“Where are you off to?”
Shen Mu asked, opening another bottle of beer.
She and Ding Ya used to love drinking in the dorm back in the day. Whenever there was a room inspection, they’d hide the bottles in the wardrobe.
Every semester, around finals time, desperate to catch up on projects, they’d drink red wine while doing homework. The other two roommates could relieve their loneliness with their boyfriends, who would put on some musical or melodramatic displays downstairs at the dorm. Ding Ya and Shen Mu would just raise their bottles and drink.
Even after graduation, their get-togethers for meals always involved drinking. After all, Ding Ya didn’t have a car, and neither did Shen Mu. Office drones reliant on public transport never put car ownership in their short-term plans.
Although Shen Mu’s career was doing pretty well now, she was still a hardworking city ant, yet dared to repost lotteries for a Tesla on Weibo.
“Treating her to a meal,” Ding Ya said.
Ding Ya propped up her chin and tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear. “How’s my lipstick shade today? Does it look good?”
Shen Mu’s mouth twitched. “Looks great.”
Ding Ya was full, her eyes still glued to her phone. Shen Mu sighed. “And here I thought we’d have a night out.”
Ding Ya scoffed. “As if. You’re the one who said you have a script to write tonight.”
Shen Mu nodded. “Yeah, yeah. So what are you two doing tonight, then?”
She was genuinely curious, especially after this barbecue session had unearthed so many of Ding Ya’s hidden secrets.
Shen Mu even felt a bit flattered. Compared to the other two cheerful, simple-minded roommates, Ding Ya looked docile but was actually quite difficult to get truly close to.
At least hanging out was comfortable. Time had piled up between them. Compared to a long-distance online friend with shared interests, Shen Mu and Ding Ya’s relationship had been maintained fairly well.
Ding Ya touched up her makeup and said very naturally, “Just a meal. What are you thinking?”
Shen Mu hadn’t been thinking anything much, but being asked that made her imagination run a bit wild. She couldn’t help showing a knowing smirk and lowered her voice towards Ding Ya. “No way, Ding Ya. I never would’ve guessed you were so…”
Ding Ya laughed. “Seriously, no. She and I are going to Willow Garden.”
“Willow Garden… For what? It’s so expensive. I have an annual pass, though, haven’t really used it much.”
Shen Mu also looked in a mirror, ruffling her pink hair. “When’s the Second Boss coming? Don’t we still have a movie to catch?”
Ding Ya said, “Evening. Don’t worry, there’s time.”
Ding Ya rarely wore makeup in university. When she did, it wasn’t a drastic transformation—just made her look more refreshed.
Shen Mu remembered her being a bit lazy about it, never bothering to dress up even for major events. Even when dragged to mixers, Ding Ya preferred to hide in a corner and play games.
Today, Shen Mu was the one who’d asked Ding Ya out. Just a mall stroll, maybe a movie.
Shen Mu occasionally wrote movie reviews. She often had the painful experience of falling asleep halfway through a bad film and having to buy another ticket to watch it again. This new release was another predicted stinker. She’d asked Ding Ya to keep her awake so she wouldn’t conk out again.
“Last time, she and I went to Willow Garden for a photo shoot. Didn’t I post them on WeChat Moments and Weibo? You even liked them.”
Coming out of the barbecue place, they went and bought milk tea. Right up until the movie started, Shen Mu was still looking at the photos Ding Ya had sent her.
She realized the timeline coincided with that period when her goddess Jing Yuqi was personally tearing into a scumbag.
Why did this photo look so ambiguously intimate? Are you two really only in a one-sided flirtation?
Ding Ya, are you absolutely certain the other person hasn’t recognized you?
Are you really that confident?
Looking at it this way, the Second Boss belongs to a unique flavor within the deeper complexion category. That scar was even kind of sexy.
Shen Mu deeply repented for her first impression that Shu Chi was plain-looking.
In Ding Ya’s raw, unphotoshopped photos, Shu Chi looked exceptionally stylish. Her waist, cinched by a belt, was so slender, yet her build wasn’t as delicate as an average woman’s, nor was it bulky. It just had that flavor of a trained martial artist.
If Ding Ya hadn’t worn that look of mutual affection, the scene might have first resembled a bandit bride-napping.
After all, Shu Chi’s features held a kind of roughness. Completely unrelated to gallantry, nor noble—it just perfectly fit current fashion industry tastes: an aloof, mourning face that looked at no one.
Ding Ya was purely there to accompany Shen Mu and kill time. Hardly anyone was watching this movie. They sat in the very last row; only a few other people were in front.
Most were couples who probably didn’t know what a bad movie was. Ding Ya was intermittently chatting with Shu Chi.
Since heading out that morning until now, her WeChat notifications hadn’t stopped.
Even when Shu Chi was out fishing, she couldn’t get any peace. When she went to the Welfare Institute, the Director even joked about the constant message alerts—
“Do you have something going on recently?”
Before Shu Chi, phone in hand, could answer, the kids rushed over again. The game of eagle catching chicks had reversed into chicks catching the eagle.
Shu Chi was completely defeated.
She only got a breather in the afternoon when snacks were handed out.
Shu Chi came to this Welfare Institute for children with disabilities once a month. All the kids here were young.
Various conditions—those who couldn’t speak, couldn’t hear, couldn’t see. More girls than boys.
After Wellpond moved to Bramble City, Shu Chi started volunteering here.
Jing Yuqi came occasionally too, but she preferred to send things. Even though she had a child herself, she was still quite afraid of so many kids at once.
Occasionally, she’d say something with a sour tone: “I wonder just how spoiled a kid of your own would be.”
Her own child.
Shu Chi had never even considered it.
“Little Shu, have you been well lately?”
The weather had been nice. Sunlight still lingered in the courtyard. Now, after the small snacks had been handed out, some kids had gone to play games by the colorful tires.
Even with Shu Chi’s good stamina, today’s activities—fishing, weeding, taking care of kids—had been tiring.
The Director, her hair graying, was a kind old lady with the distinct local accent of Bramble City.
Shu Chi nodded.
She was still holding her phone. Ding Ya had just sent a message—
Wow, you wouldn’t believe how terribly filmed the kissing scene in this movie is.
Shu Chi replied asking how terrible.
Completely unaware of what an epic change it was—from silence to emojis to now responding—in front of Ding Ya.
It was the kind of change that occasionally made Jing Yuqi, when they finally ate together, exaggerate her reaction and sigh, “You’ve grown up.”
“Little Yu is on a business trip?”
The Director asked.
Shu Chi nodded.
This Welfare Institute had always relied on social donations and subsidies. Tuition at the special education school was very expensive. The older kids had already gone to school.
The ones still in the institute were those not yet in elementary school.
Shu Chi donated a substantial amount here every year.
Coupled with buying a second-hand house, she didn’t have much money saved. Her situation wasn’t as “respectable” as her fellow townsfolk imagined.
In terms of financial management, she was always a complete mess.
Her upbringing had conditioned her to be a person who funnels resources back to her family. This continued even now, at the age when one starts a family.
The Shu family had four children. Even after Shu Chi’s business grew, they hadn’t asked for money excessively. Of course, they’d also never given her a penny in help when she was starting her business.
Shu Chi felt she had already surpassed the expectations she’d set for herself back then.
It would give her more peace of mind if her family weren’t so strict about the matter of marriage.
“A while back, I sent her a WeChat message. She told me they broke up again.”
This Welfare Institute was run by the old lady and her late husband. Her husband had passed away a few years ago, and she’d simply chosen to live here continuously.
An elderly person’s concerns always revolved around work and family. Yet, her two most frequent contacts, Shu Chi and Jing Yuqi, neither of them had families.
She cherished Shu Chi like a granddaughter. Her own granddaughter had settled abroad and only came back once a year for the New Year.
Shu Chi nodded again. “That man was no good.”
The Director sighed. “And what about you, Little Shu? It’s the first time I’ve seen you glued to your phone like this. Didn’t you used to say when you come here, you don’t look at work?”
Shu Chi hesitated. Within the span of a sentence, her screen hadn’t dimmed.
Ding Ya talked so much.
But if she didn’t feel like talking, she’d ignore you for an entire day.
-The kissing isn’t even aesthetically pleasing, even though this scene is more adult-oriented.
-Even just opening their mouths seemed so forced.
-And the male lead is just way too ugly. My eyes~~~
-[Animated Sticker]
Shu Chi originally didn’t want to look, but the constant buzzing was truly irritating. She sighed.
“It’s not work.”
Ding Ya sent another message—
-Do you have a favorite romance movie?
-The movie I’m watching with my classmate, she fell asleep again.
Shu Chi knew she was with a female classmate. Even the order number slip from buying milk tea, she’d sent Shu Chi a photo of it.
The Director kept looking at Shu Chi. Shu Chi felt too embarrassed to look at the screen again.
Ding Ya wasn’t her work, but she wasn’t some other relationship either. Yet at this very moment, she actually felt a bit guilty.
“Your friend can send messages all day? Go ahead and reply, I won’t look at you.”
The Director’s voice carried an elderly person’s teasing. If Shu Chi’s grandmother were still alive, she’d probably be around the same age.
But the voice of that old woman from the countryside had always been sharp. Her hair like dry weeds, every inch of her skin etched with the suffering of years.
And she’d possessed immense strength, able to leave marks on Shu Chi’s body with ease.
Shu Chi looked for a long while.
The Director wasn’t looking at her. She had moved aside to drink tea. A university student volunteer standing next to the Director asked curiously, “Is Sister Shu Chi busy with something today?”
Shu Chi sat in the rattan chair. The sun was nearly setting, the sunset’s lingering glow spilling over the small courtyard.
Shu Chi always sat with perfect posture. Compared to Jing Yuqi, who loved crossing her legs, she was like a stiff, upright root carving artwork.
She didn’t smile much, didn’t talk much, yet the children really liked her.
Because when they launched themselves at her, they’d always be caught. Shu Chi’s eyes were too warm, holding a unique breadth of tolerance and patience.
The volunteer was a sophomore student. She tilted her head, nibbling on a biscuit as she said, “Sister Shu Chi looks quite happy.”
Not sure what the other side had said, but Shu Chi smiled.
Her brows and eyes held the steadfastness of long years of solitude. The scar added a layer of ruggedness. When her brows relaxed, however, it was like the sky clearing after a storm, bright and serene.
The Director said, “Maybe she’s made a new friend.”
The volunteer let out an “Oh.”
She thought: That person must be incredibly sociable, then. I’ve known Sister Shu Chi for two years, and I still don’t know what to say to her.
These WeChat messages have been going nonstop all day. Can there really be that much to talk about?
I don’t even chat that much with my own boyfriend.
By the time the movie ended, the sky was completely dark. Shen Mu complained indignantly, “Didn’t I tell you to keep me awake? You actually didn’t wake me up!”
Ding Ya was looking in her mirror—the back of her phone case had one. She said dismissively, “I did call you. You were dead asleep.”
Shen Mu said, “You could have hit me.”
Ding Ya replied, “As if I’d dare.”
Shen Mu huffed. “Seems to me you were completely preoccupied, couldn’t be bothered with me. Just flirting with the Second Boss the whole time.”
God knows, when Shen Mu jolted awake and found the movie was practically over, Ding Ya was still sitting there in the dark theater, staring at her phone, giggling like a fool.
Shen Mu thought: Won’t people like this ever get their comeuppance?
The two of them stood at the mall entrance waiting for a ride. Shen Mu’s trip home by cab was just the base fare. Ding Ya wasn’t heading home; she had another round.
“Ugh, there are still twenty-some people ahead of me in the queue. Should I get a premium car?”
Shen Mu was half a head taller than Ding Ya. The wind blew her skirt hem, and she stomped her feet from the cold.
Ding Ya said, “So send for a premium car if you want.”
She was wearing fluffy earmuffs and also looking around.
After a short while, a familiar car entered her line of sight.
The car stopped in front of them. The window rolled down, revealing the face Shen Mu now definitively categorized as “the honest person.”
Ding Ya leaned slightly forward and called out a polite, “Boss Shu.”
Shen Mu commented silently in her mind: Polite word choice, lingering tone. A master.
Shen Mu also greeted Shu Chi. “Boss Shu, long time no see. I’m Shen Mu, I came to your company before to record a video.”
Ding Ya hopped forward, leaning into Shu Chi’s view. “And my good friend, Shen Mu. Sister, could you give her a ride home on the way?”
Shen Mu momentarily didn’t know what to feel—moved that she was finally a “friend,” grateful to Ding Ya for securing her a benefit, or shocked by the address Ding Ya had switched to.
Shu Chi nodded.
Shen Mu was still dazed. Her thoughts drifted to her entire savings, which could only afford a Wuling Hongguang in full.
Entrepreneurship really did pay more, after all.
Once the car started moving, Shen Mu never expected to hear a song so representative of a bygone era. She subconsciously asked,
“Ding Ya, did you connect your Bluetooth to Boss Shu’s car?”
