Chapter 11

Even as unperceptive as Shu Chi was, she could still sense something strange in Ding Ya’s attitude towards her.

It didn’t seem like an illusion; Ding Ya just really liked watching her expressions.

It was as if she deliberately said things that could be easily misunderstood, just to see her reaction.

Shu Chi grabbed her coat and stood up, saying very crisply, “Sure.”

It was Ding Ya’s turn to be stunned.

As Shu Chi walked, she said, “Aren’t you coming? If we don’t take the subway, it’ll take some time to drive there.”

Ding Ya grabbed her bag and followed, her heart boiling like water.

This person’s smile is actually quite nice, not as dazed as usual.

It wasn’t until she was sitting in Shu Chi’s car and fastening her seatbelt that Ding Ya asked, “Are you really coming to my place?”

Shu Chi drove skillfully, not even looking at Ding Ya, and countered naturally, “Didn’t you invite me?”

Ding Ya thought: But you agreed way too fast!

Do you say yes to anyone who invites you?

You look like an honest person with those thick brows and big eyes, but who knew you’d be such a battle-hardened veteran in the ways of love.

Shu Chi’s car playlist was something even Jing Yuqi considered overly dated.

Ding Ya glanced at the playlist. She knew all the songs on it intimately.

Shu Chi asked, “If you don’t like this stuff, just connect your own Bluetooth.”

The playlist might as well have been titled “Complete Collection of Hit Internet Songs, 2005-2009.” Out of ten songs Ding Ya scanned, she knew how to sing eight of them.

Ding Ya: “No, I love this music, and I can even sing it.”

Shu Chi: “I thought people your age wouldn’t listen to this anymore.”

Ding Ya glanced at her. “Who says that? I used to download these onto my MP3 player when I was in school, listened to them in class too.”

Shu Chi made a small “Oh.” “Not paying attention in class.”

Ding Ya nodded without a hint of shame. “My grades were bad. Otherwise, I wouldn’t have been held back a year.”

She fiddled with the plush charm hanging from the back of her phone case and asked, “And you, Boss Shu? You’re not a local, are you?”

The road at this hour was a little congested. Just at a red light, the streetlights outside streamed through the car window, spilling onto Shu Chi’s profile and giving Ding Ya a backlit silhouette, a fragile feeling lurking in the darkness.

Shu Chi nodded. “That obvious?”

Ding Ya laughed lightly. “Your accent is very cute.”

Shu Chi: “My voice isn’t nice.”

Ding Ya shook her head. “That’s just others not appreciating it.”

She looked at Shu Chi again, her gaze focused, as if she herself was not among those “others.”

Shu Chi didn’t know what to say. Ding Ya asked again, “Have you known Boss Jing for many years?”

Ding Ya thought of that bit of internet celebrity love-hate drama and asked curiously, “I wanted to ask you yesterday but was too embarrassed.”

“Is that stuff online about you liking Boss Jing true?”

If today had been their first meeting, in their roles as bosses and staff of collaborating companies, Ding Ya would never have dared to ask such a question. She probably wouldn’t be sitting in Shu Chi’s passenger seat either.

Ding Ya thought Shu Chi would deny it first, but instead, the woman driving fixed her eyes ahead and said, “You seem to have no problem ‘being embarrassed.'”

Ding Ya: …

This person doesn’t even have that “honest person” vibe people talk about. No wonder Jing Yuqi is the one doing business. With this attitude, who would buy anything from her?

Ding Ya turned to look out her window. Shu Chi seized the chance to glance at her and said, “It’s fake. Didn’t she clarify it?”

Ding Ya: “Asking the person involved is always better.”

Shu Chi countered, “Why ask me about it?”

Ding Ya had touched up her lipstick before leaving. The occasional flash of outside light seemed to cast a filter over her. Shu Chi recalled Jing Yuqi talking nonsense with her after it ended, saying Ding Ya looked so soft and must be very nice to kiss.

Were those words appropriate to say?

Shu Chi had been silent for a long time then, ignoring her madness. Now, the thought flashed through her mind and was quickly suppressed.

Ding Ya: “Can’t I ask? Sorry, I thought since this is our third time meeting, it would be…”

Her place wasn’t very far from the company, three subway stops without a transfer, though taking a taxi was slower than the subway.

Ding Ya was the baby of her family, doted on by her parents. She also had a brother six years older, so she’d never lacked for material things.

When she decided to stay in Bramble City after graduation, her family helped her with rent, never pressuring her to return home like her classmates’ families did. She was very free.

When her salary ran out sometimes, her parents and brother would supplement her.

At least in Ying Qixin’s eyes, Ding Ya was someone from a very happy family.

“You like me?”

Shu Chi asked flatly.

The woman driving asked suddenly, cutting Ding Ya off and striking her like a thunderbolt.

At this moment, Ding Ya was charred on the outside and tender on the inside, unsure if it was from the thunder itself or the shock.

This sentence had immense destructive power, and she had never even considered the question herself.

“Huh?!”

Ding Ya stared wide-eyed at Shu Chi. This woman is so narcissistic!

Shu Chi: “No?”

She turned a corner; the car had already pulled up to the entrance of Golden Field Residential Complex. “Should I drive you to your building?”

She seemed completely unaffected. “Which building are you in?”

Ding Ya said fiercely, “I invited you to my place to see the dog, not because I like you!”

If a person could explode, she felt like she was exploding from anger right now.

Her deliberate little provocations had been completely useless, and she’d been checkmated instead.

Shu Chi gave a sound of agreement. “Because of what Jing Yuqi said, right? It’s quite a coincidence, we even played the same game.”

Ding Ya scoffed. “Unit 5. Come if you want, or don’t.”

Shu Chi glanced at the person’s profile.

Cheeks puffed up. Quite cute.

Shu Chi was still unsure.

Even though Ding Ya’s deliberateness gave her a sliver of suspicion.

Ding Ya’s parents had left in the morning. As soon as she pushed the door open, she saw the sticky note left on the entryway.

Yang Jie had reminded her to drink the chicken soup when she got back.

Shu Chi also saw it. “Your parents went home?”

Ding Ya didn’t look at her. “Why are you reading my notes?”

Her tone was harsh. Shu Chi felt a little wronged. “I didn’t look on purpose.”

Ding Ya took out slippers for Shu Chi. She hadn’t moved in long and hadn’t had any friends over, so the slippers all looked brand new.

Shu Chi looked at the loft. It seemed to have just been tidied up. Warm tones, even the sofa was a tender bud-yellow.

The little dog heard the noise and poked its head out of its dog bed.

Ding Ya put down her bag and went straight over. She picked up the puppy. The anger from before vanished completely, replaced by a smile showing two dimples.

Shu Chi put on the slippers. The host didn’t bother to entertain her.

She didn’t even know why she had come up. Maybe it was a game of back-and-forth between adults.

Or maybe it was something else.

Her secret curiosity.

Holding the dog, Ding Ya asked her, “Do you want something to drink?”

Shu Chi shook her head. “I’m leaving now.”

She looked nothing like someone who had just asked “Do you like me?” Instead, she was like a cold inspector.

Ding Ya: “Not going to look at the dog?”

The little puppy was cradled in Ding Ya’s arms, a month and a half old, with glistening, watery eyes. Its two front paws stuck out as if wearing socks.

Back in the day, the character [Bean Sprout] in the game had manipulated the avatar to pick up the exact same dog. Shu Chi, on the other side of the screen, had taken a screenshot.

Her emotions were never outwardly expressed; perhaps only at home could a trace of them leak out.

Even someone as sharp as Jing Yuqi couldn’t see a single trace of Shu Chi’s emotions on the surface.

Shu Chi was like a piece of paper that was born ink-black. Others couldn’t see the invisible paws stepping on it, carefreely treading out the patterns of love, coming in a rush and leaving in a hurry.

Shu Chi just looked at it seriously for a moment.

Ding Ya simply walked over and put the dog in her arms. “You delivered it, you should see for yourself. Didn’t you play the same game as me? Did you have this dog too?”

The puppy had a good temperament and was very well-behaved in Shu Chi’s arms.

Shu Chi stood in the freshly opened rabbit-eared slippers Ding Ya had just taken out. The style completely clashed with her slightly fierce-looking face, like some beast of prey wearing a pink drool bib.

Holding the dog, Shu Chi sat down on the sofa, studying the dog’s paw for a while. “How did you get that dog in the game?”

She didn’t look at Ding Ya. Her downcast expression seemed extraordinarily serious, as if this dog was her beloved.

Or as if, through this dog that highly resembled the old electronic dog, she was mourning someone else.

Ding Ya poured a glass of water, then went to change the dog food, saying, “Someone gave it to me.”

Shu Chi: “Who?”

Ding Ya turned her head. “Do you have to ask so clearly, Boss Shu?”

Shu Chi nodded and said apologetically, “Then pretend I didn’t ask.”

Talking to her easily felt like stamping a fist on cotton. Ding Ya thought in frustration: Does this person have no curiosity at all?!

Fuming internally eight hundred times, she still said with a smile, “My husband gave it to me.”

Shu Chi raised her eyes slightly. “Didn’t you say you were single?”

That’s what was said when the girls were sitting together at dinner earlier. Shu Chi thought she had misheard.

Ding Ya closed the lid of the dog food container, stood up, dusted her knees, and went to turn on the humidifier. Mimicking Shu Chi’s flat tone, she said, “Widowhood is also being single.”

Her tone held no hint of jest, yet it carried a trace of subtle craftiness. “I had a husband from online dating, but he got cancer and died later. This is what he gave me in the game.”

Husband. Cancer. Died.

Shu Chi could only match the first one.

Maybe I was overthinking.

Shu Chi said sorry. “I’ve also encountered someone with this dog for the first time.”

She unconsciously squeezed the puppy’s paw, as if recalling something both painfully and joyfully memorable, completely unaware that her features were all twisted.

Shu Chi: “The game only sold three of these dogs.”

Not something you could get by charging money. It required doing an hour-long quest every single day for an entire month.

Sounded easy, but the quest to catch mice in the game was no walk in the park. Many people had given up.

Even now, some nostalgic players of that little game, when mentioning that dog, would all say the developers were too heartless.

Ding Ya knew the dog’s value, and she knew the dog would be reclaimed by the system.

She poured Shu Chi a glass of water. “So the husband in my game loved me very much.”

Her place felt soft in every way, even the throw pillows had cute expressions, perfectly matching her aura.

Compared to Shu Chi’s factory-dorm-like house, it was bursting with life.

Hugging a pillow, Ding Ya stared at the dog in Shu Chi’s hands. “Who gave you your dog?”

Shu Chi’s hands were large. Ding Ya had felt that yesterday when they held hands.

This person had a large frame too. She didn’t look at all like the general impression of height and build for someone from her accent’s region.

But then again, Ying Qixin, a northerner, wasn’t much taller than Ding Ya, which proved most impressions were stereotypes.

Shu Chi: “It wasn’t mine. I gave it to my online dating partner.”

Ding Ya: “A girl?”

She propped her chin on her hand, looking at Shu Chi with a smile that wasn’t quite a smile. “Are you naturally a homosexual?”

This kind of question really didn’t seem like something to ask at a third meeting.

But there was always a vague, untraceable ambiguity lingering between them when they were alone.

Shu Chi’s hand, which had been petting the dog, paused. She shook her head.

“I don’t know.”

How strange.

Ding Ya thought: She looks so steady, so reliable, giving a real sense of security.

Easy to bully on one hand, yet easily infuriating on the other.

“Did you and she ever meet in real life?”

Ding Ya reached for her cup, just as Shu Chi placed her own cup on the table with her other hand.

The glasses clinked with a crisp sound, yet Shu Chi seemed shaken to her core, shaking her head blankly.

“She disappeared.”

An inexplicable guilt surged up within Ding Ya.

The next second, a flash of cruel pleasure followed. Ding Ya asked casually, “Do you still like her then?”

Shu Chi: “I don’t know.”

She kept her head down, a few strands of hair plastered to the side, clinging to her neck, the line beautiful as if carved.

“Shu Chi.”

Ding Ya called her name.

Shu Chi instinctively turned her head, but Ding Ya just smiled. “Nothing, I just suddenly thought that name sounds really nice.”

Like my deceased online dating partner.