On the long European-style dining table are delicious and expensive dishes, and even the plates are shaped with gold-embossed edges.
In the band playing, there are not only familiar oriental faces but also distinct European features.
The staff are dressed in uniform silk suits, the girls are slim, and the boys are handsome, earning more commissions and tips than most senior white-collar workers.
According to marketing, it takes 90 minutes for the restaurant to complete one rotation.
Looking out through the bright windows.
You can see the bustling neon lights of the northern city at night, flowing along Chang'an Street, and the lights on the moat.
Sang Qiao looked at Fu Xingzhou sitting across from him.
The man he had only seen in magazines before was now sitting at the other end of the dining table.
He was dressed in a light-colored casual suit, with a less cold expression than in the photo, and not as aloof as when they first met.
Sang Qiao even remembered the first day that financial magazine was published.
Fu Xingzhou made the hot search on Weibo just from the photo on the cover.
The normally reticent magazine editor-in-chief made an exception and added at the end of the interview: North City's most anticipated golden marriage partner.
When Sang Qiao looked toward Fu Xingzhou.
Their eyes met.
Sang Qiao saw the splendid night of the whole city in his eyes.
And his own insignificance in the night.
Sang Qiao carefully replayed Fu Xingzhou's words in his mind.
Then he clenched his fists firmly behind him, straightened his back, appearing indestructible and unbeatable.
Sang Qiao said to Fu Xingzhou, "Please don't love me. Okay?"
Fu Xingzhou raised his eyebrows, looked at Sang Qiao, and shook his head, "Not okay, Qiao Qiao."
Sang Qiao said slowly, "I'm not good."
Fu Xingzhou whispered, "What's not good?"
Sang Qiao bit his lip.
Nothing is good.
His body is not good, his character is not good, and his heart is not good...
There is not a single thing about him that matches up to Fu Xingzhou’s goodness.
Sang Qiao only cried a few times when he was five or six years old.
He was too young at the time.
He didn't understand that crying couldn't solve the problem. He always had a thin, almost transparent fantasy of his parents in his memory.
As he grew older, he never cried again.
But now, he really wants to cry.
If only he were a little better.
There are no ugly scars all over, no easily sickened nerves...
As long as he gets better, even just a little bit more.
Sang Qiao clenched his teeth hard, and at the same time held back the surging tears.
He stubbornly said to Fu Xingzhou: "Let's just have sex, you don't have to love me, okay?"
But Fu Xingzhou still said, "No, Qiao Qiao."
Sang Qiao's fingernails embedded into the palm, causing a kind of almost indescribable dull pain, as if seeing blood.
The band's performance reached its climax, the music was exciting and beautiful, as if playing a ridiculous fantasy.
Sang Qiao's voice even carried a hint of pleading.
He very carefully said to Fu Xingzhou, "Let's just have sex, you can hit me and curse me in bed, whatever you want, just don't love me, can you?"
The atmosphere was eerily silent for a moment.
Fu Xingzhou seemed to have not heard Sang Qiao's words clearly, his expression solidified, and after a while he said, "What did you say?"
Sang Qiao rarely saw Fu Xingzhou with such an expression, paused for a few seconds, and his voice became softer: "Let's just have sex, you can hit me and curse me..."
"I want a lover."
Finally, a look of anger appeared on Fu Xingzhou's face.
He stood up abruptly, the chair next to him slid back, making a grating noise on the tempered glass floor.
Fu Xingzhou's face changed a few times, as if trying very hard to restrain himself from getting angry at Sang Qiao.
In the end.
He took a deep breath.
Lowered his head.
Looked at Sang Qiao.
Then said, "Sang Qiao, you underestimate yourself and me too much."
Fu Xingzhou casually grabbed his coat from the chair behind him and left the table.
Walking past the long European-style dining table.
Pausing for a moment when passing by Sang Qiao, he slowed down his tone as if he was trying very hard, "I won't be back at Yongshui No. 1 recently. You rest early alone, tomorrow morning the driver will take you back to the program group."
The person at the other end of the table also left without looking back.
The noisy band finally stopped playing at some point.
The restaurant, which had been fully booked, was as silent as a vacuum.
Sang Qiao didn't know how long he had been sitting there.
It wasn't until the etiquette lady in a silk qipao walked to his side, asking in an official and warm voice if he needed a refill of his drink.
Sang Qiao shook his head, stood up from the dining table, and told the etiquette lady that he didn't need it, he wanted to go home.
He took a few steps towards the front door, then hurriedly turned back, standing next to the dining table again.
The bouquet of enchanting blue and fiery red roses was still there.
Probably because it had been carefully protected all the way.
All the flowers still looked tender and delicate.
Sang Qiao looked at the bouquet for a long time, then carefully and apologetically said to the etiquette lady beside him, "Excuse me... can you help me send this bouquet to my home? I can pay for all the shipping, double, triple, it doesn't matter."
The etiquette lady politely agreed to Sang Qiao's request and assured him that this was the restaurant's responsibility.
Sang Qiao finally nodded in relief, and went down in the revolving glass elevator of the restaurant.
It was already late at night.
In the northern city where autumn meets winter, one could occasionally come across a few freshly fallen leaves, rootless and stepped on with a kind of cracking sound.
There were not many pedestrians on the street.
Sang Qiao easily hailed a taxi, told the driver the location of his old house, then thought for a moment and said to the driver, "Sir, drive slowly, go along the moat and come back, okay?"
The taxi driver didn't seem in a hurry to go home, and while turning the direction, chatted with Sang Qiao, "What's wrong? Did you have a fight with your partner? Young couples always have some bumps, just work it out!"
Sang Qiao didn't answer immediately.
The car drove all the way to the side of the moat, along the dazzling lights.
Sang Qiao leaned on the car window for a long time, and finally said, "It's always different."
The driver lit a cigarette, and the smoke wafted out of the window, "What did you say, young man?"
But Sang Qiao didn't speak again.
The car finally stopped at the entrance of the shabby old residential area.
Sang Qiao paid the fare, and made his way through the bumpy paths inside the community, climbing to the top floor of the dimly lit staircase, sometimes bright and sometimes dark.
Open the door.
Inside, there was a long, unoccupied space with a dusty smell.
Sang Qiao pulled on the light bulb hanging in the room.
The dim yellow light instantly enveloped the small square bedroom.
Sang Qiao neatly changed into his slippers and meticulously locked the door.
Walked to the table.
Poured out the bottled water, not sure how long it had been there.
Took the medicine.
Curled up under the covers.
However, the long-term drug resistance seemed to finally show today.
Sang Qiao tossed and turned, but still couldn't fall asleep.
Watching as the outside gradually began to light up.
Sang Qiao got up like a corpse, reached for his phone, checked the time.
Just about to put the phone back.
Accidentally touched the recent contacts list and called the second-listed Xurank.
Sang Qiao hesitated for a moment, just about to hang up.
But on the other end of the phone, Xurank seemed to also be awake and answered the call after the first ring: "Sang Qiao?"
Sang Qiao softly murmured in agreement.
Xurank's voice hesitated for a second: "Sang Qiao, are you okay?"
Sang Qiao nodded slowly and said, "I'm fine. Ran, I seem to have seen my sunshine."
Xurank didn't understand what Sang Qiao meant for a moment, but didn't dare to ask explicitly at this time, and could only vaguely respond, "Is that so, that's good, isn't it?"
Sang Qiao laughed softly, "Yes... but how can someone like me deserve to have sunshine?"
This time, Xurank finally heard the hoarseness in Sang Qiao's voice.
He was taken aback: "Sang Qiao, are you crying?"