When 14-year-old Pei Yanchi was huddled on the street corner, it was 22-year-old Shen Zhiyan who took him back to the rental house.
After four years of residence, Shen Zhiyan taught him how to write a resume and correct wrong questions, but when he said "I like" with red eyes, he gently pushed his hand away: "Wait until you can really stand firm."
Four years later, Pei Yanchi sat at the negotiating table as the president of Party A, looking at the familiar figure in Party B's team - 30-year-old Shen Zhiyan, wearing a washed-out shirt. When he lowered his head to report on work, the tips of his ears were still as red as before.
The cooperation plan was changed to the third version. Pei Yanchi blocked people in the conference room and said, "Worker Shen still has objections to the plan?" His fingertips tapped on the table, the rhythm coincided with the fingering method Shen Zhiyan used when he taught him to tie a tie seven years ago.
Shen Zhiyan clenched his pen tightly and said in a low voice: "No, Mr. Pei has the final say."
He didn't see how hot Pei Yanchi's eyes were as he stared at his work badge - the boy who said he had to "stand firm" had long since grown up to be able to protect him from the wind, but this man was still using polite distance to hide his old feelings that he didn't want to say out loud.
Until clues from his parents' old case entangled in the cooperation project, Pei Yanchi found Shen Zhiyan's handwriting in the pile of documents late at night, and suddenly understood: Some of the avoidance was not because of lack of love, but because he was afraid that his own mud would stain the road that the other party had finally paved.
And what he has to do is never to wait for a response, but to tear down the wall and tell Shen Zhiyan: "Wherever you are, I can stand firm."
Intention: The fetters that time cannot take away