Fang Yuan, being naturally curious, insisted on knowing who had built it. Left with no choice, I lied and said it was made by a friend. If Fang Yuan ever found out I had the audacity to trick Gao Hai Ming, he might fire me.
What I hadn’t anticipated was that one day, Gao Hai Ming would appear in my office.
That afternoon, I was engrossed in my work when I noticed a man standing silently in front of me for a long time. Curious, I looked up and was shocked to see it was Gao Hai Ming. He was staring at the fighter jet model on my desk with an incredulous expression.
“Mr. Gao,” I greeted him, trying to remain composed.
He nodded in acknowledgment and then walked into Fang Yuan’s office.
When he emerged, he stood before me again, silent for a moment before finally asking, “Is this model yours?”
“Yes, it’s mine,” I replied, my heart racing. I was terrified he’d uncover the truth. What would happen if he found out I had tricked him?
Gao Hai Ming studied the fighter jet intently, as if trying to determine whether it was indeed his handiwork.
Fang Yuan approached and asked, “What’s going on?”
“Nothing,” Gao Hai Ming replied before bidding Fang Yuan farewell.
“Why did he come up here?” I asked Fang Yuan.
“He’s very satisfied with how we handled the BeeComfort and Ai Baobao crises. He wants to establish a long-term partnership. You’ve done an excellent job,” Fang Yuan said.
I hadn’t expected Gao Hai Ming to praise me to Fang Yuan. This made me feel guilty about making him spend three weeks building the model for me. But the guilt quickly faded—I reasoned that if he wasn’t building a model for me, he’d be building one for someone else. Even if he recognized it as his work, he might assume it was a coincidence that I had bought it from the shop where he happened to work.
About two hours after Gao Hai Ming left Yun Sheng, around 7 p.m., I left the office as well. Outside the building, I saw him in a convenience store across the street, flipping through a magazine. When he noticed me, he quickly paid for the magazine and exited the store.
“Mr. Gao, are you still in the area?” I asked.
“Where did you buy your fighter jet model?”
“Why are you so interested in my model?”
“I just visited that shop,” he said, looking at me as if trying to read my thoughts. Could the shop owner have told him it was a special request for him to build it? That annoying shopkeeper!
Feigning ignorance, I replied, “I don’t quite understand what you’re getting at.”
“You’re one of the two women who bought a model there, aren’t you?”
A smug expression spread across Gao Hai Ming’s face, as if he had pieced together the entire puzzle.
I was at a loss for words, unsure how to defend myself.
“My car is parked just ahead. Do you have some time?” he asked.
I couldn’t decipher his intentions. Was he asking if I had time to talk? Or time for something else?
It seemed he couldn’t articulate it either. We stood silently amidst the hustle and bustle of Causeway Bay for three minutes before he finally said, “Shall we find a place to sit?”
“Sit and do what?” I wondered. But his expression held no malice, so I agreed.
Gao Hai Ming drove the same small Japanese car I’d seen him with outside the model shop. During the drive, he remained silent, which reassured me—he didn’t seem upset about the prank.
He parked in a small alley in Wan Chai and led me to an Italian restaurant.
“What would you like to eat?” he asked.
“I’ve never had Italian food before.”
“Then try the angel hair pasta,” he suggested.
He ordered the same for himself.
Angel hair pasta turned out to be thin noodles served with a small amount of lobster and sauce.
“Do you like this?” I asked.
“I like the name, but the taste doesn’t impress me,” he admitted.
“It’s rather romantic to choose a dish solely for its name,” I said.
“Why did you specifically request me to build your model?” he asked, probing.
“I didn’t,” I replied.
“That day, you looked so pleased when you saw me working on a model,” he said, clearly confident in his interpretation.
“Really? And why do you build models for others?” I countered. “You certainly don’t need to.”
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