Chapter 23 Clinging Desire

Chapter 23: Craving

"I've got a bunch of properties, and there's one close by. Go stay there." Xie Chong said it as casually as if he were offering a piece of candy.

Mou Wen didn't want the candy Xie Chong was handing out. She felt that if she accepted it, her feelings for him would feel cheap, and she'd look like a flower soaked in a downpour—pretty, but hunched over.

She couldn't stoop.

She was scared it'd wreck her back. When she got old, she'd be shuffling around bent at a 60-degree angle. Yeah, she remembered that old lady back in the herding area walking just like that.

"Thanks, but no thanks." Mou Wen said, "I'm not going. I gotta find my own place, so my life in Beijing feels complete."

"And then bump into another douchebag like that?"

"Maybe I'll meet a future tech billionaire." Mou Wen said with a smile, "Like Chu Ling's guy, Mr. A."

"Mr. A?"

"Yeah, Chu Ling's boyfriend, Mr. A. He's a big deal."

All day, Xie Chong kept hearing Mou Wen go on about her roommate Chu Ling and her boyfriend. By now, he had a rough idea: Chu Ling was a channel editor team lead at a top internet company, dreaming of launching a cultural show that'd make waves; her boyfriend Mr. A was an engineer at the same company, but he'd gotten ahead by diving into big data models early, grabbed the edge, and was up for a promotion. What these three had in common was they'd all come from nowhere towns, fought off a sea of competitors to get into top schools, and turned their lives around.

Wait, no—Chu Ling and Mr. A were about to change their fates. Mou Wen wasn't there yet. Those were Mou Wen's own words.

Over dinner, Mou Wen said, "Let's drop this! Xie Chong, let's just eat! Or tell me about your work—have you dealt with that shady Chen since? Did his stuff ship?"

"They shipped." Xie Chong said, "Might as well have tossed 'em in the Huangpu River." He was kidding. Shady Chen was no joke—his US distribution network was solid. The goods went out late but still moved. This round was only a small win for Xie Chong.

"Can I ask? This time, you..."

"Two hundred forty-seven thousand." Xie Chong said, "That what you wanted to ask? I made two hundred forty-seven thousand."

"Wow. That's great—it'd take me fifteen years to make two hundred forty-seven thousand!" Mou Wen said, "I'm pretty badass too."

Xie Chong said, "Yeah, you are. Others need thirty years; you'll do it in fifteen less."

"Now you actually know what regular folks make." Mou Wen said, "When you first showed up at the clinic, you looked totally clueless."

Xie Chong took that in and ate his meal in earnest. Mou Wen's cooking was amazing, and Xie Chong wondered how she got so good at it. This time she answered him seriously: "Because eating out is too pricey. If I taste something good at a restaurant and figure out how to make it at home, I save a ton. Plus, cooking's fun!"

"So in the future..." His phone rang. He grabbed it and stepped into the next room. Mou Wen overheard him say:

"I've got a friend over. You don't know her."

"Don't come. No need for you to meet her."

"Don't be ridiculous."

"..."

Mou Wen caught bits and pieces and thought how great it must be to be Xie Chong's friend—he was so patiently explaining that he had nothing to do with her.

"What wedding? Whose wedding?" Xie Chong suddenly raised his voice, then there was a dead silence. When he came back, Mou Wen could see his face had gone dark. Like a clear river turned muddy by an oncoming storm.

Mou Wen asked if something was wrong, if she could help. He said it was nothing, then went quiet.

Mou Wen wanted to comfort him but didn't know what to say. So she asked, "You were saying 'so in the future'... what about the future?"

"Sorry, I forgot." Xie Chong replied. The door to Xie Chong had slammed shut. More like, he'd locked himself in, not letting anyone in or out.

When Mou Wen left, Xie Chong walked her down. She picked up a pretty leaf and handed it to him.

Xie Chong glanced at it and stuffed it in his pocket.

He flagged down a cab for her, and she got in. Worried about Xie Chong, she rolled down the window and poked her head out to look back at him. The driver snapped at her: "Get your head back in! What's wrong with you!"

The driver was right to yell at her. Mou Wen quickly pulled her head back, then turned to peek at him through the rear window. He was still standing there, but zoned out. Mou Wen had never seen Xie Chong like this—like he was miles away from everyone, about to vanish any second.

When Mou Wen got home, Chu Ling still wasn't back. She texted Mou Wen saying she was catching a late-night movie and would come home after, telling her not to worry.

Mou Wen texted back that she was home, would rest a bit then go for a run, and she'd be fine after.

For Mou Wen, running and reading were her go-to ways to unwind. If she was down, she'd go for a run, come back and read a bit, and everything would feel better.

Her phone rang while she was running. It was a number she didn't recognize. When she answered, she heard weird heavy breathing on the other end. Mou Wen's face went bright red. Just as she was about to cuss, the other person hung up.

Mou Wen didn't think twice and kept running.

When she got home, she thought of Xie Chong and, worried, called him. He picked up. She asked, "You okay? Feeling better?"

"I'm fine. I'm good." Xie Chong said, "Thank you."

"Then you..."

"I'm really fine." Xie Chong said, "Get some rest. Good night."

Xie Chong was always so polite. You could never find a single flaw in him. Even when he was in a bad mood, he still walked her out, flagged her a cab, still answered her call and said good night.

But she hated his politeness. It pushed him further away.

He was always drifting close then pulling away, leaving Mou Wen unable to read him or hold on.

So she texted him again: "If you're upset, you can talk to me."

Xie Chong didn't text back.

Mou Wen thought: He doesn't want to be friends again. He's the one in control—friends when he's happy, not when he's not.

The next day, Mou Wen went to see a client.

She'd been dealing with the client's rep, a woman. Mou Wen didn't know her exact title, but she seemed sharp and asked Mou Wen to call her Ms. Wang.

That day, Ms. Wang told Mou Wen the client himself would be there and she should talk to him directly about what she needed.

Just as Mou Wen got to the client's place, she got a call from a number she didn't know. The person on the other end asked, "Where's the deal?"

"What?" Mou Wen asked, "What deal?"

The other person was quiet for a second, then hung up.

Mou Wen still didn't think twice.

Wrong numbers happened a lot. She'd get one or two now and then—nothing big.

Ms. Wang asked Mou Wen if something was up and if she needed help.

Mou Wen shook her head and said it was a wrong number.

Ms. Wang said good, then started explaining the client's situation: The client's last name was Chu, first name Yuxi. She told Mou Wen to call him Mr. Chu. Mr. Chu was meticulous and serious, and she advised Mou Wen not to feed him any fluff. Ms. Wang added kindly.

Mou Wen went to see Mr. Chu.

Mr. Chu was around forty, a stern, unsmiling man, and he gave Mou Wen a slight nod when she arrived.

Mou Wen couldn't explain why, but she was a little afraid of Mr. Chu.

As designers, they met all kinds of people, but they never asked clients what they did for a living or where their money came from. In Beijing, rich people were everywhere, each with their own connections—digging into it was pointless. It all came down to timing, place, and the right connections.

Mr. Chu's place was a 600-square-meter standalone villa with a courtyard just as big. He wanted both the interior renovated and the yard landscaped. Mou Wen had never handled a project this big. Worried she might mess it up, she called her mentor Lin Weisen right away for guidance.

Lin Weisen was surprised and asked Mou Wen: "Did the person who referred you say anything about the client?" Mou Wen said no. "I only found out when I got here. All I was told before was that it was a villa with a yard, and the address was only given to me at the last minute."

"What about the budget? How much are they looking to spend?" Lin Weisen asked again.

Mou Wen then imitated Mr. Chu's tone: "No cap."

A renovation budget with no cap—even at Mou Wen's company, clients like that were rare.

"Okay, first make sure you communicate well with the client. Try to get a letter of intent signed first, and we'll figure out the rest together," Lin Weisen said.

"Okay."

Mou Wen hung up and went back to see Mr. Chu.

She saw him standing by an old, unused fish pond in the yard. She thought for a moment, then walked over and asked, "Do you want to keep fish?"

"Is it doable? A fish pond in the yard through a Beijing winter."

"It's definitely doable, but it won't be cheap," Mou Wen said. "The type of fish matters too. And it's not just Beijing—even back in my hometown of Yakeshi, outdoor fish ponds are totally doable now."

Ms. Wang, the client contact, hadn't revealed any details about Mr. Chu, but Mou Wen had once overheard her mention that Mr. Chu had come back from Hailar—whether for work, a trip, or visiting family, she had no idea.

Mou Wen decided to roll the dice.

She was betting Mr. Chu was from the same part of Inner Mongolia as her.

Mr. Chu looked at her when he heard that. "You're from Yakeshi?"

"Yes!" Mou Wen said happily. "You've heard of Yakeshi? Not many people have!"

Mr. Chu gave a faint smile but didn't answer. Instead, he asked about other things—where she went to college, how old she was, and what she thought of Beijing.

Mou Wen answered calmly, saying she'd gotten into Tianjin University for architecture with good scores, and after graduating, she came to this company as a designer to make more money. She said it was so hard to make it out of a small town, only to realize that getting into college was just the start of the struggle. Luckily, she'd done well, and all her clients had been happy with her work.

Mou Wen didn't have any impressive credentials to show Mr. Chu. With a budget like his, company policy required at least a senior designer to handle the job. The only reason it landed on her desk was that Mr. Chu kept such a low profile.

Mou Wen did the math: if this project from Mr. Chu actually landed in her lap, she'd get at least 250,000 yuan in commission.

At least 250,000, with no ceiling in sight.

Mou Wen needed that 250,000.

She wanted to buy her dad a new car, rent an apartment, get some new electronics, and save up some money to travel for inspiration. Every single plan she had involved money, and this 250,000 was like manna from heaven.

Mr. Chu barely said anything the whole time—he was a man of few words. When he talked to Mou Wen, he stood straight, looking forward, occasionally glancing at her—but his eyes only ever met hers, never wandering anywhere else.

Mou Wen felt Mr. Chu's heart was as deep as the ocean, and she had a gut feeling he was different from that jerk from before.

As she was leaving, Mr. Chu had Ms. Wang tell Mou Wen to go back and wait to hear from him. When Mou Wen got back to the office, Lin Weisen was still there.

He asked about Mr. Chu the moment he saw her, and Mou Wen told him everything. Lin Weisen said, "Look into the handover—this client is probably complicated, and it'd be a shame to lose him. In the end, you'll get a cut of the bonus."

"No," Mou Wen said firmly. "What's mine is mine. I can handle it."

"You sure about that?" Lin Weisen asked.

"I am."

"Then go for it." Lin Weisen didn't say anything else and left for the day.

Mou Wen let out a sigh of relief. Her phone rang again. The caller asked, "How much? For the night?"

"What do you mean?" Mou Wen said. "I've been getting calls like this all day."

"Aren't you the one who does that?"

"Doing what?"

"Quit playing innocent!" the caller said out of nowhere, then hung up.

Mou Wen now realized something was off. She called the number back and asked, "How did you get my number?"

"You posted it yourself. Honestly, you're pretty hot—how much?"

"Shut your damn mouth!"

Mou Wen hung up in anger.

She sat at her desk for a long time, trying to figure out why she was getting these weird calls. She went online to search and finally found her contact info on a website, posted in some super cryptic, coded way. The photo in the post was fake, and the whole thing made it look like she was advertising herself.

Advertising herself.

Mou Wen was terrified.

Not knowing what to do, she instinctively called Xie Chong. Pick up, pick up, she silently begged. But he didn't answer.

By then it was late at night, and her phone was blowing up.

For the first time in her life, Mou Wen watched calls flood in, one after another. It felt like starving ghosts with gaping mouths were trying to swallow her whole.

She had no idea what to do, so in the end she called the police.

Mou Wen remembered calling the police when she lived in the group dorm because of that mentally disturbed flasher—back then, she was reporting a real person. But now, the person she was reporting was invisible; she had no idea who was on the other end.

Mou Wen's body was exhausted, but her mind was on high alert, her eyes wide open, waiting for some kind of resolution.

Chu Ling stayed with her, waiting.

To comfort her, Chu Ling said, "Mou Wen, how about I do a special feature for you? On women's cybersecurity."

"What angle are you going to use?" Mou Wen asked.

Chu Ling thought for a moment. "Using the calls that can't get through as the angle."

She pointed at Mou Wen's phone—at this point, no one could get through anymore. Earlier that day, the police had suggested Mou Wen change her number, because even if the website eventually took down the post, her personal number was already out there, and more trouble would follow.

"Who changes their number twice in three months?" Mou Wen pointed at herself. "Only someone as impressive as me!"

Chu Ling sat on the edge of her bed, put an arm around her shoulder, and said, "Mou Wen, you know what? Some people say that if you go through a stretch of really bad luck, something great must be waiting for you—fate's energy is balanced."

Mou Wen cheered up: "Yes, Chu Ling, I've got some great news. You know what? I'm about to land a huge, huge client!"

"How big?" Chu Ling asked.

"The kind with a budget that has no ceiling, who wants a fish pond landscape in his courtyard, and he's going to keep expensive fish. His courtyard is enormous."

"Oh my god, what does he do?" Chu Ling asked.

Mou Wen shook her head: "I don't know. He seems really serious and keeps a low profile, and his representative is also very low-key. They won't say a word about what they do." Mou Wen said mysteriously: "If I can get this client to sign a contract smoothly, I'll pocket at least 250,000 yuan in bonuses..."

"That much?" Chu Ling was stunned.

Mou Wen started counting on her fingers for Chu Ling: "Look, I'm pretty low on the company ladder, so everything's calculated at the lowest rate: 15% design fee, 1.5% project materials commission, 1% product commission..."

As she spoke, Mou Wen grew excited: "Man, if I could land a Mr. Chu every month! No, even one a quarter would be plenty!"

Chu Ling was happy for her too, and the two held hands and danced a little victory dance on the floor—just spinning in random circles.

Xie Chong had called her back, but the calls wouldn't connect, and later he got drunk. He rarely drank, but that day he drank himself completely wasted.

Around three in the morning, Mou Wen's phone finally stopped buzzing. She was still poring over Mr. Chu's house when she saw Xie Chong's call come through.

Remembering that Xie Chong was in a bad place, she ducked into the bathroom to pick up.

It was super loud on Xie Chong's end, and she shouted, "Xie Chong, are you there?"

There was no response, but she vaguely heard someone on the other end say, "Xie Chong, don't be upset. Just find any woman—there are so many who like you..."

Mou Wen realized the call must have been butt-dialed, but why would such a heartbreaking coincidence even happen?

She didn't listen any more and hung up without hesitation.

The next evening, the police told her they had found the person who posted the ad—it was the guy whose apartment she'd gone to see.

She asked him why he did it.

The man said: "We're all just trying to make it in Beijing—how much better off are you than me? We're all just working folks. You're just prettier, but in the end, aren't you still drifting aimlessly? What right do you have to scold me? Because you sleep with Beijing men? You're not even worth that much..."

Mou Wen felt this man was on the verge of collapse, and any further words would be meaningless. She asked the police to handle him according to regulations, and she didn't want to dwell on it anymore. She had no time—she needed to devote herself entirely to the Mr. Chu who had fallen from the sky.

She followed the police's advice and changed her phone number. This time, she still didn't notify Xie Chong, nor did she go to see him.

Mou Wen felt that Xie Chong was probably in a chaotic phase too, and no matter how much she liked him, she didn't have the energy to deal with his bad moods. She had many important things to do, all of which concerned her survival.

And she thought: I can't let Xie Chong keep taking the lead anymore. Xie Chong doesn't care about me.

But I have to care about myself.