Chapter 14: The Restless Spirit of Liu Ruyun

At eight o’clock in the evening, Shen Xian arrived at the address provided by Li Xiurong.

“Wang Tianqi? Hello, I’m Shen Xian. Would you please open the door?” Shen Xian called out as he knocked.

Almost immediately, he heard stumbling footsteps from inside.

The door opened, and Wang Tianqi’s face appeared before Shen Xian. He wore dark sunglasses and leaned on a white cane. “Mr. Shen, you’re here,” he said, his expression betraying little sadness.

The lights inside were off. Shen Xian flipped the switch, illuminating a spotless room with a faint, pleasant fragrance. It was clear that Li Xiurong had taken good care of Wang Tianqi—she was a good girl.

Shen Xian began to change his shoes. Opening the cabinet, he noticed only men’s shoes; not a single pair for women. Combining this with the message Li Xiurong had sent earlier, Shen Xian instantly understood.

“She’s left?” he asked.

It was a bold question, but he asked it anyway.

Wang Tianqi gave a quiet assent. “She left this afternoon. Honestly, I was prepared for it. I always knew we weren’t right for each other. She was the one insisting, wanting to see how far we could go.”

Shen Xian sighed. “Sometimes, losing can feel more solid than holding on, can’t it?”

Wang Tianqi lifted his head, struggling to hold back tears. “Yes. At least now I won’t be tormented by doubt every day, constantly worried she might leave me. I don’t have to feel guilty anymore. It hurts, but it’s a relief.”

“Maybe she had her own difficulties,” Shen Xian mused. “Perhaps family pressure?”

Wang Tianqi’s voice dropped so low that Shen Xian had to strain to hear: “Of course I know she had her reasons. I’d get calls all the time—threatening me, telling me if I kept bothering Xiurong, they’d come for me. She must’ve been afraid I’d get hurt, so she left.”

“I wanted to ask her to stay, but I have neither the right nor the meaning. Should I keep her by my side and make her suffer?”

“Since being with me, she’s never even seen a movie. Whenever we went out shopping, she had to put up with people’s stares and whispers.”

“People would murmur, what a waste—a beautiful, gentle girl with a blind man.”

“Tell me, Mr. Shen, do I have any right to ask her to stay?”

“Is there even a solution to this?”

Shen Xian patted his shoulder. “Money can solve all problems.”

“Well said, Mr. Shen.” Wang Tianqi managed a smile.

Shen Xian laughed. “So, let’s go record a song. Once we have money, every obstacle can be crushed under its weight.”

“Alright.”

“You haven’t had dinner, have you? Come on, I’ll treat you to a feast. I know a steakhouse that’s excellent.” Shen Xian took hold of the other end of the white cane and led Wang Tianqi out the door.

Wang Tianqi quickly protested, “Anything simple will do. No need for something so expensive.”

Shen Xian chuckled. “Think of tonight as a team-building event. A team-building dinner has to be special.”

Just the two of them? Wang Tianqi gave a bitter smile.

Perhaps sensing Wang Tianqi’s thoughts, Shen Xian added, “You’re the first artist in my studio. From now on, you’re the senior brother, destined to become a superstar. Tonight, you must eat well.”

They walked along the bustling sidewalk, Shen Xian’s voice carrying. Many passersby glanced curiously at the odd pair, especially after hearing Shen Xian’s words.

Though Wang Tianqi couldn’t see their stares, he could feel them. A flush of embarrassment crept up; his toes curled inside his shoes.

But Shen Xian didn’t care about anyone’s gaze. He kept chatting, painting grand visions for Wang Tianqi.

Shen Xian was a man of contradictions. In some ways, he seemed extroverted—yet when communicating, he’d text rather than send voice messages. His conversations with Zhou Wan, for instance, were rarely by voice, and even when they were, he’d lower his tone. That’s why, despite having met Shen Xian twice, Zhou Wan never realized that Shen Xian and the “Postman” were one and the same. Of course, phone speaker distortion played a part, so her not realizing was understandable.

But to call him socially anxious wouldn’t be accurate either; he never shied from a chat, even with the cleaning lady at the office—let alone the receptionists. Everyone liked him and enjoyed talking to him.

Yet people like Shen Xian were the hardest to truly befriend. Outwardly polite to all, but hard to get close to. Still, once someone gained his approval, he would treat them with genuine care.

Take Liu Ruyun. Or Zhou Wan. Or now, Wang Tianqi.

The only person he feared was Ning Cai—her coldness made him uneasy. She seemed emotionless, nothing could stir her, as if she’d never be angry or care about anything. That icy aura unsettled Shen Xian. No matter her beauty—her fair skin, long legs—he felt no interest in her presence, as if he’d been neutered.

“Since your girlfriend’s gone, stay at my place for the next few days,” Shen Xian offered. “I’ll find you a manager soon, which should make life easier.”

Wang Tianqi nodded. “Thank you, Mr. Shen.”

Shen Xian asked, “When you have money, what’s the first thing you’ll do?”

“Go to the capital. Get a corneal transplant,” Wang Tianqi replied.

Shen Xian smiled. “Don’t worry, the day we make big money isn’t far off. Nor is the day you regain your sight.”

Is it really not far? Wang Tianqi wasn’t confident. But life had to go on, one step at a time.

Soon, they arrived at a Western restaurant—one of the city’s most upscale, on the fifty-fifth floor. The minimum per-person spend was ten thousand.

From the fifty-fifth floor, the city’s nightscape stretched out below.

Shen Xian was a frequent visitor and held a membership card.

They took a window seat. The waiter arrived with a tablet for Shen Xian to order.

He quickly selected two steaks and some side dishes.

“I’m setting up a recorder to document our studio’s first team-building event—hope you don’t mind?” Shen Xian said.

Wang Tianqi shook his head. “I don’t mind.”

So Shen Xian cheerfully set up the recorder, aiming the camera at them both.

“When we’re a huge success, we can look back—it’ll be full of memories,” Shen Xian laughed.

Wang Tianqi smiled wryly. Which business tycoon is he imitating now? Many capitalists liked to do this at the start of their ventures—years later, they’d reminisce about how tough things were, pouring out motivational tales.

Even though Wang Tianqi doubted that Shen Xian would build an empire, he respected and appreciated his earnestness.

Soon, the dishes arrived. Shen Xian carefully cut Wang Tianqi’s steak into pieces, poured him a half-glass of red wine, and placed the utensils in his hand. “It’s ready. The wine’s on your left—have a taste.”

It was the first time Wang Tianqi felt such thoughtfulness from Shen Xian. “Thank you, Mr. Shen,” he said quietly.

“No need for thanks. You’re my first artist—I have to take good care of you,” Shen Xian replied with a smile.

Just as he finished speaking, a mocking voice rang out: “Shen Xian, you really have fallen. Since when can a blind man be an artist?”

Damn it, Liu Ruyun, are you a ghost? Why do you keep haunting me?