, her voice becoming very soft, very gentle: "Do you remember your birthday last year?"

"Of course I remember," Tang Song said. "It was a Friday, a week before Spring Festival, so you didn't come to see me."

"That was the busiest, most frantic time when I was starting my business. I had just taken on a big project, the team was pulling all-nighters every day, I really couldn't get away." Liu Qingning's tone carried a hint of guilt and regret.

"I know, so at the time, I was just worried about you. Among my birthday wishes, there was one hoping you'd stay healthy and your work would go smoothly."

"Really?"

"Of course it's true."

Liu Qingning looked at him, her large eyes suddenly growing moist.

"Why are you crying?"

"I'm not crying."

"Liar."

Liu Qingning lightly kicked him again, then suddenly said: "Little Song, there's something else I've never told you."

"Oh? What is it?" Tang Song was somewhat curious.

Liu Qingning said playfully: "Actually... your first kiss was taken by me a long, long time ago. So in this regard, I'm absolutely ahead."

"Ah? When..." Tang Song asked, then realized, "After the college entrance exams, at the KTV?"

"Mhm, seems you still have some impression." Liu Qingning smiled, her eyes curving like crescents.

Looking at the Bai Yueguang before him, an intense surge of emotion welled up from deep within Tang Song's heart.

He remembered.

After the college entrance exam results came out, because of the huge gap in their scores, thinking about being separated from her, facing an unknown relationship and future, he felt extremely miserable.

That night, he drank a lot with a few high school classmates, getting completely drunk.

Borrowing the courage from alcohol, he dialed Liu Qingning's number.

Later, she came running to find him.

In his muddled, drunken state, he vaguely remembered singing several songs for her.

Then he seemed to have said a lot of things, and then she kissed him.

But because he was too drunk, he could never tell whether it was a dream or reality.

The next morning, he had tentatively asked her about it, but she just asked him back if he'd had some messy dream.

"Back then, I was the one who kissed you."

Liu Qingning looked at him, her eyes becoming incredibly clear and firm, as if traversing seven years of time.

She reached out both hands and wrapped them around his neck.

"Just like this. Two minutes, don't move."

After saying this, she stood on her tiptoes, closed her eyes, and forcefully sealed his lips.

No hesitation, no technique.

Only the purest contact and the most sincere emotion.

Their lips pressed tightly together, like two statues, motionless.

Feeling each other's temperature, listening to each other's breathing and heartbeat.

"Tick—"

"Tick——"

Two minutes later.

Liu Qingning slowly released him, their lips parting with a faint, almost imperceptible connection.

"Happy birthday, Little Song."

Tang Song turned his head.

On the wall clock, the hour and minute hands perfectly overlapped, just passing midnight.

January 13th had arrived.

"Thank you, Qing Ning."

Tang Song's phone in his pocket began to vibrate; clearly, birthday wishes from the wings were coming in one by one.

The two looked at each other quietly for a moment.

The temperature in the air seemed to rise a few more degrees.

Tang Song suddenly extended a hand. "So, where's my birthday gift?"

Liu Qingning's cheeks flushed red again.

She lowered her head slightly, saying shyly in a small voice: "Silly, isn't the gift right in front of you? If you want it... unwrap it yourself and see."

Tang Song was stunned.

His gaze fell on that white shirt.

In an instant, he understood.

He raised his hand, his fingertips touching the first button.

"Snap."

The button came undone from the buttonhole, the shirt front parting slightly.

"Snap."

The second one.

The third one.

Breath and light fell simultaneously.

Tang Song's gaze froze, his throat moving.

On her snow-white skin, an extremely delicate, exquisite golden chest chain was wrapped.

The chain was very thin, yet eye-catching enough.

Liu Qingning slowly sat down, lifted her head, the light in her eyes shattered into stars as she looked at him just like that.

Outside the window, the night breeze brushed past, the heavy curtains swaying slightly.

The halo from the desk lamp gently wavered, as if something was dissolving in the air.

Tang Song lowered his head, his gaze burning as he looked at Bai Yueguang.

The high ponytail hung down by her shoulder.

Her large, watery eyes looked up at him, eyelashes fluttering.

Exquisitely beautiful.

The fine golden chain flashed under the light, once, then again.

Her eyes blinked, once, then again.

The visual and psychological impact caused Tang Song's soul to sink, then sink further.

Not knowing where it would fall to.