Chapter 7 — When He Chose Her

I offered a simple grunt of acknowledgement, choosing not to press for further details. He departed with a chilling, clinical precision. There were no farewells, no explanations, not even a stray message left behind to soften the blow. It was as if he had been scrubbed entirely from the architecture of my life. Yet, certain remnants refused to vanish. Projects that had been stalled for months suddenly gained momentum, as if oiled by an invisible hand. Clients who had teetered on the edge of indecision for an eternity suddenly signed their contracts without a murmur. Even the merger that had been hopelessly deadlocked was, one morning, pushed through to total approval. Later, my assistant spoke to me in a hushed, tentative tone:

"It seems... all of these breakthroughs were facilitated by Director Chu."

I did not answer. I merely turned a page of my dossier, feigning a deafness that was as deliberate as it was cold. A month later, I received an offer of partnership from a new firm. It was a massive, stable entity with an impeccable reputation. The director in charge was blunt: they needed someone who could master both risk and the grand scale of operations, and I was the perfect fit. It was only after signing the preliminary agreement that I discovered the truth. This company had deep, pre-existing ties to Chu Tu. He had transferred every resource that had once been his own into my path. No signature, no conditions, no strings attached. That evening, I worked late until the entire floor was a hollow shell of silence. Only the elevator’s glass doors caught my reflection, solitary and pale. My phone flickered to life. It was a screenshot of an email sent by my assistant.

"Director Chu has officially confirmed he will no longer participate in any project decision-making."

Below it, a final note was added:

"Henceforth, all projects are under the sole and absolute authority of Attorney Tu."

I set the phone down without replying. The last time Chu Tu appeared was on a rain-drenched day. He had not called ahead; he simply stood beneath the office building, hatless, drenched in the downpour. When my assistant entered my office, I was engrossed in a contract. She said, "There is a gentleman outside who wishes to see you."

I did not lift my head. "Follow the standard procedure for appointments."

She hesitated, her voice trembling slightly. "He said... he no longer has the standing to make an appointment."

My pen hovered, a momentary tremor stalling my hand. Yet, I remained composed. "Then there is no need to meet."

Minutes later, she returned to tell me he had gone. He left behind only one thing: a thin envelope, devoid of any signature. Inside was the final confirmation of share transfers, accompanied by a single slip of paper. It held only one sentence:

"The law firm is yours; the man is, too."

I placed the paper back into the envelope and folded it neatly away. That night, I climbed to the rooftop alone. The city lights stretched into the infinite dark, and the rain had finally relented, leaving the air heavy and damp. I stood there for a long time, staring up at the velvet night. It was as if nothing had ever happened. Far below, on the overpass, a car moved slowly, its headlights cutting a sharp, brilliant path through the gloom. But the figure inside kept his head bowed from start to finish, refusing to look in any direction. He simply followed the preordained path, moving forward into the void. The end.