He hung up, went back to bed, and continued staring at the ceiling.
At ten years old, he had already learned to hide.
Back then, he understood that in this family, everyone had a mountain of things to do.
Missing someone was the most useless thing. Even if you said it, no one would listen; even if they listened, no one had time for it.
At fifteen, he forced himself to learn to cook.
The boarding school cafeteria was only open at fixed times. He couldn't stand the cold sandwiches and salads. If he wanted something hot, he had to do it himself.
The first time he cooked, he almost set the kitchen on fire.
When the smoke rose, he stood there frozen, not knowing whether to turn off the stove or pour water.
An Indian university student from the next room rushed in, turned off the stove, and asked him in accented English, "Are you crazy?"
He wasn't crazy. He was just hungry.
His father had rented an apartment for him to focus on his studies. Afraid of loneliness, he sublet one room to an unpopular Indian guy.
That Indian guy was very kind. He not only taught him how to make curry and bake bread but also searched online for recipes to teach him how to make fried rice and noodles.
Gradually, he could put together a decent meal.
But by the time he learned, the Indian student was about to return to his country.
The last time they sat together in the dining room, holding their plates, looking at the foreign sky.
The Indian student said he studied abroad to inherit his family's business; his hometown also needed his contribution. Ying Jingsheng said the same.
The Indian student laughed, saying he was just a kid; what inheritance? He should focus on his studies first.
Later, the room became empty. He lived alone for years and never rented it out again.
Many times, he sat by the window with a bowl, staring at the sky outside, imagining where he would be and with whom he would be eating if he hadn't gone abroad.
He had never told anyone this.
But now, he had a listener.
Perhaps because he had just heard Zhao Sili's story about Tao Xinrou's childhood, it triggered his own memories.
Tao Xinrou stood before him, listening to him speak word by word.
She had thought he was a pampered young master, but she never expected he had such a story.
As she ate, Tao Xinrou suddenly remembered something: "Did your speaking up for me today... affect you?" She paused, choosing her words carefully.
Ying Jingsheng looked up at her, was silent for a moment, then looked down and answered, "Yes."
Tao Xinrou's heart tightened.
"But you are my person."
She was stunned.
Ying Jingsheng coughed before continuing, "I mean, you're an employee under me. I have to protect my own employees."
He looked at her, making her heart skip a beat.
"That Director Gao represented headquarters' intention. If I had gone along with him today and pushed you out to take the blame, then I would always be a step lower in front of headquarters. Besides, you didn't do anything wrong."
Tao Xinrou's face instantly flushed. A wave of warmth surged from the bottom of her heart. She hurriedly lowered her head to stir the fried rice in her bowl.
She was afraid that if she looked up, she wouldn't be able to hide the heat in her eyes.
The living room was quiet, with only the occasional chirping of insects outside the window.
"Eat quickly. Don't wake Auntie."
Tao Xinrou murmured "Mm" and continued eating with her head down.
"Tao Xinrou."
"Huh?"
He suddenly called her name.
"I will definitely get to the bottom of this."
She looked up and met his gaze.
"Whether it's why that old lady didn't fill in her allergy history, or any other irregularities, I will investigate thoroughly."
Tao Xinrou looked at him and suddenly felt her eyes sting.
She wanted to say "thank you," or "thank you, President Ying," or other words of gratitude. But in the end, she just nodded and said, "Okay."
I believe you.
I believe that one day, everything will come to light.