First Arrival at Berkeley

Boston Logan International Airport.

Chen Zhi had just stepped off his private jet when he pulled a black baseball cap from his pocket and placed it onto his head. Reaching into his bag, he fished out a black mask, covering himself completely. By now, he was something of a global celebrity.

Four hours ago, his face had been flashing across several massive screens in New York’s Times Square. The champagne was probably still flowing back at Nasdaq, but here he was—the CEO of a company valued at hundreds of billions of dollars—making a run for it.

If some paparazzi caught the founder of Deep Space Technology ditching the celebration party to wander the streets of Boston, tomorrow’s front page on Wall Street would turn into some ridiculous headline.

Chen Zhi turned to look at Pei Ningxue, who was walking beside him.

She was still wearing the black suit skirt from the bell-ringing ceremony, exuding an aura of power. Walking through the airport corridor like it was a runway, she drew plenty of stares.

“President Pei,” Chen Zhi said, moving half a step to the side. “Maybe you should wear a mask too?”

Pei Ningxue didn’t slow down. She shot him a sideways glance.

“What, afraid I’ll embarrass you?”

“No,” Chen Zhi pointed at her. “You’re also a familiar face in financial news now, the CFO of Deep Space Technology. The two of us together are too obvious. What if someone recognizes us?”

Pei Ningxue stopped walking and let out a cold laugh.

“Don’t worry, I don’t plan on walking with you.”

She raised her wrist to glance at her Patek Philippe.

“I’ve got my own schedule in Boston. Tomorrow morning, I’m meeting with a few professors to discuss university-industry partnerships.”

Pei Ningxue brushed her long hair back behind her shoulders, her tone flat.

“As for you, go see your childhood sweetheart. I have no interest in being the third wheel.”

Chen Zhi looked at her, all businesslike, but he knew exactly what was going on inside her head.

She was just stubborn. All talk and no action.

If she really needed to discuss partnerships, why not do it any other time? Why fly all the way here on his private jet overnight?

But he didn’t call her out on it right now. Instead, he raised his hand solemnly.

“President Pei, you know my feelings for you have always been the same.”

Pei Ningxue stared at him for three seconds.

“Hmph.”

With those two words, she turned around and walked straight toward the VIP pickup area of the airport.

A black Cadillac SUV was parked by the curb. Pei Ningxue opened the door and slid inside with effortless grace.

The window rolled down, and she looked at Chen Zhi, still fully covered, standing by the roadside.

“Chen Zhi.”

He leaned closer.

“Tomorrow at 5 p.m., the private jet flies back to New York. If you’re late, I’ll announce your resignation right away.”

With that, the window rolled up, and the Cadillac merged into traffic with a press of the accelerator.

Chen Zhi stood there, rubbing his nose.

“This temper of hers is getting worse and worse.”

He pulled out his phone and checked the location Su Man had sent him.

Berklee College of Music.

Chen Zhi hailed a taxi and gave the driver the address.

Half an hour later, he stood near the Berklee campus. The area was filled with young people carrying instruments and dressed in eclectic styles; scattered guitar notes drifted out from a corner café.

Chen Zhi adjusted his cap brim, strolling along the street.

Su Man had only said Lin Wanwan had an internal performance tonight, but hadn’t mentioned which venue. Berklee was huge—dozens of rehearsal rooms and performance halls, big and small. He couldn’t exactly push open every door to look for her.

He glanced around and spotted a white guy sitting on a bench by the roadside, smoking a cigarette.

Next to the guy was a bass guitar. He wore ripped jeans and a messy mop of curly hair.

Chen Zhi walked over and struck up a conversation in fluent English.

“Hey, buddy. Sorry to bother you.”

The white guy blew out a smoke ring and looked up at him.

“What’s up?”

“Have you seen an Asian girl around here?” Chen Zhi gestured with his hands. “Short hair, very pretty. Should be a student at your school.”

The guy frowned, studying Chen Zhi with suspicion.

A man wearing sunglasses, a mask, and a baseball cap, out late at night, asking about a pretty girl near a campus?

This looked like a textbook stalker situation.

“Dude, there are plenty of Asian girls at our school,” the guy said, stubbing out his cigarette. “Who exactly are you looking for?”

“Lin.” Chen Zhi used Lin Wanwan’s surname. “She’s a great singer.”

“Lin?”

The guy blinked, then realization hit.

“Yeah, yeah. You mean the one Smith the old man couldn’t stop praising in composition class lately?”

Chen Zhi’s eyes lit up.

“That’s her, exactly.”

The guy’s expression turned even more guarded. He even reached toward his bass case, as if ready to swing it like a weapon if things went south.

“What’s your relationship with her? Paparazzi? Or one of those annoying suitors?”

He gave Chen Zhi a thorough once-over.

“Lin does have a gig tonight, but there’s no way I’m giving the address to some shady dude hiding his face.”

Chen Zhi sighed, a little exasperated.

Students here in Boston sure had strong safety awareness.

He let out a breath, then pulled down his mask and took off his sunglasses.

“I’m not some creep,” Chen Zhi said, pointing at his own face. “I’m her friend.”

The guy was about to fire back a sarcastic remark, but when he saw Chen Zhi’s face, he froze completely.

His eyes went wide, his mouth hung open, and he kept switching his gaze between Chen Zhi’s face and his phone screen.

Just a few seconds ago, he’d been scrolling through Twitter.

And the number one trending topic was the live footage of DeepSpace ringing the bell at Nasdaq.

In the video, the young Asian billionaire, surrounded by global capital bigwigs, pressing the bell—that face looked exactly like the man standing right in front of him.

“Holy shit…”

The guy cursed under his breath and shot to his feet.

“Chen?!”

He pointed at Chen Zhi, his voice cracking.

“You’re that Chen from DeepSpace?!”

Chen Zhi quickly pressed a finger to his lips.

“Shh.”

“Oh my god!” The guy couldn’t control his volume, flailing his arms with excitement. “It’s really you! I’ve seen your launch events! Moss OS is a genius design! I even registered for an account on your developer platform!”

He grabbed Chen Zhi’s arm.

“I’m your fan, Chen! Call me Mike! Man, a billionaire CEO standing right here, asking me about a girl!”

Chen Zhi felt a little dizzy from being shaken.

“Mike, take it easy.”

He pulled his arm free and put his mask back on.

“Right now, I’m just a CEO who sneaked out. I don’t want to cause a scene.”

Mike nodded frantically, lowering his voice, but the excitement was still plain as day.

“I get it! I get it! Big boss going incognito!”

He suddenly realized something, his eyes bulging like brass bells.

"Wait, you were just asking about Lin... Are you and Lin friends?"

Chen Zhi came up with a reason.

"It's her birthday today, so I flew over specially to surprise her. But I don't know where she's performing."

Mike wore an expression like he had stumbled onto a huge scoop, rubbing his hands together excitedly.

"Buddy, you've come to the right place! Lin is performing tonight in the underground theater at the red brick building number 114. It's an independent music festival only open to students."

Mike grabbed his bass case.

"Come on! I'll get you in! You can't get in without a student ID, but I have a warm-up set there tonight!"

Chen Zhi grinned.

This fan was pretty useful.

"Thanks, Mike."

The two walked along the street.

Along the way, Mike was as hyped as a chatterbox, eagerly giving Chen Zhi a rundown of Lin Wanwan's "legendary deeds" at school.

"Chen, you have no idea how popular Lin is around here."

"When she first arrived, she barely spoke. Everyone thought she was a good little girl."

"Then last month, some arrogant rich kid made crude jokes at her in the rehearsal room. She threw a hot coffee right on his crotch and yelled at him to get out."

"After that, nobody dared mess with her."

Chen Zhi walked beside him, listening to these words, pausing slightly in his step.

One year.

She had really grown up.

"We're here."

Mike stopped in front of an old red brick building.

Going down the stairs, the heavy metal drumbeats and distorted guitar sounds already made the floor tremble.

Two students were checking IDs at the entrance.

Mike flashed his pass and pointed to Chen Zhi behind him.

"He's the keyboardist for my band—just flew in from New York today."

The student guarding the door glanced at Chen Zhi, who was bundled up tightly, didn't ask questions, and waved them through.

The small theater was packed, the lighting dim, with only a few blue-purple spotlights hitting the stage.

Mike leaned close to Chen Zhi's ear and shouted,

"Lin is the headliner! She should be on soon!"

Chen Zhi nodded, patted Mike on the shoulder in thanks, and squeezed his way to the edge of the crowd, finding an inconspicuous corner to stand.

A punk band on stage just finished their set, the lead singer screaming and smashing the mic stand, drawing whistles and cheers from the crowd.

The venue lights dimmed.

Students around started murmuring.

"Isn't Lin up next?"

"Yeah, I heard she's singing a new Chinese song she wrote herself tonight."

"Even Smith praised her arrangement. I want to hear how good it really is."

Standing in the shadows, Chen Zhi stared fixedly at the center of the stage.

One minute later, a soft white light hit the stage.

A girl carrying an acoustic guitar slowly walked up to the microphone.

She wore a simple loose white T-shirt, jeans, and a pair of canvas shoes.

The most striking thing was her hair.

Her once waist-length hair was now cut into a short bob that brushed her ears, the ends slightly curled, giving her a cool, aloof vibe.

Her face, under the light, was still stunningly beautiful.

She adjusted the microphone height, plucking the guitar strings lightly.

The entire venue fell silent.