Chapter 22

Wei Shuyu froze and involuntarily looked toward Jin Yizhu.

An unknown wind arose from somewhere and lifted Jin Yizhu’s hair strands.

Jin Yizhu stood in the wind as snow cherries drifted down one after another, landing on her shoulders.

She had gone to a meeting that day and wore a straight-shoulder suit in coffee-colored fine plaid, with a black real silk shirt underneath. It softened her sharp temperament a little. In the sunset, her eyes still shone brightly.

“What’s wrong?” Jin Yizhu asked. “You’ve been staring at me.”

“Nothing, just dazzled by your handsomeness.” Wei Shuyu pursed her lips in a smile. “Let’s go.”

“You’re acting weird.” Jin Yizhu tilted her head slightly and inexplicably felt a bit hot. “It’s a ten-minute drive from here—very convenient.”

They had come over arm in arm. Uncle He glanced at them from the rearview mirror, and his expression grew even graver.

Could it really be as he suspected? This time seemed different—not purely friends. If that was the case, he had to let the mister and madam know.

“Uncle He, we’re going to Hongxi.”

After getting in the car, Jin Yizhu said only that one sentence before leaning back into her seat and saying nothing more.

Wei Shuyu stole glances at her from the corner of her eye. She always felt like Jin Yizhu was a bit angry at Uncle He.

Was it because of what she had just said?

Wei Shuyu had not yet figured it out when Jin Yizhu reached over, took her hand, and signaled her not to overthink.

She had never been good at adapting to such scenes. Her previous friction with Uncle He had been entirely because of that Les Miserables song—it was simply too heartbreaking. She had almost wanted to blast it out loud to make her see her own place and drop any extra ideas.

Just those few words had already drained her mentally.

Wei Shuyu gazed at the scenery outside the window. If only she had stronger adaptability and were a bit more worldly-wise—would she not have ruined her career or her life?

The ride passed in silence. Only the warmth of Jin Yizhu’s palm brought Wei Shuyu a little comfort.

Hongxi in the Minato Ward was one of Tokyo’s best Cantonese restaurants.

The decor retained a touch of Chinese style but had done away with classic elements like round tables with lazy Susans. Instead, it featured a Japanese-style bar counter. The head chef curated the menu, and diners simply enjoyed.

Wei Shuyu had never been to a Chinese restaurant like this and felt a bit curious.

After sitting down at the bar, Wei Shuyu looked around. She wanted to take photos but worried it might be prohibited, so she asked, “Can we take photos here?”

“You can. Go ahead and snap some.” Jin Yizhu handed her coat to the waiter. “First time?”

“I usually eat Chinese food at Ikebukuro West Exit.” Wei Shuyu smiled at her. “Is this your Tokyo spot too?”

“I don’t come here much.” Jin Yizhu said. “I don’t eat much Chinese food around here.”

Wei Shuyu paused for a moment. “Yeah…”

For Chinese food, Hong Kong offered far more options. Guangzhou and Shenzhen were close too. There was no real need to eat it in Tokyo.

She realized this Cantonese place had been chosen specially for her today.

Wei Shuyu’s heart softened a little. Jin Yizhu really had a kind of gentleness.

It was unobtrusive and silent, like a breeze—elusive and traceless, yet undeniably real.

“Their roast goose is delicious.” Jin Yizhu said softly. “Didn’t you say before that you like roast goose?”

“When did I… Oh, right, I did.” Wei Shuyu asked. “Do you remember everything I’ve said?”

“Most of it. Because you haven’t really told me much.” Jin Yizhu propped her chin on one hand and watched the head chef at work behind the bar. “So it’s easier to remember.”

That gentle breeze brushed over Wei Shuyu’s heart once more.

She did not know what to say or what to do. Guilty? A little, perhaps.

All along, she had kept things from Jin Yizhu—let alone opening her heart.

Even now, after Jin Yizhu had laid out her ambitions and asked her to stand by her side, Wei Shuyu had only relaxed slightly. She could converse freely with Jin Yizhu, and that was it.

But what Jin Yizhu wanted went far beyond that.

She wanted understanding, support, absolute trust, perfect rapport, and total favoritism.

“Last time you came to Hong Kong, I wanted to take you to Ichiriki.” Jin Yizhu said. “But you left too quickly. You didn’t even give me a chance.”

Wei Shuyu felt a bit embarrassed. “I got scared off…”

The roast goose was sliced thin and served on a scorched porcelain plate. The head chef placed it before them. The skin gleamed with an amber luster, the meat plump and juicy inside. A faint fruitwood aroma wafted up, balancing the richness with extra freshness.

The moment the plate hit the counter, Wei Shuyu’s eyes lit up. Her gaze stuck to the roast goose and did not budge for a long time.

“Eat up.” Jin Yizhu laughed. “Try it. If you like it, you can come back often.”

Wei Shuyu took a piece as instructed. It was indeed tender and savory, bursting with rich flavor. She immediately craved another.

“Ichiriki’s is more traditional—sweeter.” Jin Yizhu ate two pieces and set down her chopsticks. “This place is more modern, fresher.”

Wei Shuyu ate with focus, her eyes even narrowing slightly as she savored the roast goose.

She acknowledged Jin Yizhu’s words with a mere hum.

Jin Yizhu did not mind. Instead, she watched with keen interest. “This good?”

Wei Shuyu nodded. Joy floated in her usually placid eyes—she clearly loved it.

“Want another order?” Jin Yizhu asked. “Or try the roast duck? Theirs is good too.”

“No need.” Wei Shuyu shook her head. “I won’t have room for the rest.”

“Really?” Jin Yizhu seemed almost regretful. “You eat so cutely—like a kitten.”

Wei Shuyu startled at the sudden compliment. She froze, unsure how to respond.

Jin Yizhu let out a low chuckle and patted her shoulder. “Eat it before it cools.”

Unlike Japanese cuisine, Cantonese dishes did not keep well once set aside. Cooled, their flavor diminished greatly. They suited eating while chatting.

Halfway through the courses, the head chef switched the pairing wine. Jin Yizhu exchanged a few words with him in Cantonese. Wei Shuyu could not understand, so she sipped her own glass in silence.

“By the way, don’t you have a few days off soon?”

After finishing with the chef, Jin Yizhu turned to her abruptly.

“Want to come to Hong Kong with me?”

“Huh?” Wei Shuyu blinked in confusion. “Is there something you need me for?”

“No, just wanted you to try Ichiriki.”

Jin Yizhu’s expression stiffened for an instant. Wei Shuyu’s question struck at the heart of it, clearing some of the wine haze from her mind.

She tossed out a casual excuse, then added, “Next time works too.”

Wei Shuyu nodded. “Okay.”

Seeing that look on Jin Yizhu’s face, how could she not understand?

Jin Yizhu clearly had something on—wanted her along to Hong Kong.

But her question had reminded her it was inappropriate, so she changed the subject.

Wei Shuyu hesitated a moment. While waiting for dessert, she leaned toward Jin Yizhu and whispered near her ear, “Is there something you want me to go for but it’s inconvenient?”

Her voice was soft, her proximity extreme. No one else could hear.

Jin Yizhu paused. “You noticed?”

She leaned in toward Wei Shuyu as well. They drew even closer, foreheads nearly touching—intimate, almost ambiguous.

“I thought I’d hidden it well.” Jin Yizhu smiled sheepishly. “Didn’t realize you’d see right through.”

She felt a strange surge of emotion, unfamiliar to her—like damp rain falling into the desert of her heart.

Stranger still, a selfish desire stirred in Jin Yizhu’s heart. She wanted that rain to fall forever, only for her.

“No, your expression froze. I knew something was up.”

Wei Shuyu did not pull back. She allowed the extreme closeness but lowered her lashes, hiding her eyes from Jin Yizhu.

“What is it? You can whisper it to me. I won’t tell anyone.”

“I have a dinner the day after tomorrow. I want you to come with me.”

Jin Yizhu toyed with her nails. She had removed her manicure, leaving neatly trimmed nails with a healthy pink sheen.

“But it’s not appropriate. I can’t explain who you are… so never mind.”

“So you’re heading back to Hong Kong tomorrow.” Wei Shuyu caught her fingers. “Don’t pick at your nails like that. You’ll get an infection.”

She had noticed Jin Yizhu’s hands before—slender, elegant fingers. They always sported different manicures, mostly French style, occasionally Japanese clear coats. No extensions, but intricate nail art that made them look like artwork.

She had assumed Jin Yizhu simply loved manicures. But after a few days together, she realized Jin Yizhu fiddled with them unconsciously when reluctant.

Without the polish, those hands would soon be torn to shreds.

“You caught that too.” Jin Yizhu stopped and interlaced her fingers. “I’ll get them done tomorrow. It’s fine.”

“Back in Hong Kong, or here?” Wei Shuyu asked.

“Back in Hong Kong.” Jin Yizhu laughed. “What, can’t bear to see me go?”

Dessert arrived: almond pudding topped with a thin layer of matcha. It looked quite cute.

Jin Yizhu took the porcelain bowl from the head chef and set it before Wei Shuyu first, then took one for herself. She ate idly.

The distance between them stayed the same—actually drew a touch closer.

Jin Yizhu held her small spoon in one hand, propped her chin with the other, and gazed at Wei Shuyu. The casual pose erected a subtle barrier between them and the rest of the room.

“A little.”

Wei Shuyu tasted the almond pudding. Sweet with a bitter edge—the matcha added more bitterness but left a lingering fragrance.

It was unclear if she was savoring it intently or if that was all she had to say. Jin Yizhu waited a long time but heard no more.

“A little… and then?” Jin Yizhu prompted.

“No ‘and then.’” Wei Shuyu smiled. “Do you want me to cling to your arm, act all spoiled, and beg to go with you?”

Jin Yizhu froze.

Of course she did not want Wei Shuyu to say that.

It was a question she could not answer.

She simply hoped Wei Shuyu would miss her. But she could not ask her to follow along, or stay behind to keep her company—or say it was unnecessary to go that far.

If Wei Shuyu actually voiced it, Jin Yizhu would only feel more pressure. And afterward… she dared not imagine.

Precisely because she understood Jin Yizhu’s thoughts and position, Wei Shuyu held back.

Jin Yizhu gazed into those smiling eyes and suddenly felt an unfamiliar, peculiar attachment.

She wanted to keep staring forever—even lost in a dream, never waking. She would embrace it gladly.

“Wei Shuyu.” A note of delight crept into her tone. “How are you so thoughtful?”