After that day, the relationship between the two of them seemed to enter a strange stagnation.
Han Xuan still fed her delicious treats from time to time, and the two occasionally met up for dates outside of work, holding hands and kissing intimately, but nothing more happened.
It was as if a transparent window hung between them—the thin layer of paper was within reach, as fragile as a cicada’s wing, but neither chose to pierce it.
Chu Susu might take the initiative, but she was never the first to suggest confirming their relationship. As for Han Xuan, with her reserved personality, it was obvious she was too thin-skinned to say such words.
Sometimes, Chu Susu did notice Han Xuan’s slightly disappointed gaze, her hesitant desire to speak but stopping herself.
But Chu Susu pretended not to see it.
With work nearing its end, she neither wanted nor had time for romance. Keeping this distance was just right.
This way, she could see that face she fancied every day without constantly recalling Han Xuan’s lies because they were too close.
Wasn’t this pretty good?
On this, Li Le’er gave a succinct two-word evaluation: “Slag girl.”
Chu Susu: “Where am I a slag? I haven’t done anything to her.”
Li Le’er: “That’s exactly what’s excessive! You don’t satisfy her emotional needs, nor her physical needs. You give her nothing—total slag girl.”
Chu Susu: “……”
Li Le’er: “I’m serious. You might as well satisfy her physiological needs… [starry eyes]. At least that way, the little lamb would be happy physically.”
This girl’s mouth had no filter, getting more outrageous with every word, all twisted logic.
Li Le’er: “Actually, it could be the little lamb making you happy, hehe.”
Chu Susu: “……? Look at what you’re saying—is that even human language?”
Li Le’er: “Anything’s possible.”
She was used to spouting nonsense daily, so Chu Susu didn’t take it to heart and ignored her.
Besides, Chu Susu had never even considered the possibility of Han Xuan topping.
With that frail, pitiful appearance, she’d probably go red-eyed and limp after just a short while.
Just then, Han Xuan messaged asking if she wanted anything to eat. Chu Susu swiped open the chat, preparing to reply.
……
Meanwhile, Fang Chen hung up the video call and glanced at Chu Zhen not far away.
He was deeply puzzled. His uncle clearly cared about Susu a lot—every time he talked or videoed with Susu, Chu Zhen insisted on listening from the side, but he refused to show his face.
“Uncle,” Fang Chen sighed, persuading him, “You clearly want to talk to Susu. Why do you always just watch from afar?”
Chu Zhen turned away, hiding his expression from Fang Chen.
His hands were clasped behind his back, his posture ramrod straight, with only a few strands of white hair betraying that he was no longer young.
“What good would talking do?” Chu Zhen snorted coldly. “That girl always talks back to me, and it ends in a fight every time.”
Fang Chen was helpless and advised, “Susu isn’t an unreasonable child. Next time, calm down and have a good talk with her. She’ll definitely listen to you.”
“No need for that.”
“Sigh…”
“Has she been messing around with other girls lately?”
“Hey now, you can’t call it messing around.” Fang Chen said, “Uncle, same-sex relationships are very common among young people nowadays. You can’t view it with old-fashioned thinking.”
Chu Zhen’s temper was stubborn; he didn’t listen at all and flicked his sleeve as he strode off: “Hmph. A girl should get married while she’s young. What happens when she’s older? Who will want her then?”
“Uncle…”
Fang Chen watched his retreating back and shook his head.
When exactly had this father-daughter pair’s relationship started to deteriorate? It seemed like the year Susu was in her first year of high school—it took a sharp turn for the worse…
From then on, they were like lit firecrackers—every conversation exploded with tempers, impossible to reconcile.
Ten years later, it was still the same; neither was willing to speak frankly.
Take this time, for example. At the birthday banquet, it wasn’t Fang Chen’s company that wanted to bid—it was Chu Zhen.
He wanted to bring Chu Susu along out of good intentions but wouldn’t say it outright. Instead, he borrowed Fang Chen’s name, not even showing his face on video.
It was hard for a just official to settle family affairs, let alone Fang Chen as an outsider—he was naturally powerless.
He hoped they could ease things eventually.
Soon after, the invitation to the birthday banquet arrived in Chu Susu’s hands while she was at a team dinner.
This meal wasn’t quite a wrap-up celebration; it was just them, no client.
The work was mostly done—all that remained was a report to the client tomorrow afternoon, and it would be perfectly concluded.
Everyone was in high spirits, even the usually stern Rebecca showing a rare smile: “Order whatever you want. This meal’s on me.”
“Yay!”
Rebecca poured wine and toasted everyone:
“I’ve only been transferred from Magic City a few short months, and this is the first project I’ve led. Such great results are all thanks to everyone’s hard work…”
The others quickly replied: “No way, no way. It’s your outstanding leadership that got us these results.”
After three or four rounds of polite exchanges amid clinking glasses, everyone was getting tipsy, laughing and hooking arms, bantering back and forth.
Rebecca raised her glass again. Her face carried a slight drunken flush as she turned to Chu Susu: “Let me toast you alone.”
“I don’t deserve it. You’re too kind.”
Chu Susu had one of the better tolerances here; while others were swaying, she still held onto seventy percent sobriety.
“How is it too kind?” Rebecca sighed, saying something ambiguous: “Whether at work or otherwise, I’m sincerely grateful to you.”
Only the two of them knew what that referred to.
Ever since they ran into Rebecca’s ex-husband that time, the man had come to the company causing trouble twice more.
Without an employee card, he couldn’t enter the building, so he blocked people in the parking lot each time.
Fortunately, Chu Susu had warned security in advance, so he never succeeded and was quickly chased off.
Thus, no one knew about his relationship with Rebecca.
Of course, even Rebecca didn’t know that Chu Susu had accidentally learned her secret.
As someone new to the Imperial Capital branch, bad rumors could affect her, so Rebecca was deeply grateful to Chu Susu for stepping in.
“Come on.”
Chu Susu smiled at her. The two exchanged a knowing glance, clinked glasses, and chatted freely.
But others didn’t know about this, so their interaction looked like Rebecca showing unusual favor to Chu Susu.
Xiao You pouted jealously, while Jack beside her had a shifting, inscrutable expression.
“Hey, Jack.” Xiao You nudged his shoulder, a bit unwilling: “Why is she so good to Chu Susu?”
This question hit Jack’s sore spot; he snorted coldly: “No idea.”
If he knew, he would’ve copied it to cozy up to Rebecca ages ago.
“I might know something.” Xiao You leaned in mysteriously. “Chu Susu might be a lesbian.”
Jack was puzzled: “Huh?”
“You know, gay girl.” Xiao You gossiped. “Maybe that’s why Rebecca’s close to her.”
Jack lowered his eyes: “Is that so.”
……
“Beep— The number you have dialed is unavailable. Please try again later.”
In the office, moonlight filtered through the curtains onto the spotless desk.
Everyone else had left; it was cold and empty, with only Han Xuan still sitting there, unmoving.
Under the desk sat a pretty gift bag containing a shoebox with a brand-new pair of boots—the size just right.
The brand wasn’t cheap but not extravagant either: suitable as a gift without burdening the recipient.
The shoes had arrived mysteriously, accompanied only by a card saying “Happy Birthday” with no signature. Yet Han Xuan knew exactly who they were from.
She recalled Chu Susu glancing down at her worn shoe tip earlier and couldn’t help a fond smile.
“Susu…” Han Xuan murmured, her voice full of tender affection. “You’re still exactly the same as before.”
Cool on the surface, but more observant than anyone.
Han Xuan had called several times with no answer, but she showed no impatience, simply switching to send a WeChat message:
“I got the shoes, thank you. I love them.”
Moments after sending, she suddenly sensed something off for no reason. The smile on her face retracted slowly, like rewinding.
Han Xuan abruptly lowered her head, picking an unremarkable pencil from the holder. She quickly sketched a few lines on the blank paper before her.
In the corner, the surveillance camera seemed blinded, capturing nothing.
At the same time, the security guard in the monitoring room rubbed his eyes. Huh? Why did it feel like I just saw a flash of purple?
When he cast another glance, he finally confirmed that he had been seeing things.
Sigh, at this hour, there was clearly no one in the building at all. The surveillance footage showed everything empty.
In a spot the security guard couldn’t see, Han Xuan was still drawing with her head down, purple light flickering illusorily yet realistically in her eyes, illuminating that sheet of paper without need for any lights.
Moments later, she tossed down the pen and stood up, her brows and eyes brimming with chill intent.
Her usual restrained and amiable expression had vanished completely.
“A pack of mad dogs.” Han Xuan stared at the drawing, muttering to herself, her gaze icy cold. “They go berserk at the slightest whiff of meat.”
She crumpled the paper in her hand and strode away.
On the balled-up paper, a few sparse strokes outlined a woman’s face. Eyes tightly shut, utterly expressionless.
As if she had lost consciousness.
“Take care on your way.”
Everyone had been drinking and couldn’t drive, so they called designated drivers or taxis. But in such settings, the leaders went first, of course.
Chu Susu saw Rebecca into the car and waved at her. “See you tomorrow.”
“Mm, see you tomorrow.”
Through the car window, Rebecca showed a bit of her drunken state, seeming more approachable than usual.
She smiled. “Give a good report tomorrow. I’m looking forward to your performance.”
It was called a “report,” but really just a formality to give the client some face—which was why they had dared to drink so late today.
“Of course.” Chu Susu smiled back. “Drive safe. Goodbye.”
She watched the taxi drive off into the distance, then glanced down at her phone.
Chu Susu had driven herself here and was now standing by her car, waiting on the designated driver app for someone to accept the ride.
But it was late, and after waiting in place for three or four minutes, no one had taken it yet. The other colleagues had mostly left by now.
She hadn’t checked her phone in about two hours and only now noticed several missed calls from Han Xuan.
The restaurant had been too noisy, and her phone had been buried in her bag, so she hadn’t heard it ring at all.
Chu Susu was just about to call back when she suddenly caught another reflection on the car window.
She started to turn around in shock, but it was already too late. A dull pain exploded at the back of her head, and her entire body lost all sensation in an instant—
“Thud!”
Chu Susu kept that same expression as she slowly toppled forward, slamming onto the hood of her own car.
Behind her, a baseball bat slipped suddenly from someone’s hand and clattered to the ground with a crisp sound.
