My name is Xu Yesheng.
His name is Song Yuntong.
We have known each other for thirteen years. From sixteen to twenty-nine.
We ran a company together, and after eight years of hard work, we finally managed to make a difference.
Now, he can finally live without having to grovel, but I am still sitting under him like I was eight years ago.
In three days, he is getting married.
I was still sitting in my office. Through the blinds, the lights in his office were dimmed and various departments were off work. I was the only one left in the whole building.
And I'm waiting for someone.
Wait for him.
I sat on my chair and looked at the only painting on my table. The painting was an abstract painting. It was given to me by a friend. The friend was him and the painting was of me. I thought I figured it out.
It was a mess of lines, with only an orange line running through the black and white.
I usually don't want to take a good look at this painting, but I framed it and left it on the table. I use this to remind myself all the time: Look, he actually knows everything, I am just a joke. Sometimes I wonder if he is simply grateful to have a friend like me.
I've been struggling with this for so many years and didn't dare to ask.
Slowly I could hear footsteps, "Aren't you leaving yet? You should relax a bit too." It was him. I smiled, hummed, stood up and cleared the table, but my eyes fell on the painting, with black and messy lines.
Those threads suddenly seemed to have life, taking me back to those years.
There is no guarantee that he will be very busy and there is no guarantee of updates.
First time writing, please bear with me.
Intention: Goodbye.