Chapter 33

That night, Wen Zhixu suffered from insomnia; she didn’t sleep well. The next day, she and Jian Shichu didn’t speak to each other either. The people in the restaurant could sense a strange atmosphere, but everyone tacitly kept quiet about it.

Jian Shichu was also the one who drove her home after breakfast. She only remembered that as she got out of the car, the other woman vaguely told her to be careful; she didn’t seem to hear anything else.

Neither of them was happy. Arrogance revived in an instant—what were they fighting over? Wen Zhixu couldn’t quite explain it herself.

When those words had slipped out, they hadn’t felt too heavy, but upon reflection afterward, perhaps it really was as Jian Shichu had said: she was jealous.

But it was just a guess. She didn’t like messy, ambiguous relationships. As she had said, they weren’t in a romantic relationship, so what need was there for possessiveness? Jian Shichu could be nice to others; it had nothing to do with her.

It was just that her heart wouldn’t cooperate, insisting on aching for a good while.

This year’s Mid-Autumn Festival was before National Day. Wen Zhixu had promised to come home for it and arrived in Suzhou right at noon on the festival day.

It was raining in the water town too, as if the scenery had taken on an untimely tint of old affections. Her maternal grandparents had passed away back when she was in junior high.

Wen Ru hadn’t returned to the old house in recent years and still lived in the city district. Wen Zhixu got home at twelve o’clock.

They’d lived in this old neighborhood for decades. There was a breakfast shop downstairs where she used to do her homework as a kid, waiting for Wen Ru to get off work, watching the streetlights gradually brighten outside and the thin mist slowly rise.

Wen Zhixu had just arrived with her suitcase when the wheels rolled past the shop door, and an enthusiastic voice called out from inside. Wen Zhixu looked up with a smile.

“Xiao Xu is back!” The proprietress came out beaming, just as rainwater dripped from the awning onto her forehead.

Hearing that Suzhou dialect made Wen Zhixu feel much warmer; that sense of desolation eased a bit in that moment.

Wen Zhixu smiled back. “Yeah, back for the holiday. Happy Mid-Autumn, Aunt Qiu.” She glanced toward the shop with her peripheral vision; it was dimmer now with the lights off.

The proprietress wiped the rainwater from her face with her hand, then another drop fell on a white hair at her temple. She stepped back. “Your mom went to buy groceries and isn’t back yet. You’ve been away on business trips for so long; we haven’t seen you in ages. Are you leaving again this time?”

Wen Zhixu smiled awkwardly. “Yeah, right after the holiday.”

“You’re leaving again? Not long ago, I saw your dad come by…” The proprietress had just gotten to this part when Wen Zhixu caught sight of Wen Ru returning from shopping in her peripheral vision.

She turned to greet Wen Ru, forgetting whatever the proprietress had said.

Dressed in dark middle-aged women’s attire with sleeves rolled to the wrists, impeccably ironed without a single wrinkle, carrying a basket of vegetables, eyes softened—that was Wen Ru, who had raised her into a proper, upright young woman.

After Wen Ru approached, she first glanced at the proprietress with an unpleasant look, one too hard to describe.

“Sister Qiu, business slow today?” Wen Ru’s expression warmed a little, like thawing in the icy rain.

The proprietress swallowed all the unfinished words, her face turning awkward. “Busy… Business is always busy. Your daughter’s back; you two chat.”

With that, she smiled at Wen Zhixu and turned back into the shop. Wen Zhixu stood there without speaking. Clearly, Wen Ru had overheard those words and wasn’t happy about it.

After the downstairs incident, Wen Ru asked her a few questions in the elevator—like if she was used to things—seeming to return to normal.

Wen Zhixu had deleted Wu Yang, but she hadn’t told Wen Ru yet. Wen Ru didn’t ask, so she probably didn’t know.

Wen Ru entered the apartment first and grabbed a wet wipe to clean the wheels of the suitcase. Wen Zhixu changed shoes at the entryway, where she noticed a pot of orchid grass had appeared by the shoe cabinet sometime.

As she bent down, the slender green leaves brushed her forehead with a slight prick; she tilted her head away.

“Xiao Xu, I ironed the clothes in your closet for you. After your shower, change out of what you’re wearing and put it in the washing machine.” Wen Ru spoke mildly, focused on what she was doing.

Wen Zhixu set her shoes aside and turned around. “Okay, I’ll do it.” She took the wet wipe from Wen Ru’s hand and stood the suitcase upright to wipe down the shell.

As Wen Ru stood up, she said flatly, “Next time you buy clothes, be more careful—pick some plain colors.”

Wen Ru’s added remark slowed Wen Zhixu’s movements. Her hand paused, but she didn’t say anything, just simply acknowledged it.

It wasn’t a forceful demand; she’d heard it for decades and complied for decades. The living room hadn’t changed at all; the sofa cushions were new, the only unfamiliar spot.

Wen Ru had bought mooncakes. As she plated them at the dining table, she asked, “How’d it go with Xiao Wu? You met up, right?”

“We met, but it didn’t work out.” Wen Zhixu’s voice lowered a bit.

She wasn’t hiding it and was prepared for a scolding, but the atmosphere didn’t turn weird today. Wen Ru was silent for a long time.

It wasn’t that they were usually quiet; it was just that today’s Wen Ru carried a strange vibe. Before her shower, Wen Zhixu glanced toward the kitchen. Wen Ru’s ear-length short hair had quite a few silver strands, which inevitably tugged at her heart.

Wen Zhixu turned on the shower in the bathroom, steam filling the air, and checked her phone again. Someone had sent her Mid-Autumn greetings.

Unconsciously, she tapped open Jian Shichu’s WeChat. No remarks, just the net name J., lying dormant in the digital world without a hint of activity. Her Moments were still set to six months visible, completely empty.

It was as if this account had never been active at all. As she returned to the main screen, her phone suddenly vibrated.

Wen Zhixu’s brows furrowed gradually, her heart skipping a beat along with it.

“J.” patted me

Jian Shichu’s elbow jolted; her pupils widened in surprise as she didn’t dare look at the screen. Instead, she lifted her head to stare at the windshield, her gaze slightly panicked—like the feeling when she first met Wen Zhixu that year, a restless stirring in her heart.

She had just wanted to tap into Moments to check it out and accidentally tapped twice.

In the few minutes it took her to calm her panic, the other side didn’t reply. There was a trace of withdrawal too. As she pondered, her expression gradually steadied.

When the car door opened, Jian Shichu exited the phone interface. A schoolbag was tossed into the back seat. She caught a glimpse in the rearview mirror and, as she looked away, the passenger door opened, followed by a bang as it shut.

Jian Shichu stared as Song Yanling climbed in, pulling the seatbelt with one hand, chewing gum and popping a bubble before greeting her.

Her school uniform had stains, her ponytail swept over her shoulder, the bow on her hair tie crooked. After straightening herself, she asked, “Doudou-jie, is my sister on another business trip?”

Jian Shichu replied, “She went to Chengdu.”

Song Yanling seemed used to it, shoving her hands into her uniform pockets and leaning back, looking ahead. “It’s Mid-Autumn today. Are we spending it together?”

Jian Shichu gripped the steering wheel, her eyes fixed on the crooked bow on Song Yanling’s head, also noting the red mark on her jaw—not deep, but clearly a nail scratch.

Song Yanling grew uncomfortable under the stare, her face gradually stiffening, cheekbones moving slowly as she chewed. Her gaze stayed forward as she asked unnaturally, “Why’re you staring at me?”

Jian Shichu exhaled, her brows twitching as she asked, “Should I tell on you, or will you come clean to Song Yi yourself?”

Jian Shichu was used to this girl’s carefree wildness, exuding rebellious teen vibes all over, often clashing with Song Yi, then coaxing her with report cards when things soured.

Her grades never slipped, but she was truly hard to manage. Now in senior year of high school, they picked her up every day, afraid of missing a crucial year if they weren’t careful.

Her parents were away in Chongqing on import-export business; once she started high school, Song Yi took over watching her. Today Song Yi was on a trip she couldn’t skip, so picking up the kid fell to Jian Shichu.

Song Yanling tensed for a moment, then tsked and relaxed, coaxing, “It was just a play fight scratch; didn’t ruin my looks. What’s there to worry about?”

She spoke lightly but still avoided Jian Shichu’s eyes.

“I’ll call Song Yi tonight and repeat every word to her.” Jian Shichu composed herself, started the car, and checked the left side mirror.

“What do you want for dinner tonight?”

Wang Yun wasn’t coming back from the set, Dad was at school—no one at home.

Spending it with Song Yanling felt like two lonely souls warming each other.

“What do you want?” Song Yanling lowered her eyes, pulled out a tissue to spit out her gum, rummaged in her pocket—the crinkle of plastic especially loud in the car.

Traffic was jammed at the school gate. With only half a day of classes for Mid-Autumn, afternoon off, Jian Shichu inched forward slowly. “I’m fine with anything.”

The first time Jian Shichu met Song Yanling was in high school; back then, Song Yanling was still in kindergarten.

Song Yanling pulled out a mooncake. “School gave ’em out. Want one?”

“Nah, driving.” Jian Shichu glanced over mildly.

“No worries, I’ll feed you.” Song Yanling started tearing it open.

Jian Shichu quickly stopped her, nodding her chin slightly. “Put it there; I’ll eat it later.”

Song Yanling tore just the edge, set the mooncake aside, peeled another gum, and popped it in her mouth to chew, the sound echoing in the car.

She grinned and said, “How about barbecue? My treat, Doudou-jie. I haven’t treated you to a meal yet—let me.”

Jian Shichu glanced at her, amused by those words, and replied, “No need, I’ll treat you. I’ll convey every detail of the fight to Song Yi without missing a word.”

“Fine, go ahead and tattle however you want.” Song Yanling still looked at her with a smile, her gaze full of meaning.

Only then did Jian Shichu sense the subtle oddity. She turned her head to glance at her. Song Yanling looked a lot like Song Yi, but thanks to the difference in age and experience, Song Yi had long shed that youthful innocence.

Jian Shichu asked in a lazy tone, “What’s up? You got something else?”

“Tsk, no wonder Doudou-jie is smarter than my sister.” Song Yanling’s flattery rang out loud and clear, subtly propping her up by stepping on her own big sis.

Jian Shichu slanted her a glance. “Let’s hear it.”

Song Yanling shifted her butt. “Doudou-jie, I heard the crew’s filming at your restaurant, right? Big stars like Ke Yixuan and Tang Qin are there.”

“No autographed photos for you.” Jian Shichu shot her down flat. She didn’t like celebrities’ vibes much.

Song Yanling propped her chin on her hand, elbow planted on the central armrest box, seatbelt tugging at her as she sat all crooked and twisted.

Just as she opened her mouth, Jian Shichu shot her a look and reminded her, “Sit properly.”

Song Yanling straightened up then, tilting her head with a smile. “Do you know Wen Zhixu? She’s in the crew too.”

Jian Shichu’s attention drifted for a second before she refocused and answered, “I know her.”

“There’s a classmate in our class who used to write novels, but her mom won’t let her anymore. She loves Wen Zhixu’s books.”

By this point, Jian Shichu could already guess what Song Yanling was leading up to.

“Doudou-jie, can you help me get a signed copy of Fog Condensing on the Window?” Song Yanling blinked at her expectantly.

Jian Shichu stayed silent for a few seconds before asking faintly, “Which classmate?”

Song Yanling’s eyes flickered dimly and brightly. She let out a soft breath, then explained after a beat, “Just… a good friend. I pissed her off, we had a fight, and I really wanna make up with her. Help me out, yeah?”

Jian Shichu took it in. “How do you know this would work?”

“Doesn’t matter if it does or not—gotta try, right? Just thinking about it won’t do anything. I have to tell her, or she’ll never know I wanna reconcile.”

Song Yanling leaned back against the headrest and blew a bubble. The pop of her gum rang out especially clearly in the car.