When Xie Yan was diagnosed with stomach cancer, I was abroad, clearing my head.
He was calling for the hundredth time when my secretary-a man standing six-foot-two-finally picked up the phone.
“Where are you? Who is that with you?” I heard his voice crack over the line, sounding like he was on the verge of a total breakdown.
I couldn’t help but let out a mocking sneer. “Didn’t we agree to stay out of each other’s business? Why are you acting like such a sore loser now?”