Chapter 62

The person had come back—it was after she went out, which proved that Jian Shichu knew she had gone out and hadn’t gone far. Besides the garage, Wen Zhixu couldn’t think of anywhere else. She pressed the button for the garage floor.

The elevator chimed as it announced the second basement level. Her shadow quickly shifted from the floor to the wall, then flashed into the garage.

When she saw that the parking spot was empty, her shattered heart was struck hard again. Her car was parked next to it, with dust on the dust cover.

Wen Zhixu stared until her eyes grew sore. When hot tears welled up in her eyes, the pain was intense, and her fingertips trembled in the silence.

She didn’t know how long she stood there crying. After returning home and leaning against the sofa, she received a message from Han Ye.

[Han Ye: Xiao Xu, when are you arriving in Hangzhou? Everything’s arranged here. The radio slot has been changed to the 12th. Hurry up.]

[Wen Zhixu: I forgot.]

[Han Ye: Huh? Forgot? Book a ticket. You need to get here by tomorrow at the latest, and we still have to go over the script.]

Wen Zhixu thought about it, took a while to calm down, then replied, “Okay, I’ll be back today.” Jian Shichu wasn’t looking for her, and staying here really made her feel awful.

—

Jian Shichu’s fingers rested on the steering wheel as she kept staring in the direction Wen Zhixu had left. When her eyelashes drooped, she choked up and couldn’t speak.

She felt terrible too. Her eyelids were red from tears, and in the cramped space, her breathing grew a bit louder. She picked up her phone, swiped, and pulled Wen Zhixu out of the blacklist.

She had been angry at the time—any word from Wen Zhixu might have made her overthink. Her phone kept buzzing, and with a ding, Xiao Yang’s message popped up at the top.

[Doudou-jie, the open space is cleared, and the stuff has arrived.]

Jian Shichu didn’t reply. She glanced ahead, then started the car toward the restaurant. Her eyes were all red, and once she got there, they’d definitely notice.

But there was no helping these things beyond her control.

As expected at the restaurant, Xiao Yang was surprised by her eyes at first glance, then looked around and subtly signaled others to turn away.

“Right, where’s Xiao Qi?” Jian Shichu’s hat was pulled low, but Xiao Yang could still see her swollen red eyes.

Xiao Yang glanced back and saw Xiao Qi coming out with a tray. He raised his hand and called, “Xiao Qi, come here a sec.”

Jian Shichu hugged her elbows, her gaze fixed on the open space. It was morning, and the restaurant wasn’t busy.

After Xiao Qi approached, Jian Shichu looked back and asked, “Xiao Qi, do you know my home address?”

“Yeah, Doudou-jie, you forgot? A few months ago, I forgot my keys and stayed at your place.”

“Can you take some breakfast over for me? Just say it’s the thing I mentioned to you a few days ago.” Jian Shichu’s lips and brows were indifferent, her voice weak.

She didn’t say anything else. Wen Zhixu definitely hadn’t eaten anything by now. She was worried but didn’t dare go herself. People were like that, always wavering at the point of conflict.

—

Wen Zhixu packed up after replying to Han Ye’s message. Besides a few changes of clothes, she left everything else there.

After calming down, she had to come back eventually. She couldn’t just let it end like this—she didn’t want to, and she couldn’t bear to.

If Jian Shichu insisted, there was no helping it. They’d deal with what came later. Her ticket was for 6 p.m.; the next one would be late into the night.

In the meantime, Wen Zhixu didn’t stubbornly message Jian Shichu again. Maybe talking after cooling off would let them speak properly.

Xiao Qi delivered the breakfast but didn’t come in, just stood at the door. Wen Zhixu didn’t ask where Jian Shichu was and took the stuff inside.

She couldn’t eat anything. That nauseating discomfort made her want to vomit, eventually giving her goosebumps all over. The process tormented her repeatedly.

When she left, she left a sticky note, though her heart was full of fear. She was afraid this time Jian Shichu was serious.

But no matter what, life had to go on, and the road ahead had to be walked. Society was like that—it wouldn’t stop just because someone left. Life might not be perfect from now on, but that was it.

Only now did she realize it wasn’t just a misunderstanding between her and Jian Shichu. They’d talked properly, but she had never brought up why they broke up back then. Thinking about it now, those things didn’t seem important.

They didn’t affect the present them. Compared to back then, they had both changed. This relationship had never been just one person’s hysteria.

Her phone clock stopped at 7:30.

Wen Zhixu arrived in Hangzhou, where Han Ye picked her up, bringing Gao Xin along. Gao Xin immediately took her suitcase upon seeing her.

Changing cities in an instant didn’t make her feel any better. Han Ye looked at her swollen red eyes and asked, “What happened? You look so exhausted?”

Gao Xin tilted her head following the sound, as if understanding, and elbowed Han Ye.

Wen Zhixu paused, then said, “Didn’t sleep well last night.”

“Are you still up for it in this state?” Han Ye eyed her, gaze lingering on her eyelids.

Wen Zhixu put her hand on the car door as Han Ye took the suitcase to the trunk.

Wen Zhixu sat in the back with Gao Xin. There was a smoky smell in the car. The seat shook slightly as Han Ye got in and deftly pulled on his seatbelt.

The lighter clicked, a flame reflecting in Wen Zhixu’s left pupil. Gao Xin’s hand holding the cigarette hung out the window.

She turned her head and exhaled the smoke to one side, her inhale audible in the car.

“Xiao Xu, stay at my place until the radio interview’s done.” Gao Xin turned to speak, smoke still lingering in her mouth.

Wen Zhixu agreed, “Thanks, Sister Xin.”

“What for? I wouldn’t feel right if you stayed outside.” Gao Xin took another drag. “I smoke sometimes—just don’t mind.”

“No problem,” Wen Zhixu said.

For someone who didn’t smoke or drink, tough times were hard to get through.

Han Ye waved away the smoke in front of him, frowning. “Whoa, even exhaling out the window, the smell’s still strong.”

Gao Xin held the cigarette butt, unscrewed a plastic bottle with a bit of water left, tossed the butt in with a sizzle. The pale yellow filter still had a lipstick mark.

“Tomorrow we need to go over Xiao Xu’s script first. This is a live voice interview in the studio. The radio station announced it early, and I have the process here.” Gao Xin flicked her wrist and handed the file to Wen Zhixu.

Wen Zhixu was mildly indifferent, scanning the contents. The live process was Q&A chatting with the host.

Fewer people listened to radio these days. Wen Zhixu had listened a lot in university. If it were before terminating with Ruyi, 70% of the interview would’ve revolved around her new book.

“Xiao Xu, it’s the 7th today. After the interview, I’ll take you to meet our partners,” Han Ye said while driving, tilting his head toward her.

Gao Xin added, “They’re in Hangzhou too. I’ll arrange it.”

“Xiao Xu, one of them’s an old acquaintance from ‘Jiuqu.'” Gao Xin hugged her elbows and looked at her. “Back then, Jiuqu didn’t have many colleagues, but we all got along great. I’d just graduated university not long before—no dogblood office intrigue at Jiuqu.”

Han Ye chuckled. “Yo, do you all still keep in touch now?”

“After Jiuqu folded, everyone went their separate ways. Some got civil service jobs. We kept in touch the first few years, but then couldn’t get everyone together anymore, so it faded.” Gao Xin spoke like someone weathered by time, as if wanting another smoke.

Wen Zhixu listened attentively, maintaining politeness despite no interest.

Considering her mood, Han Ye said, “Xiao Xu, that old Jiuqu acquaintance definitely knows Peanut—she was in legal. That online mess that year, the lawsuit… She must know Peanut’s info. Want to ask her later?”

“Forget it,” Wen Zhixu replied curtly.

The car went silent in an instant, eerily so.

Perhaps sensing her attitude came off poorly, Wen Zhixu added, “I mean, it’s been so long. Why bring it up now?”

“Yeah, true,” Gao Xin smoothed things over, going along with her.

The car got onto the elevated road. It was nearing New Year, night air filled with festive vibes, red lanterns hung along the roadsides. The city was clearly warm, yet it made her heart feel empty.

At the same time, Jian Shichu, after a sleepless night and a busy afternoon, finally couldn’t hold on. She leaned back to rest, the bustle around her isolating her.

Her elbow propped on her knee, she stayed silent.

After finishing his tasks, Xiao Yang noticed and approached carefully. “Doudou-jie, why don’t you head back and rest first?”

Jian Shichu still didn’t speak, her gaze lightly on a pebble by her feet.

“You’ve been busy all day and barely eaten. If it’s a misunderstanding, just talk it out. Breaking up isn’t easy…”

“Who said we’re breaking up?” Jian Shichu finally looked up at him, her voice icy cold.

Xiao Yang covered his mouth, forcing a smile as he scooted closer and sat down. “No breakup, no breakup. Arguing is good—arguing helps with emotional bonding.”

Jian Shichu stared at him for three seconds before saying in a steady tone, “Why do I feel like your emotional intelligence is getting lower and lower?”

“Whatever.” Jian Shichu looked away, exhaling a heavy breath.

“Doudou-jie, Xiao Qi said this morning when she brought back food that Xiao Xu-jie’s eyes were badly swollen. Whatever it is, just talk it out properly, yeah?”

Xiao Yang shifted his leg to the edge of the table, his knee bumping right against the corner.

“Anyway, neither of you is happy, so why not just hash it out and make both of you happy? Right?” Xiao Yang gestured animatedly as he laid out his reasoning.

Jian Shichu didn’t reply.

Xiao Yang pressed on: “A cold war for one or two days is enough. I watched a movie a few days ago—the cold war phase is just giving others an opportunity. Hey, Doudou-jie, so what exactly happened? Was it something you did wrong, or Xiao Xu-jie?”

“She didn’t.” Jian Shichu knew what kind of person Wen Zhixu was. There was a reason for all this, but she didn’t want to hear it—not because she truly didn’t trust her.

It was because she didn’t like how Wen Zhixu was still like this, keeping everything from her. Back in that year, if she had known Wen Zhixu was struggling with issues around her sexual orientation, she would have waited for Wen Zhixu—waited for her answer on whether they should stay together or not.

She was angry, angry at how Wen Zhixu was still the same.

When Wen Zhixu cried, she felt worse than anyone. In that instant, she thought no explanation would cut it. That night, she figured it out: she wasn’t mad about the incident itself, but that Wen Zhixu had never really tried to express all her thoughts.

She hated this feeling of ambiguity and distance.