Tomorrow Will Still Love You - Chapter 4

The car moved slowly through the heavy rain.

What should have been a twenty-minute drive had stretched into nearly forty, and they still hadn’t arrived.

Pei Ning kept her gaze turned toward the window. Beyond the blur of raindrops,

there was nothing to see only the shimmer of streetlights distorted by water.

The rain’s rhythm filled the silence; somehow, it made the air in the car less stifling.

After a long pause, Ye Xicheng finally spoke.

Tomorrow there’s a meeting. You’ll come with me.

All right, she answered automatically.

Work was the only thing that allowed her to breathe normally around him.

She pulled out her notebook and pen.

President Ye, what’s the meeting about? Who’ll be there? What outcome are we hoping for? How far can we compromise?

She needed details something to prepare for.

No need to prepare, he said. Just follow me.

Pei Ning hesitated, then replied with a quiet Okay.

Still, she couldn’t help wondering if he didn’t need her to do anything, what did he even keep her around for?

A decoration, perhaps.

She’d been one for almost a month.

Across from her, Ye Xicheng studied her face for a moment, then said, It’s with the French team.

Ah. So he thought she wouldn’t understand.

My French is decent, she told him. I can handle a business discussion.

You majored in it?

She nodded. I passed the certification exams. I even lived in France for a project.

Then tomorrow, you’ll translate for me.

No problem.

Hand me the notebook, he said.

She blinked. Sorry?

A second later she realized he meant he wanted to jot something down. She passed him the notebook and pen.

He wrote quickly.

When she took it back and saw his handwriting, her heart stuttered it was a script she’d once practiced copying,

line by line, until it looked almost identical.

After the breakup, she’d made herself forget every trace of him, even the way he wrote a single stroke of a character.

The notes described a communications infrastructure project.

She looked up. President Ye, what time is the meeting tomorrow?

No fixed time yet. Their flight arrives in Beijing around three, if there’s no delay.

Then I’ll prepare the documents and report to you in the morning, she said, her tone perfectly formal.

She slipped the notebook back into her bag and glanced out the window. They were almost at her residential complex.

The community had strict entry rules—cars without access cards couldn’t enter. She told the driver to pull over outside.

The driver instinctively reached for the access card in the console, then froze at her words, hand retreating quickly.

He nearly gave himself away.

So she still didn’t know who the apartment really belonged to.

All right, he said.

The rain hadn’t stopped. Ye Xicheng reached into the compartment and handed her an umbrella.

I brought one, she said softly, declining it.

When the car stopped, she opened the door, nodded slightly to him, and stepped out.

Her umbrella unfolded with a whisper, and she jogged into the night, the rain wrapping around her like silk.

Only when her figure vanished behind the gate did Ye Xicheng look away.

She used to love the rain.

In Jiangnan, where the air was always damp and green, every time he visited and it rained,

she would deliberately bring a small umbrella too small for two.

So he’d carry her on his back, and she’d hold the umbrella above them both.

That night, Ye Xicheng didn’t go home.

He stayed in the company’s lounge. The apartment he usually lived in the one she was renting now he’d quietly let her have.

Before sleeping, he opened the bedside drawer, out of habit checking the stack of letters inside.

Something was off. A few were missing the ones he looked at most often.

No one ever touched his personal things. Not even his secretary.

He understood immediately.

He sent a message.

Be in my office at eight. Bring everything that belongs to me. Every single thing.

Pei Ning stared at the screen. The exclamation mark at the end glared back at her.

He was angry.

In all the years she’d known him, she’d rarely seen him lose his temper.

Even as a child, when she drove him to frustration, he never raised his voice.

Later, when they were together, no matter how much she cried or argued, he would simply go quiet.

An exclamation point from him that was rare.

And she knew the anger wasn’t only about the missing letters.

She took them from the corner of her desk, sighing.

If returning them would calm things down, she’d do it.

But the photographs tucked inside—those she wouldn’t give back.

If he ever married, and his wife saw those pictures…

The thought alone made her want to disappear into the floor. Better to end that awkwardness now.

She replied politely.

Understood, President Ye.

He didn’t respond.

He had been about to, but his mother’s call came through first.

Xicheng, are you still working?

Just finished.

He walked out into the quiet office corridor, lit a cigarette.

Then come home. I’ll make you something for supper.

No need. I’m staying at the office tonight.

You’re back from your trip where are you going to stay? The other apartment isn’t even cleaned up.

At the office.

There was a brief silence.

At least you’d have a proper breakfast if you stayed home, his mother said gently.

The canteen’s fine.

How can that be the same? she sighed.

When she’d arranged for Pei Ning to live in that apartment, she’d thought it might bring her son home more often.

But he’d rather sleep at work than under the same roof as his past.

The resentment he never voiced showed in everything he did.

It all traced back to six years ago when his father forbade their relationship and sent Pei Ning abroad.

That had been the only time Ye Xicheng ever lost his temper at them.

“I was the one who chased her,” he’d said, voice shaking. “Why punish her for it? So what if you helped her family?

That doesn’t give you the right to crush her dignity. Did you even ask if she wanted to leave?”

They’d thought they were doing the right thing helping the girl from a poor family.

They hadn’t realized how their well-intentioned control turned into a chain.

After she left, he flew to her city every chance he got.

But over time, the visits stopped. He still went but never to her.

Both father and son were proud, unyielding men. Their silent standoff had lasted years.

When they heard Pei Ning had a new relationship overseas,

his parents had watched him fall quiet working late, speaking little, coming home less and less.

Recently, his father had relented.

Maybe we should let her come back, he’d said. I don’t want to be the villain forever.

His mother had been surprised but relieved. She’d suggested they find a gentle way to do it.

Bring her back under the pretext of work, she said. Let them find their own way, and we’ll stay out of it.

And so Pei Ning became his assistant.

Now, on the phone, his mother hesitated before asking softly, How are things between you two?

Not great.

He stubbed out his cigarette, shut the window. It was past midnight. Get some sleep, Mom.

Then you too, she said, before adding, When you’re free, I’ll invite Pei Ning over for dinner.

Tomorrow night, he said without thinking.

…His mother went silent.

Every other time, when she’d asked him to come home for dinner, he’d said, when I’m not busy—and then vanished for weeks.

But this time?

Tomorrow night was fine.

All right, she said, trying to hide her surprise. I’ll call her tomorrow.

He answered with his usual calm.

Mm.

Just before hanging up, he added quietly, By the way, Mom—Pei Ning’s French is good. Good night.

She blinked at the phone after he hung up.

Sometimes she honestly wondered if he spoke in riddles just to torment her.

The next morning, Pei Ning’s phone rang as she was putting on makeup.

Aunt Ye? She sat up straighter, instantly alert. The older woman never called her early unless it was something important.

Did I wake you? came the gentle voice.

No, I’m heading out soon.

Come by for dinner tonight. I’ll make your favorites.

You’re back from your trip?

Yesterday. Don’t forget, all right?

Pei Ning hesitated. I might have an evening meeting. If so, I might not make it.

Work’s important, Aunt Ye said smoothly. If you’re busy, come for supper instead.

I brought you some things from abroad come by and pick them up.

As always, she was kind. For years, she’d treated Pei Ning like family,

sending gifts every birthday even when Pei Ning was overseas.

When the call ended, Pei Ning hurried to finish her makeup and changed into a dress suitable for both a business meeting and

a family dinner.

She tucked the letters into her bag before heading out.

By seven-thirty, she was at the office. Ye Xicheng was already there, waiting.

President Ye, she greeted, composed as ever.

She handed over the files she’d stayed up late preparing. The letters could wait.

He watched her for a few seconds, reining in his expression, then opened the documents.

She exhaled quietly and went to pour him fresh water.

When she turned back, his gaze dropped away.

She set the glass on his desk.

Bring a chair, he said, motioning beside him. Sit.

No need, thank you, President Ye. I’ll stand.

Later, she’d realize that No need, thank you, President Ye had become her most-used phrase

always to refuse him, always to keep the distance safe.

He glanced at her shoes, said nothing more.

So he sat, and she stood beside him as they went through the files together.

An hour passed. Two.

By noon, her legs ached, but she didn’t move.

When she finally checked her watch, it was past twelve. She’d been standing for nearly five hours,

save for a brief trip to the restroom.

At lunch, her legs throbbed so much she wanted to massage them under the table

but he sat right across from her, and pride won over pain.

Mid-meal, his phone rang.

Sister, he answered. What is it?

I’m in Beijing, she said. Just finished some work. Want to grab lunch?

I’m eating.

At the company cafeteria?

Yes.

Then wait, I’ll join you.

If you come, I’ll be done by then.

…She sighed. Then tell the chef to make me a few dishes. I’ll be there in half an hour.

I have a client meeting this afternoon. No time.

How disappointing.

Then what about dinner? she asked.

He hesitated. Busy tonight.

Busy my foot, she muttered. I asked your secretary—you’ve got no plans. Pause. Heard Pei Ning’s back?

Mm.

Having dinner with her?

He didn’t answer.

Her voice softened. Life comes with eight sufferings, you know. Birth, aging, sickness, death

we all face those. But the last four? You’ve collected them all.

What four?

Love lost, resentment long, desire unfulfilled, and the inability to let go.

Her tone grew gentle, almost pitying. You still haven’t let her go, Xicheng. She’s moved on, but you… you’re still stuck there.

Across the table, Pei Ning had just ladled herself a small bowl of soup.

Before she could take a sip, his hand reached out.

She paused, then silently passed it to him.

He took a few slow sips, eyes on his phone.

Nothing, he said into it. I’m hanging up.

His sister’s laughter came faintly before the line cut.

I knew it. Mention Pei Ning, and you change the subject. Fine. Go eat your lunch.

?