Chapter 25

Even after the car reached its destination, Shu Chi was still pondering the meaning of that sentence.

Seeing her sitting at the table still looking deeply troubled, Ding Ya asked, “Don’t tell me you’re mad over one little joke?”

The restaurant Ding Ya had found had good reviews on Dianping, but the decor wasn’t great. Situated just outside a scenic area, it somehow managed to be this unpolished.

Maybe the skill in the kitchen made up for it. Thankfully, Ding Ya had reserved a spot; otherwise, they’d be waiting.

They sat at a table by the window on the second floor. The small square table was so narrow they were squeezed together.

Ding Ya didn’t mind—her height wasn’t exactly impressive to begin with. Sitting on the restaurant’s tall stool, her feet couldn’t even reach the floor; they just rested on the rung. She propped her face on one hand, watching Shu Chi.

This place had been around for years. There weren’t many signature dishes tied to Bramble City—mostly home-style cooking.

Ding Ya had only eaten with Shu Chi once before, but from their daily chats, she knew Shu Chi didn’t eat spicy. She’d deliberately picked mild dishes.

Upstairs was so cramped, packed with tables. Even the cups for water were enamel mugs—milky white enamel probably chipped many times over, revealing the black metal underneath.

Shu Chi looked like a doll forcibly wedged into an attic. She tried to shift her position, only to bump her elbow against Ding Ya’s hand.

Ding Ya’s cup nearly toppled from the impact.

Shu Chi steadied the cup while shaking her head.

With a puzzled expression, she asked, “Don’t you like men? How can you still…”

Still care about chest size?

Ding Ya showed no sign of realizing her cover was about to slip. She smiled at Shu Chi ambiguously, wearing an expression of inscrutable mystery that said you just don’t get it.

She took her own cup from Shu Chi’s hand, poured another cup of tea, and couldn’t suppress the curve of her lips. “That’s not divided by gender.”

Shu Chi made an “Oh” sound, still seeming a bit puzzled. “You’ve done a lot of research?”

As soon as she asked, she felt the question was a bit off. After all, Ding Ya didn’t seem to date much.

Did she?

Shu Chi only then realized she had no idea whether Ding Ya had ever been in a relationship—aside from that online husband who’d lied about having cancer.

Ding Ya poured Shu Chi a cup of tea too. Her nail art had changed again.

Shu Chi figured they were press-on nails. Ding Ya’s hands were small, very soft, just flashy—a riot of colors that made Shu Chi’s head spin.

“I wouldn’t call it research. Just looking—what’s the big deal.”

Ding Ya yawned. After dyeing her hair black, she might have straightened it too. Every time Shu Chi saw her, her hair seemed smooth, dark, and glossy—looking very touchable.

“Besides, if a guy doesn’t even have a face worth looking at, what else is there to see?”

She thought: No one interests me more than you.

Ding Ya idly poked at the fuzzy heart on her phone case, her voice carrying a lazy casualness.

Shu Chi thought she resembled a little cat—the kind that curled up by the stove for warmth in winter.

When she was little, a cat like that had come to her house. A stray kitten from who knows where. It had run over while Shu Chi was boiling water.

Winter in Puxi didn’t last very long, but once it arrived, it could freeze any living creature until their teeth chattered.

The grimy kitten crouched by the stove, not the least bit afraid of singeing its whiskers. Shu Chi tried reaching out to pet it, even though its fur wasn’t clean—it just looked so soft.

Too bad the little cat was both gentle and wary. It ran away.

Shu Chi asked, “Isn’t it okay if someone treats you well?”

The weather hadn’t been great all day. Strong winds. The sun had only peeked out a little in the morning. The forecast called for rain, so Ding Ya had tucked an umbrella into her bag.

Ding Ya said, “How good is good enough?”

Her eyes were lowered. In Shu Chi’s view, she was shrouded in an innocence that didn’t match her age. “That person back then treated me really well too. Still scammed me.”

Shu Chi said, “It was just online dating, after all.”

Just online dating, after all. She told herself that too.

Ding Ya laughed, bumping her shoulder against Shu Chi’s. This spot was so small, and they hadn’t had much choice—upstairs was packed too.

The owner, hearing it was two female customers, had arranged this spot.

Probably hadn’t expected Shu Chi to be this large. Or that her legs would have nowhere to go.

Ding Ya said, “Spare me. Then why are you still hung up on yours?”

Shu Chi cradled her cup. Her hands were big, rough.

Others might not notice much, but for Ding Ya—who from childhood through school had always sat in the front row, always lined up first—she was acutely aware of physical differences between people of the same gender.

She was easily pulled along by female classmates, easily hugged by them.

Even though Ding Ya wasn’t big on making friends, that didn’t stop others from fussing over her.

She knew a woman’s back could be broad too. She knew the absolute sense of security that came with size differences.

But in her adolescence, she had never once felt her heart race for the same sex.

She never expected that years after her youth had passed, just looking at Shu Chi’s hands would make her feel excited.

She wanted those rough fingers—bearing the harsh marks of time—to trace over her body. Wanted Shu Chi to seize hold of her very trembling.

After all, Shu Chi didn’t seem like someone with high material desires. She also had this aura of tolerance, as if you could act spoiled, and she’d indulge you.

That was too boring. Ding Ya wanted to see Shu Chi demand, take, even plunder.

Perhaps her gaze was too blatant in that moment—Shu Chi furrowed her brows slightly.

Or maybe it was bringing up that person.

She was always so conflicted about it.

If she weren’t standing from this angle, Ding Ya never would’ve known how adorable her past self had been in Shu Chi’s eyes.

It’s like no matter what I did, I could be forgiven.

Though I never really did anything terribly wrong, I guess.

We’re even, Shu Chi. What’s there for you to blame me for?

The one you should blame is the me right now.

After all this is exposed—will you “blame” me harshly?

“I…”

Shu Chi’s lips trembled, but she didn’t know how to speak.

She was clearly older than Ding Ya, yet she always gave Ding Ya the feeling of being easy to bully. Even that scar seemed endearing.

Ding Ya asked, “You still really like her?”

Shu Chi lowered her eyes silently and countered, “And you?”

Ding Ya lied with a smile. “Don’t like him anymore. But I think those memories are precious.”

She counted childishly on her fingers. “But he lied to me. I can’t swallow that anger.”

Shu Chi said, “You could just let it go, right? If you don’t like him anymore anyway.”

Ding Ya said, “No way. He still had the nerve to run into me. So I’m going to have a nice little sequel with him.”

Her tone carried a natural willfulness. From any angle, she was a child spoiled rotten by her family.

As if even when she did bad things, it was only because she was cute.

“Did he apologize to you?”

Shu Chi took a sip of water. Just then, two dishes arrived. She pushed them toward Ding Ya.

Then she unpacked the fresh utensils brought over and set them out for Ding Ya.

Ding Ya fabricated without restraint. “Nope. And he got married.”

Shu Chi nearly spat out her water.

Ding Ya’s nonsense sounded surprisingly real. At least Shu Chi believed it.

Or maybe Shu Chi really was just that gullible.

Shu Chi said, “He got married and still came looking for you…”

Ding Ya said, “Well, your wife—did she get married? Oh wait, you’re both women. Does she have a partner now?”

These words stabbed into Shu Chi’s heart like a knife. She pressed her lips together and shook her head.

“I don’t know.”

Ding Ya asked, “She still hasn’t replied to you?”

She sighed, looking like she pitied Shu Chi deeply. Quite naturally, she reached out and stroked Shu Chi’s hair. “Don’t cry, okay?”

Shu Chi: “…”

Are you coaxing a child?

Shu Chi said, “Maybe she’s just too busy.”

She was still trying hard to find reasons. But ever since that day, that account had never lit up again. No reply at all.

Shu Chi checked every day. This feeling was just like back then, when she’d been unilaterally broken up with.

Like a droplet of water falling into a sewer drain.

Her heart seemed to be rolling around in the pipes below too, melting away in the end.

Ding Ya thought: So obedient.

So pitiful. So adorable.

She still asked that question. “Do you still want to get back together with her?”

The dishes in front of them gave off an enticing aroma. The taste was quite good too. Ding Ya took a photo and sent it to her family group chat.

Shu Chi said, “I haven’t thought about it.”

Her reply was so crisp. Ding Ya asked, “Why not? What if she’s not married and doesn’t have a partner?”

Shu Chi ate a bite of braised fish while shaking her head. “I just want an explanation.”

“As for the rest, I don’t dare to think about it.”

Don’t dare to think about it—not that I don’t want to.

Ding Ya’s brow twitched. She pressed relentlessly. “What are you worried about? You said it yourself, she left without a word. What’s there to not dare about?”

Shu Chi said, “I lied to her too. About the most critical thing.”

Gender.

If only she’d explained, just once, back then. Yet even now, she was still grateful she hadn’t.

Otherwise, the other party might never have paid her any attention at all.

Those long days—how would Shu Chi have endured them, relying on memories alone?

Ding Ya asked, “So what do you plan to do? If she never replies to you? Are you just going to stay single forever?”

Sometimes she talked like this—direct to the point of being offensive.

But Shu Chi was someone who was sometimes sharp, sometimes slow. She didn’t take particular offense.

Just then, rain began to fall outside. This area still had old buildings. Raindrops pattered on the eaves. Across the way, a child was doing homework.

The rain mist was thick, hard to see through. All she could feel were the city lights pouring in along with the cold wind and cold rain.

Then the sizzling crackle of the dry-pot dish served up disrupted the moment. The alcohol burner flared, its flames licking upward, making Shu Chi’s skin prickle with heat as she asked, almost reflexively, “And you? Are you not dating because of that person too?”

Ding Ya opened a bottle of soda, bit the straw, and smiled. After gulping down several mouthfuls with a gurgle, she said—

“Who says I’ve been single this whole time.”

She looked at Shu Chi. “Sister, I have had real boyfriends before.”

Shu Chi made an “Oh” sound. Ding Ya picked at her rice, taking tiny bites. Jing Yuqi’s cat looked like it ate more than her.

“But that guy was so boring. And he couldn’t make me happy either.”

They were sitting very close together. Outside, the rain fell. The next table seemed to be a group gathering, their conversation loud.

Shu Chi had to lean in even closer to hear what Ding Ya was saying.

She heard Ding Ya say, “Men don’t work.”

Shu Chi understood. Her expression flickered with a trace of surprise, but then she thought—Ding Ya wasn’t young anymore.

But how was she supposed to respond to that? Jing Yuqi could’ve laughed it off, but Shu Chi couldn’t.

Ding Ya hadn’t expected her to respond anyway. She fiddled with her straw. Shu Chi noticed the straw had been bitten completely flat, a faint smear of lipstick still on it.

The straw was very white, making the lipstick seem even redder. But Ding Ya’s words burned hotter than that red—

“Being with that guy was just boring. Not even as good as my electronic husband. At least he knows how to win my favor.”

Her brows and eyes carried a hint of nostalgia. She gazed distantly at the fine rain outside the window—or perhaps at something else far away.

“Such a pity. Online romance never transitioning to real life. Even if he lied to me, I should’ve met him once before that.”

Though I’ve already met her, still such a pity—

“Should’ve slept with him properly.”

Back then, Shu Chi had actually had a certain flavor too. Wilder than now.

If I’d really laid my cards on the table, would she have kept me in her shop?

Where did she live?

Probably out back. Past that curtain door, behind the kitchen, there was a bed. The kind where a big person like her would fall off just turning over.

Then would I have no choice but to curl up in her arms?

Would she bite through my throat if I kissed the scar on her face? Or would she lick my wounds?

Ding Ya asked, “Shu Chi, what’s your regret?”