That evening, after her conversation with Hán Chǔfēng at the "Paris at Night Grand Hotel," Ruì Xiǎodān returned to Zhèngtiān Hotel around nine o'clock. After a brief rest, she called Xiāo Yàwén as planned, and they met at the Sanlitun bar street. Sanlitun, known for its vibrant nightlife, offered a variety of venues, from lavish dance halls to cozy romantic spots and avant-garde cultural islands. They chose a jazz bar called "Beyond the Mississippi," where they sipped coffee and enjoyed the jazz performance, immersing themselves in the atmosphere and mood. Around midnight, they headed to a famous Beijing snack street for a late-night meal, enjoying a bowl of almond tea and a plate of pan-fried buns.
By the time Ruì Xiǎodān returned to Zhèngtiān Hotel, it was already late. That night, she tossed and turned in bed, unable to sleep. She felt as if she and Dīng Yuányīng were standing on opposite sides of a canyon—so close yet so far apart.
The next morning at ten, Ruì Xiǎodān had packed her things and went downstairs at the agreed time. Hán Chǔfēng and Xiǎo Zhào were already waiting in the hotel parking lot. Hán Chǔfēng, smoking a cigarette, stood by two black cars: a Zhèngtiān Group president's Mercedes S600 and his personal BMW 730.
As Ruì Xiǎodān approached, Hán Chǔfēng patted the BMW and said, "This is the car. All the necessary documents are inside."
Ruì Xiǎodān placed her bag and the new clothes she had bought into the car, closed the door, and admired the car. "It's beautiful. I've never driven such a nice car before."
Hán Chǔfēng smiled, "The car is in excellent condition. After a few kilometers, you'll get used to it. Yesterday, I kept thinking that the way you hung up on Yuányīng must have been quite impressive, like a heroine."
"Mr. Hán, I've caused you trouble on this trip," Ruì Xiǎodān said politely.
Hán Chǔfēng waved his hand, "You've already dealt with the money issue for Yuányīng. I won't add to the confusion. I just brought him 30 cartons of cigarettes and 50,000 yuan in cash. Zhèng Jiàn brought him 15 kilograms of Tieguanyin tea from his hometown in Ānxī when he returned to China in April, and Zhānnī brought him over 20 records. You tell him, and he'll understand. The tea is vacuum-packed in small bags and has been kept in the freezer, so the quality shouldn't be affected."
"Got it," Ruì Xiǎodān replied.
"You've got a long drive ahead. Get going," Hán Chǔfēng said.
Ruì Xiǎodān waved to Xiǎo Zhào, who was standing a bit further away, signaling her goodbye. Then she got into the car, started it, and fastened her seatbelt. While checking the driving documents and road fees, she noticed that the car was registered in Hán Chǔfēng's name, not Dīng Yuányīng's, but she felt it was inappropriate to ask about it given her current awkward position.
At this point, Hán Chǔfēng spoke in a more brotherly tone, "Yuányīng isn't someone who's fixated on achieving success. As long as he has a meal, he's content. He likes peace and solitude, which to women might seem passive, reclusive, and unambitious. The ancient city isn't a place for him to stay long. His funds are frozen in Berlin and won't be released until May 1998. By then, he'll be able to find a place, buy a house, and perhaps live quietly. Accepting you means he'll need to rebuild his life, and that's no simple task."
After saying this, Hán Chǔfēng closed her car door and waved her off.
Ruì Xiǎodān understood the implications of his words. Lowering the car window, she said, "Thank you!" She waved back and drove out of the parking lot, merging into the traffic.
Once on the closed highway, the hustle and bustle of the city were left far behind. Ahead lay vast fields where farmers were busy with their summer harvest and autumn planting.
Ruì Xiǎodān had no mind to appreciate the scenery. With her left hand on the steering wheel, she took her sunglasses from her bag with her right hand and put them on, lowering the window. The strong wind rushed into the car, hitting her face. Reflecting on Hán Chǔfēng's words, she thought: In this era, it's not hard to be fixated on success; what's difficult is precisely not being fixated on success.