Chapter 103: Ascending Heights to Gaze Afar, the Beauty’s Fragrance

The newly constructed hotel stood on an island in the middle of the Pearl River, right in the heart of Guangzhou. Since the Qing Dynasty, this island had served as a foreign concession, resulting in a dense collection of consulates, trading firms, social clubs, and associations. They were all arranged in orderly rows, showcasing beautiful, exotic architecture. Even after the properties were reclaimed and subdivided into dormitory buildings for various work units, with the balconies and windows cluttered with drying laundry and makeshift awnings, the overall aesthetic remained breathtaking.

The hotel’s architect, perhaps unwilling to disrupt this unique atmosphere, chose to reclaim land on the side of the island to build a modern high-rise. Because the island remained open to pedestrians, walking through it felt like traveling through time. One could find thick, shade-casting trees lining the roads, alongside exquisite buildings with dilapidated windows, and the vibrant, lively glow of household lights, occasionally punctuated by a naughty child being chased by his mother. It lacked the commercial artifice that would define such tourist spots in the future.

Added to this were the shimmering, neon-lit skyscrapers seen in the distance. It was impossible to tell if one was in China or abroad, in the past, the present, or the future. Rang Weidong was filled with awe. On a previous trip to Shanghai, he had felt a similar sense of dislocation near the buildings along the Bund, as if time had stood still for forty years. But in reality, those areas were far more dilapidated, and the narrow lanes lacked the structural integrity and beauty of this place.

Guangzhou possessed a different kind of prosperity—a sense of being "far from the emperor," carefree and unconcerned with worldly affairs, focused only on making money. Rang Weidong found himself instantly captivated. When he shared this with his secretary, she was clearly more excited than when they discussed work. "Next time, let's go to Shanghai on a business trip! You see, I can be your interpreter."

The boss, unaware that the translation had gone awry, promised grandly, "No problem. Once we start selling these snacks, cameras, tape recorders, and tissues, we’ll definitely have to go to Shanghai. That’s the center of national commerce."

Zhang Lanzhi nodded with a light laugh, looking up at the shimmering lights reflected in her eyes.

By the time they reached the White Swan Hotel near midnight, it was, predictably, fully booked, and the kitchen staff had long since finished their shift. Even when the lobby manager heard the name of the head chef and confirmed he was still working there, he could only suggest they return the next day. "Even the coffee shop is fully booked tonight."

Well, clearly, even Zhang Lanzhi didn't mind at this point. She pointed vaguely to a garden bench by the river. "Shall we just sit here?"

Rang Weidong was even less concerned; dawn was only a few hours away. But no sooner had they sat down than they were disturbed by the busy, hushed sounds of a couple in the darkness nearby, forcing them to quickly find another spot. The next place proved worse—a couple was locked in an embrace, whispering sweet nothings—so they blushed and moved again. After several attempts, it felt as if they had arrived too late to claim any personal space.

Before long, Zhang Lanzhi had taken hold of Rang Weidong’s hand. She carefully observed, peeked, and coughed, only daring to sit down once she was sure they wouldn't disturb any other "wild ducks." "How can the social atmosphere be like this here!"

Rang Weidong held up his hand to show her, and the secretary quickly let go. "I didn't notice, I didn't notice. The night view here is so beautiful, though there are a few mosquitoes." She began rummaging through her bag for some medicated oil.

Rang Weidong, thick-skinned and rugged, had already found a bench to lie down on. "Actually, the temperature here is perfect—not too hot or cold. Sleeping on the roadside wouldn't be a problem; it would be perfect if I just had a pillow."

To his surprise, the secretary didn't offer her lap as a pillow. Instead, she came over to nudge him up. "You must sit properly. No matter how harsh the conditions, we must maintain decency and self-respect."

Rang Weidong certainly couldn't articulate a philosophy of contentment like Linghu Chong, but he lived by it. "There’s no need to suffer just for the sake of appearances. It’s just a nap; who would see or care? Look at those people just now..." In truth, some of the sounds he had heard earlier had made him blush, too.

Zhang Lanzhi shook her head earnestly. "The tougher one's fate, the more one must insist on their inner standards. If you can't even support your own spiritual world, what is the meaning of being alive?"

Having lived a second life, Rang Weidong fell silent. During the forty years he spent idling away in a security booth, he hadn't dared to think about the meaning of life. He had just been surviving. Over the past year, he had viewed everyone with a detached, outsider's mindset, and he hadn't yet met anyone worthy of his total admiration. But at this moment, he realized that when it came to the spiritual depth of this little secretary, he still had a long way to go, even if she was unremarkable in other respects.

Zhang Lanzhi whispered, "I’m very grateful that you brought me away from the factory. My parents never regretted dedicating their lives to such a harsh place, but their only regret was not being able to provide me with better conditions—or, rather, they couldn't help me bow to an environment that was materially and spiritually impoverished. I could only read books growing up, longing for the worlds within them, unable to fit into my surroundings. I want to see a more beautiful world, even if it costs me my life."

Rang Weidong understood. After all, his college entrance exam scores had been decent; he should have been sitting on a university campus, elevating his horizons alongside the "heavenly pride" of this era. College students and intellectuals of this time were particularly distressed by the massive distortion between reality and their ideals.

"Then why didn't you go to university? I see your English is so good; studying at a foreign language institute or something similar could have changed your fate."

The secretary looked embarrassed. "My grades weren't good. Aside from foreign languages, my math, physics, and chemistry were terrible. Even my Chinese wasn't great. My father is a technical engineer and my mother is a quality inspector, but my high school entrance exam scores were quite poor."

Rang Weidong laughed heartily. "So, 'ambition higher than the sky, but a life thinner than paper; eyes higher than your hands, with the body of a lady but the fate of a maid.'"

The little secretary possessed her own form of spiritual defense and wasn't fazed. "Yes, I know I'm not excellent, but I try my best to be a useful person. That’s why you should believe that I will help you do a good job. There was really no hope at the factory. Besides typing, I could only pour water and serve fruit plates at meetings, day after day, without even seeing a single foreigner."

Rang Weidong remembered something. "So, your English is quite good?"

Zhang Lanzhi said proudly, "My mother studied English and worked in a foreign affairs department. My father speaks it, too. At home, we often switched between English, Shanghainese, and Sichuanese to improve our communication."

The boss expressed his satisfaction and began a brief discussion about the female employee's salary requirements. However, the secretary had already started nodding off, her head bobbing like a chicken pecking at rice. In the end, she leaned against his shoulder. The bitter-smiling boss didn't dare sleep alongside her. Even the sight of that military uniform made him afraid to let his hand stray too far. Leaning back to take a nap wasn't too difficult, but in his hazy state, he couldn't help but ask himself what kind of meaning he wanted to live for now.

He awoke at dawn to a clamor of noise. Not only was the riverbank, with its railing-lined paths, already bustling with people doing morning exercises, walking, or pushing bicycles, but across the river, he could hear the roar of traffic and the whistles of ships. The busy awakening of the entire city reached a level that the Shangzhou of forty years later couldn't even match.

Rang Weidong struggled to adjust his aching, stiff body, and even more so to accommodate the woman in the military uniform curled up in his arms. *Oh my, was I dreaming about playing ball again?* A few kids were squatting nearby, giggling. He felt that if it weren't for Zhang Lanzhi's military uniform, they would have been surrounded by onlookers long ago.

Rang Weidong hurried to nudge the secretary awake. Zhang Lanzhi cried out that her waist hurt; being twisted in Rang Weidong's arms like that had indeed been taxing. Rang Weidong, feeling drained, simply ran to the riverbank to splash some water on his face to cool down, considering his morning routine finished. The secretary, ever fussy, used her military cap to cover her face, complaining that she hadn't washed up!

The boss, nursing a headache, had to put his brain to work, especially when he saw a stream of taxis dropping people off at the White Swan Hotel nearby. He decided to go and try to book a room.

Success—but the single room rate was six hundred and eighty! Although the listed price was only two or three hundred, that was in Foreign Exchange Certificates, which had to be converted based on the exchange rate.

Rang Weidong was absolutely stunned. Even from the perspective of forty years later, he wouldn't consider that price cheap. This was 1984, after all. A typical stay at a guesthouse cost two to five yuan per person, and a hotel room for forty or fifty was considered quite luxurious—and usually reserved for cadres anyway. Six hundred and eighty! Many families didn't even make that much in a year. Last year, when he had hauled cured meat to Jiangzhou, he couldn't have afforded a single night here even if he had worked his fingers to the bone. It was absurdly expensive.

If he hadn't come from forty years in the future, he might have felt his worldview crumbling. In terms of purchasing power, this price was even more outrageous—for a standard room, it was equivalent to tens of thousands in his time. Because these rooms weren't meant for domestic citizens.

But since they were already there, and he wanted to connect with the Cantonese chefs, he decided to treat it as an experience. Seeing Zhang Lanzhi—who had put her military cap back on and was still subconsciously trying to cover her face—look like she was about to faint from the price actually amused him.

He used their referral letter and work ID to check in. Since it was so expensive, they only booked one room. The front desk manager was surprised; even in Guangzhou, such hotels were generally not open to domestic citizens. The White Swan was a rare exception, and it was likely the first time they had seen two Sichuan sales staff dressed so plainly trying to check in. The manager highly recommended they try the hotel's morning tea later.

It was fine to mention it, but on the way to the room, Rang Weidong noticed the secretary frequently leaning against the elevator wall to change her posture. After the room attendant opened the door and left, she shook her head immediately. "No, no, we can't spend hundreds on morning tea; it's too expensive. Damn... well, this six or seven hundred was worth it."

Pulling back the curtains revealed an expansive, unparalleled view of the river and the city. While the hotel's interior was brand new and high-end, it looked slightly dated to Rang Weidong—all white walls and red carpets. The two beds in the standard room even had carved, Republic-era style frames, which felt a bit gaudy.

But looking down at the surrounding, dilapidated, low-rise buildings of Guangzhou from such a height—the feeling of "standing at the summit of the mountain"—was the moment that had touched him most deeply in the past year.

Once in the room, Zhang Lanzhi rushed into the bathroom, surprised by the shampoo and toothbrushes on the vanity. Could they really use them? She picked up every item to examine and ask about it. Once confirmed, Rang Weidong helped her tear open the plastic packaging. She emerged a while later in her plaid shirt and blushed slightly when she saw the two beds.

Looking at her back, he walked over quietly. "What are you thinking about?"

Rang Weidong pointed into the distance. "Standing here feels completely different from being in the old streets of Shangzhou, my hometown in the countryside, the food streets of Jiangzhou, or even the highest-end Queen's Restaurant in Jiangzhou. Only by seeing this gap do I realize that if you strive, you can see much more of the world."

Zhang Lanzhi leaned toward the window, looked down, and suddenly felt a bit dizzy, grabbing onto Rang Weidong's clothes. "You could never see these views back at the factory. Thank you."

Rang Weidong took a deep breath, intending to collect his thoughts, but caught the scent of a rich, pleasant fragrance. He turned his head subconsciously, his heart skipping a beat—*she is truly beautiful!*

The early morning southern sun shone through the large window, and with the magnificent view and a beauty by his side, he felt a bit overwhelmed. It was a heady feeling, having both the world and a beauty. But his habit of turning away or suppressing his emotions whenever he saw a beautiful woman for many years kicked in, and he immediately turned around. "Let's go, let's go, let's go try that morning tea..."

He was already on the verge of being defeated by her "beauty trap." Zhang Lanzhi took a quiet breath, followed him with a secret smile, and hurried along.