This day marked the second time Wen Zhixu and Wen Ru had argued that year.
A murky relationship couldn’t be too calm, nor too tumultuous—a sin in itself. Hangzhou’s cold winds couldn’t dispel the confusion, nor carry away her worries.
She came down from the hotel, unable to wipe the tears from her face clean. Wen Zhixu kept her head low, afraid of drawing stares, rubbing her cheeks over and over with the back of her hand.
The moment she stepped out of the hotel doors, she looked up and saw Jian Shichu standing right in front of her. She blinked once, as if to confirm.
But the second blink unleashed a flood of tears. A gust of wind shattered the thin film, stinging her cheeks.
Jian Shichu didn’t ask any questions. She stepped forward and hugged her.
Jian Shichu had already returned to her hotel but grew worried about Wen Zhixu’s state. She took a cab to wait downstairs. Deep down, she was scared too—if Wen Zhixu wanted to leave, there was nothing she could do.
Wen Zhixu leaned into her embrace, her hair damp and warm, like a migratory bird drenched in a downpour, nestling into its home without lifting her head. In this moment, she felt a similar sense of powerlessness.
“I’m just a little dizzy, nothing else,” Wen Zhixu said, breathing deeply, her voice thick with tears. She didn’t lift her head as she spoke; it felt too heavy.
Jian Shichu looked down at her. “I’ll carry you on my back.”
Wen Zhixu finally raised her head to look at her. Passersby occasionally glanced their way, but only for a moment.
“No more crying.” Jian Shichu wiped her tear stains with her hand. She didn’t soften her tone deliberately, yet it carried a gentle warmth.
“I’ve told you, we’ll take it slow. No rush.”
Wen Zhixu nodded. As she gazed at her, the tears became even harder to hold back. Only now did she understand—this was part of what Jian Shichu meant by taking it slow.
She had met a gentle person, one who could dispel those unkind plot twists in her life. So she would respond with gentleness in kind.
Hangzhou’s rain loved to pour relentlessly. The next day, they returned to Chongqing. Jian Shichu packed the luggage, and Wen Zhixu sent a message to Wen Ru.
It was short: she said she was heading back to Chongqing today.
Wen Ru didn’t reply. At least there were no overly harsh words, no further poisoning of their already strained relationship.
Sometimes she felt life was just an endless stream of choices, but this couldn’t be pinned on a test paper like that—it wouldn’t be fair.
Jian Shichu finished checking out and peeled open a candy, holding it to her lips. “Eat this candy.”
Wen Zhixu leaned down and took it into her mouth, looking at her. “Lychee flavor.”
“Not good?” Jian Shichu glanced down at the wrapper. The pink translucent paper featured a little lychee drawing—she hadn’t noticed earlier.
Jian Shichu pulled out a tissue and held it in her palm. “Spit it into my hand. I’ll peel you a new one.”
“I didn’t say it was bad.” Wen Zhixu gave a slight smile.
Jian Shichu crumpled the tissue back into her fist and let out a slow breath.
Just as she was about to say something, her peripheral vision caught a dark figure standing to the side. Jian Shichu turned her head and saw Tang Yuan standing there, hands in his pockets, his windblown look carrying a meaningful gaze.
..
Tang Yuan was still in the passenger seat. The driver was the same one who had picked up Wen Zhixu last time. As the car sped up, the buildings on either side blurred into outlines.
In the airport lobby, the sound of suitcase wheels crunching against the floor drilled into her ears.
Wen Zhixu slipped her hand into her pocket, her scarf still covering her chin.
A gust lifted the stray hairs at her temple. She turned her gaze back to Jian Shichu, who was handling the luggage check-in.
“When Wen Ru asked me, I couldn’t lie to her—she’s your mom, after all,” Tang Yuan said, his tone as steady as ever.
Wen Zhixu heard him. She turned back. “You don’t need to explain anything to me. I don’t care what you said.”
Tang Yuan fell silent for a moment, then glanced in the direction Wen Zhixu had just looked. “I don’t want you to misunderstand me, Xiao Xu. Wen Ru’s like that—she can’t understand you right away. As for Xiao Jian, her family background checks out. She’s clean and straightforward.”
Wen Zhixu whipped her gaze toward him, a flicker of emotion in her eyes. “You investigated her?”
Tang Yuan seemed to realize he’d touched a sore spot and quickly explained, “No, I just looked into the situation a bit. You’re a girl out in the world—you have to be cautious.”
“Wen Ru’s worried about you being with Xiao Jian. Too many unknowns, and she doesn’t know her.”
“You still don’t understand my mom.” Wen Zhixu looked at him. “What she despises is my orientation, not who the other person is.”
Wen Ru understood her, and she understood Wen Ru just as well. If it were about the future, Wen Ru wouldn’t have done what she did that year.
Tang Yuan nodded with a long sigh. “Maybe you’re right. Planning to stay long-term in Chongqing?”
“Yeah.”
“Then be careful on the road. Same as before—the Tang Family door is always open if you want to come back. Call me if anything comes up.” Tang Yuan’s expression was bland. The words should have been heartfelt, but Wen Zhixu felt no warmth in them.
When Tang Yuan pulled his hand from his pocket, he was holding a card. “I know you don’t need money, but this is from Grandma. Take it and spend it however you like.”
Wen Zhixu raised her gaze. “Don’t always play the grandma card to tug at emotions. Handle the money however you see fit. I don’t like your methods—doing these things under the guise of ‘for your own good.’ You know what I mean.”
Her eyes stung from the cold wind, and she lowered them gradually, taking a breath. “Don’t keep testing me step by step. I’m tired.”
After she said that, Tang Yuan’s gaze pierced through her to land behind. Wen Zhixu turned and saw Jian Shichu standing a few meters away.
“I’m leaving. We’ll keep things as they were before.” Wen Zhixu made her words clear. She held no hatred toward Tang Yuan—no feelings meant no entanglements.
As she stepped away, she vaguely heard a faint “Be careful on the road” by her ear. Soft and indifferent, his voice forever mild.
Jian Shichu naturally draped an arm around Wen Zhixu’s shoulders as she approached, her gaze shifting away from Tang Yuan.
Wen Zhixu and Tang Yuan’s relationship seemed thoroughly severed here. From now on, they’d each go their own ways, living their own lives, connected only by that faint blood tie of family affection.
Back in Chongqing, it was nine at night.
Fog City always brought a sense of belonging. Thick fog blanketed the sky, lights twinkling like stars on a chessboard. Yellow taxis shuttled through the mist. While in the car, Wen Zhixu heard the driver say that Chongqing taxis hadn’t always been yellow. After switching to yellow, accidents dropped significantly, so they’d stuck with the color.
Wen Zhixu still hadn’t gotten a reply from Wen Ru. Instead, Han Ye sent another message.
[Han Ye: Xiao Xu, I’ve put together another detailed literary market survey. I’ll send it to you again.]
Wen Zhixu was sitting in the living room. She’d just blow-dried her hair, and Jian Shichu was in the bedroom taking a call, her voice low.
[Brother Han, I plan to stay long-term in Chongqing, and I’m not really suited for it.]
By this point, anyone could read between the lines. Han Ye’s literary market survey mostly covered cities like Beijing.
Her phone vibrated.
[Han Ye: Think it over carefully. Have you considered any companies yet?]
Wen Zhixu had gotten calls from publishers and literary agencies. Her contract was up, and no walls were airtight.
Put nicely, with Fog Condensing on the Window in production, attention would naturally turn to the original work upon airing. She hadn’t published in two years, but it didn’t matter.
[No, I just don’t think I’m suited. That’s all.]
[Han Ye: Whatever it is, just say it. Truth is, Xiao Xu, we’ve known each other a while. A literary agency or publisher can help you to a certain extent, but only with the value of your books.]
Wen Zhixu stared at the messages, fingers tapping on the keyboard. Before she could send, another came in.
[Han Ye: Let me think about it. Don’t rush to reply.]
Wen Zhixu deleted her drafted text and sent a simple “mm.”
After sending, footsteps approached. Jian Shichu emerged from the room, responding to the call.
“I’ll come over tomorrow to handle it. Get someone to tally the accounts and see how much is missing,” Jian Shichu said mildly, then acknowledged something before hanging up.
Wen Zhixu glanced back. “What’s the issue?”
Jian Shichu casually set her phone on the table. “The procurement accounts have been off for months. My rough estimate—it’s a lot.”
“What now? Isn’t it your relative? Should you tell Director Wang?” Wen Zhixu walked toward her and stopped in front of Jian Shichu.
Jian Shichu shifted to the side casually. “Dunno.”
Her mind was a mess. There was still that matter with the person in the hospital unresolved, and now this needed following up.
“Wait for Xiao Yang to go through the accounts clearly, then we’ll see.” Jian Shichu leaned against the table edge.
Wen Zhixu paused. The front half in Chongqing dialect flowed seamlessly into standard Mandarin in the back—switching effortlessly.
She couldn’t help but laugh. Although it wasn’t right to laugh when Jian Shichu’s brows were furrowed with worry, she still couldn’t hold it back.
“What are you doing, laughing at?” Jian Shichu turned her head. With Wen Zhixu’s smile, her mood brightened considerably. This smile seemed to conceal a ray of sunlight, just like Wen Zhixu’s writing—full of infectious power.
“I’m wrong. I shouldn’t laugh.” Wen Zhixu suppressed her laughter.
Jian Shichu stared at her for two seconds, then wrapped her arms around Wen Zhixu’s waist. “Don’t stop. Keep laughing.” As she spoke, the hand at her waist tickled twice.
Wen Zhixu wanted to dodge but was pinned in place by Jian Shichu.
“Don’t mess around.” Wen Zhixu’s voice carried a hint of laughter, turning soft and glutinous.
Jian Shichu was very obedient. She tightened her hold without moving further, just hugging her while leaning against the edge of the table. She gazed at the blush on Wen Zhixu’s face, which had spread to the corners of her eyes like a budding rose glistening with fresh dew.
“Alright, I won’t mess around.” With that, she slowly leaned in, lightly brushing Wen Zhixu’s lips in a teasing kiss while her hand slid upward supportively.
Wen Zhixu’s arms naturally wrapped around her. She lightly closed her eyes and parted her lips in response. Amid their mingling breaths, her heartbeat fell into chaos. A warm current traced her spine, spreading through her entire body. As the kiss deepened, Wen Zhixu’s temperature began to rise.
Jian Shichu fumbled for the buttons, undoing them one-handed as their wet kiss intensified with her movements.
Wen Zhixu’s breathing grew erratic. In her daze, she heard a knock at the door. Right after the first button came loose, a chill crept up the back clasp.
‘Knock knock knock!’
This time, it wasn’t her imagination—both of them heard it clearly. Jian Shichu halted her actions and released her. Together, they turned toward the door.
“So late…” Jian Shichu frowned slightly. She helped Wen Zhixu refasten her buttons before heading to open the door.
The flush on Wen Zhixu’s face slowly faded amid her surprise. Midway there, the door was knocked on several more times.
Jian Shichu first glanced at the electronic screen on the door lock. Song Yi knocked urgently twice more. Wrinkling her brow, Jian Shichu opened the door.
