Chapter 22: Getting Along Part 2

The contract spelled it out clearly: mutual benefit, no debts owed. She had nothing special that warranted Sheng Shubai’s constant care.

Sheng Shubai’s eyes curved. “Because I like you.”

Lu Jia wanted to say more, but meeting the woman’s half-smiling gaze, she swallowed her words.

She lowered her eyes and softly replied, “Thank you.”

After dinner, Sheng Shubai led Lu Jia toward the end of the street, showing no intention of calling a car.

The front of the restaurant street bustled, but the latter half was much quieter.

Lu Jia followed her step for step until they passed through the entire bright, vibrant thoroughfare. Suddenly, the kaleidoscope of lights turned into a single white glow.

It was a wide asphalt crossroad, just turning green.

Tall trees on the opposite side cast deep shadows, dimming the stone balustrade beside them.

Before they even reached the balustrade, Lu Jia heard the faint sound of water, mingled with the whoosh of a car speeding past behind them.

She gripped Sheng Shubai’s hand, which had unconsciously tightened, and silently followed the woman along the tree-lined path.

It was more like a leisurely stroll than walking—slower, even.

Occasional passersby out for evening walks overtook them from behind, mostly older folks dressed like local residents.

Lu Jia was on the outer side.

Beyond Sheng Shubai’s slender, tall silhouette, her gaze followed to the balustrade.

The river stretched wide.

On the opposite shore, towering commercial buildings reflected shimmering waves, rising and falling in the night breeze.

Far off at a bend, a round arch bridge spanned the banks, its embedded light strips glowing golden and brilliant. Crowds of people were faintly visible.

Lu Jia recognized it as one of Z City’s famous photo spots, mentioned by her senior sister before the trip.

Assuming Sheng Shubai wanted to go there for photos, she asked, “Miss Sheng, should we take a cab over?”

The bridge was a good distance away by eye.

She glanced at Sheng Shubai’s ankle, hesitating.

The night before last—their last time together—Lu Jia had lifted the woman’s ankle to her arm, only to find a bandage on the heel.

Sheng Shubai had then hooked her hand and said it was nothing, just a new pair of shoes that had rubbed it raw a bit. Afterward, she’d claimed the spot got irritated again and made Lu Jia “compensate” her once more.

It wasn’t an issue today, but she worried it hadn’t fully healed.

Sheng Shubai kept her head turned sideways, quietly gazing at the river surface. Her voice was very soft. “No need. We’re here.”

The railing broke off, leaving a gap that led to a descending stone staircase.

The steps were not particularly smooth—aged stone slabs eroded by rainwater into rounded, uneven hollows.

After about a dozen steps, they reached a small platform ringed by handrails.

But there were no lights.

The only source of illumination came from the tall streetlamp on the sidewalk behind and above them, casting a miserly beam that didn’t reveal much. Instead, the reflected glow from the river surface was clearer.

Lu Jia had mild night blindness. She held Sheng Shubai’s hand, matching her pace.

“You’re so trusting, following me like this. Aren’t you afraid I’ll sell you off?”

The light ahead was dim, so Sheng Shubai joked.

Lu Jia caught the forced lightness in her tone and smiled along. “Not afraid. I wouldn’t fetch much anyway.”

Halfway down, she stepped on a chipped section of stair and nearly slipped.

Sheng Shubai pulled her back, steadying her as they continued down.

The warm palm gripped tightly, inexplicably bringing a sense of reassurance. Lu Jia glanced sideways at Sheng Shubai’s leg with her peripheral vision and saw no sign of discomfort in her gait. She relaxed.

Only then did the woman slowly refute her words. “Even without your looks, just the inspirations that always pop into your head are priceless treasures.”

Lu Jia got lightly tapped on the head and deliberately sighed. “Keep knocking, and I probably won’t have any inspirations left.”

She heard a low chuckle from beside her and was about to continue when Sheng Shubai asked lightly, “What, are you planning to cling to me?”

Lu Jia nodded.

They had reached the platform, so she wasn’t worried about falling. She simply turned her head to look at the woman, her clear pupils especially bright in the faint darkness.

Sheng Shubai glanced at her. “Looks like those from the other night weren’t enough. Next time, we’ll add something else to spark more inspiration for you.”

Her words were neither too light nor too heavy, scattering in the wind.

This wasn’t the sort of thing to discuss in such an open outdoor space.

Remembering those winding straps, Lu Jia wisely dropped the topic and leaned against the railing with her, letting the breeze blow.

They were now close to the river’s surface. The evening wind was stronger than expected, carrying a thin chill and moisture that brushed against them. Strands of hair and clothing hems fluttered in the night.

The view was indeed beautiful.

The river was wide, with a bustling nightscape in the distance.

Lu Jia pulled out her phone, adjusted the settings simply, and snapped several photos in a row.

She opened the gallery.

She habitually sorted her photos into folders, so she created a new one called “Z City.”

She selected all and moved them. As she scrolled through the options, her fingertip paused imperceptibly for half a second when her gaze swept over a certain line of text.

That album was named “Miss Sheng.”

Its contents weren’t much.

A few photos she’d taken of Sheng Shubai at the opening ceremony, plus occasional selfies or solo shots when they were out together and Sheng Shubai had pulled her in.

The album’s default cover was set to the first photo in chronological order.

The cover image happened to be from the moment during the ceremony speech when Sheng Shubai held the microphone and looked down at her notes. The lamplight fell on her tall, slender figure, gilding it with a faint halo.

Lu Jia usually glanced at the saved images without thinking much of it.

But now, with the subject right beside her, she inexplicably felt a twinge of guilt.

She hurriedly glanced sideways and saw Sheng Shubai’s attention wasn’t on her. She quickly scrolled to the end.

Taking the photos only took a few minutes.

During that time, Sheng Shubai kept her eyes down on the water ripples, reverting to her earlier silence.

It wasn’t until Lu Jia stopped moving and some time had passed that she finally spoke softly. “What do you think people become after they die?”

It was such a sudden question.

Her voice was soft, blending into the sound of the water, unclear if it was directed at Lu Jia or just self-muttered.

Like a feather-light wisp, brushed away by the river wind, almost impossible to grasp.

Combined with the expression shrouded in dimness, it was hard to read her intent.

Lu Jia paused, thought for a few seconds, and decided to answer from the heart. “When I was little, they said the departed become stars, but I don’t think so.”

She gripped the edge of the stone railing; it felt cool. “When a family elder passed away, they were buried next to some pine trees on the outskirts of Linchang. The next spring, several pink-and-white flowers bloomed there—beautiful ones that had never grown before.”

“I thought back then, maybe people turn into flower seeds after they go, to comfort those left behind.”

Her fingertips tightened then released.

Sheng Shubai lowered her eyes, offering no comment on Lu Jia’s words.

The river wind brushed her face, stirring a few strands of hair.

Silence enveloped them again. Lu Jia didn’t speak further, just accompanied Sheng Shubai in quietly watching the night view.

Until a flock of birds fluttered from somewhere. After a long silence, Sheng Shubai finally spoke again.

“In high school, I came here a few times with my little aunt. She said that if she ever died, she’d follow those online posts and have a grand river burial.”

Her tone carried a subdued bitterness.

“That—”

Lu Jia seemed to realize something, her voice hesitant.

Sheng Shubai lowered her brows and gave a self-mocking smile.

Those past events she avoided mentioning gradually unfolded in the night, forcing her to recall them.

The words lingered on her lips.

After hesitating for a moment, she finally said it. “It didn’t happen. The family wouldn’t accept the idea. Later, I buried something else of hers instead.”

Sheng Ling had always loved freedom. Sheng Shubai wondered if being confined in a grave felt too boring for her.

So she secretly kept a carving knife and had someone craft a small wooden box shaped like a coffin. She put it inside and sank it into the center of the river.

As if fulfilling what Sheng Ling had told her.

“In a few days… it’s my little aunt’s death anniversary.”

Sheng Shubai lowered her eyes. “Coming back to this place brought back a lot of memories. That’s why I was off tonight. Sorry.”

That hadn’t been her original plan.

She had pulled Lu Jia out tonight mostly to have someone accompany her through the city she hadn’t seen in a while, chat idly to pass the time, and then take her back to her place.

But after entering that restaurant, everything changed from the memories. The scenes in her mind were overturned and dissipated.

Sheng Shubai inevitably recalled many things.

That shop was where Sheng Ling had first taken her. They’d eaten there for years, from elementary school through high school, threading through so many memories of her little aunt.

The place had changed completely, making her miss Sheng Ling even more.

Coming to the riverbank had followed naturally.

She had never told anyone those words over the years—not even her own older sister.

Perhaps because Lu Jia was quiet and didn’t pry, or because being together felt comfortable.

Or maybe she wanted to confide in someone unconnected to this city, uninvolved in her past.

Someone who hadn’t been part of it before and wouldn’t be afterward.

That way, even pouring out her emotions wouldn’t burden the other person too much, Sheng Shubai thought.

A fingertip touched hers, followed by a warm palm that gently covered the back of her hand, melting away the chill from the river wind.

The girl was only a few centimeters shorter than her—they’d compared finger lengths before, and they were nearly the same.

Now, it covered completely, every inch infused with familiar warmth.

“Miss Sheng.”

Lu Jia spoke softly. Her words weren’t skilled at comforting, clumsy in trying to soothe, but her eyes remained clear and sincere.

“It’s okay. You can say whatever you want. We can stay here as long as you like.”

The girl paused for a few seconds, feeling it was too brief to comfort, and added, “I’ll stay with you.”

Sheng Shubai pursed her lips. She flipped her wrist on the railing and gripped Lu Jia’s hand in return.

The temperature hadn’t dropped yet.

A few mosquitoes buzzed by occasionally. Lu Jia had delicate skin and had always attracted bugs since childhood.

Riverbank mosquitoes bit hard. She rummaged in her bag for her portable bug spray—originally for C City, but useful now.

Sheng Shubai watched her quietly.

“Miss Sheng, do you want some? This one’s unscented.”

Lu Jia explained before handing it over.

The woman’s perfume always smelled so good; it would be a shame if bug spray overpowered it.

They stayed until very late.

The river flowed on, and the crowds on the distant bridge gradually dispersed.