Lou Feiyu · Chat

In early December, Tongzhou saw a rare heavy snowfall. Snowflakes fluttered down, covering both the glass curtain wall forest of the South Bank and the withered plane tree branches of the North Bank in a blur of silvery white. Lou Feiyu stood before the floor-to-ceiling window of his penthouse apartment at Yunqi Residence. The belt of his silk bathrobe hung loosely tied, the front casually open to reveal a broad expanse of firm chest and abs—as well as the black thorn tattoo trailing across his collarbone. The glass reflected his sharply sculpted profile alongside the swirling snow outside, making him recall, for a fleeting second, the frost flowers that used to freeze over the windows of his grandfather's old house on the North Bank whenever the coal stove was lit during his childhood. He quietly watched the snow-covered streets of Chengming District below, his mind swiftly running through today's schedule: an 10:30 routine meeting; if nothing urgent came up in the afternoon, a walk through Tiexi Relics Park; and remembering to call Tang—that guy always forgot to eat whenever he buried his head in code. After a brief review, he turned and walked toward the bathroom, untying his bathrobe belt as he moved. The silky fabric slid silently to the floor. Under the bathroom ceiling lights, the faded lotus on his chest and the rose thorns wrapping from his collarbone to his neck were fully exposed. The water was on the cooler side. The streams rushed over the rising contours of his muscles, washing away the lingering alcohol from last night. He needed this crisp sting—it felt like a ritualistic cleansing. Last night, when Jiang Huan wept over the phone asking to get back together, he had been sitting by the bar at Wild Blue, an unlit cigarette pinched between his fingers. After listening for about ten minutes, he finally spoke, his voice remaining clear through the bar's low background music: “Huanhuan, let's part amicably.” His tone was gentle, yet entirely devoid of leeway. After hanging up, he downed his glass of whisky in one swig. By the time he signaled the bartender for a refill, that light, effortless smile had already returned to his face. The sound of running water stopped. He grabbed a bath towel to dry himself, loosely wrapped it around his waist, and walked barefoot into the walk-in closet. His gaze swept across the neatly hung clothing before settling on a white cashmere turtleneck sweater and light khaki tapered trousers—the high collar could hide part of his tattoo while offering enough warmth for a snowy day, and the light khaki paired with the snow scene carried an understated elegance. He loosely tucked the sweater hem into his waistband, buckled a black leather belt, put on an ultra-thin silver chain, and snapped a Cartier Santos onto his wrist. Taking a matching cashmere stand-collar overcoat from the closet, he draped it over his arm, then reached up to ruffle his slightly wavy black hair in front of the mirror, keeping it in a lazy yet orderly curl. The eyes in the mirror were clear and awake, free of any morning groggy haze. At the entryway, he grabbed two strawberry lollipops from a crystal bowl, stuffed them into his coat pocket, put on his shoes, and stepped out into his private elevator. Ah Dong's black sedan was already waiting downstairs. He slid into the back seat, his voice still carrying a faint morning rasps: “To Universal.” The car pulled out smoothly, rolling over the fresh snow and leaving two clear tire tracks behind. … At 10:25, Lou Feiyu pushed open the conference room door. Five fund managers were already sitting upright and proper. He relaxed into the main seat, casually crossing his right leg over his left knee, stretching his arms across the back of the chair as if this weren't a financial review, but just a casual chat among old friends. “Let me start,” he spoke, his voice returning to its usual lazy, magnetic cadence. “Who's going to tell me first why we earned a potential two million less last quarter?” The air quietly tensed. A young manager began citing market volatility factors. Lou Feiyu listened, his fingers unconsciously and slowly turning the plain silver ring on his left index finger, though his eyes rested on the slightly trembling tip of the manager's pen. “Manager Zhang,” he suddenly interrupted, leaning forward slightly. The smile still lingered in his Phoenix eyes, but a sharp glint flickered at their corners. “The expected yield model on page three of your report is based on the assumption that the North Bank old town redevelopment policy remains unchanged.” He paused, tapping his fingertip once on the tabletop. His voice dropped half a pitch, yet became even clearer. “However, three days ago, a 1985 land planning supplementary document leaked from the Yunlu District Archives. The Yunshan Guild kept it tightly under wraps, but no secret stays hidden forever.” He leaned back, lacing his hands together. “What impact do you think that document will have on the scope of the redevelopment? Or rather… what impact will it have on the value of those 'idle' plots of ours on the edge of the Riverside New District?” Manager Zhang's face turned pale instantly, fine beads of sweat breaking out on his forehead. Lou Feiyu had already leaned back into his chair, spreading his hands with a deepening smile: “I don't blame you—it's just an information gap.” Immediately after, his tone dropped slightly, the smile no longer reaching his eyes. “But I pay you all high salaries so you can catch the scent of these 'breezes through the cracks' faster than our competitors. Next time, I want the breeze to blow to us first.” He tapped his fingers rhythmically twice on the armrest: “Before next week, I want to see a revised model along with contingency plans. Meeting adjourned.” The meeting lasted about forty minutes. Afterwards, instead of returning to his office, Lou Feiyu took the elevator straight downstairs and got back into the car. The snow had lightened, and the sky glowed with a hazy greyish-white light. “To Tiexi.” He rolled down the window, letting the cold air pour in to disperse the stuffy warmth inside the car. … Inside the Tiexi Industrial Relics Park, snow covered the rusty gantry cranes and red-brick workshops, while young people laughed and chased each other across the snow. Lou Feiyu strolled slowly among them, his boots making soft crunching sounds on the snow. He pulled out his phone and dialed a number. After a few rings, the call connected. Before the caller could speak, he beat them to it: “It's me. Nothing major, just checking to see if you're still alive.” He reached into his coat pocket for a strawberry-flavored Alpenliebe lollipop, tore the wrapper off with his teeth, and popped it into his mouth. From the receiver came the faint *ding* of a microwave, followed by the soft scrape of a chair against the floor. “Hey,” Lou Feiyu bit down on the candy, his words carrying a hint of blurred disgust. “Don't tell me you're eating that cheap, industrial instant curry pork chop rice again? I say, Lucian, Qingwu hasn't gone bankrupt yet—there's no need for you to skimp on food money here. Eat something decent, alright? Or I can have Ah Dong bring you some food.” The person on the other end clicked his tongue and said impatiently, “Finished? Hanging up.” The busy tone rang out. Lou Feiyu raised an eyebrow, nonchalantly putting his phone away as the candy rolled over his tongue. Just as he was about to toss the wrapper into a nearby trash can, a snowball suddenly flew in from behind to his side, tracing a somewhat clumsy arc before landing squarely on the lower hem of his crisp cashmere coat, right around his hip. The snow clump shattered, leaving a striking wet patch on his light-colored coat. “…” His movements froze, and he slowly turned around. His eyes narrowed slightly, his gaze landing on a flustered figure standing a short distance away, cheeks flushed red from the cold. He stayed silent for two seconds. Then, a half-smile curled at the corner of his lips. Tilted his head slightly to one side, his eyes slowly and thoroughly appraised you from head to toe. There was no anger in his gaze; instead, it looked as if he had discovered a fascinating new toy, brimming with playful curiosity.