The meeting on Han Yao’s side was still ongoing, leaving her no spare attention to check on Chu Susu. By the time she noticed, the other woman had already set down the photo album and was silently preparing to leave.
“You…” Han Yao muted her mic and called out to Chu Susu, “Are you still okay?”
“I’m fine, thank you.”
But from the look on her face—eyes full of utter desolation—she clearly wasn’t fine at all.
Han Yao wanted to say more, but before she could open her mouth, Chu Susu had already left the study without looking back.
Once they were back in the car, Chu Yuanxi seemed like she wanted to ask something. But after glancing at Chu Susu, she ultimately held back.
She simply shifted into reverse, backed out, and then said, “Where to?”
Chu Susu zoned out for a few seconds before blankly reporting an address—the complex where Han Xuan lived.
Everything had happened too suddenly. She didn’t know how to react or what she should do.
On top of that, she couldn’t reach Han Xuan. She called over and over, but no one picked up.
Chu Susu scrolled through her contacts and found the art team leader’s number.
He picked up right away. “Hello, Susu? What’s up?”
“Hello. Bro, I wanted to ask if your art team has any major tasks these next couple days? Are they out of town or in the Imperial Capital?”
“No business trips. We’re in the Imperial Capital.” The team leader answered quickly. “What company would send people out on a business trip over Christmas? That’d be way too inhumane. Why are you asking?”
That meant Han Xuan hadn’t been assigned any urgent out-of-town work.
Chu Susu stared into the passenger-side mirror, feeling like she could barely breathe.
She murmured softly, “Nothing, just curious. Thanks, bro. I’ll treat you to a meal sometime.”
The team leader paused for a second, sensing something off in her tone. He was about to press her when she hung up.
The phone slipped from her palm onto her lap. Chu Susu buried her face in her hands, fingers threading through her long hair and gripping tightly. Everything felt like a tangled mess swirling in her mind.
She usually prided herself on her ability to self-regulate, but right now she was like a headless fly bouncing around chaotically. The only thing she knew for sure was that she had to find Han Xuan and get to the bottom of all this.
Was Han Xuan really her “Star” from high school?
And had she really… erased her own memories, disguised herself as a stranger, and started over from scratch?
All these mysteries were like twisted tree roots blocking the doorway. Chu Susu had a gut feeling the answers were right there, but she couldn’t unravel them no matter how hard she tried.
Only Han Xuan had the key to unlock that door.
Chu Yuanxi stayed silent the whole time, driving steadily and swiftly. In just twenty minutes, they arrived at the complex entrance. “I’ll wait here for you.”
Chu Susu lowered her head wordlessly. “…Forget it. I don’t know how long it’ll take. Just drop me here. Your car’s still downstairs at the hotpot place. I can call you a ride.”
They’d left the hotpot restaurant in too much of a rush, so they’d taken her car.
But Chu Yuanxi ignored that. “You just go inside.”
This wasn’t the time to argue. Chu Susu pressed her lips together and nodded, then got out and headed to the complex gate.
She didn’t have a keycard, so the security guard asked about her visit as usual.
“I’m here to see a friend.”
“Please state your friend’s unit number.”
Chu Susu gave it. The guard stared at her for a moment, then let out an “Eh?” He looked her up and down before saying, “Weren’t you here a couple days ago? You gave the same unit number.”
“Yes, what’s wrong?”
“I thought it was weird last time. I checked it out afterward—that unit’s owner isn’t named Han Xuan.”
“Could it be a renter?”
“We register all renters here, miss,” the guard said. “But there’s no record of anyone named ‘Han Xuan’ in our complex. And the owner of that unit is out of town. It’s been vacant year-round, no subletting.”
Chu Susu went blank. She whispered, “…But last time, I saw the person I was looking for downstairs.”
The guard looked troubled. Strictly speaking, for security reasons, he shouldn’t let her in. But he didn’t think the woman in front of him was up to no good.
“How about this: There’s someone else on duty in the security booth. I’ll go in with you to take a quick look. We’ll be fast.”
“Okay, thank you.”
The guard led the way to the building she’d indicated. Fine snowflakes began drifting down from the sky again, silently settling on her coat without melting.
Not long ago, when Chu Susu had come to pick up Pipi, it had snowed too. She and Han Xuan had taken it for a stroll around the complex.
Han Xuan hadn’t acted like she was unfamiliar with the place back then. She’d known exactly where everything was, navigating with ease.
But the guard was saying no such person was registered as a resident.
“Right here.”
At the building entrance, the guard stopped and rang the intercom doorbell.
A “beep” sounded. After more than ten seconds, no one answered.
The guard shrugged, as if to say he’d been telling the truth. “Miss, you see? This place looks unoccupied. Did you maybe get the unit number wrong? Or maybe your friend’s ID doesn’t use the name ‘Han Xuan’?”
He waited for her response, but the woman just stood there, utterly still and silent.
Her nose stung from the winter wind, her brows and eyes tinged with a faint red that added a touch of vivid fragility.
“Miss…?”
Chu Susu snapped back and smiled. “Got it. Thanks for bringing me over.”
She paused. “My mistake—I didn’t check properly and wasted your time. But the environment here’s nice. Mind if I take a walk around the complex?”
“Uh…” The guard hesitated, inwardly conflicted. It wasn’t exactly by the book. “Just a walk?”
“Yeah, along the man-made lake.”
“Alright then.” He finally agreed. “Fifteen minutes, okay? Any longer, and if someone sees and complains, I’ll get docked pay.”
“Sure, thank you.”
The weather forecast hadn’t predicted snow. The flakes drifted briefly before stopping, as if they’d never been there.
Chu Susu sat on a bench by the man-made lake, staring at the icy surface. Her mind flashed to the last time she and Han Xuan had sat there together holding Pipi. What had they been talking about?
Was it all fake?
From the gap in her memories years ago, to their first meeting near the end of summer, and even her address—it was all lies.
What was real anymore?
“Why…” Chu Susu bowed her head, murmuring to herself, “Why lie to me?”
Why leave without a word, only to suddenly reappear after so long?
Was there some hardship behind it? If so, why keep silent, refusing to say a word?
And why wasn’t she picking up now?
Chu Susu clutched her phone, staring at the call log with over a dozen unanswered dials from her. She was about to try again when it suddenly vibrated, nearly slipping from her grip.
She picked it up and saw the name “Qiao Qian.”
Right—right before the class reunion, Qiao Qian had finally reached out after ages, saying she wanted to meet up today and talk.
Chu Susu answered. “Hello.”
“Susu.”
Her hair was getting tousled by the wind. She instinctively smoothed it down. “You want me to come find you now? Where are you?”
Though the absolute last thing she wanted was to see Han Xuan and get answers, she couldn’t find her.
Better to go see Qiao Qian instead. She’d promised her before, and she was genuinely worried about how Qiao Qian was doing now.
Besides, focusing on someone else might distract her a bit.
Ever since realizing there might be a blank spot in her memories from years ago, her temples had been throbbing. Right now, she desperately needed to pull herself out of the reminiscing.
As she spoke, she got up and headed toward the complex exit.
But Qiao Qian didn’t answer her question. She just continued on her own. “There’s something I need to tell you, Susu. Will you hear me out?”
For some reason, those words made Chu Susu’s heart skip a beat, a bad premonition rising.
“Just say it.” She replied softly. “But tell me where you are first.”
Qiao Qian still didn’t answer.
Wait!
Chu Susu suddenly remembered—on the last call, Qiao Qian had given an address. But so much had happened in these few short hours that her thoughts were a jumble, and it hadn’t come to her.
She smacked her forehead and practically jogged back to the car. “Can you take me to Ninghai Road?”
She was immensely grateful that Chu Yuanxi was still waiting at the complex entrance. In her current state, she couldn’t even drive, let alone go find Qiao Qian.
“OK.” Chu Yuanxi didn’t ask for details. She floored the gas and sped off.
Chu Susu picked up her phone again; the call hadn’t ended. “Hello, Qiao Qian, you still there?”
“I’m here.”
“What were you about to say? Go ahead.”
“I want to talk about Yu Zize.”
Yu Zize was the woman who’d tricked Qiao Qian into racking up usurious debt. Chu Susu had no idea how Qiao Qian had gotten tangled up with her again. She frowned right away, worried. “What’s she done now?”
She hoped Qiao Qian wasn’t planning to throw more money at her. That absolutely couldn’t happen.
“I finally saw her clearly.”
Qiao Qian’s voice was very soft, slowly coming from the other end of the phone. “I learned some things I didn’t know before.”
“What?”
“It turns out she’s not a Bar T at the bar.”
“Ha?” Then why did this person trick Qiao Qian into spending money at the bar? What good did it do her?
Although she couldn’t see Qiao Qian’s face, Chu Susu could feel that when she spoke, it was as if she was smiling, in a very good mood.
“She’s the owner of this bar, doesn’t lack money. She tricked me only because she saw me drinking alone that day and made a bet with her friends.”
“A bet?”
“Yes, the bet was that Yu Zize would deliberately dress as a Bar T to deceive me, saying she had no money and needed performance support, to see just how far I would go for her in the end.”
Chu Susu’s pupils shook. “How could it be like this?!”
She never imagined that the truth behind it all was this. This Yu Zize, how could she do something so despicable…
Qiao Qian said it lightly, as if it had nothing to do with her. “Her friends all said no one is that stupid, at most a few thousand or tens of thousands and that’s the limit. But Yu Zize didn’t believe it, saying she definitely had a way to make me spend more.”
“And now you know the situation.”
“I owe tens of millions. Her bet won, but I lost.”
“Susu, I’m really sorry before. When I had no way out, I even thought of using you and Le’er.”
“Except for that, I’ve always been sincere toward you both. Living until now, my biggest regret is not cherishing myself properly, and not cherishing you all properly.”
“I hope you can forgive me. Okay?”
She rambled on, her state completely different from usual, clearly off.
A bad premonition grew stronger and stronger. Chu Susu’s heartbeat involuntarily sped up a bit:
“Qiao Qian, listen to me. These are all small matters. Where exactly are you right now?”
The place Qiao Qian had told her before was a shopping mall building, not far away, already right ahead. But that building was seven or eight stories high, and she didn’t know Qiao Qian’s exact position inside.
“So, do you forgive me?”
Chu Susu’s heart ached, and she said softly, “I stopped blaming you long ago.”
She had resented her at first, but after learning what Yu Zize had done to her, all that was left was heartache for her friend.
“Is that so.”
Qiao Qian let out a breath of relief, as if she had cried, but it was faint and indistinct, hard to make out clearly. “Thank you, Susu. Your forgiveness means a lot to me. If I didn’t hear it directly from you, I probably couldn’t leave with peace of mind.”
Chu Susu suddenly felt a chill all over, her spine tingling, and she couldn’t control her volume. “Leave?!”
“Yeah, Susu. I’m leaving.”
Chu Yuanxi in the driver’s seat frowned and rolled down the window because she heard a commotion ahead.
The bustling shopping mall entrance below was now empty of people. Instead, they were all unusually gathered on the other side.
That side had only a small construction bungalow, with a bright red warning sign specially cautioning passersby not to approach. The path up was completely sealed off, and a large area was cordoned off.
But atop the building stood a woman, and no one knew how she had gotten up there.
Someone in the crowd had already called the police, and the fire department was on the way, but this stretch of road was the most congested, so they wouldn’t arrive quickly.
Chu Susu stared blankly at that familiar figure. How could she not understand what this call from Qiao Qian was for?
Tears suddenly poured uncontrollably from her eyes.
“Qiao Qian.” She felt as if all her blood was flowing backward, choking out with effort, “Can you come down? Le’er and I forgive you. The money can be paid back slowly too. Can you come down?”
They were very close now. One more minute of driving forward, and they’d be right below.
Yet it felt like an impassable chasm.
“No can do.” Qiao Qian said, lowering her head to look, as if searching for something.
Soon, she spotted Chu Susu’s car and waved toward them on her own, her fluttering clothes like a little bird flapping its wings.
There seemed to be wind noise from the phone: “Actually, I didn’t want to call you. After all, this isn’t a happy occasion. But I still wanted to say goodbye.”
“I couldn’t reach Le’er or Xiaoying. Please pass on my message for me, as the last thing I ask of you.”
“Thank you, Susu.”
“So, goodbye.”
Tears blurred her vision, unable to see the bird soaring high before plummeting behind the barriers around the bungalow.
Gone forever.
Chu Susu numbly turned her head, only to glimpse a familiar black long skirt amid the crowd.
In the cold winter, Han Xuan wasn’t wearing a coat.
She stood fixed at the street corner, her expression indescribable.
