Chapter 44

That bouquet of flowers was placed by Ding Ya on the small round table.

Shu Chi had taken a cab to bring her home, only going so far as to eat dinner with Ding Ya at the neighborhood entrance. She didn’t go up with Ding Ya to her apartment.

Ding Ya waited a long time but didn’t hear Shu Chi say: I like you.

Feeling a bit petulant, she didn’t message Shu Chi after heading back either.

Nor did she take a photo to post on her social feed the way she had when she received Su Dinghun’s flowers. But while showering, Ding Ya still found herself replaying that kiss over and over. Suddenly, she became wide awake.

Late at night, Ding Ya grabbed her phone and pulled up Shu Chi’s Space. Refreshing her message board, she discovered Shu Chi had updated it half an hour ago —

Why is it that I already met her today yet I still miss her this much?

So dumb. Because you already like me.

Ding Ya rolled over in bed and pulled down further. She still hadn’t finished reading Shu Chi’s message board.

It felt like reading a serialized novel, except she was starting from the ending.

At first glance, it was as if the person writing these was a completely different person. But to Ding Ya, there was practically zero difference at all.

This person’s world… is it just me and only me?

Ding Ya had no idea when she finally fell asleep. The next day, she was woken up by the vibration of her phone.

Saturday was Shu Chi’s birthday. Ding Ya had originally planned to go pick up the cake in the afternoon, then head to the address Jing Yuqi gave her to find Shu Chi. She hadn’t expected Shu Chi to return early, and on top of that, to seek her out first.

It was a call from Shu Chi.

Squinting, Ding Ya noticed there had also been a missed call earlier.

Shu Chi had sent her a short message at seven; at eight, another missed call.

This current call… Ding Ya missed it again.

Thankfully, the very next second, Shu Chi called again.

Ding Ya gave a sleepy Hello, her voice still thick with drowsiness. Shu Chi’s voice was mixed with the sound of rain.

Was it raining?

Ding Ya went to pull back the curtains by her bed. Rain pelted against the glass; outside was hazy and misty.

“Ding Ya, I’m sorry for waking you up.”

Shu Chi’s voice was a bit soft. Or perhaps the rain was simply heavy.

Was she somewhere outside?

Ding Ya yawned. “It’s okay.”

The woman on the other end of the line said: “Two hours was already my limit. I want to see you.”

Ding Ya needed a few seconds to process that. She suddenly jumped off the bed and ran to the balcony to look down.

Just as she thought—there was a figure below, holding an umbrella. A transparent umbrella. Knowing Shu Chi’s temperament, she probably hadn’t bought it proactively; most likely, the rain started after she’d already set out, and she’d just bought the first one she found on the street.

The convenience store at the neighborhood entrance sold this type, right?

The cheapest kind.

Ding Ya lived very high up. Looking down from here, she could barely make out anything. The other person was still speaking through the phone: “I like you.”

The rain was pouring harder now.

Shu Chi was still talking: “Will you be my girlfri—”

Ding Ya shouted: Wait!

The balcony was enclosed; Ding Ya hadn’t opened the window, and Shu Chi couldn’t hear her scream.

She actually stopped talking.

Ding Ya drew a deep breath. “Wait for me.”

Shu Chi said okay.

Ding Ya didn’t even have time to change clothes. She completely forgot her slippers were strictly indoor slippers.

She couldn’t get an elevator either; for some impossible reason, the damn thing was stuck on the seventeenth floor and wouldn’t budge.

Ding Ya had to take the stairs. She was someone who hated exercise. Her entire life, gym class and running had been the two things she loathed most.

She never had any desire to work out. If she absolutely had to move, it better be for something fun or a game.

Shen Mu had been jealous of Ding Ya’s natural physique more than once—unlike herself, who’d balloon up if she didn’t exercise.

Ding Ya ran so hard she was gasping for breath; her throat hurt like hell.

The building’s external door was locked. You needed an electronic key card or for someone upstairs to buzz you in.

Of course, if you ran into someone else entering, they could let you in too. This place had quite a few renters after all.

Shu Chi, you idiot. Couldn’t you just get someone to let you in?

Ding Ya inwardly cursed her a few times. This fool was still standing off to one side, getting rained on—well, at least she had enough sense to keep holding her umbrella.

The upscale apartment Ding Ya paid an absurd premium for had excellent landscaping. Shu Chi stood below, staring at a speaker box hidden in the shrubs.

It kind of looks like those outdoor speakers on elementary school playgrounds…

She thought to herself.

But for Ding Ya, she’d probably think it’s completely ordinary…

Shu Chi had waited for two hours. Standing there dumbly, holding an umbrella, growing bored. Thoughts flew wildly through her head. Thoughts of the past, then thoughts of the future.

My future… if only Ding Ya were in it…

“SHU CHI!”

The building’s unit door was rammed open. A petite figure in pink pajamas charged out.

The glass door slammed shut with a bang as it rebounded. Ding Ya was like a fuzzy, fluffy bunny, briefly sprinkled with a few stray raindrops as she crashed straight into Shu Chi’s world, under her umbrella.

Shu Chi staggered back a few steps, staring down in utter shock.

Ding Ya had already leapt onto her. She wrapped both legs around Shu Chi’s waist like a koala clinging to a tree, refusing to come down no matter what.

And yet, with Ding Ya’s cute and willful face, her frowns and pouts would never strike anyone as affected. They’d only make you want to gently touch those lovely eyes and trembling eyelashes.

Shu Chi’s umbrella hadn’t fallen. With one hand, she cupped Ding Ya’s behind, completely at a loss. “How did you…”

Ding Ya bit her. Right on the neck unguarded by any scarf, making Shu Chi hiss in pain.

That brazen, sweet girlish voice drilled straight into Shu Chi’s ears, clinging hard. “Are you stupid?!”

Shu Chi shook her head. “I’m not.”

Ding Ya held on fiercely. Her voice, wrapped in the sounds of rain, couldn’t hide its grievance. “You know perfectly well which floor I live on. At the very least, you could have come inside!”

Shu Chi: “I didn’t have a keycard.”

Ding Ya sucked in a deep breath and practically shouted: “Then get someone to buzz you in! Ring my unit number and I would’ve heard you too!”

Shu Chi just said: “You were sleeping.”

Ding Ya let out an irritated huff. “And you knew I was sleeping, but you still called me twice.”

She didn’t know how to describe what she was feeling in this moment. Aside from this person’s such an idiot, there was also a novel, fresh sort of heartache.

She couldn’t bear to look.

Before, she’d loved bullying Shu Chi the most.

Loved teasing her. Watching her feel helpless. Watching her try to refuse but finding it impossible to.

Everything had clearly gone exactly according to Ding Ya’s plans, but she’d profoundly underestimated the level of her own feelings.

It wasn’t just about wanting to obtain. She even felt… I want to be with this person for a lifetime.

How pathetic. This is the most pathetic thought ever.

That’s what the teenage Ding Ya used to think after devouring those wildly popular romance novels.

But now, Ding Ya— having already walked the path to twenty-eight years old— wasn’t anything like the woman her younger self had envisioned: a glamorous, radiant femme fatale.

She still got mistaken for a student. There were still people who liked her. Yet the so-called “romantic scenarios” from those books, when they appeared in daily life, were just… whatever.

Flowers didn’t make her heart race. Courteous concerns didn’t make her heart race. Lavish, sky’s-the-limit spending didn’t make her heart race.

She’d forgotten that the fluttering heart was always about the person, not the action.

When your heart fluttered for one specific person, then no matter what that person did… it could still make your heart race fiercely.

And in this moment, Ding Ya thought: I’m done for. This game… I’ve lost utterly and completely.

Shu Chi was clearly at an overwhelming disadvantage. She didn’t even have a god’s-eye view or a memory bonus, let alone prophetic foresight.

And yet she was so much more sincere than me. It only highlights how despicable, shameless, and scummy I am.

The woman’s voice was still so ordinary: “I’m sorry.”

Although, Shu Chi, while holding an umbrella and having a whole additional person hanging off her, truly didn’t seem to struggle.

The sound of rain hitting the umbrella was exceptionally crisp. Ding Ya caught the scent on Shu Chi and asked subconsciously: “What laundry scent booster do you use? Or perfume? It didn’t smell like this before.”

Shu Chi still hadn’t caught up: “Huh?”

Ding Ya: “Nevermind. Are you coming up?”

She was about to slide off Shu Chi when one of her slippers plopped onto the ground first.

The surface of her fluffy slipper was filthy, and it had landed upside down too. Ding Ya felt a pang of deep heartache at the sight.

Shu Chi glanced down and said, “I’ll buy you new ones.”

But Ding Ya then yelped in alarm: “I forgot to bring my keycard.”

They were doomed now.

Ding Ya sucked in a deep breath, then miserably realized she hadn’t brought her phone either. Rushing downstairs in such a frantic hurry, she’d brought only herself.

Her breathing turned jagged. She was totally fuming at herself. But Shu Chi… Shu Chi actually broke into laughter.

Even when Shu Chi smiled normally, it was always subdued, far from radiant. The word “brilliant” seemed to have no connection to her whatsoever.

If she just tugged at the corners of her mouth, she’d almost look a little sinister, like some kind of villain. Even Jing Yuqi, a professional at fake corporate smiles, found it hopelessly funny.

But this laugh… this one approached genuine mirth. When she laughed, her entire face lit up. Even though it was still raining, even though Shu Chi was still holding that dripping transparent umbrella…

Even though the bottoms of her pants were soaked with rainwater, you could still feel that genuine mirth radiating from her heart.

Even her scar seemed to turn into a fake decal sticker—a cool element of style—as if, when torn off, she’d reveal a sunny nature underneath.

So uniquely different. And so captivating.

Ding Ya glared at her, equal parts embarrassed and furious. “What do we do now?!”

Shu Chi thought it over, tilting the umbrella slightly more toward Ding Ya. Then she said, “My place?”

She stared at the building door for a few seconds before arriving at this conclusion.

Ding Ya’s hair was a rat’s nest; she hadn’t washed her face. Her neck was even a bit cold from the freezing wind. The chaotic wind whipped the rain about, making her feel both sleepy and freezing.

“No!” Ding Ya was someone who cared deeply about her image. Then she also remembered there was another living creature in her apartment and reminded Shu Chi: “The dog hasn’t even had breakfast yet.”

The new dog bed Ding Ya had bought was incredibly luxurious; Yunbao adored it.

This little mutt had a huge appetite and loved to play. The sound of her claws clicking across the floorboards tormented Ding Ya, making her get up in the middle of the night just to scold her.

Youngsters were just so full of boundless energy.

Shu Chi noticed Ding Ya shrinking her neck against the cold. Just as she was about to speak, they heard a woman’s voice from behind them: “Little Ding, what are you doing out here?”

The lady had just returned from grocery shopping, her hands full of bags. Ding Ya greeted her: “Sister Jiang.”

Then to Shu Chi, she explained: “My across-the-hall neighbor.”

Shu Chi obediently said hello.

She was tall, wearing long boots, her outfit bordering on sharp and efficient. It was just… her face was slightly intimidating. Combined with her aura, it easily gave off the vibe of some gangster.

This made the woman holding groceries rather surprised. After all, she rarely saw Ding Ya bring anyone back. The only other time seemed to be right after she’d moved in, when a few people came as a group.

She thought to herself: She doesn’t look like the type Little Ding would befriend at all.

Shu Chi was effortlessly holding Ding Ya up, but with Ding Ya’s bare foot in her sock hanging out, it truly looked like a ridiculous sight. The woman said: “Let me open it.”

The three of them got on the elevator together; Ding Ya even helped the woman carry one of her bags.

Shu Chi had been about to offer help but was pushed back by Ding Ya.

Ding Ya said: “On New Year’s Day, Yunbao stayed at Sister Jiang’s. She has a Miniature Pinscher.”

Shu Chi said thank you again.

Ding Ya suppressed the urge to stomp on her foot. Facing her neighbor’s inquisitive gaze, she offered an explanation —

“She gave me my dog.”

The neighbor gave an Oh of understanding, her gaze still lingering on the two for a moment.

The instant Ding Ya shut her front door behind them, she let out a huge sigh of relief. She frantically swapped out her soiled slippers, then dug out from her shoe cabinet the pair Shu Chi had worn last time she came over.

The little dog, hearing the noise, barked several times. She bolted alertly out of her dog bed and lunged at Shu Chi, who was still changing her shoes. After a brief, tentative sniff, she finally latched her teeth right onto Shu Chi’s pants cuff.

Ding Ya laughed. “Guess she doesn’t recognize you anymore.”

Shu Chi didn’t mind the puppy gnawing on her pants at all. She seemed to have an infinite, almost merciful patience for everything. Very addictive. She just said: “It’s to be expected. Dogs are like that.”

Ding Ya suddenly felt the puppy was being far too rude and sighed. “I thought she’d remember the scent.”

She tossed her ruined slippers into the trash, her gaze falling back onto Shu Chi. The other woman completely ignored the puppy latched onto her pant leg like a growth and surveyed the studio apartment she hadn’t fully observed last time.

These sorts of apartments were always “move-in ready,” with rather uniform style— tatami beds and all.

Ding Ya had made this little home incredibly cozy, decorated with popular, trendy pieces.

Even though Shu Chi had already put aside her past online love, upon seeing the doll collection in Ding Ya’s display case, she still inevitably thought of the past.

[Bean Sprout]: When I have my own place in the future, I’m definitely getting a display case, filled with all my favorite things.

[Bean Sprout]: I always fail at claw machines. When I make big money, I’ll just buy them myself. Everyone who comes to my house will see them.

After tossing her slippers and washing her hands, Ding Ya said triumphantly to Shu Chi: “So? The clothes on all these dolls were made by me!”

There were cotton dolls and resin ones too. Since some people at her company also liked these, Shu Chi had occasionally overheard how much this hobby burned through money.

But if Ding Ya liked it… it only felt completely normal.

Ding Ya’s family was well-off, after all. What about Bean Sprout, then?

They really are so alike. Shu Chi closed her eyes, forcibly pushing those thoughts away.

She warned herself not to think of anything else anymore. It was all in the past. Now, she had someone new she was going to start with.

Ding Ya, having been woken up early in the morning by phone calls, receiving a confession and a tight embrace, was riding a high of excitement. Only now did it occur to her that she hadn’t washed her face yet. She said to Shu Chi: “I’m gonna wash my face real quick. Go ahead, sit down.”

“If you’re thirsty, boil water yourself. The place is only this big.”

Ding Ya was very casual, not the least bit polite like last time.

The bouquet from last night was still sitting on the coffee table. Not only had Ding Ya not taken it apart to arrange, she’d stuck a sticky note on it —

From Shu Chi <3

The puppy was making a valiant effort to climb onto the sofa. Shu Chi scooped her up.

The little thing was thoroughly tamed by solid petting. By the time Ding Ya came back out, she saw one person and one dog in an exceptionally harmonious tableau.

The person was looking at flowers; the dog was sprawled in Shu Chi’s arms, eyes squinting.

Ding Ya walked over. “Did you eat breakf— huh?”

Shu Chi handed her a sticky note—the very same one she’d stuck on yesterday.

There were a few extra words on it now, in Shu Chi’s handwriting.

This person’s handwriting was so horrifically ugly, Ding Ya didn’t even recognize it at first. She sounded it out one word at a time —

“Can… Can you… be my girlfriend?”

Calling it chicken scratch was a compliment, but the law never said e-commerce bosses needed good penmanship. Still, this was excessively bad; no wonder she’d rather do manual labor.

Ding Ya was still reeling in utter shock when Shu Chi nodded at her with deep solemnity —

“Okay.”