#extra 8

The lecture on the following day was scheduled for the afternoon, giving him a rare free morning. Chen Wan took a shovel, a watering can, and a small trowel to go see his flowers.

They had added quite a few varieties of hydrangeas and Chinese peonies. The peonies were a hybrid between the Bowl of Cream and the Dynasty varieties, a new cultivar developed by the laboratory of the botanist Yan Xingshu. The hybrid bloom could flower year-round in subtropical climates and were resistant to harsh weather conditions. Currently, there were fewer than two hundred plants in circulation on the market, and even the soil was directly air-shipped from the mainland. 

The new peony variety was still in the experimental stages, and the other party had originally been unwilling to sell. However, Zhao Shengge’s offer was really too much, and the deal was struck.

Chen Wan cherished and nurtured his flowers with the utmost care. He worried about rain when the weather was cold and high temperatures when it grew hot. Chen Wan’s doting attitude and treatment toward his flowers even made Zhao Shengge slightly regret his purchase at one point. 

The flowerbed also welcomed several other new additions: golden osmanthus, red osmanthus, and angel wing begonias. Chen Wan cared for them all equally. He was the most meticulous and gentle gardener, cultivating each bloom with great care as they grew. 

Zhao Shengge woke up late and only felt more awake after he had showered. Through the large wooden-framed window, Chen Wan looked like a busy honeybee flitting among the flowers, showing none of the steady composure and restraint he would display at the negotiating table. His expression was relaxed and content, his steps light and quick, as if he had grown a pair of wings on his back.

The golden osmanthus was the least delicate, easy to care for, but the weeds had to be removed. Chen Wan looked around and could not find where he’d put the hoe, so he simply squatted down, put on gloves, and started pulling the weeds out by hand. Zhao Shengge immediately strode over and handed him the tool.

Chen Wan lifted his head, a light sheen of sweat glistening across his forehand, looking into Zhao Shengge's face looming over him. Zhao Shengge’s brows were furrowed, making him look a little stern, and his gaze carried a hint of reprimand.

Chen Wan grinned, raising up both hands in an explanation as much as an act of surrender, “The gloves are thick.” His hands wouldn’t get hurt. 

Zhao Shengge’s face still had no hint of a smile, but he squatted down in front of him, silently handing him the hoe and watering can.

While Chen Wan weeded, he sat with his hands clasped on his knees, watching silently.

Chen Wan raised an arm to wipe his forehead, “Go sit on the swing.”

Zhao Shengge remained silent, and Chen Wan didn’t press. He mentioned as he watered a new tree sapling, “This tree should be blooming by the time of your birthday. When the time comes, we can pick some flowers to make osmanthus honey. We can pair it with the put chai pudding or use it in cakes.” 

Zhao Shengge’s birthday was in the autumn, on October 25th, right after Frost's Descent, the time when the osmanthus flowers were in full bloom.

“We can even brew tea—the seeds from this tree are the largest. We can add them to that jar of Tai Ping Hou Kui.” Though osmanthus was most commonly paired with oolong, as long as the tea base for the green tea was good enough, “It should be quite fragrant as well. What do you think?”

Tai Ping Hou Kui. Zhao Shengge was nervous that Chen Wan would bring up old grievances and averted his eyes, replying curtly, “Either is fine.”

Chen Wan had to tease him, “But do you like it?”

Zhao Shengge shot him a look and pointed at the watering can in his hand, “Your tree is about to drown from overwatering.” 

Chen Wan muffled his chuckle, stood up, and helped him brush the grass clinging to his clothes.

The two of them picked up the tools and headed back, encountering a roadblock midway.

The tortoiseshell cat that regularly came to them for food was a stray. They had no neighbors, though squirrels and birds were frequent visitors.

The first time they saw this stray tortoiseshell cat, Chen Wan was in the gardens loosening the soil for the Damask roses, while Zhao Shengge was dozing on the swing. The swing had been specially commissioned for him by Chen Wan, its location chosen next to the flowerbeds; taking care of Zhao Shengge required plenty of sunlight, just like Chen Wan's flowers.

The tortoiseshell had approached him cautiously. Zhao Shengge lazily lifted his eyelids to give it a glance.

Strangely enough, Zhao Shengge had an imposing aura, making most people afraid to get close to him, but animals, on the other hand, did dare to approach him—whether it was the stray dog by the side of the road from over a decade ago or this feral cat in the mountains.

One man and one cat stared at each other for a long time, neither moving.

Chen Wan found it amusing and played the mediator for them, “Zhao Shengge, could you grab some fish from the fridge for me?” He held up his two white gloves to show that he had no free hand.

Zhao Shengge lowered his gaze, looking into Chen Wan's dark, luminous eyes before shifting to look at the tortoiseshell cat's round, grape-like eyes. He remained still.

Chen Wan didn’t get upset, the corners of his eyes still crinkling with a smile. As he loosened the soil, he said softly, “It’s not Bozhu.” It would not lose its life because of a young man's well-intentioned act of help. 

Only then did Zhao Shengge slowly get up.

The tortoiseshell cat’s fur was getting ever glossier. Chen Wan bent down to greet it, saying, “Hey, you're eating well these days.”

Zhao Shengge retorted cooly, “Almost all the dragon-eye, phoenix-tail kois in the pond have been eaten. If it’s not getting plump, who is?”

The tortoiseshell cat wasn't stupid. It bared its teeth and let out a small growl. Chen Wan raised an eyebrow, “Quite fierce, too. I don’t think we have fish today, but there’s chicken breast. Do you want some?”

The cat rumbled again, holding its head high with its chest sticking out, and followed the two into the house.

In the afternoon, they headed to the University of Science and Technology, with Zhao Shengge driving. To avoid drawing too much attention, neither wore business formal attire. Zhao Shengge draped a long trench coat over his shoulders, while Chen Wan wore black pants and a casual shirt. Both appeared youthful and blended into the campus environment without seeming out of place.

Chen Wan's special lecture classes were always packed to capacity. While master's and doctoral students formed the core audience, undergraduates also came to join in on the excitement. Beside his position as the lead engineer for the Polly Bay project, Chen Wan's individual charisma was simply too immense; before the lights even came on in the lecture hall, a long line had already formed at the door.

Zhao Shengge dropped off Chen Wan at his office and waited near the exhibition wing. This was Chen Wan's alma mater; which library Chen Wan had once studied in, which cafeteria he tended to frequent, which convenience store had his favorite lemon tea—Zhao Shengge knew every detail by heart.

“Hey, buddy, how can you cut the line?”

Zhao Shengge turned around. The college student was taken aback for a moment but did not become intimidated by his imposing presence. Standing tall and straight, he said, “It’s not okay to cut, even if you’re handsome.”

“......” Zhao Shengge was quite the gentleman and graciously stepped aside for the other.

The student saw that he had misunderstood and felt a bit embarrassed. He kindly told Zhao Shengge that he could come earlier next time—the seats for Professor Chen's lectures were harder to snatch than concert tickets. If all else failed, he could pay someone to queue up and save a seat for him; everyone did it like this.

Zhao Shengge replied politely, “Alright, thank you.” 

He had originally planned to swipe Chen Wan's ID card to go to the library to handle some work, but after listening for a while, he became too lazy to leave.

A lecture lasted for approximately three hours. The students weren’t interested in hearing about materials from the textbook; they all wanted to hear about real-world examples from the Polly Bay project.

Chen Wan might not be the professor with the highest academic credentials at HKUST, but he was the only one who worked on the front lines of Asia's largest deep-sea operation project.

“In fact, the internationally recognized standard depth for RUE (remote underwater exploration) is 1,762 meters, but our country’s penetration technology had already surpassed this depth a year ago. This time, the Polly Bay project at the mid-ocean ridge also deployed this surveying technology. The technical challenge lies in balancing the penetrating optical path with the water pressure.”  (Note: the standards, surveying technologies, etc., are fictionalized by the author.)

Facing a group of extremely eager students below, Chen Wan spoke patiently and gently, his explanations calm and steady, serious but not stern. The students respected him but were not afraid of him. The classroom atmosphere was extremely lively, with many questions being asked.

“Engineer Chen, if the penetration technology had not surpassed 1,762-meter below sea level, would the Polly Bay project have used RUE? Or would there have been alternative proposals? What were the main data points being evaluated?”

“Engineer Chen, during the deployment of the penetration technology, was the water pressure consistently within tolerable limits? When there are pressure differentials, how is it addressed? Did the Polly Bay project encounter these kinds of incidents during construction?”

“Professor Chen, my question is: during counter-current operations, how can this error be minimized? What standards does Polly Bay use?”

“The 1,762-meter deep-sea threshold is not the sole decision criterion. It is merely a reference data point. If penetration technology had not been advanced yet, the Polly Bay project would have opted to collaborate on building RUE, and the evaluation standard is primarily based on simulated data.”

Chen Wan explained each point one by one, concisely and to the point, getting straight to the heart of the matter without a single word of fluff.

The young students were not only interested in practical case studies—they were even more fascinated by business gossips. They did not let Professor Chen catch a break even during the twenty-minute recess, bombarding him with questions: Is Minglong really hard to get into? Is the boss super strict? How intense is the pressure of working on Minglong projects?

Minglong was the pinnacle of employment achievement for people in their field, and furthermore, Zhao Shengge was the textbook model example for businessmen. He was typically as elusive as a dragon, and everyone's impression of him was limited to the vague, sparse descriptions by Haishi’s media. They were all incredibly curious, and Professor Chen was their only connection to him.

Chen Wan took a sip of water to moisten his throat and glanced at the back door. The corner of his lips couldn't suppress his smile, “Minglong has a great atmosphere, rich in diversity, and its work culture is also very humane. You guys don't need to worry about that. As for Mr. Zhao……he is indeed rather strict, but he greatly respects and values ​​talent. Everyone’s welcome to submit their resumes to Minglong and the Polly Bay project.” 

Undergraduate students were indeed bold: “I’ve heard that Mr. Zhao is a really handsome guy. Is that true, Professor Chen?” 

Chen Wan answered without hesitation, extremely seriously. “Yes, it’s true.” 

The second half of the lecture mainly discussed the impact of ocean current activity on deep-sea operations and the countermeasures. Everyone was so enthusiastic that even though Chen Wan only covered the basic fundamentals for the entire time, the lecture still ran fifteen minutes over.

Zhao Shengge gazed at Chen Wan's sparkling eyes from the back door. Chen Wan’s face displayed a smile unlike any of the ones he wore at negotiation tables or during business social engagements. “Thank you all for your questions, but another professor will be giving a lecture in this hall in half an hour. You all have my email. If you have any further questions, you can send it to my inbox. I’ll respond to every email that I see.” This was the university email address Chen Wan had specifically requested to dedicate to answering student questions and concerns.

Zhao Shengge had logged in to this email before. There were all types of inquiries: questions on field prospects, career directions, research methods, how to resist when being oppressed by one’s supervising professor, whether they should see a psychologist due to excessive stress from publishing papers, whether delaying graduation would affect employment, sending a transcript to ask Chen Wan whether it would be possible to get an offer from Kexiang with this GPA, and even confiding in Professor Chen about a painful breakup with a girlfriend.

Chen Wan responded earnestly to every single email.

He gathered his teaching materials. The students below lingered, reluctant to leave. They called out with huge smiles, “Happy birthday, Professor Chen!” 

The corners of Chen Wan’s mouth lifted, “How did you guys know?”

The students replied, “There’s a notification on the campus network system.” 

Chen Wan nodded and didn’t explain. He said his goodbyes, smiling, “Thank you, everyone. See you next semester.” 

The Wraith was parked on the main road. When Chen Wan opened the passenger door. Zhao Shengge had already warmed up the car. 

The wind picked up in the evening. He shrugged on his coat and chatted casually with Zhao Shengge, “Everyone’s really interested in the Polly Bay project. Several promising candidates even asked me if the project team would be taking interns or holding a competition for the selection like Minglong’s other projects.”

Zhao Shengge turned the steering wheel, “It's up to you.”

Chen Wan said, "okay," and slipped his hand into his pocket. After a pause, he pulled it out and smiled wryly, "You know perfectly well it’s not today."

His real birthday was on May 7th, around the start of summer. The date on his official documents was only forged by Song Qingmiao back then in order to evade detection when she secretly gave birth to him.

The light turned red. Zhao Shengge stepped on the brakes, resting one arm on the window, glancing at him sideways. He had his own particular reasoning, “Are gifts only allowed on birthdays?”

Chen Wan smiled, humbly asking, “Then what kind of gift is this?”

"A gift to celebrate the end of classes."

Chen Wan nodded along readily, opening the cap to examine the pen. He couldn't tell the brand of the fountain pen. It had no logo, most likely a custom-made piece. The metal was slender, the nib smooth and shiny, already filled with ink. He looked around but couldn't find any paper. Just as he was about to test the pen on his own hand, a large hand suddenly covered his. Chen Wan turned his head.

Zhao Shengge lifted his chin, gesturing for him to try it on his own hand.

Chen Wan's eyes crinkled as he wrote several letters across Zhao Shengge's palm. After he finished writing, he smiled again in satisfaction and contentment. 

The light turned green. Zhao Shengge didn't look at what he had written, simply gripping the steering wheel, and stepped on the gas to speed away.

On Findolay Road, the streetlights were beginning to illuminate the night. The Wraith pulled up outside the Jiang exhibition hall. Both car doors opened simultaneously, and two tall men with long legs stepped out.

For the public, Zhao Shengge and Chen Wan's relationship had always been shrouded in ambiguity—intimate friends, confidants, business partners, ride-or-die allies—speculations were rampant.

The two of them did not flaunt their relationship, but neither did they hide it.

The valet stepped forward to assist with parking.

Zhao Shengge did not typically make public appearances, but tonight was Jiang Ying’s exhibition’s opening banquet, and their friendship demanded it. Chen Wan had been busy with his experiments recently and had missed several gatherings with friends; with his classes wrapped up today, it would be inexcusable for him not to attend.

With the doorman leading the way, layers of grand doors swung open one after another. Zhuo Zhixuan was the first to spot Chen Wan. Tan Youming, like a moon surrounded by stars, was crowded by people and waved from the center of the group, beckoning him over.

Some elders from the Jiang family came over to greet Zhao Shengge, and the two naturally parted ways. Zhao Shengge finished his pleasantries with the hosts quickly and slipped away for a break on the circular terrace on the second floor with Shen Zongnian.

Zhao Shengge browsed back and forth through a row of wine racks. “I thought you wouldn’t come today.” The guest of honor for tonight’s opening ceremony was the award-winning actress who had been recently photographed dining with Tan Youming.

Shen Zongnian neither drank nor smoked. He ignored the frantically vibrating phone in his pocket and rested both hands on the railing, surveying the banquet hall below, “I didn’t expect you to come either.”

Zhao Shengge was picky, only settling on one bottle after much difficult deliberation. He poured himself a small glass, “Chen Wan’s classes are over. We’re going to the island tomorrow.”

Shen Zongnian turned around to glance at him evenly and caught sight of the pen writing on his palm. He said coolly, "Can't you be less unconventional?"

Zhao Shengge pretended not to hear.

At the center of the round banquet hall, Tan Youming was a natural socialite, while Chen Wan was the hottest rising star in Haishi—a recognized promising upstart in tech.

“Congradulations, Engineer Chen.”  That technology award from the mainland carried significant prestige, and Haishi’s media covered it for half a month straight. 

In the past, everyone had addressed Chen Wan as “Executive Chen.” Now, decorated with his newfound glory and prestige, he no longer needed to navigate business networking dinners or gatherings, focusing solely on research and development. Accordingly, everyone respectfully referred to him by a title that more accurately reflected his status—“Engineer Chen.”

“Thank you. It was all the team’s efforts,” Chen Wan responded modestly with a smile.

Someone raised their glass and said with a laugh, “I hear that Kexiang has submitted bids for all the projects in Half Bay and the Outlying Islands. Engineer Chen is young and talented, with lofty ambitions!”

Chen Wan quipped back, “I’m just participating actively. I also have a family to support, after all.” 

Even bystanders didn’t believe that, teasing him, “With Engineer Chen’s current worth, who couldn't he afford to take care of?”

Chen Wan chuckled, “I think I still have to work a bit harder.” 

With a full smile, he met the pair of dark eyes on the small circular terrace. Under the brilliant lights, one man raised his gaze, while the other lowered his. It was as if time had reversed, and yet—today was no longer yesterday. The person on the stage and the person below communicated silently across the distance; separated from the surrounding clamor, two gazes locked, shining like brilliant stars.

Translator’s Note: