Chapter 27

The shop owner looked at Ding Ya’s eyes filled with admiration, making Shu Chi, who was standing to the side, feel inexplicably confused.

Ding Ya, however, wasn’t the slightest bit nervous. She bumped Shu Chi with her elbow. “So, are we together?”

Shu Chi shook her head.

Shop Owner: …

What kind of game are you two playing?

The finished photos were bound directly into an album, which also contained the results of Ding Ya’s paid efforts.

She had already seen the digital versions long ago. Shu Chi hadn’t looked at many, because Ding Ya hadn’t sent her that many.

The shop owner said meaningfully, “Why did you come in person? I told you I could courier it to you within the city.”

It was still raining outside. The foot traffic had lessened considerably, but there were still tourists coming to sightsee and enthusiasts coming for outdoor shoots.

The owner had asked Ding Ya before if she could keep one to display in her shop. Ding Ya had asked Shu Chi, but didn’t say which one.

Now, Ding Ya was talking to the owner. Shu Chi stared at the photo, roughly A4 in size, and fell silent.

Ding Ya: “It was on the way anyway. I’m treating her to a meal today.”

She looked amiable, her smile creating dimples that one could gaze at for quite a while.

The owner glanced at the woman standing rigid as a wooden post, noticing the long pants stretched taut over her legs and those long boots, as if a casual step could land directly on someone’s heart.

She looked a bit fierce, but maybe that wasn’t the whole story.

So they really weren’t together.

The owner was a little disappointed, and also understood that Willow Garden was so remote—how could anything be “on the way”?

Most likely, there was some ulterior motive.

Ding Ya noticed the landlady’s gaze and offered a very transparently flimsy explanation: “That old restaurant is very delicious.”

The shop owner let out an “Oh” with a singsong, undulating tone, her roving gaze practically spelling out “I totally understand.”

Ding Ya chuckled softly, picked up the other album already placed in a paper bag, and handed it to Shu Chi. “Here.”

As she said this, she glanced at that photo.

It was really blown up so large. Taken at night, it had a strong atmospheric feel without excessive Photoshop, yet their exchanged gaze seemed to imply something more.

Shu Chi hadn’t seen this one before.

She didn’t have a proper perception of herself wearing a wig.

Though her features weren’t exactly delicate, her high nose bridge purely added points.

Her profile wasn’t flat at all, and the photo was taken of the side without the scar. It held a certain heroic spirit beside the water. Even obtuse as Shu Chi was, she could perceive the subtle ambiguity.

She lowered her eyes to look at Ding Ya. “Are you taking a photo like this home?”

Ding Ya hummed in affirmation. “Is there a problem?”

Shu Chi: “It’s a bit too…”

She couldn’t say the word “intimate.” She felt uttering it would make the atmosphere awkward.

Ding Ya: “We do really look like a couple. After all, wasn’t our script the runaway young miss and you, the bandit?”

She said this without the slightest psychological burden, completely unconcerned for Shu Chi’s feelings, which had just been skewered by the word “bandit.”

Shu Chi gave her an indescribably complex look.

Ding Ya, however, tilted her head and smiled. “It looks good, right? I’m going to show my parents.”

After speaking, she glanced at Shu Chi. “You asked if I was taking it home—do you think it’s too intimate, too embarrassing to show others?”

“Boss Shu, you’re so strange like this.”

Ding Ya stood on her tiptoes, leaned close to her face, and said with a grin, “I’m a straight girl, you know.”

The owner felt she had gone deaf.

Was there really someone this shameless in the world?

The young woman looked decent enough, but she absolutely did not act like a decent person.

This sister here had truly worked hard.

Shu Chi was speechless and could only manage an “Oh.”

Carrying the bag containing the photo album, she suddenly felt it was a bit hot to handle.

Aside from being a clothes rack for the company’s product photos, she inherently loathed being photographed. The act of doing a photo shoot with Ding Ya was purely a moment of bewitched infatuation.

But now, because of that sentence, she felt a little sad.

What do I have to be sad about?

Even by the time she dropped Ding Ya off at home, she still hadn’t figured out this question.

“It’s getting late, Boss Shu. Head back early, you have work tomorrow.”

Ding Ya didn’t boldly invite Shu Chi up like she did during their second meeting. It was as if their roles had reversed.

Initially, Shu Chi thought Ding Ya was a lesbian. Unexpectedly, Ding Ya not only didn’t hide it but could also casually chat with Shu Chi about her ex-boyfriend.

It’s actually me who…

Shu Chi watched Ding Ya go upstairs. The rain was still falling. She thought: What’s wrong with me?

“Yeah, you too.”

Shu Chi: “Hurry up and go.”

She urged. The wind blowing in from outside was bitingly cold; the winter rain in the south always cut to the bone.

Ding Ya was too thin, too small, always giving Shu Chi an intense, hard-to-ignore sense of tender affection.

Ding Ya leaned in again. “Are you going straight to sleep when you get back?”

It was past ten, still early for Ding Ya’s bedtime.

Shu Chi: “Not necessarily.”

Ding Ya let out an “Oh.” “There’s a new game recently. Do you want to play it with me?”

Even though Ding Ya was holding an umbrella, Shu Chi saw the wind lift her hair, raindrops hitting her face.

Shu Chi: “We’ll see.”

She wasn’t very interested in new games.

Ding Ya: “I’ll send it to you on WeChat, okay? It’s really fun, a bit like that game we played before.”

She tapped her phone’s lock screen. “It seems to have an electronic pet too.”

She said it so naturally.

That game we played before.

We.

Before.

Do you and I have a “before”?

But Ding Ya turned and left right after speaking. Her umbrella spun a circle in the rain, and a single droplet happened to land on Shu Chi’s face.

So cold it made Shu Chi’s heart tremble.

When Ding Ya got into the elevator, she directly logged into her old account.

The message Shu Chi had sent before was still abruptly at the very top.

Ding Ya deleted all the system messages one by one. She closed the space, closed everything that could be closed.

This account was like a tomb. Many people had long since discarded this piece of their past.

Some had completely changed, from single to starting a family, already posting pictures of their children in their space.

The joys and sorrows of life emerged endlessly in the new messages.

Like those solar-powered lotus flowers buried in public cemeteries, the new messages were like a sudden burst of the Great Compassion Mantra.

Ding Ya deleted all these things trying to perform rites for her soul.

Only Shu Chi’s account remained.

She typed into the chat box—

How have you been lately?

But she didn’t rush to hit send. She waited until after she had taken care of the little dog, showered, checked her work email, and replied to messages she hadn’t had time to answer today.

Only then did she press that button.

Then she logged out.

She posted the photo album she’d received on her Weibo account, and also sent it to the family group chat and her university friend group chat.

Shen Mu was the first to reply—

Awesome, our Sister Ya, you’ve even gone straight to a grand ancient-style wedding photo shoot? Efficiency is way too high, isn’t it?

The other two were completely baffled, asking who this person was.

Ding Ya didn’t reply. Shen Mu was bouncing around eagerly, able to explain on her behalf anyway.

She also posted one photo to her WeChat Moments. She didn’t share it with colleagues; she specifically posted it in the “Friends” category.

She specifically made sure Jing Yuqi and Mu Ling could see it too.

Ding Ya’s parents expressed high praise for this photo set, mostly affirming their daughter’s beauty, and hadn’t yet noticed they had met the person in the photo before.

Only Ding Shuqing, who lived in the building next door to their parents, had a terrible headache.

He couldn’t help but think of Ding Ya coming out to him without hesitation, of Ding Ya’s headache-inducing adolescent rebellious phase and that online romance meeting.

And now, she was still scheming to trap that online love interest.

How can my little sister be this formidable?

Ding Shuqing didn’t know whether he should be wary of the woman in this photo or hold a high degree of sympathy for her.

At this very moment, seeing that even their parents were praising this woman, his mental state was particularly close to collapse.

So you’ve even brought someone to meet Mom and Dad, Ding Ya?

You’re really something!

You even went to Willow Garden together to play? Taking photos comparable to wedding pictures right under Mom and Dad’s noses?

Huh? First time meeting?

Ding Shuqing had just returned from a business trip and was sitting on the sofa zoning out after a shower.

His wife, whom he’d met through online dating and married, sat down next to him, looked at the photo of his sister on the tablet screen, and commented—

“This looks a bit like those yuri fan pairings from our game, so well-matched. A bit sharper and it would be a female general and…”

Ding Shuqing: …

Wife, please don’t say any more.

~

Shu Chi was completely unaware of all this. She hadn’t even looked at her Moments.

After the day’s events, she was somewhat tired. When she came out of the shower, she saw a new notification on her account.

[Wife]: How have you been lately?

Shu Chi wasn’t as agitated as before, but she was still at a loss, sitting down on the sofa without even drying her hair.

[Book Late]: Okay, I guess. You?

Ding Ya was soaking her feet while looking at her phone. Her spare phone was from her university days and she’d never replaced it.

“I’m doing well.”

She typed, sent it, and muttered to herself: “Usually, when you reply to me like this, it makes me think for ages about what to say. Let’s see what you do.”

However, she could imagine what Shu Chi looked like.

Not the man she used to wrack her brains trying to picture on the other side of the computer screen.

Book Late: Are you working now?

Book Late: Why did you suddenly log in again? I thought you’d never log in anymore.

She didn’t even mention her own lack of reply.

Ding Ya could imagine Shu Chi typing her reply with downcast eyes; she was also logged in on her phone.

Her hands are so big, unlike mine. Even after switching to a five-inch screen, I still can’t type with one hand. Those hands can completely envelop mine.

Ding Ya held her phone, replying unhurriedly—

Yeah, realized I still remembered the password, so I logged in. Didn’t expect you’d still be here.

Because Ding Ya had continuously renewed her subscription, her chat bubble was still the style from back then.

Shu Chi’s account was also the same as ever, because she never spent money on her account.

[Book Late]: So, did you get married?

Shu Chi thought of the online husband Ding Ya had told her about—the one who lied about having terminal cancer to get out of the relationship and was now already married.

Time was always merciless. It could ripen a relationship, and even more so, separate eras.

What about my her then?

“Yeah.”

Ding Ya sent this with a smile.

Shu Chi’s heart instantly sank.

She said Bean Sprout was her regret, and that was true, but deep down she had always harbored a sliver of fantasy.

After all, it was a promise from her youth, only to realize she was the only one who had taken it seriously.

A long time passed before a reply came from the other side.

[Book Late]: Congratulations.

Eyes narrowed, Ding Ya thought: Will Shu Chi be sad?

Will she let go completely because of this? Then, will I have a chance to swoop in while she’s vulnerable?

How thrilling. My ex-girlfriend is actually me.

Shu Chi’s hands were cold. She felt that long-absent sense of weightlessness.

It was similar to the days when Bean Sprout unilaterally broke up with her.

At first, she didn’t have that feeling of “I’ve been dumped.”

After all, that period was very busy. The noodle shop’s business was deteriorating day by day, and matters arose back in her hometown. Urged by her sister, she took a train back.

So far, so far away. The internet back then wasn’t as developed as it is now.

She bought a three-yuan data pack and kept it on the entire journey back, waiting for Bean Sprout to reply to her message.

No reply.

One day.

Two days.

A week.

A month.

…

Until the noodle shop went bankrupt, until Shu Chi was deeply in debt, until she sat in the empty shop, looking at her packed luggage.

She only then realized: It seemed she had never truly had anything.

It seemed she wasn’t worthy of such luck, that someone could actually save her.

“What about you?”

Shu Chi looked at the text above. The chat bubble was very cute, the text still rainbow-colored.

It was just that neither of them was the same person anymore.

The old Bean Sprout was full of “Hubby,” calling Shu Chi that until she felt embarrassed.

If she hadn’t been mute, she might have said, embarrassed and annoyed, “Stop calling me that.”

But back then, she couldn’t speak.

All her overflowing affection and embarrassment turned into words.

[You’re so cute.]

The cute you still chose someone else.

I was never the option.

Gripping her phone, Shu Chi replied, word by word—

I’m still alone.

Ding Ya thought to herself: So pitiful. Is she really not going to ask me why?

She wouldn’t actually ask on Shu Chi’s behalf.

[Wife]: Then you should hurry up and find someone. You’re even older than me.

Shu Chi thought: Yeah, she doesn’t even know I’m a woman, doesn’t know I was deceiving her.

A long time passed, until Ding Ya thought Shu Chi wouldn’t reply anymore and was about to climb into bed.

Then came a single sentence—

“So, did we break up then?”