A leisurely life starting in a bar after being reborn

The taciturn CEO of Tencent, Mr. Ma, sat opposite Fu Yan, quietly sipping his tea. He would occasionally interject with a comment, but each one was a gem, perfectly apt. Zhang Chaoyang, on the other hand, was a chatterbox. After a few drinks, he began recounting the past of Foxconn, then suddenly turned to Fu Yan: "Mr. Fu, you returned to China to open a bar, is it because you haven't fulfilled some initial aspiration?"

"It's not really about my original intention anymore. I just wanted to keep myself busy, because I was afraid my body would rust if I was idle." Fu Yan swirled his wine glass. "I just felt that when it comes to making money, once you reach a certain amount, adding another zero doesn't really matter. It's better to do something you like, something free and exciting."

"Do you like opening bars?" Zhang Chaoyang pressed.

"I sleep until I naturally wake up every day, have a couple of drinks with friends, listen to people sing and dance..." Fu Yan paused, "I wouldn't say I like it, but at least I don't find it annoying."

Ding Lei, standing nearby, gave a thumbs up: "No problem, that's a high level of understanding."

Ma Yun, holding a wine glass, leaned closer and lowered his voice: "Mr. Fu, how about we go to your bar sometime? I've never been to one of those little pubs before."

"Welcome, drinks are welcome, just don't be too flashy, my bar isn't very big."

"Don't worry, I'll keep a low profile."

Everyone at the table laughed—Jack Ma's face is impossible to keep low-key anywhere.

At dinner parties, the real story unfolds in the latter half. The first half is all polite formalities; the second half, as the alcohol kicks in, the conversation becomes more casual. Ding Lei talked about the hardships of pig farming, saying pigs are harder to care for than people; Jack Ma complained about the constant arguments with the board; Zhang Chaoyang slammed his fist on the table, saying he almost sold Foxconn to Ding Lei, to which Ding Lei retorted, "Even if you wanted to sell, I wouldn't buy!"—and the two immediately started arguing.

Fu Yan watched from the sidelines, finding it amusing. These people usually acted like business leaders in public, but in private they were no different from ordinary people; when they drank too much, they would boast and curse as they pleased.

Seeing that it was almost ready, Zhang Fan poured Fu Yan another cup. Fu Yan didn't refuse and downed it in one gulp.

Then—then I blacked out. I don't even know what kind of alcohol I drank or what it tasted like.

……

Fu Yan was awakened by thirst.

My throat felt like it was on fire, and my head throbbed as if someone had hit me with a hammer. When I opened my eyes, I saw the hotel ceiling. The curtains weren't fully drawn, letting in a sliver of light, hazy and indistinct—the sky in Shanghai always seems perpetually dark.

He struggled to sit up and saw a glass of warm water on the bedside table, along with two hangover pills.

Lin Xiaochen sat on a chair by the window, leaning against the wall, seemingly asleep. She was still clutching her phone in her hand, the screen still lit.

Fu Yan picked up the water, took two sips, and then checked the time—1:40 a.m.

He got out of bed and walked to Lin Xiaochen, intending to wake her up and tell her to go back to sleep, when his phone screen suddenly lit up with an unsent message that began, "President Fu's schedule for today..."

The words that followed were obscured by a finger and were not visible.

Fu Yan didn't look at her for long. He gently took the phone from her hand and placed it beside her, then took off his coat and covered her with it.

Lin Xiaochen stirred, but didn't wake up.

Fu Yan stood there for a while, looking out the window.

The night view of Shanghai is better than that of Beijing. At least there are boats on the Huangpu River, unlike Houhai, where it's pitch black at night and you can't see anything.

He glanced at Lin Xiaochen again, then turned and went back to bed.

My head hurts, I don't want to think about it anymore.

……

Fu Yan woke up again because of thirst. This time it wasn't a burning throat, but the sticky, bitter feeling in her mouth after a hangover, like she had been chewing sand all night.

He turned over and subconsciously looked towards the window—the chair was empty, and his coat was neatly folded and placed on the armrest.

Lin Xiaochen is gone.

Fu Yan touched his phone, about to dial a number, when the door clicked open. Lin Xiaochen walked in carrying a tray with two bowls of porridge, several side dishes, and two steaming meat buns.

"Awake?" She placed the tray on the bedside table. "It's the hotel breakfast. I don't know if it suits your taste."

Fu Yan glanced at the food—plain congee, pickles, fried eggs, and steamed buns. Although it wasn't Sister Zhou's cooking, it was much better than he had expected.

"When did you go out?"

"A little after seven." Lin Xiaochen sat down on the sofa chair at the foot of the bed, picked up a bowl of porridge, and said, "Why don't you eat breakfast and then sleep a little longer? Anyway, your flight is in the afternoon, so there's no rush."

Fu Yan didn't stand on ceremony and picked up the porridge to drink. After a hangover, a bowl of hot porridge finally calmed the churning feeling in his stomach. He took a bite of the xiaolongbao, and it was quite juicy—Shanghai's xiaolongbao are definitely better than those in Beijing, that much is true.

After the two finished eating in silence, Lin Xiaochen cleared away the tray, and Fu Yan finally spoke up: "We still have some time in the morning, how about we go out for a stroll?"

What do you want to buy?

"Just wandering around." Fu Yan stretched, his back still aching. "We can't just come to Shanghai for nothing but signing contracts and drinking, can we?"

……

The Hang Lung Plaza in Pudong is not far from the hotel, and the hotel sent a car to take them there in about ten minutes.

Fu Yan shopped at the mall much like he shopped at a farmers market, walking into whatever caught his eye without even looking at the prices. Lin Xiaochen followed behind, already carrying three bags—two scarves and a trench coat, all picked out casually by Fu Yan, who said they were for Xu Wenshu.

When they reached the second floor, Fu Yan stopped in front of a luxury goods store. Lin Xiaochen assumed he was picking out a bag for Xu Wenshu, so she stood nearby and waited. But after looking around, Fu Yan finally picked out a small black square bag and handed it to Lin Xiaochen.

"How about taking a look?"

Lin Xiaochen was stunned: "For me?"

"Yes, it's not for you, it's a reward for you." Fu Yan said naturally, "You've been running around with me these past few days, it's been especially hard work, even if you haven't done anything special, you've still put in the effort."

"Mr. Fu, isn't this a bit inappropriate..."

"What's inappropriate about it?" Fu Yan had already turned and walked towards the next room. "Don't try to pass the buck with me. That's a waste of time. Here, take it. It's all rightfully yours."

Lin Xiaochen swallowed her words and glanced down at the bag in her hand. The leather was soft, the hardware was matte, and there was no large logo, but the design was neat—she actually quite liked it.

Fu Yan stopped again at the jewelry counter next door. He didn't know much about jewelry, but he recognized the Givenchy logo. He picked out a set—a necklace and earrings, with simple lines, no unnecessary decorations, and not flashy.

"This is for you too."

This time, Lin Xiaochen didn't refuse. She took it and said softly, "Thank you, Mr. Fu."

"Don't thank me, you deserve my reward!" Fu Yan said and walked out without looking back.

Lin Xiaochen stood there and glanced at his back before carefully putting the jewelry box into her bag.

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