When Chu Susu entered, she was sitting behind the desk, flashing an elegant and poised smile as she propped her chin on her wrist. “Have a seat.”
It was as if the person who had been suppressing her anger just moments ago wasn’t her at all.
Of course, Chu Susu wasn’t so tactless as to bring it up. She handed over the documents with a composed expression. They discussed the contents briefly, and just as Rebecca picked up her pen, her phone rang again.
The ringtone wasn’t the familiar “S.mile,” but the phone’s default one.
She glanced at the caller ID, then flipped the phone over, screen down, and hit end call and silence.
Pretending not to notice the icy look in Rebecca’s eyes as she stared at the incoming call, Chu Susu casually asked something to lighten the mood. “You changed your ringtone?”
Rebecca paused, then nodded, but didn’t smile again.
“Even the favorite song gets old after a while,” she said lightly. “Better to switch it out before that happens.”
Chu Susu figured the real reason was that Rebecca hated the harassing caller so much she didn’t want to ruin the song for herself.
She nodded at her, about to leave, when Rebecca called her back.
“By the way.” She opened a drawer and pulled out something carefully wrapped in a transparent document sleeve, perfectly flat. “I’ve got two tickets to an Impressionist exhibition tomorrow at three in the afternoon. Something came up, so I can’t go. If you’re interested, take a friend.”
You couldn’t just accept a gift from your boss outright, so Chu Susu started to decline, but Rebecca cut in. “They’re not worth much. I just don’t want them to go to waste.”
“Then I won’t stand on ceremony,” she said with a smile. “Thank you.”
As Chu Susu reached the door, Rebecca suddenly said something pointed:
“The new art girl we hired should be interested in the exhibition too.”
In fact, the moment she heard “exhibition,” Han Xuan’s face had popped into Chu Susu’s mind. Her friends wouldn’t get it—even if you put world-famous originals in front of them, it’d be like playing the lute to a cow.
During the National Day holiday, Han Xuan wasn’t at the office, so Chu Susu snapped a photo of the tickets and sent it via WeChat.
A moment later, the reply came: “Tomorrow?”
Chu Susu: “Yeah.”
Han Xuan: “Okay.”
For some reason—maybe her sixth sense kicking in—Chu Susu felt that “okay” wasn’t as straightforward as it seemed.
She asked, “Did you have plans?”
Han Xuan: “No. Where do we meet?”
So Chu Susu set the time and place: two-thirty, at a coffee shop next to the exhibition.
Han Xuan arrived early. When Chu Susu walked in looking for her, all she saw was a black-skirted back in the corner, nearly blending into her long hair.
Han Xuan always wore black skirts, each with different cuts and styles, but each uniquely her own. Chu Susu couldn’t help marveling at how she managed to collect so many pure black skirts.
The sun was out that afternoon, making it a bit warm, so the coffee shop had the AC on.
The toe of Han Xuan’s boot tapped lightly on the floor, almost imperceptibly, until she heard the sound and turned her head.
That’s when Chu Susu noticed the single black cloth eyepatch covering her left eye completely.
For a split second, in the light from the window, she almost thought it was a dark shadow under Han Xuan’s hair, black as ink.
“What happened to your eye?” She sat down, frowning.
Han Xuan’s fingers brushed the eyepatch, her voice soft. “Allergic reaction. Got a stye.”
Pet shops were full of cat and dog hair. Even if she wasn’t usually allergic, accidental contact near the eyes could cause inflammation.
Han Xuan hadn’t mentioned it before, and Chu Susu hadn’t expected it. She should’ve picked somewhere else. “Need to see a doctor?”
“Already did. It’s nothing serious.”
As if reading her mind, Han Xuan gave a faint smile. “They’ve got original Manets at today’s exhibition. I really want to see them.”
Chu Susu picked up the coffee Han Xuan had bought her and took a sip.
“Can you drink it?” Han Xuan asked.
Chu Susu smiled, a hint of surprise in her eyes.
Sometimes she really felt like Han Xuan was a worm in her belly. Whether it was because their tastes matched perfectly or Han Xuan just observed her closely enough to guess, every time it hit the mark.
Those meals at her place, and this coffee today—all precisely matched her preferences.
Iced mocha, no sugar. It was the only thing she ever drank.
“How’d you know I like this?” she said with a grin. “Did I tell you?”
Chu Susu was just joking, but Han Xuan nodded seriously. “Yeah.”
“Huh?”
“When you came in for the interview, you were holding a coffee. The label was big—iced mocha, no sugar.”
Chu Susu opened her mouth. “That long ago, and you remember?”
The crowds outside were picking up, forming a long line at the museum entrance for ticket checks.
“Shall we?” Han Xuan smiled brightly. “Go line up.”
They joined the queue and got in after about fifteen minutes.
The exhibition was packed with originals, so it was insanely popular. Glancing around, Chu Susu saw plenty of artsy types clustered around the paintings, snapping photos.
Shoulder to shoulder in the crowd, they had no choice but to go with the flow, viewing each piece in turn.
The label read the artist’s name—Edouard Manet.
To avoid getting separated, they stuck close, shoulders brushing. Han Xuan suddenly asked, “Do you know this painter?”
“Nope.” Chu Susu shook her head honestly.
“Manet and Monet sound almost the same in Chinese, just one character off, but they’re different painters…”
When Han Xuan saw the paintings, her visible right eye lit up, and she softly explained the artists’ lives and the backgrounds of the works to Chu Susu.
She wasn’t all that interested, but Han Xuan’s voice was light and gentle, pleasant in her ear.
Further ahead was a screening area with a big screen playing a promo video made by the organizers—some quick facts.
Chu Susu and Han Xuan stood in a corner to watch. The lights dimmed, and a soothing voiceover filled the room.
The video was about three minutes long. At the end, as she turned to go forward with Han Xuan, she realized the spot beside her was empty.
Had she gotten swept away by the crowd?
Chu Susu scanned around but couldn’t spot Han Xuan.
The women’s restroom was nearby. She sent a WeChat while heading over to check if Han Xuan was in there.
Next to the restroom was an emergency exit, its sign glowing faintly green, a wisp of smoke scent drifting from the door crack.
Chu Susu peeked in the restroom—no one. As she turned to leave, a voice called: “Susu.”
She turned and saw someone at the emergency exit.
Recognizing who it was, Chu Susu’s eyes turned cold in an instant, her disgust plain as day, no holding back. “Why are you here?”
She’d thought she’d never see this person again.
Xia Zilu.
The other woman didn’t speak, just walked closer slowly. That’s when Chu Susu noticed she was clutching something—a manila envelope stuffed thick with pages.
Her sudden appearance here clearly wasn’t coincidence. But Rebecca had given her the tickets just yesterday, and deciding to come with Han Xuan had been spur-of-the-moment.
“Were you following me?”
After days apart, Xia Zilu’s usual flamboyance was gone, toned down. No more of her favorite heels.
Even under Chu Susu’s barrage of questions, she didn’t rush to defend herself. She just lowered her head and said softly, “I have something for you.”
Chu Susu had no patience for her nonsense and turned to leave, but Xia Zilu added, “It’s about Han Xuan.”
Her steps halted.
Seeing she’d hooked her, Xia Zilu pressed on. “Aren’t you curious about her past?”
She watched as Chu Susu slowly turned, thinking her words had worked.
But Chu Susu just sneered. “What’s it to you about me and her? Your reach is getting way too long.”
She could guess what was coming—probably those university stories about Han Xuan.
At that, Xia Zilu paled, desperately telling herself not to lose it.
Their relationship was already at rock bottom. If she wasn’t rational this time, there’d be no coming back.
“Han Xuan isn’t as pure as she seems. She’s done all sorts of shady things behind the scenes,” she said urgently. “Susu, even if we have no chance, I don’t want you fooled by a woman like that.”
Chu Susu stared at her, lost in thought for a moment.
Truth be told, she’d liked Xia Zilu at first. Even with the occasional princess syndrome, she’d just seen it as a bit of spice in life.
Chu Susu didn’t forget that when she had the flu and a fever, Xia Zilu—who had never lifted a finger to do housework since childhood—nervously kept watch by her bedside, serving her tea and water. That sincerity wasn’t fake.
They had once been the best of friends, but unfortunately, people change.
Now, she looked at Xia Zilu’s gritted-teeth face. Beneath her twisted expression, the sparkle in her eyes had vanished completely. There was no longer even a trace of that innocent little girl from before.
“Susu!”
Seeing her about to leave, Xia Zilu couldn’t help calling out. Her voice was loud enough to draw the attention of quite a few people coming out of the women’s restroom.
She hurried forward, reaching out as if to grab Chu Susu’s arm, only to let her hand drop dejectedly. In the end, from slightly behind and to the side, she spoke up with a hint of hatred:
“Do you know? Back in high school, Han Xuan was already being kept as a mistress. I have proof.”
Chu Susu turned her gaze slightly.
Seeing the sudden confusion in the other’s eyes, Xia Zilu’s lips curved into a smug smile. Her heart filled with the thrill of revenge, she continued:
“It’s not just high school—it’s gone on through university, right up to graduation, and it still hasn’t stopped.
“Do you really think she’s as pure and innocent as she seems? Wake up. Girls from poor families will do anything to climb the social ladder.”
