When Fang Li came out of the restroom, Qin Weidong happened to be pushing open the café door.
It was a quiet afternoon, and there weren’t many customers inside. The moment Qin Weidong walked in, several heads turned in his direction. After three years of growth and refinement—and the grind of Wall Street—this Chinese man with his distinctly East Asian features had grown even more handsome. He radiated an undeniable air of elite professionalism, his features sharp and commanding, as if carved with a cold, precise blade.
Wu Xuxu and Qiao Shi greeted him, and Qin Weidong returned their smiles with a polite nod. Fang Li snorted quietly—he had to admit, Qin Weidong had gotten pretty good at playing the part over the past few years.
“Why aren’t you wearing a jacket?”
“It’s not that cold…”
“It’s raining. Did you bring an umbrella?”
“It wasn’t raining when I left…”
Fang Li didn’t think getting a little wet was a big deal. Weren’t there stories of artists getting their most brilliant inspiration while walking in the rain? Still, that was the kind of thing best kept to himself—no way he was going to let Qin Weidong hear him say it.
Qin Weidong glanced at the cup in front of Fang Li and saw it was milk tea, so he let it go without comment.
“I’m heading off now,” Fang Li said, picking up his guitar and notebook, waving goodbye to the others.
“Bye-bye, Lili!”
“Later, Brother Li! See you, Brother Qin!”
As he left, Qiao Shi gave him a wink, and with his back to Qin Weidong, Fang Li subtly replied with a hand signal: Got it. Wait for my message.
Once in the car, Fang Li buckled his seatbelt. “How come you’re free today?”
At the end of last year, Qin Weidong had launched a mining capital investment firm. Shortly after, he acquired a small, nearly bankrupt company and merged the two. After a string of complex maneuvers, they were officially rebranded as Zhongsheng International Mining Capital, with headquarters in a Manhattan skyscraper. Since then, Qin had been endlessly busy.
“I ordered shrimp from that restaurant you love,” Qin Weidong said. “And some fresh sea urchin… It came in today—straight off the boat. I’m taking you to eat.”
Fang Li licked his lips—come to think of it, it really had been a long time since they’d gone out to eat together.
“Oh, right. I wanted to—”
He didn’t get the chance to finish. Qin Weidong answered a call, popped in his earpiece, and started speaking rapidly in English on the line.
Fang Li’s English had improved enough for everyday life, but whenever Qin Weidong was on a work call, he still couldn’t understand a single word.
He had even begun to question his own English listening and speaking skills—until he’d taken a look at the kinds of documents spread across Qin Weidong’s desk. They were so technical and overwhelming, they made his head spin and his scalp tingle. After that, he figured even if Qin had been speaking Chinese, he probably still wouldn’t have understood a word.
“Are you hungry? I’ve got a few things to take care of and need to stop by the office. Should I drop you off at the restaurant first?”
Fang Li shook his head. “Not hungry. I had some bread earlier—I’ll wait and eat with you.”
Qin Weidong’s rented office space wasn’t far from their apartment. About 200 square meters—modest, but in Manhattan, where every inch of land was worth its weight in gold, it was no small thing. Even the elevators moved fast, as if no one was willing to waste even a second.
Once they reached the 26th floor, Qin Weidong’s assistant brought Fang Li a cup of hot milk.
“I already had some earlier, thank you.”
“All right. Please make yourself comfortable.”
Qin Weidong’s assistant was a second-generation Chinese-American, born and raised in the U.S., and a graduate of a prestigious university. Once he saw Fang Li didn’t need anything else, he quickly followed Qin Weidong out of the room. In fact, everyone on this floor walked with the same quick, purposeful steps—including the handful of Chinese interns who had just graduated.
Fang Li watched as Qin Weidong took a fax from his assistant, got on a call, and soon after, disappeared into a meeting room.
These past two years, Qin Weidong had been busier than ever. The promise he’d once made to Qin Zhengrong—there was less than a year left until it was due. He’d scheduled his time down to the very minute, maybe even the second. Compared to that… Fang Li felt like a complete freeloader.
He sat down in Qin Weidong’s office chair. Manhattan at dusk was at its most beautiful. For a fleeting moment, the city’s skyline revealed a rare softness in warm tones.
But the ones who built this world had no time to enjoy it.
Feeling a little bored, he sat around for a while until he got a message from Qin Weidong: there was a meeting coming up, so he should take a nap in the office.
Fang Li texted back “Okay,” though he wasn’t sure if the message went through.
He pulled out the sheet music for the song he’d be performing the day after tomorrow—a warm, uplifting English song called “Wing.” After a visit to a charity center for sick children with the band, he’d been deeply moved, and wrote the song in less than three days. The melody wasn’t very complicated.
To his surprise, Wu Xuxu loved it, saying it made her want to cry. Since then, it had become a regular finale at many events.
As the composer, Fang Li knew this song inside and out—he had played every note on the piano hundreds, even thousands of times.
He thought about the upcoming performance. He understood what Wu Xuxu and Qiao Shi were trying to do for him… He just wasn’t sure he could live up to it.
Time always flew when he was lost in music. He lost count of how many times he’d practiced when suddenly, Qin Weidong returned.
“Sorry, things have been crazy lately. Let’s go.”
It was already dark outside. Qin Weidong took a light jacket belonging to Fang Li from the lounge, then drove to their usual Japanese restaurant.
During the meal, as the waiter served the dishes, Fang Li wanted to tell Qin Weidong about his performance for the charity fundraiser the day after tomorrow, but Qin Weidong’s phone barely stopped ringing.
His company had just started up, and he was extremely busy. Fang Li could only try to understand.
It wasn’t until they had nearly finished eating that Qin Weidong finally put down his phone.
He said, “You Yue and I are flying to Los Angeles tomorrow to meet with a securities lawyer, and also a potential partner…”
China was currently in a phase of rapid development. Many mines in Jin Province were being held back due to lack of capital and technology. In response, local governments were pushing for foreign investment, and with that banner alone, even the process for acquiring mining permits could be expedited.
“To see a… securities lawyer in Los Angeles? Are you planning to move the company there?”
He remembered Qin Weidong once telling him they would eventually return to China. Was he now planning to settle down in the U.S.?
“Not moving the company to LA…”
Qin Weidong explained, “We’re still returning. But to attract investment back home, there are thresholds to meet. Many foreign investors have their eyes on domestic mining resources too, so we need to move faster. I’m planning to get the company listed on the OTC first. It falls under the Nasdaq umbrella, but has lower entry barriers and isn’t restricted by requirements like public shareholding ratio or institutional composition…”
Fang Li rested his chin in his hand and poked at a piece of shrimp. “Can you put it in words I understand?”
Qin Weidong placed a piece of grilled fish on his plate. “It’s like getting a ticket that lets us enter the bidding game in China. It’s really important for the company.”
But entering the OTC market was no simple matter. According to current regulations, they would first need to hire an accounting firm certified by the PCAOB to conduct a special audit, and then get the approval of a qualified securities lawyer.
In short, the procedures were complex. There were countless people to meet and matters to coordinate. Though his shareholder partner Youyue could share some of the burden, Qin Weidong was still overwhelmingly busy.
Fang Li nodded. “Okay…”
He hesitated, then put down his chopsticks. “I wanted to tell you, our band has a charity concert the day after tomorrow. The funds raised will go to children with leukemia. They’d like me to sing a song… but we still have to rehearse before it’s confirmed.”
Qin Weidong was peeling shrimp for him and gave a vague response. Then he caught what Fang Li said and looked up in surprise. “Sing a song? Where?”
“Blitz Square. Just one song.”
Fang Li said, “I really want to try. The day after tomorrow marks the second anniversary of our band’s founding—it means a lot to us. And the song… I wrote it myself.”
Qin Weidong thought for a moment about how crowded Blitz Square would be at night, then said, “You’re singing to raise money for children with leukemia?”
Fang Li nodded, “Yeah… We’ve been planning this event since June. We’ve handed out so many flyers, put in a lot of work…”
Qin Weidong listened quietly, then said in a calm tone, “Baby, I’ll handle the donation. But there will be too many people there. Be good and don’t go onstage to sing.”
Fang Li’s chopsticks froze mid-motion. He knew it.
Just a moment ago, when Qin Weidong asked about the event, he’d thought—maybe, just maybe—there was a chance he’d say yes. That tiny spark of hope that had flared in his chest was instantly extinguished with a bucket of cold water.
“I want to give it a try!” he insisted. “It’s the second anniversary of our band. I’ve been good for three years now. You don’t like me singing, so I’ve only done accompaniment and written songs for them. But I already promised Xuxu this afternoon… if I pass the rehearsal, I’ll get to perform—just one song…”
“So why did you agree to it?” Qin Weidong’s expression didn’t change. “Cancel it. The rehearsal too. You didn’t have my permission to say yes.”
The way he spoke—no anger, no raised voice—but his tone left no room for negotiation. Fang Li felt a knot of frustration swelling in his chest. He forced himself to let it out just enough to breathe.
“It’s just one song… Do you really know what I care about? What I long for?”
“I’ll give you what you long for,” Qin Weidong said as he placed a peeled shrimp onto Fang Li’s plate.
“You can’t give it to me!” The fire in Fang Li’s chest flared up, inexplicably intense. He suddenly flung his chopsticks onto the table with a loud smack. A plate of sea urchin sashimi tipped over.
He hadn’t expected the noise to be so loud—but it was done now, and he wasn’t about to clean it up. The act of throwing the chopsticks made Qin Weidong’s face darken for the first time.
A waitress outside, alarmed by the sudden sound, came in thinking something had broken and asked if they needed help.
Qin Weidong told her to leave.
Fang Li turned away angrily, refusing to speak. Qin Weidong calmly picked up the chopsticks he had thrown and said, “Lili, you know very well I don’t like you being in the public eye. Letting you stay in the band to write songs and play accompaniment—I already compromised.”
Fang Li lost his appetite. He stood up. “I don’t want to eat anymore.”
Qin Weidong also paid the bill. On the way back, the atmosphere between them remained tense. Fang Li stared out the window, lost in thought.
Because of the time difference, Qin Weidong had to speak with Feng Hui back in China that evening. He kissed Fang Li on the cheek. “I’m going on a business trip the day after tomorrow. I’ll be gone for about a week. I don’t want us to fight.”
As if he did?
Qin Weidong said, “Except for this matter, Lili, whatever you ask, I’ll try my best to give it to you.”
Fang Li felt an indescribable… helplessness. He was exhausted. “Go handle your work. I want to be alone for a while.”
After sending Qin Weidong away, Fang Li locked the door behind him. He collapsed onto the bed, opened his phone, and saw several unread messages—texts from Qiao Shi, who’d been waiting all night.
Qiao Shi: [How did it go? I’m with Xuxu—did Brother Qin agree?]
[Brother Li?]
[Oh my god… Brother Li, you’re not fighting, are you?!]
[Did you make it home? Are you okay, Brother Li?]
It had been more than half an hour since the last message. Qiao Shi and Wu Xuxu probably really thought they’d fought and left time for them to cool off.
Fang Li felt deflated. Hugging a pillow to his chest, he typed back: [Just as you guessed. We fought. I got so mad, I threw my chopsticks.]
The reply came instantly: [You threw your chopsticks?!]
Fang Li: [Yeah… Maybe I really acted on impulse this afternoon. I agreed too quickly. He never allows discussion on these things…]
Qiao Shi sent a sad emoji. [What if we showed Brother Qin our promotional plan? This event means a lot. We put in so many sleepless nights, working on the planning and publicity…]
Fang Li replied: [That cold-hearted guy? He wouldn’t care. He just thinks I’m playing house.]
Qin Weidong’s famous line: You don’t need to make money—why waste time on all this extra nonsense?
See? In his eyes, stages, singing, his music, his dreams—they were all unnecessary distractions.
Qiao Shi messaged again: [Xuxu’s phone died. She told me to ask: What if we go talk to Brother Qin in person tomorrow?]
Fang Li replied: [He’s swamped. He’s flying to Los Angeles tomorrow… to meet some fund manager or lawyer, I think. Business trip. He probably won’t be back for a week. If we wait until then, the time slot we secured with the Blitz Square management will be long gone…]
[A business trip to Los Angeles?!]
The next second, a flood of messages hit his phone.
[Wait a sec…!]
[Hold up, Brother Li! You said Brother Qin’s going to LA for a week?!]
[Brother Li! This is divine intervention!!]
Fang Li paused. “You mean…”
Just as the thought solidified in his head, another message landed: [Brother Qin’s going to LA! So what are we still hesitating for?! Problem solved! He won’t even be in New York when you sing… What, do you think he’s installed remote surveillance on you or something?]
Fang Li held his phone, reading Qiao Shi’s message, deep in thought.
To be honest, every time he watched them on stage—fearless and shining—he felt real envy. The stage lights, the microphone, the thunderous applause from the crowd… That feeling could ignite a person’s soul. Even those shabby little performances back home, years ago, still crossed his mind late at night sometimes.
Maybe… letting loose once in a while wouldn’t hurt.
He could barely breathe under Qin Weidong’s constant watch. And it’s not like he lied to him all the time—God, hadn’t he lived like a transparent person with no secrets for years?
Fang Li’s fingers flew across the keyboard as he typed: [You’re right…! It’s just one song…..! See you tomorrow!]
Axolotl Translations 
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