Chapter 64

The same day, Jian Shichu’s grandma was celebrating her birthday. Mid-Mountain Restaurant had stopped taking reservations, and with New Year’s just a few days away, Jian Shichu arrived at the restaurant early in the morning to have them prepare the birthday banquet.

The ingredients were all fresh, and the close relatives had all arrived. Wang Yao was there today too, because his aunt had sent someone to apologize. Jian Shichu had no idea how the story about taking the money had spread.

In front of her grandma, Jian Shichu didn’t say anything. The money had been returned, and she didn’t ask where it came from. She just brushed it off with a few words—there was no need to make anyone unhappy today.

Everyone was in the tearoom drinking tea and chatting, while Jian Shichu was alone in the room, repeatedly looking at the last text message from Wen Zhixu. She reflected that impulsively blocking her had indeed been too rash.

Footsteps approached, but Jian Shichu didn’t notice. Wang Yun called out to her, and only then did she hurriedly lock her screen and turn around.

Wang Yun walked closer and tilted her head back. “Just let this matter go. Don’t get mad at Wang Yao anymore. He’s been fired, and all the relatives are here.”

“I didn’t take it to heart,” Jian Shichu said, keeping her tone even but speaking a bit louder than Wang Yun.

“Then why are you hiding?” Wang Yun asked.

“I’m not hiding.”

Wang Yun stared at her, but Jian Shichu’s expression was calm. It didn’t seem like she was hiding because of Wang Yao.

“Alright, go check out the fish pond up front. Your uncle and Wang Yao are there. Give them a good face—this thing he did wasn’t right, but we can’t make a scene today.” Wang Yun continued, “Mom knows you didn’t do anything wrong. It’s Grandma’s birthday, so just take a look. Your uncle won’t feel awkward at the table later.”

Jian Shichu slipped her phone into her pocket and just raised her eyebrows in response to Wang Yun.

After a moment, seeing Wang Yun still hadn’t left, Jian Shichu relented. “Fine, I’ll go take a look.”

Jian Shichu hadn’t really been dwelling on it. It was the old lady’s birthday today, and her uncle and a couple of relatives were fishing at the pond. There was a fishing pool up the hill from Mid-Mountain Restaurant, which was always crowded on weekends.

When she arrived, she spotted several people standing under the pavilion from afar, chatting about something she couldn’t make out. Wang Yao was leaning against a post, playing on his phone.

After she greeted them upon approaching, everyone’s gazes—intentionally or not—shifted toward her uncle, who just looked up and smiled.

Wang Yao, on the other hand, didn’t even spare her a glance.

“Doudou, do you fish?” one of them asked.

Jian Shichu glanced at the pond. “A little, but not often.”

After exchanging greetings all around, they chatted about some everyday matters, just casual family talk.

A bit later, they headed up the mountain, leaving Wang Yao to watch the fishing rods. Jian Shichu sat on a stool, while Wang Yao stayed leaning against the post. Once everyone else had left…

Wang Yao finally spoke. “Jian Shichu, was that necessary? Now everyone knows about it.”

“You did it, so aren’t you afraid of everyone knowing?” Jian Shichu replied without turning around.

“We’re all relatives. I was wrong, but with so many people here today, they’re all laughing at us. You coming over now—what’s that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing. If you think I was the one who spread it, then think that. I don’t care.” Jian Shichu had no mood to argue with him.

As she stood up, Wang Yao hooked his foot out, and the stool blocked her path perfectly. He stepped forward. “Is this necessary?”

“I don’t want to argue with you right now.” Jian Shichu suppressed her anger and glanced lightly toward the opposite bank. “Move, I’m leaving.”

“What the hell are you acting all high and mighty for? You’ve always been like this, lording it over everyone since we were kids?” Wang Yao snapped, like he was on fire.

Jian Shichu let out a mocking laugh. “Yeah, that’s just how I am. If you can’t stand it, don’t look at me and stay away.”

Jian Shichu had no intention of lingering. Her phone vibrated in her bag. As she reached into her pocket, Wang Yao suddenly kicked the chair.

The heavy wooden chair slid along the muddy ground toward Jian Shichu and smashed into her calf. Her hand was in her pocket, and she instinctively tried to dodge, but the stool was right in front of her.

She lost her balance and pitched forward, tumbling right over the edge into the fish pond. Wang Yao was startled and froze for a second. He just stood there watching as she sank into the pond without a ripple—he hadn’t pushed her, and the resentment from moments ago hadn’t fully faded.

Jian Shichu couldn’t swim. Water splashed up from the pond, and he seemed to wrestle with his thoughts. Finally, Wang Yao extended the fishing rod toward her side. There were life buoys around, but he couldn’t swim either, so he threw one in as well.

But unexpectedly, in just five short minutes, she thrashed in the pond over and over.

“Doudou-jie, grab it!” Wang Yao shouted anxiously, because she was about to sink.

Jian Shichu’s head was ringing louder and louder, the voices growing fainter.

Vaguely, she seemed to hear chaos all around, very noisy. She had no memory of what they were saying.

“Save her!”

“Quick, save her!”

…

Smoke drifted in the private room. Wen Zhixu’s hand trembled around her wine glass, her heart struck by a sudden, piercing pain.

She instinctively frowned, her right eyelid twitching a few times.

“What’s wrong? Not feeling well?” Gao Xin asked.

“No.” As Wen Zhixu responded, she was still recovering from the reaction, her grip tightening unconsciously on the glass.

The table was buzzing with lively chatter. It was midday, the room sealed tight with the lights on, and Wen Zhixu felt stifled.

At that moment, the man beside her turned over.

“Xiao Xu, here’s to your new book being a huge hit.” He raised his glass.

“Thanks.”

Wen Zhixu’s heart raced again with her breath, and she used the wine in her glass to suppress the uneasy expression.

The man was the legal affairs guy from Jiuqu Magazine. Later, he moved to a law firm. Over the years, he’d switched jobs a few times but stayed in Hangzhou.

So, introduced by Gao Xin, he met Xiao Xu—er, Wen Zhixu—and eventually, everyone ended up at the same table. The process was roundabout but not complicated.

“Back when I first learned about Xiao Xu, she was still in junior high. Time flies; didn’t expect her to be all grown up now.”

Wen Zhixu smiled faintly. “Third year of junior high.”

Gao Xin chimed in, “Yeah, we’re all getting old. If Xiao Xu had a pen name, we might not have even known it was her. Otherwise, circling in the same industry, we might not have pieced it together.”

“Hey, wasn’t Peanut pretty close with Xiao Xu back then? Do you remember?”

The man swallowed his wine and picked up his chopsticks. “Which Peanut? Jiuqu Magazine has so many authors, some even share pen names. Can’t remember them all.”

“That one, also a little girl about Xiao Xu’s age back then. She submitted manuscripts,” Gao Xin reminded again.

From the other side, the man in black turned over—everyone called him Brother Ming.

“I remember. I received the manuscripts. One issue featured Xiao Xu and her together, laid out by Lao Mu. He even took special photos for them. That issue sold out completely—the whole department got awards.”

“Wow, how many years ago was that? And you all remember it so clearly,” Han Ye said, popping a piece of greens into his mouth.

“Hard to forget. I’ve been De Daxian’s literary agent for five years. Who does he hang out with? Just Peanut’s mom,” Brother Ming laughed. Perhaps because of that, his fingers spun around the table, picking up a peanut from the dish.

De Daxian was a famous author in the literary circle. After one god-making book, he switched to directing, adapting his own work with stunning cinematic aesthetics.

Brother Ming asked again, “That Peanut from Jiuqu Magazine, the one in the same batch as Xiao Xu, right?”

Gao Xin followed up, “Who else? How many Peanuts are there?”

“Exactly.” Brother Ming looked smug, like he was sitting on some juicy gossip.

Wen Zhixu listened intently and finally spoke up. “Who was her mom?”

“Wang Yun. Xiao Xu, didn’t you join the group for Fog Condensing on the Window? You know her, right?” Brother Ming set down his chopsticks, gearing up to continue.

Wen Zhixu’s heart skipped a beat, her hand nearly slipping on the glass. It was like a wire had suddenly looped around her heart, squeezing until she couldn’t breathe.

“I remember now. That year during the lawsuit, it was Wang Yun who stepped up. She even called specifically, forbidding any info on that little girl from being leaked. The whole internet went nuts digging, but nothing came up.”

Wen Zhixu could barely hear him clearly. Her face gradually turned deathly pale as Jian Shichu’s words suddenly came back to her.

‘I knew you before you knew me.’

‘Have you ever thought, she already saw you in college.’

‘So many people at school, but I only wanted to run into you.’

And before and after dating, she’d never seen Jian Shichu eat peanuts, because Jian Shichu had known early on about her peanut allergy. The first thing she said when she first “met” Peanut was, ‘I’m allergic to peanuts.’

So many words from college, and that first greeting: ‘I know you.’

So this “knowing” wasn’t from classmates sharing names—it was that they’d been strangers-yet-friends long before.

So that casual “see you in college” from back then—she really came to Beihai, really attended the same university as her.

The distance from Chongqing to Beihai was truly far. Not a word about finding her way to the lamp-lit haven amid the ruins. Her mistake was not responding back then to that relentless fireworks rain.

They continued chatting, but Wen Zhixu’s face grew paler and paler. She stood up, her chair scraping backward with a screech, drawing everyone’s gazes over.

“Sorry, I need to use the restroom.” Wen Zhixu hurriedly left the scene.

The moment she stepped out the door, her wrist was still trembling. She turned to dodge the waiter and slipped into the bathroom. At that point, she couldn’t hold it together anymore—her eyelashes tried to catch the tears, but she couldn’t suppress the wave of discomfort surging from her chest.

Wen Zhixu pulled out her phone and dialed. By this moment, right or wrong, none of it mattered anymore. Any further retreat would mean total defeat.

The call didn’t go through, so she tried a second time, only to hear that the recipient was out of service area.

Wen Zhixu closed her eyes to force herself to calm down, then looked up the number for Mid-Mountain Restaurant and called.

The instant the call connected, Wen Zhixu asked, “Huan Huan, it’s Wen Zhixu. Is Jian Shichu there?”

Huan Huan paused for a second. It was very noisy on the other end, and the reply came in a rush: “Xiao Xu-jie, Doudou-jie has been sent to the hospital.”