Chapter 5

Hearing Ding Ya say that, Yang Jie asked, “You two know each other?”

She looked at Shu Chi sitting across from her. The woman’s hair was neither short nor long, but not unkempt-looking. She looked quite polite, actually.

Yang Jie initially thought her fierce appearance might mean she’d refuse to share the table. Surprisingly, she nodded.

Shu Chi didn’t even carry a bag when going out and didn’t seem much like a tourist.

She nodded. “We just met the night before last.”

Ding Ya added: “Mom, I told you, I got a puppy. White with black paws. Super cute. She gave it to me.”

Her parents knew Ding Ya was lonely and hadn’t objected.

Yang Jie: “Oh, is that so? Then how should I address you?”

Ding Ya’s words were clearly ambiguous. Shu Chi glanced at her and said, “I was helping a friend deliver it. The dog wasn’t mine.”

Yang Jie understood now. These two weren’t close.

But the elder woman felt her usually somewhat introverted daughter didn’t seem so averse this time. She whispered to Ding Ya, “I thought you were friends. How awkward for Mom to ask like that.”

Yang Jie was a dance teacher who ran a training center back home. Sitting with Ding Ya, they were clearly mother and daughter.

Ding Ya whispered back, “It’s fine.”

She glanced at Shu Chi sitting beside her but didn’t engage further, instead chatting with her parents.

The restaurant was quite famous within the scenic area. Shu Chi ordered a single-person meal.

When the crab roe noodles arrived, Shu Chi’s phone rang. Jing Yuqi’s voice sounded a bit wilted: “Zhang Di just called. Her husband got hit by a car and can’t make it. Tomorrow’s meeting with Sino—go with me, okay? You’ve read the proposal anyway.”

Shu Chi’s noodles were plain broth with clear water, not a speck of chili. She asked, “Do I have to go?”

Jing Yuqi immediately yelled: “What else?! The newly interviewed hire hasn’t even started working yet, and you’re putting on airs?”

Ever since they started the business together, Jing Yuqi had always been the decision-maker.

This Boss had a silver tongue and knew exactly how to deal with different people.

In comparison, Shu Chi’s execution was much stronger. In the early days, Shu Chi followed up on the factory matters. She didn’t like talking but worked very hard. When she was there, nothing ever went wrong.

Shu Chi: “I don’t really understand all that.”

The business had grown bigger and bigger. It was long past the days of cheap clothing stalls next to small noodle stands at night markets, far beyond that single tiny shopfront.

At the start, orders from rural factories were something Shu Chi could handle. Production line stuff was easier to grasp.

But since the target audience changed and the concept upgraded, Shu Chi increasingly felt she couldn’t keep up.

Still, she was much richer than before, had many capable people working under her, and no longer felt that initial overwhelming pressure of being called “Boss.”

Jing Yuqi: “It’s fine, just follow the process. If you keep slacking off like this, watch out, I might swallow up the company. You just keep this up.”

Jing Yuqi always messed up her sentence structures. Shu Chi just said “Oh.” “So I’m just going to stand there like a prop.”

Jing Yuqi was merciless: “The design department already has a plan and brought prototypes. There happens to be a studio next door. You go do a model photo shoot. I even specially invited Mu Ling.”

Shu Chi: “What’s the hourly rate?”

Jing Yuqi was almost angered into laughter. “Go ask Finance yourself.”

Ding Ya ordered with Yang Jie, but her ears were glued to Shu Chi’s side of the table.

She silently observed Shu Chi.

The four-person table wasn’t large. Sitting close, their elbows could almost touch.

The last time she was this close to this person was at the noodle shop in that small city, where Shu Chi, the boss, couldn’t bear to hire extra hands and personally delivered every bowl of noodles.

Her hands seemed to look better than before.

She’d finally learned to take care of herself?

Ding Ya listened to Shu Chi’s voice. This person spoke concisely, as if every extra word would cost her life.

Why is her voice so low?

Born with it?

Even as a child? No way…

Ding Ya could even hear the woman’s voice on the other end of Shu Chi’s call, carrying familiarity and intimacy. Even though her feelings for Shu Chi were complicated now, an inexplicable little knot formed in her heart.

That was Shen Mu’s Goddess, that internet celebrity.

Business partners. Are they all this close?

Even though this person still acted so cold, it was different from how she was just speaking.

Shu Chi ate her noodles while talking, seemingly enjoying them.

On the other end, Jing Yuqi heard the background noise: “You’re at Willow Garden?”

Shu Chi grunted in affirmation.

Jing Yuqi laughed: “Eating, Boss Shu?”

Shu Chi made no sound. Jing Yuqi asked another question: “New streamer interviews next Friday. Maybe there’ll be one you like.”

In all these years, Jing Yuqi had never seen Shu Chi date anyone. But having been around her for so long, she could detect that Shu Chi had zero interest in men.

Unfortunately, the company had so many girls, all different styles, including some who genuinely liked Shu Chi. Shu Chi wasn’t interested in any of them.

Jing Yuqi was like a process of elimination, finally grokking a bit of Shu Chi’s taste just this year.

She laughed particularly slyly. “Hey.”

“You don’t happen to be like me, forever liking them young, do you?”

Shu Chi’s movements paused. She seemed somewhat helpless: “What are you wildly guessing now?”

Ding Ya wished she could sit even closer.

She could just make out Shu Chi’s tone, amused into helplessness: “Why do you think I like the young ones again?”

Whatever the other person said, Shu Chi said “No” multiple times in a row, then hung up.

Probably because whatever Jing Yuqi had said was too absurd, Shu Chi was still sighing after the call ended.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Ding Ya taking small bites of a lotus pastry.

Jing Yuqi actually said Shu Chi liked them small, short, and coquettish.

Shu Chi thought to herself: How come I didn’t know I liked that type.

Jing Yuqi was never a serious person. She had an aura that mixed mature woman with gold digger, but she wasn’t short on money now. Occasionally, her sassiness could choke you.

Multiple times, Shu Chi had to wonder: back when this woman set up a stall, she sold clothes, not pork. How did she get so thoroughly “cooked” inside and out?

“I think you’re a pervert, just like those old lechers, liking girls who are naive, sheltered, and easy to fool.”

Online, Jing Yuqi said her partner Boss Shu’s orientation was “unknown,” but in her heart, she had long decided Shu Chi was more into women.

After all, shopping trips never saw her glance twice at teenage boys. Instead, her gaze rested on those girls wearing flamboyant, fluffy skirts.

Of course, everyone loves looking at beautiful women. Jing Yuqi had seriously analyzed Shu Chi’s gaze.

“Anyway, it’s like you’re looking for someone.”

“You didn’t actually have a thing with some little girl, did you? No, when I met you, you weren’t that old either, and I didn’t see you in a relationship.”

Jing Yuqi was the ultimate normie. She didn’t game online and had no interest in Shu Chi’s hobbies.

She’d already assumed someone with Shu Chi’s personality wouldn’t even cuss in games, let alone have an online romance.

The restaurant had imitation-ancient decor. Walking in, you could see many young men and women in period costumes sitting together with older folks, looking completely out of place.

The noisy chatter seemed unable to enter Shu Chi’s ears.

Looking for someone.

She smiled absently to herself. I don’t know who I’m looking for either.

A person who might not be what I imagined, that kind of person.

I let the other party mistakenly think I was a guy. Maybe the other party wasn’t necessarily that student girl who said she worked part-time as a cashier.

The internet gave people too many possibilities, so much so that even deception became shrouded in fog.

That online contact who exchanged “good morning” and “good night” every day… was she really what I thought?

Back then, Shu Chi delivered food during the day and helped at the night-market food stall at night. She only had computer access because the internet cafe manager was from her hometown.

The internet cafe was thick with smoke. Some people stayed up all night.

The noodle shop where Shu Chi worked provided meals but no lodging. Her hometown acquaintance offered her the janitor’s room upstairs at the internet cafe.

Shu Chi slept there. There was an old computer, obsolete, only good for watching movies or playing some web browser games.

In a dress-up game, she met someone with the ID “Bean Sprout.” The girl wanted to trade a skirt set with Shu Chi.

The game was so dumb. Even to Shu Chi, a working girl, some outfits looked tacky. The nice ones all cost real money.

The skirt the other person wanted was exactly what Shu Chi got by accidentally making a purchase she couldn’t refund.

Shu Chi wasn’t interested in the game and just gifted it to her.

The other girl felt bad and insisted on adding Shu Chi’s chat account.

Back then, some working folks clocked in from dawn till night. After hours, they either went drinking in groups or dated.

The internet hadn’t been mainstream for many years. The Korean Wave was sweeping through, and online chatrooms were thriving. Scams weren’t as rampant as they are now. Some people added a dozen contacts a day just for random chatting.

Shu Chi’s account had been created by her sister; she barely used it for chatting.

She had two older sisters, both much older than her. They mostly just sent holiday greetings.

This “Bean Sprout” was the only active contact among the people Shu Chi had added.

Shu Chi didn’t have much free time to chat. The other person was a student working part-time, only free after 9:30 PM.

The two would chat sporadically at night. When the food stall wasn’t busy, she would take out her phone. The screen, smaller than a palm, was easily filled by just a few words.

The other person talked a lot, saying that although she was in vocational school, she still wanted to go to university. She also mentioned adding someone from XX University before, so impressive, etc.

Shu Chi didn’t know what possessed her to blurt out the name of the nearby university.

And she got—

You’re so amazing.

Shu Chi didn’t sleep a wink that night. Pure guilt.

What university student? She was just a middle-school graduate out in the world earning a living.

Two years in a textile mill. This was her third year working in University Town. By age, she was indeed of university age.

Maybe it was because such a life was too mundane and boring. Maybe the air in the internet cafe was too foul. Maybe the janitor’s room was too cramped.

Shu Chi didn’t correct the other’s impression of her. And then she pushed her luck, eventually failing to correct the other’s mistaken assumption about her gender.

Years later, looking back on this experience, she felt it all started just out of boredom.

And that sentence the other said after getting that virtual skirt—

You’re such a good person.

Am I a good person?

After their relationship deepened, she asked herself this question again and again.

But days flowed like water. After receiving those daily morning and night greetings and the treasured idle chats before sleep, she couldn’t bear to lose it.

She even wanted to hold onto this connection, this fate.

To live up to those three words: “such a good person.”

Shu Chi gave the other person a virtual puppy in a new game.

A white dog with black paws, extraordinarily cute.

“But you have to be careful if you’re raising a dog yourself. Puppies have very weak stomachs…”

The family sharing their table was a family of three. Shu Chi noticed the woman’s face resembled the girl sitting next to her.

“I knooow. Ugh, you guys are the same. Had to wait until I’m in college to get a dog. So annoying.”

Ding Ya’s voice was naturally coquettish. Many people said the first time they heard her speak, they got goosebumps. Even angry, she sounded like she was acting cute.

That’s why she’d always been popular with the opposite sex. Unfortunately, no one caught her eye.

Yang Jie: “Your dad and I were so busy. When did we have time for a dog? Your job now at least has regular hours. I…”

Ding Ya: “Excuses again. So now I’m raising a dog, still…”

Yang Jie: “If you get one, you’re responsible for it. Before, Auntie Xiaojun’s Shiba Inu had puppies and wanted to give you one. You refused.”

Ding Ya: “I don’t like Shibas. I like white dogs. With black paws…”

[The dog you gave me is so cute. Black paws! I really like it.]

A sentence suddenly exploded in her ears. In an instant, all of Shu Chi’s memories were dredged up.

Including the memory of a voice.

She whipped her head around, directly meeting Ding Ya’s sideways glance.

Ding Ya tilted her head and smiled at her. “What’s wrong?”

Shu Chi shook her head. She grabbed her phone and stood up. “Nothing.”

She turned to leave. In that moment, she actually regretted not agreeing to Yu Xinyi’s request to keep a dog back then.

Rarely adding an extra sentence: “That dog… will you take good care of it?”

Ding Ya deliberately sweetened her voice. Though her voice now was a little different from her teenage years, she said, “Of course I’ll take good care of it.”

She looked up at Shu Chi, who was looking down, meeting those eyes: “It’s my family.”

Back then, Shu Chi had given a dog to her online “wife” and received this:

The dog and you, you’re both my family.

This sentence was a thunderclap, making Shu Chi subconsciously flee in panic.