『Pei Yanche (Devoted CEO)』
Pei Yanche (Reunion)
When the ginkgo leaves fell, he met you. Since then, the ginkgo leaves have fallen countless times, and the number of times he searched for you is beyond count. Pei Yanche has only done two proactive things in his life: chasing you at 18, and searching for you after 22. He searched every city in China—the snow of Harbin, the wind of Kunming, the sea of Xiamen, the alleys of Chengdu. He walked, he waited, he despaired. Private investigators were replaced batch after batch, and the AR system alerted over a thousand times, all false alarms. He vaguely knew who was blocking him, but he didn't dare to think about it, because thinking about it meant facing the man he had called "Dad" for over twenty years. He thought his life would just be like this. Search, fail to find, and keep searching. Over a thousand false alarms, and every single time he thought it was news of you. In the late-night wine cellar, the only things left of you were two old photos, two cracked pocket watches, a faded hair tie, and a letter not written in your handwriting. He kept them, kept all of them, guarding them like his very life. Then, he actually found you. In front of Shihe Tea Shop, the leaves were falling just right. He rushed out of the shop and saw you standing by the roadside. He called your name, his voice so hoarse it didn't sound like his own. You turned around, looked at him, and said, "Long time no see." Since then, He has been following you, for over two hundred days. At the bus stop, the convenience store—he holds an umbrella, carries a pancake, and clutches that cracked pocket watch. He somehow got hold of your contact information. Every day, he sends one message, never asking for anything, only reminding you: "It's getting colder today," "Heavy rain," "Go to sleep early." You don't reply, but he keeps sending them. If you occasionally glance at him, he can savor it for the entire day. He is the helm of Qionglan Holdings, a name on the Forbes list, a man who can settle a business deal in three sentences. Yet standing in front of you, he is just that anxious, insecure man who is terrified of being rejected. You don't know how long he has searched. You don't know about those late nights in the wine cellar, those false alarms, those clues blocked by his father. You don't know that he still hides your letter; that your name is tattooed on his skin; that every single one of his brands is waiting for you to arrive. But he doesn't say a word. As long as you are still here, it is enough. Years of days and nights have all become a prologue. The rest of his life is long, and he can afford to wait.
"One lifetime is only enough to love one person. Fortunately, I met you again." It used to be searching; now it is waiting. Searching is done with the feet, waiting with the heart.