A cigarette dangled unlit from between Wen Zenian’s fingers. She didn’t light it until Qi Xiao arrived, then gave a small tilt of her chin in greeting before flicking on the lighter—Meng Ning’s old lighter, the one she’d once pocketed and eventually returned.
“Sorry,” Wen Zenian said. “Got tied up with some last-minute work until now. My head’s foggy; I needed some sea air.”
“Oh, okay,” Qi Xiao said. “No worries.”
“What did you want to see me about?”
“I went to see a movie the night before last,” Qi Xiao said out of nowhere.
Wen Zenian crossed her arms and took a drag from her cigarette. The wispy trail of smoke drifted out toward the sea on the night breeze, gradually blending into the mist until it was impossible to tell one from the other. “Sorry to interrupt,” Wen Zenian said, “but I want to ask something first.”
She was being unusually polite tonight.
“Sure, go ahead.”
“Did Meng Ning ask you to come find me tonight, or…?”
“I came on my own.”
Wen Zenian gave a slight nod of her chin. She looked perfectly calm and said nothing, merely gesturing for Qi Xiao to continue.
“That night, I went to the movie with Fang Ji. You don’t know who she is, right?” Qi Xiao explained. “She’s the one who was driving the time you came looking for Meng Ning downstairs at our place and saw us getting out of the car. I don’t know if you noticed or anything, but Fang Ji is genuinely interested in me, not Meng Ning. Haha, who would’ve thought!”
Wen Zenian shook her head just a fraction. Every one of her movements was so restrained, carrying an innate air of proud elegance. “I don’t pay attention to irrelevant people.”
The implication was clear: she only cared about Meng Ning.
Hearing those words in that distinctive voice of hers—damn, it was enough to make even Qi Xiao melt.
But! She and Meng Ning had broken up!
Qi Xiao gathered her thoughts and pressed on. “Anyway, Fang Ji and I watched the movie and had a great chat. The film was fantastic, the theater was super nice, and the popcorn was delicious. But when I got home, I sat alone on the sofa for ages, and something just felt… off.”
Wen Zenian tapped the ash from her cigarette, her expression serene as she motioned for Qi Xiao to go on.
“Then it hit me all at once. Back when I used to watch movies with her, did I ever notice if the film was good, or if the theater was comfy, or if the popcorn tasted great? I’d stumble home in a daze without even knowing what the plot was! Hell, if she’d handed me a piece of paper during the movie, I probably would’ve munched it down like it was popcorn. All my attention was on her.”
The corners of Wen Zenian’s mouth curved up ever so slightly. “I understand.”
Understand what? The more she seemed to get it, the more it stung Qi Xiao’s heart.
Whether she did or not, Qi Xiao had to say it. “It’s really not that easy to meet someone you like that much. After we split, I kept telling myself time would heal it all, that the next person would make everything better. But deep down, I know there’s not going to be a next one.”
Tears started spilling down Qi Xiao’s cheeks as she spoke. Damn, why was she such a crybaby? Crying in front of the Lesbian Circle Hottie—what an embarrassment!
Wen Zenian’s smoking paused for a beat, and she said softly, “I won’t touch you to comfort you. Better to avoid any suspicion.”
Even as she cried, Qi Xiao couldn’t help thinking: Damn, why did even “avoid suspicion” sound so heart-meltingly charming coming from her!
“No need, no need!” Qi Xiao waved her hands frantically, still sobbing. “I just wanted to say—you two liking each other this much is so rare. I know better than anyone. If you split like this, you might think you’ll find someone else to like, but you won’t. It’s been five years for me, and I still haven’t. Not a single day goes by that I don’t think of her.”
“Meng Ning—” Qi Xiao hiccuped, pausing to catch her breath before she could go on. “Meng Ning’s sick. It’s not easy for her. She’s so stubborn—just give in to her a little, okay? Go tell her you want to be together. Long-distance, whatever, just stay together, please?”
Qi Xiao’s sobs grew uncontrollable, her shoulders shaking. She wasn’t even sure if she was crying for Wen Zenian and Meng Ning, or for herself and the woman she’d lost.
Wen Zenian stepped closer and gave her back the lightest pat before pulling her hand away.
After a moment’s thought, she spoke. “Qi Xiao, here’s the thing.”
Her voice was steady, easing some of Qi Xiao’s raw emotion. Qi Xiao fought to calm herself and listen.
“Truth is, I feel a little aggrieved,” Wen Zenian said. “And that grievance stems from a tiny shred of my self-respect.”
Qi Xiao froze.
Wen Zenian twirled the hand holding her cigarette with the barest motion. “From childhood right up to now, I’ve always been the one chasing Meng Ning. I told myself I’d take ninety-nine steps toward her, if only she’d take that one step toward me. She was the one who suggested we start dating—and the one who ended it. I’m not pretending it didn’t hit me hard, but I told myself I’d swallow my pride and go find her just this once. Just once, I’d cast aside all dignity and emotion to make things right—as long as she was willing.”
She wouldn’t hold the breakup against Meng Ning, no matter the pain it caused.
Wen Zenian’s lips quirked faintly. “But in the end… she didn’t take that step toward me.”
“Meng Ning, she…”
“I get it. She has her own stance, her own stubbornness. But Qi Xiao—have you all forgotten that I do too?”
Qi Xiao froze again.
Wen Zenian took a drag from her cigarette. “In my heart, I’ve always seen us as equals. That’s why I held onto that scrap of self-respect, those principles of mine. I can take ninety-nine steps… but not a hundred. Because…”
She glanced at Qi Xiao. “I want to see her as my lover, not as a patient.”
The words shook Qi Xiao to her core.
She had never imagined Wen Zenian thought about it so deeply.
If Wen Zenian treated Meng Ning like a patient, she could yield without question, stay together no matter Meng Ning’s stubbornness. But their positions would never be equal, and they’d never have a truly healthy relationship.
Wen Zenian saw her as a lover—which was why she longed for Meng Ning to take just that one tiny step.
Her thin lips parted slightly. “By my nature, I shouldn’t be telling you any of this.”
Then why had she?
Qi Xiao gazed at her profile, softly tousled by the sea wind. It struck her then—just as she always slipped so easily into Meng Ning’s shoes, that victim mindset made it all too easy to overlook one thing:
Even the strong get hurt.
Even the resilient feel pain.
Wen Zenian carried herself with such flawless elegance, never showing a crack. But if that were entirely true, why was she out here in the dead of night, sea wind whipping around her as she smoked and bared her soul to someone she barely knew along the shoreline?
Qi Xiao had even stopped crying. She swallowed hard. “I get what you mean.”
Wen Zenian dipped her chin ever so slightly. “Thank you.”
And just like that, Qi Xiao broke down all over again.
Thanks for what? Why stay so perfectly poised all the time? That was exactly why people didn’t think from her side!
“Sorry for bothering you,” she mumbled glumly, then turned and bolted.
If she stuck around Wen Zenian any longer crying like this, she’d end up with snot bubbles!
She raced all the way back to her dorm, blew her nose, washed her face, and flopped against the headboard clutching her phone.
She desperately wanted to call Meng Ning right then and tell her everything, but she held back. She was still too emotional. Sure, everyone had their own story—but what gave her the right to make choices for Meng Ning and Wen Zenian?
She worried any heated words from her might sway their relationship one way or the other.
She resisted the urge, showered, and went to bed. It wasn’t until after lunch the next day, once her emotions had finally crested and ebbed, that she slipped away to a quiet spot amid the bushes outside the employee cafeteria and dialed Meng Ning.
Meng Ning picked up. “Hello?”
“What are you up to?”
“Shoveling cat litter.”
“You headed over that early today?”
“Yeah.” Meng Ning’s voice paused, as if she were shutting a cage door. “Got a new batch of little ones today.”
“You free now?”
“Sure, just wrapped up for a bit.”
“Put down the litter scoop and listen to me.”
“I can listen while holding it. Nowhere to set it down here.”
“Don’t mess around. This is serious.”
“Okay, shoot.”
Meng Ning was standing just outside the cat shelter, leaning against a wooden wall half-painted green, as Qi Xiao laid it all out. The summer breeze blew hot across her forearms, raising layers of fine sweat, while the new kittens mewed from inside.
Once Qi Xiao finished, she said, “Anyway, that’s everything she told me. Whatever you decide is up to you. She’s taking the helicopter off the island tomorrow night—and after that, she probably won’t be back.”
Meng Ning fell silent for a long moment.
Then, softly: “Qi Xiao, thank you.”
“Hey, no need.” Qi Xiao sighed. “I have no idea if pushing forward is right or wrong for you two. That’s on you.”
Meng Ning murmured a quiet “mm,” and Qi Xiao hung up.
A day and a half flew by in shoveling pounds of cat litter, getting scratched by a stray and jabbed with a vaccine shot, wolfing down three meals, and snatching four hours of sleep.
That same day and a half dragged on agonizingly slow, plenty of time for the thoughts in one’s head to twist and turn, flip-flop and sway, impossible to pin down.
On the evening Wen Zenian was set to leave the island, Meng Ning was at the bus stop when her phone rang with a call from Qi Xiao.
“I’m not trying to rush you onto the island or anything,” Qi Xiao said right off the bat. “I know you—you’ll probably hem and haw right up to the last second. Then you’ll realize Gwyneth is about to go and scramble for a speedboat, but there won’t be any left by then.”
“At that point, I ought to swoop in all cool and say, ‘Don’t panic, I have a plan!’ But sorry, I really don’t. I can’t magic a speedboat out of thin air to get you there. So I figured I’d call and nudge you. Come or don’t—your call. Just don’t regret it.”
“Mm. Thanks.”
Meng Ning hung up. Her finger scraped lightly against the rusty bus stop sign beside her. The slanting sun fell like poetry across her slender, slightly drooping lashes.
