Chapter 59 Part 1

Wen Zenian occasionally returned to the city center, where she would meet up with Meng Ning now and then.

Neither of them mentioned Meng Ning’s impending move.

That all changed on Qi Xiao’s birthday—or rather, it wasn’t exactly her birthday. Qi Xiao had pushed the celebration forward to align with her day off, gathering a bunch of friends at a cheap little bar. They were the folks she’d met while playing Script Killing lately, and she’d also invited Song Xiao and Meng Ning.

Qi Xiao had been worried Meng Ning might bail, so she’d prepared a whole persuasive spiel: “Mountains high and oceans wide, can’t skip even one sip! Better a hole in your gut than a rift in our friendship! Meng Ning, are you seriously not gonna treat me like your bestie?”

Truth be told, ever since witnessing that scene last time, Qi Xiao had dialed back her visits to Meng Ning, not wanting to wear her out with all the pretending.

But she genuinely saw Meng Ning as a friend and figured a birthday hangout might do her some good. Otherwise, Meng Ning would just stew alone at home all day, which wasn’t great for her mood.

To her surprise, she didn’t need the speech at all. Meng Ning agreed right away: “Sure.”

Once the birthday party kicked off, though, Meng Ning was a no-show for quite a while.

Qi Xiao started to worry she might have flaked and was just about to call when Meng Ning finally showed up, apologizing: “Sorry, there was this cat at the shelter that kept throwing up this afternoon, so I got held up.”

“Hey, you’re here now—that’s what matters!” Qi Xiao had Meng Ning sit with Song Xiao.

Someone piped up with a tease: “Qi Xiao, you have friends this pretty and you never mentioned it!”

It was true. Meng Ning wore no makeup, just a simple light gray T-shirt and jeans, her long black hair tied back in a straightforward ponytail. She sat quietly in the booth, her features carrying a cool edge, but she wasn’t like her old self anymore. Now, when you looked her way, she’d flash you a little smile first.

She seemed pretty approachable.

One guy got bold and went up to ask for her WeChat.

Meng Ning gave a small, lip-biting smile before deadpanning: “You’d better steer clear of me. Our elements clash.”

“Huh?”

“For real. My family’s into Buddhism and feng shui—old family trade. After chatting with me this much tonight, you’re guaranteed to lose every game you play when you get home.”

Qi Xiao, listening from across the room, burst out laughing.

Meng Ning was back in form. Qi Xiao hadn’t forgotten her classic rejection lines from before. Meng Ning had even broken it down for her once: who loses at games and then thinks, “Damn, she nailed it”?

That little quip made Qi Xiao a touch nostalgic, like the old Meng Ning had peeked through.

Was the old Meng Ning better? Or the new one? Or were neither quite right?

Qi Xiao couldn’t say. She just squeezed over, threw an arm around Meng Ning’s shoulders, and said, “Let’s drink.”

Booze was great like that. When you didn’t know what to say, you drank, and everything was understood without words.

Still, Qi Xiao didn’t dare let Meng Ning drink much. Like Wen Zenian, she’d noticed that ever since Meng Ning had choked down that seawater, her voice carried a faint rasp despite all tests coming back clean—like some lingering side effect no one could pinpoint.

Qi Xiao hadn’t known these friends long either, but they were all hardcore extroverts, one-upping each other to bond. So they dove into a game of Truth or Dare.

Qi Xiao wanted to tell Meng Ning she could sit it out if she wanted. She could be casual with Meng Ning because she knew her limits, but with these near-strangers, a prying question could spell trouble.

On the other hand, singling her out like that might make her overthink.

No wonder Meng Ning always seemed worn out around her and Wen Zenian. Even Qi Xiao found it tricky.

But Meng Ning had absurd luck.

She went the whole night barely getting picked. When it was Truth, she dished out killer questions; for Dares, her bad ideas were legendary.

One girl said to Qi Xiao: “Your friend seems so quiet, but she’s actually pretty lively.”

“Haha,” Qi Xiao replied. “Hahaha.”

Meng Ning laughed a lot, especially when someone got cornered by a question, cheeks flushing as they hemmed and hawed through their answer. Sometimes even Qi Xiao thought Meng Ning looked genuinely happy for a split second.

It was a far cry from that Black Sea that had once swallowed her whole.

Feeling sentimental, Qi Xiao kept picking Truth, then dodging with drinks instead.

She made several bathroom runs. On one trip out, she bumped into Meng Ning.

Meng Ning smiled at her. A bit tipsy, Qi Xiao leaned in close to her ear and yelled: “You having fun tonight?”

The bar wasn’t fancy—the strobe lights stuttered, the speakers crackled with sharp bursts now and then.

Meng Ning leaned in with a smile, whispering back: “Thanks for inviting me out tonight.”

If Meng Ning had said “I’m having fun,” Qi Xiao would’ve known she wasn’t.

But a simple “thanks” made her feel like dragging her out had been the right call.

Life was like that, wasn’t it? No point getting stuck in the past’s dead ends. Just stumble forward in a haze, and poof—a lifetime gone.

Part of her wanted to tell Meng Ning to drop the Buddhism and feng shui nonsense, add some WeChats, make new friends.

A couple meals, a couple drinks, and maybe you’d realize you got along fine. A few more, and you’d see you could keep each other company.

Then you’d stop overthinking and just keep going. Look back after a long road, and the past was miles behind.

She hesitated because she couldn’t let go of her own past herself.

But Meng Ning’s dead end was sharper, deeper. Even forced, she needed to push through.

While Qi Xiao agonized, Meng Ning just smiled and headed into the bathroom.

Qi Xiao returned to her seat, mind churning. Soon Meng Ning was back, laughing and playing like before.

Then, in one moment, as Meng Ning was grinning and egging a girl on to answer her Truth, her shoulders stiffened, smile frozen.

It passed in a flash.

Qi Xiao got it instantly: Meng Ning’s phone was vibrating in her pocket.

And the caller had to be Wen Zenian.

Meng Ning didn’t pull it out. She just stood and headed outside. A girl next to Qi Xiao nudged her: “Your friend’s got bladder issues or something? She’s running to the bathroom again—she just went.”

“Why are you tracking her bathroom breaks?”

The girl grinned. “She’s a beauty. Everyone’s watching.”

Meng Ning didn’t go to the bathroom. She stepped out of the bar alone and finally took out her phone. “Hello.”

Spring night’s breeze slipped past her parted lips into her throat. There was a pause on the other end before a low female voice replied: “Hello.”

The wind tickled her windpipe, but they both fell silent for two seconds.

A cherry tree stood in front of the bar. No snow in the south, but the breeze sent petals drifting down like flurries. The bar’s din was abruptly cut off by the iron door, silence crashing in like a tight embrace—arms shielding your ears, holding the world at bay.

Your sadness hadn’t caught up yet. Your worries hadn’t either.

In that stolen pocket of peace, Meng Ning listened quietly to Wen Zenian’s breathing for two seconds.

Then she said: “I’m with Qi Xiao.”

Wen Zenian replied: “I know.”

How did she know? Did she know Qi Xiao had the day off? Or that Meng Ning had no one else?

Meng Ning said: “I didn’t know you were coming to the city today. Qi Xiao rounded up a bunch for her early birthday thing, so I came.”

Wen Zenian laughed on the line—not a real laugh, more teasing: “So next you’re gonna say the little birdie has no crime in leaving the empty nest, and she’ll rush back to serve her sugar mama?”

Meng Ning’s lips curved. “Yeah, about time I headed back.”

Wen Zenian paused, then said: “Stay and play a bit longer.”

Meng Ning waited for the reason.

“I’ve got some work tonight. Quieter at home that way.”

It was a flimsy excuse.

The house was huge. Even sharing it, they had separate rooms—no one disturbed anyone.

Meng Ning might not know why, but she agreed: “Okay.”

Wen Zenian added: “Later, once I’m done, I’ll come pick you up.”

Meng Ning nearly refused on instinct but thought better and said: “Okay.”

Wen Zenian hung up.

She’d told Meng Ning to stick around because when she’d first spoken, there was a trace of real laughter from the bar lingering in her voice.

It reminded her of that day at the stray cat shelter, seeing Meng Ning sit with the volunteer, slowly savoring a melting Green Mood cone as the gentle breeze tousled the fine hairs at her temples.

Wen Zenian often wanted to hold Meng Ning tight in her grasp.

Sometimes, though, she wanted to give her a break.

A little less facing her might help.

Meng Ning stood outside the bar, first sending Wen Zenian her location so she’d get a heads-up when she arrived. Then she returned to her seat. Qi Xiao glanced at her but didn’t pry.

Meng Ning’s luck held strong that night, but Qi Xiao’s was rotten—she kept drawing cards and pounding drinks. Eventually, she slurred drunkenly: “Ugh, I can’t anymore. Gotta go buy some spicy strips.”

A newer friend blinked: “Spicy what?”

Qi Xiao belched, eyes wide: “Spicy strips!”

What, someone drunk-dials their ex all teary-eyed, and she can’t grab a bag of spicy strips?

When Qi Xiao got drunk, she craved spicy strips. Because that person was never her ex, haha.

Others cried on calls; she cried over spicy strips—the spicy kind. Whatever, same result: tears streaming.

Meng Ning said: “You okay to go? I’ll come with.”

“Nah, nah.” Qi Xiao waved her off. “You keep playing.”

Even extroverts needed alone time to sort their thoughts sometimes.

She never expected to run into a familiar face right outside the bar.

Qi Xiao rubbed her eyes, thinking the booze was messing with her.

Wen Zenian stood under the cherry tree in a short tailored black blazer cinched at the waist over slim black trousers. Her white shirt’s tie peeked out at the collar like knight’s garb, simple high heels showing off slender ankles.