Chapter 2: Water Green

“Beauty, is this seat taken?”

The man who sat down said this. His tone dipped at the end—not a question, but a forceful statement that brooked no refusal.

This guy was dressed sharply enough, and his looks were passable, but his demeanor was sleazy, his eyes gleaming with ill intent as he swirled the glass in his hand leisurely.

He’d been secretly watching her for quite a while.

The girl in front of him had a unique aura, her brows and eyes full of innocence. She’d been sitting alone from start to finish, neither initiating conversation with anyone nor accompanied by any friends.

In the eyes of people like them, who frequented bars, a girl like this was like a little lamb that had wandered into a pack of wolves—an ideal prey.

But strangely enough, in a place like this, the chick was hugging a big sketchbook, scribbling away. Who knew what she was doing.

The lighting here was so harsh—could she even see clearly? Not that it was his business; the man couldn’t be bothered.

The girl paused at his voice, swiftly tucking the sketchbook that had been leaning against the table edge into her arms, hugging it tight as if she didn’t want anyone to see its contents.

She slowly shook her head, her voice soft and small, full of wariness toward strangers: “Sorry, someone’s sitting here.”

Such a clumsy lie naturally didn’t fool the man.

Seeing how soft-spoken she was, even her gaze gentle when looking at him, he grew bolder: “Let me buy you a drink?”

With that, he placed the glass in his hand on the table and pushed it toward her.

He’d clearly just taken a sip from it—the teasing and mischief were blatant.

The girl neither panicked from the stranger’s harassment nor got angry. She simply cautioned him prudently: “I don’t drink.”

The man’s bros were sitting not far away, whistling encouragement for him. Though most was drowned out by the music, some still carried over.

“You don’t drink?” The man narrowed his eyes, flashing what he thought was a handsome smile. “First time here? Wanna come hang with big bro? There’s a bunch of friends over there. Whatever you wanna drink, it’s on me.”

The girl paused, then said: “I don’t have a big bro.”

“What?” The man frowned, not quite getting it.

“I don’t have a big bro.” The girl repeated. “It’s inappropriate for you to call yourself that.”

The man immediately got annoyed, thinking she was indirectly mocking him: “You…”

This kind of little girl should’ve been an easy mark in half a minute, yet he’d dragged it out this long.

The girl looked at him calmly and made a “please” gesture with her hand, signaling him to leave.

Rejected repeatedly and coldly treated one after another, the man’s temper flared. He leaned back, half-reclining in the chair, and smirked: “No one’s here. On what grounds are you telling me to leave?”

Nearby, Chu Susu, who had watched the whole thing, furrowed her brows and shot Huang Mao a look.

When she turned back, she caught the man’s suddenly dazed expression but didn’t think much of it, striding toward them.

A sharp clink of shattering glass rang out.

“You fucking—”

The man jolted and shot to his feet, looking panicked, as if he wanted to lay hands on her.

But then he was yanked back by the collar and tossed aside—not too hard, not too light. Caught off guard, he staggered and slammed right into the pillar nearby.

“Fuck!”

Amid the intense pain of metal smashing his forehead, the man cursed instinctively, nearly collapsing to the floor.

He clutched his forehead and stood, glaring ferociously to see who was messing with him. Lifting his eyes, he saw a delicate, beautiful face.

A chick dared to mess with him? Courting death?

“You fucking crazy bitch?”

“You’re the crazy one.” Chu Susu shot him a cold glare, her face full of disdain. “Harassing a little girl here—aren’t you ashamed?”

She casually blocked herself in front of the girl, separating the man.

“None of your damn business.” The man’s forehead throbbed. He spat on the ground. “You live by the river or something? Sticking your nose in?”

Chu Susu didn’t bother wasting words on him.

Several uniformed security guards, each a head taller than the man, had already surrounded them. Leading them was none other than the marketing manager, Huang Mao.

“Sorry, sir,” Huang Mao said with a polite smile. “You’ve taken this lady’s seat. Please understand.”

“You?” The man swayed, squinting to recognize him, and bellowed in protest. “This bitch hit me first! Are you blind?”

Huang Mao sighed, trying to reason with him: “Apologies, we respect every customer, but you were harassing that lady just now. We can’t allow that.”

“Bullshit! I fucking didn’t do anything. She—”

Huang Mao cut him off: “Please leave.”

One side was a hothead making a scene, the other a noble VIP customer. As a seasoned marketing manager, Huang Mao knew exactly how to handle it. Under his direction, security promptly escorted the guy out.

The moving lights swept over the girl’s cheek and eyes just then, illuminating the faintest white and the deepest black.

Chu Susu turned around, finally having a chance to take a good look at her full face. Not the kind of stunning beauty that hit you at first glance, but bright-eyed and clean-featured, ethereal and pure.

She had a very obedient and delicate look, now shrinking timidly behind her.

Their eyes met, and the girl bit her lip before speaking, forcing a small smile: “Thanks… It’s all thanks to you…”

Her right hand subconsciously stroked her chest. Though her expression didn’t show much, it was clear the guy from earlier had scared her badly.

“You’re welcome.” Chu Susu naturally sat down with her at the spot. “Places like this are full of bad people. Next time, come with friends.”

The girl nodded obediently: “Mm… This is my first time here too.”

But then she looked a bit puzzled: “You’re not alone?”

Chu Susu grinned: “Nope.”

She pointed back with her hand—to the dance floor area. “My friend’s dancing over there.”

The girl’s long lashes fluttered, like ink-black butterfly wings.

Her eyes were too bright; even when the lights dimmed again, they couldn’t dim their glow. Chu Susu couldn’t help but stare intently for a moment.

The girl asked her: “Why aren’t you going?”

Chu Susu blinked and told the truth: “‘Cause I’m tired.”

Even so, the moment she saw this girl, her fatigue vanished, replaced by excitement.

Just then, the DJ switched to a new track, the opening drumbeat blasting and drowning out her voice. So the girl didn’t catch it: “Hm?”

Chu Susu’s mind whirred with a sudden impulse.

Her spaghetti strap clung to her shoulder and neck, slipping down a bit as she raised her hand slightly before settling at her collarbone.

She crooked a finger at her, beckoning her closer. And the girl obediently leaned in.

Chu Susu distinctly caught a faint fragrance but couldn’t tell if it came from the girl’s long hair or her neck.

Or perhaps deeper, from her neckline.

In the instant the drums paused, her lips hovered by the girl’s ear, inches away.

The distance could be measured in a single kiss.

They were so close that one breath could reveal the other’s heartbeat, yet there was no contact at all.

It had been a long time since she’d felt this indescribable sensation—and she quite liked it.

She swallowed the words the girl hadn’t heard, replacing them with something else. Her lips parted slightly: “Because of you.”

The faint brush of ear and temple lasted through those three words. The girl grew a bit awkward and quickly pulled back.

“Because of me?” Visibly, her cheeks flushed the slightest pink. She pursed her lips and whispered, “Because… you saw me being harassed?”

Chu Susu just smiled, leaving it there, and changed the subject: “You here to sketch?”

Her gaze fell on the paper and pen the girl still clutched tightly.

Few girls came alone to places like this; they usually came in groups—it wasn’t safe. Plus, this girl seemed especially quiet and refined, not the bold type at all.

“…Yeah.”

The girl seemed uneasy and proactively laid the sketchbook flat on the table. Chu Susu propped her chin, leaning in to look.

It was a scene of the bar.

Outlined in light pencil strokes, forming a rough framework. The bad lighting meant it was just a draft; it’d need more detailing later to become a full painting.

But even in this rough state, Chu Susu could tell the girl was no amateur. A few strokes brought the whole scene vividly to life, as if she could already imagine the stunning result once colored.

“I usually like sketching on location,” the girl explained stiffly, then said, “It’s a bit abrupt, but… can I draw you?”

Chu Susu raised a brow: “Can you even see clearly?”

Sketching in this environment must strain the eyes.

The girl nodded without care, retrieving her sketchbook and lowering her head to draw amid the flickering lights.

For some reason, Chu Susu could almost hear the soft scratch of the pen tip on paper through the deafening music.

The wait wasn’t boring or tedious; just staring at the girl’s hair was enough to pass the time.

In the blink of an eye, ten minutes passed. The girl lifted her palm-sized face and showed her the result.

It was a figure sketch, with clean and simple lines. A few sparse strokes outlined her countenance.

The person in the painting propped her chin with her hand, gazing over with a smiling expression, lively and vivid, just like Chu Susu’s current look.

“Here, for you.”

The girl gently tore the sheet from the notebook, then wrote today’s date in the bottom right corner.

July 20th.

“What’s your name…” she asked, clearly wanting to note the model’s name on the painting.

“Chu Susu. Chu as in the Chu from clothes, Su…”

Before Chu Susu could finish specifying which Su, she saw the girl smoothly finish writing and hand the paper to her.

“Chu Susu, right?”

Not a single character off.

With the slightly brighter light now, Chu Susu saw her own name and the girl’s signature written together in the bottom right corner. She couldn’t help reading it aloud:

“Han Xuan?”