Chapter 2

When they walked out of the police station, Wen Zhixu seemed quite embarrassed. Jian Shichu had played it safe, and the man got nothing out of it. As for the matter of them taking the wrong car, they’d settle it privately between themselves.

A fog had risen in the night after the rain, as if the heavens wanted to dye Fog City in hues of chaos, showing no mercy. Her white skirt swayed lightly in the direction of the wind.

The moment she stepped out the door, Wen Zhixu didn’t turn her head, but she seemed to sense Jian Shichu’s presence behind her, mingling with the wind. Chongqing’s breezes, carrying the scent of hotpot, brushed past the ends of her hair.

She gripped her bag strap tightly, unconsciously replaying those few words Jian Shichu had just said. She slowly spoke up: “Thank you.”

As soon as the words left her mouth and she turned to look at Jian Shichu, the other woman’s expression was calm, showing no unusual reaction.

Wen Zhixu quickly added: “I’ll transfer you the money.” Her voice grew softer, as if she lacked confidence in front of Jian Shichu. It fit that word—Chongqing was a city of heavy reunions.

Jian Shichu glanced at her, stared for a moment, then withdrew her gaze. With her arms crossed, she said lightly: “Then go ahead and transfer it.”

She paused for two or three seconds, looking at Jian Shichu: “Right now.”

Her tone was even, as if nothing had happened. But when Jian Shichu turned her body, their gazes colliding directly, her heart trembled. Those scenes that shouldn’t appear again flashed through her mind like a lantern show.

Jian Shichu didn’t look any longer, just gave her a glance before pulling out her phone and swiping the screen open. At the same time, Wen Zhixu lowered her head to rummage through her bag for her phone.

Brushing past the jumble of things in her bag, her phone lay in the inner pocket. She pressed the side button—once, twice.

The phone showed no response. It was dead. The panic she’d just suppressed came crashing back, slamming right into her chest.

Wen Zhixu was wondering how to explain when she looked up and caught Jian Shichu gazing down at her, her wrist lazily holding her phone.

But the screen that lit up wasn’t a payment code—it was a WeChat QR code.

Jian Shichu took a breath, which Wen Zhixu happened to hear.

Jian Shichu spun the phone in her hand once and put it away, the screen going dark. Her lips and brows were indifferent as she said nothing.

“How about… I treat you to a meal instead? I’m really sorry.” Wen Zhixu slowly raised her eyes to look at Jian Shichu, trying hard to suppress her inner panic. As she spoke, she rummaged in her bag for her little notebook.

She had a habit of carrying a small notebook with her, jotting down inspirations in it. With the bag strap hooked on her wrist, she busied herself uncapping her ballpoint pen.

Jian Shichu calmly swept her gaze over it. When she saw that coffee-colored little notebook, a shadow fell over the corner of her eye, and she stepped down the stairs.

“Your number…” Wen Zhixu had just started to say, clutching the notebook in her fingers. By the time she looked up, Jian Shichu had already turned her back to her—no wind when she arrived, no smile when she left.

It was as if things between them should be like this, yet somehow shouldn’t. Wen Zhixu stood frozen in place, watching Jian Shichu get into her car. Even the taillights only brushed lightly past her feet in the end, never crossing the line.

Wen Zhixu had only imagined Chongqing in her memories—a bustling world of fireworks hidden beneath the extravagance, with Mountain City beer propping up the towering buildings on all four corners.

This was a romance unseen in the watery south. Wen Zhixu didn’t dare think more; she feared the mist hidden in her eyes would make her lose her reason.

Nights in Chongqing weren’t congested. She lived in Yubei; the apartment was one she’d found after arriving. By the time she found her own car and got home, it was already midnight.

After her shower and taking her medicine, Wen Zhixu thought it would be a sleepless night. She drifted off unknowingly. She knew Jian Shichu was from Chongqing; coming here felt like an excuse of a subject matter to step into a city that had her in it.

Walking the banks of the Jialing River where she walked, breathing Chongqing’s evening winds—but none of that could make her forgive that immature romance.

The phrase “these years gone by” always burrowed into her mind. Jian Shichu loved the heavy snow in Beihai, a sight unseen in Chongqing, and she would record these things in words.

It had snowed the night they broke up. Beihai always had that bone-chilling cold. She was afraid of Jian Shichu crying; in her impression, Jian Shichu never cried. But that night, Jian Shichu held her.

Hot tears streamed down her face, letting the cold wind find its way in, slicing at her cheeks. The down jacket transmitted body heat, making her feel stuffy yet unable to say a word.

“Explain it to me, and I’ll forgive you.” Jian Shichu’s voice trembled with pleading in the cold wind.

She could hear the dry trees rustling nearby, the yellowish streetlights piercing the snowy scene, but they never crossed the line. Her long boots unknowingly stopped in the shadows.

Wen Zhixu reached out to wipe away the tears. For some reason, she pushed Jian Shichu away and said something against her heart: “I have nothing to say. Sorry.”

Wen Zhixu kept her head down, not looking at her. Deep down, she was scared—perhaps clumsy words of youth. She could write imperfectly about all things under heaven, but these things wouldn’t turn into words.

After hearing that, Jian Shichu let out a shallow laugh and turned her head: “Do I look that ridiculous?” The light was dim, but she could still see the red in her eyes.

She let out a heavy breath, then looked back at Wen Zhixu: “Wen Zhixu, I’ll ask you one thing—over these two years, which day were you ever sincere?”

The words drilled into Wen Zhixu’s ears. A sudden gust of cold wind blew, and Wen Zhixu jolted upright in bed, her heart racing as she sank into the darkness.

A corner of the curtain fluttered a few times in the wind. Wen Zhixu hadn’t slept well in recent years. Her works faced a lot of online criticism. When she entered this field, she thought she could handle differing opinions well, but later she realized she was just an ordinary person, unable to forge an iron will.

So she often consulted a psychologist. Wen Zhixu’s sensitivity came from all sides. In university, she was a nobody, but Jian Shichu was different—a true campus celebrity.

Later, they got together; even later, they broke up. She had no news of Jian Shichu anymore. When someone deliberately avoids you, it’s silent.

She brushed the hair from her face, looking at the empty room. The computer was still on, and the roar of traffic outside pulled her thoughts back, making the dream feel like an old story from long ago.

Chongqing’s weather was fickle; the continuous drizzle lasted several days. More elders with kids appeared downstairs. On sunny days, the old men liked playing long cards by the flower beds or dragging stools to sit in clusters—giving off that ’80s or ’90s Hong Kong vibe?

She’d been here a while but still wasn’t used to having a bowl of noodles for breakfast. After ordering oil tea and pine needle xiaolongbao, she picked a seat in the corner.

Her phone lit up just as she was about to eat. Wen Zhixu paused and swiped it open.

[Big writer, I’ve sent you the location. You must come on the 23rd.]

She stared at that line for a long time. Adults always think about how to reply politely. A university classmate; they hadn’t been in touch much since graduation.

Wen Zhixu’s fingers quickly typed a response, then she deleted it.

After thinking for a moment, she replied: [Can I ask which classmates will be there?]

While waiting for a reply, she unconsciously gripped her spoon tighter.

Class monitor: [Quite a few, I can’t list them all right now.]

Wen Zhixu thought for a bit and replied with a ‘Okay.’

That single word meant she had to go to the reunion. Chongqing people gave her a friendly, hospitable feeling—warm to the point of not knowing what to say. After graduation, everyone went their separate ways; they didn’t even call.

Somehow they’d heard she was in Chongqing too and sent messages for several days straight. Several classmates from the class were Chongqing natives who’d returned after graduation. Compared to other cities, Chongqing felt more comfortable.

The oil tea’s savory bits had softened. She’d only added one spoonful of chili to the bowl. She mixed it but hadn’t eaten yet—figuring out how to pay Jian Shichu back had become a problem.

After pondering, Wen Zhixu picked up her phone again. Her fingertips trembled as she typed: [Class monitor, do you have Jian Shichu’s contact info?]

The top of the chat showed “typing…” Wen Zhixu’s fingertips sweated; the wait turned tense. After a while, the reply came.

[She doesn’t keep in touch with us, but I heard she opened a restaurant. I can look up the address for you.]

A simple reply that took five minutes. Wen Zhixu was the sensitive type. The class monitor loved joking back in school—probably typed something upfront then deleted it.

Adult steadiness showed in the text. Jian Shichu hadn’t mingled much back then either, living off-campus. When they were dating, she’d been to Jian Shichu’s apartment.

They’d always do what couples do when she visited. The layout was simple, with a faint scent of camellia flowers. She’d casually asked once, “Why no green plants?”

Unexpectedly, Jian Shichu took it to heart. The next time, there were two vases on the glass cabinet.

Jian Shichu was good to her, never lacking. If asked if she liked it, of course she really did. But it was all in the past.

When people are good, things around them go smoothly too. She stared dazedly at the address sent on her phone.

This breakfast wasn’t satisfying. From the moment she ran into Jian Shichu, memories that should have been cocooned all surged out. Wen Zhixu looked up the restaurant online.

Jian Shichu wasn’t the type to blend into the marketplace; she had truly been outstanding back then. That year, her dating her shocked many. No one expected the aloof Jian Shichu, who barely talked to anyone, to be gay.

No one guessed it’d be with her either. In summary, outsiders thought they didn’t match, and the gossip was inevitable. From that day, this little nobody of hers gradually gained color, dyed with Jian Shichu’s hue.

While driving, Wen Zhixu only prayed that she could run into Jian Shichu at the restaurant today. As for just driving past, she was afraid the other party would misunderstand. Restraining herself to act quick and decisive wasn’t hard, so she was always habitually cautious.

There were plenty of eateries on Huangnibang Ziwei Road. Chongqing was never short on good food. The few hotpot spots Wen Zhixu had scoped out all tasted about the same. When she first arrived in Chongqing, she’d heard the best hotpot places were tucked inside residential buildings. She’d searched several times, only to end in failure each time.

Jian Shichu’s restaurant was right here. While she was in the car, she got a call from the editor-in-chief. Wen Zhixu had been stuck on a narrow road for ages. At one point, she felt like she couldn’t make sense of the navigation. She was hunting for a parking spot and slipped on her earphones in her right ear.

Her gaze stayed fixed ahead on the car’s front end as she said faintly, “Tonight, I’ll send it to you.”

The voice on the other end laughed so hard they couldn’t shut their mouth. Even across thousands of miles, it was like you could smell the editor-in-chief’s cigarette stink. Their excited tone let out a tsk, before saying, “What’re you talking about? When have I ever rushed you? Good news—you’re gonna love this.”