Chapter 30

Ding Ya had only ever dated one person, and it wasn’t like she had amnesia—she’d simply, purely forgotten his name.

She laughed. “What a coincidence.”

The guy wasn’t bad-looking. By the standards of the male students in Ding Ya’s department, he fell squarely into the “delicate-featured” category.

His personality, however, was nowhere near as mild as his looks. He was a bit explosive, even carried a roguish edge—exactly the type plenty of girls liked.

The objects of Ding Ya’s adolescent crushes had never been connected to bad tempers or roguishness. In fact, that very type was standing right beside her at this moment.

Ding Ya increasingly felt her past decisions had been colossal mistakes.

That relationship had no connection whatsoever to pleasant memories. It wasn’t, as Shen Mu had put it, that “this guy’s had it rough.” It was purely a matter of incompatibility.

She regretted it. Back then, she shouldn’t have been so hasty to accept, just to experience the taste of a campus romance.

Her ex-boyfriend was a local, now working at a private company after graduation. Naturally, he didn’t face the intense overtime culture of Ding Ya’s firm.

Many of his university classmates on WeChat Moments were settling down. After breaking up with Ding Ya, he’d dated several other girlfriends.

The term “ex-girlfriend” always carries a whiff of ambiguity. Ding Ya was the flower in his romantic life he’d never been able to pluck. It was a title in name only. The truth was, Ding Ya looked down on him completely.

How wounding to the ego.

It also made him pay extra attention to any news about her.

The Ex-Boyfriend: “Yeah, really is. Feels like I haven’t seen you in years.”

Ding Ya abruptly hugged Shu Chi’s arm, leaning into her affectionately. “Anyway, I’ll be going now.”

Shu Chi didn’t say a word. The man in front of them wasn’t particularly tall, and his face was decent enough, but he lacked any real presence.

The way his gaze lingered on Ding Ya made Shu Chi uncomfortable.

Was it an amicable breakup?

The next second, Ding Ya’s entire body pressed against her, and Shu Chi instantly stiffened.

The last time Ding Ya had been this close was that hug. Though this wasn’t a hug, it still exceeded the boundaries of a safe distance.

But this was Ding Ya, and it wasn’t the first time.

Shu Chi didn’t pull her arm back. She simply started walking forward.

“Is this your friend? You’re here celebrating New Year’s too?”

The ex-boyfriend blocked Ding Ya’s path, his gaze falling on the other woman’s face.

The Jing City University of Science and Technology, where Ding Ya attended, didn’t lack pretty girls. Perhaps it was because the girls in her department and year mostly had a mature look, but Ding Ya’s baby face was so refreshingly different. She’d drawn plenty of attention since day one.

But Ding Ya simply never participated in any social activities. If it weren’t for the credits, she probably wouldn’t have even bothered with elective courses.

A girl like that was particularly charming to chase, precisely because Ding Ya was so hard to pursue.

When her ex-boyfriend had successfully confessed, he’d been pretty incredulous.

To say he liked her deeply… well, truthfully, not really. Everyone’s a visual creature. Liked could just be a liking for her face. Feelings could always be cultivated later.

He’d told his classmates it was a piece of cake.

He never imagined Ding Ya would become the greatest humiliation of his romantic history.

Unassertive, prone to rejection, and incredibly high-maintenance—that was his complete impression of Ding Ya.

But then, with a face that inherently looked delicate and pampered, he’d initially been entirely willing. It was just a pity that Ding Ya’s moods were as unpredictable as the weather—alternating between sunny and gloomy. His forecasts were utterly useless.

You never knew on what grounds she’d reject you.

Ding Ya: “I’m here for a team building event. Is there anything else? If not, I need to go.”

Back in university, Ding Ya would sometimes just throw on a face mask and go out. Her beauty lay in her flawless skin; bare-faced, she could still make others green with envy.

Generally speaking, when couples go on dates, the girl usually puts effort into dressing up. Her ex-boyfriend had never once witnessed Ding Ya put in such effort.

She was exceptionally casual about it.

He’d consoled himself that this was a sign of intimacy towards him.

But when he’d finally, painstakingly brought Ding Ya to a gathering with his friends, Ding Ya was the same as ever. Compared to his classmates’ girlfriends, all radiant in their careful finery, Ding Ya didn’t talk. She’d curl up in a corner playing her own games—a complete and utter buzzkill.

It was like she didn’t care about you in the slightest.

A friend had mentioned it after the gathering.

That time, the ex-boyfriend had a rare fight with Ding Ya.

A one-sided fight, that is. The petite girl, standing under the dormitory building in the cold wind, had replied with complete indifference: “Oh.”

“I’ll try harder.”

Those words instantly ignited him.

He’d yelled: “Ding Ya! You don’t like me at all, so why did you ever agree to date me?!”

Back in university, the guy had more delicate features and appeared gentle and refined. Even Shen Mu had said, “This guy kind of resembles a side character in one of your games.”

Ding Ya hadn’t agreed. She’d even emphasized to Shen Mu: “Don’t project 2D characters onto real life. It cheapens them.”

She could successfully clear countless romance games, yet she’d never shown even half the passion for her own real-life romance as she did for her games.

Going Dutch on meals, splitting gift costs fifty-fifty—her ex-boyfriend couldn’t find any fault.

Even their chats felt like she was completing a task.

That night, he, her aggrieved alumni ex, had thought bitterly: Was he just being played like a game by Ding Ya?

After he’d yelled at her, Ding Ya still hadn’t shown much reaction. She’d smoothed her long hair, tousled by the wind. Her fuzzy little-bear beanie made her look just as fuzzy and soft.

The eyes that looked up at him held a natural, innate allure.

Ding Ya: “Then let’s break up.”

She was so heartless.

He later told many people that.

All he got in return was mockery from the group.

Everyone found it impossible to believe—after all, Ding Ya was so amiable and cute, if just a bit of a homebody.

People always have a measure of unwillingness to let go.

Their breakup hadn’t caused some earth-shattering scene, nor did they block each other. After all, in the same department, they’d inevitably bump into each other during meals.

Even after graduation, he’d still scroll past Ding Ya’s WeChat Moments. “A Girl Who Loves Life” was Ding Ya’s label.

She’d share some game screenshots or photos from outings—group shots with girls in little skirts.

She was still single. That gave him a little secret thrill of satisfaction.

He hadn’t expected her to still be so cold.

So the man said, “I was thinking, since we’ve run into each other, maybe I could treat you to a drink—”

“Let’s go.”

The tall woman standing beside Ding Ya spoke, and the man was startled by the sound.

He noticed this woman looked rather fierce too. He’d been so focused on Ding Ya earlier, he only now registered the scar on Shu Chi’s face.

How could Ding Ya be with someone like this?

His words cut off, Ding Ya offered another “see you,” and walked away clinging to the woman’s arm.

The man stood rooted to the spot, carefully recalling how Ding Ya had looked going out with her roommates during university.

Ding Ya was a person who disliked physical contact.

Even when they were dating, she wouldn’t let him touch her; holding hands was instantly shaken off.

Arm-in-arm with her roommates? Also impossible. Getting a hug was like having to beg on bended knee.

Then… was this woman a relative of hers?

The man pondered for a moment. The next second, an absurd notion sprouted in his mind.

No way?

By the time they passed through the main hall and reached the back of the Hot Spring Manor, the crowd had thinned.

The sky was completely dark. This area had lawns, rockeries, and ponds. The stones scattered across the grass were like pearls strewn over a matcha cake.

Ding Ya still hadn’t let go of her arm, and Shu Chi hadn’t reminded her to.

“Shu Chi, do you think he’s handsome?”

Ding Ya asked a question.

Shu Chi had been spacing out. She made an “mm” sound, and Ding Ya repeated herself.

“He’s okay.”

Shu Chi spoke, then looked ahead. The lights, made to resemble paper lanterns, glowed warmly. Beside them, the sound of spring water trickled, delicate and fine.

“Does ‘okay’ mean handsome or not?”

Ding Ya asked again.

Shu Chi: “Depends on whether you like him.”

Ding Ya: “Well, I definitely don’t like him. We’ve been broken up for so many years.”

Shu Chi: “Why did you two break up?”

Ding Ya let out an “aiya” sound, scolding Shu Chi with a glare yet pressing her cheek back against Shu Chi’s clothes.

Shu Chi’s coat today was cotton. Soft and plush.

“Didn’t I tell you about it when we had dinner that time?”

Ding Ya’s voice still carried indignation: “He complained I wasn’t proactive enough.”

Shu Chi said “Oh,” then, “Then get a different one.”

She seemed rather absent-minded. Ding Ya laughed: “I still prefer that husband who lied to me.”

Shu Chi had long legs and took big strides. Ding Ya couldn’t keep up as quickly, which effectively slowed Shu Chi’s pace, forcing her to slow down as well.

Just like that time they’d finished eating and walked to Willow Garden, one person holding an umbrella, walking side by side.

Shu Chi: “He got married. Get a different one.”

Her tone was, for once, a bit stern: “Wrecking a family is not good.”

Ding Ya said worriedly, “But I want someone who treats me as well as he did. Only he ever treated me that well.”

Shu Chi: “There will be someone better.”

Ding Ya: “He bought me full set game diamonds, renewed my yearly VIP memberships, requested songs for me, helped me grind levels in games, even kept me company while I did homework…”

One hand still linked with Shu Chi’s arm, she started counting on the fingers of the other.

The central courtyard was very large. A few people were taking photos. Just as they reached a covered walkway, Shu Chi turned her head to glance at Ding Ya.

The beauty mark at the corner of her eye seemed even more striking with each blink. It was as if the youthful purity of her original features had been touched by a sorcerer’s spell, transformed into a captivating, ambiguous allure. The dancing lantern shadows against the wall seemed to carry it, striking Shu Chi’s heart without warning.

She pressed her lips together. “It’s very simple.”

Ding Ya looked up at her, caught off guard. Their eyes met for a few seconds before they both looked away, almost in unspoken agreement.

Ding Ya: “No, it wasn’t. It cost a lot of money. He wasn’t very old at the time, didn’t have much allowance. He said he’d treat me well, and he really gave me everything.”

Her voice trembled slightly.

Shu Chi thought to herself: I also spent a lot on that person. Yet she was so cruel, she wouldn’t even say a word before leaving.

So heartless.

If the person I met… had been you. That would have been nice.

“People who like you can all do that.”

Shu Chi said seriously. “And besides, those things were intangible. You’re at your age now.”

“Emotions still need mat—”

Ding Ya burst out laughing. She let go of Shu Chi’s arm and said, helplessly: “Boss Shu, are you my parents? So concerned.”

Her eyes carried a teasing glint, curving into crescent moons, holding within them the fireflies of this entire courtyard.

Ding Ya stood on her tiptoes, perhaps meaning to pat Shu Chi’s head, but it was too much of a strain. All she could do was touch Shu Chi’s face—

“You’re not that much older than me. Why do you act like you’re thirteen years older?”

Ding Ya’s hand was warm and soft. Shu Chi’s face was a bit cold from the wind. She recoiled half a step, as if scalded.

Someone up ahead was calling Ding Ya.

Ying Qixin ran out: “You’re so slow! We’ve all sat down and are waiting to eat, and you’re only just arriving? What were you chatting about with Boss Shu?”

Ding Ya jogged over, the wind whipping up the hem of her skirt and exposing the lace underneath. Shu Chi thought: Plaid socks are cute too.

The visual appeal of the Hot Spring Manor’s dishes alone was enough to send this group of team-builders into a photography frenzy.

Ding Ya and Shu Chi had arrived the latest, and their seats were still next to each other.

Jing Yuqi sat on Shu Chi’s other side. Watching Shu Chi take a slow bite of dessert, she asked: “I told you to go pick up one person, and you really only went and picked up one person?”

The smile on her face nearly blinded Shu Chi.

Shu Chi: “We ran into her ex-boyfriend on the way.”

Jing Yuqi almost choked on her red wine. She deliberately lowered her voice. “What did you think of him?”

Shu Chi looked at her, puzzled: “What do you mean, what did I think? I’m not her parent.”

Was this person a piece of wood that had cultivated into a spirit?

Jing Yuqi had navigated the world of love and romance for years, but she had truly never met anyone like this.

In all other respects, she was sharp. In matters of the heart, who knew if she was pretending ignorance or genuinely had no clue.

Even though I’d been so ridiculously obvious last time.

Jing Yuqi: “Don’t give me that. Who do you think is a better match for Ding Ya—you or that ex-boyfriend?”

Shu Chi also took a sip of red wine. The liquid moistened her lips, drawing out a hint of helplessness: “I’m a woman.”

Jing Yuqi punched her on the back. Shu Chi nearly spat out her drink.

Then she heard a whisper in her ear—

“So what if you are? Just go for it if you like her.”