Xia Zilu talked for a long time until her mouth went dry. Seeing that Chu Susu’s expression finally showed a hint of softening, she quickly struck while the iron was hot, trying to further amplify her suspicion toward Han Xuan.
“Susu, I know you hold a grudge against me for what I did to Pipi. I can’t forgive myself either.” Her sadness when mentioning this wasn’t feigned but came straight from the heart. “But how much better can someone like Han Xuan be than me? I don’t ask for your forgiveness. I just want you to see the true face of the people around you.”
Chu Susu pulled her thoughts away from the memory of that hickey, staring at Xia Zilu’s drooping mouth corners. She leaned against the wall, holding an e-cigarette in her hand and taking a puff.
Clearly, plenty of people had secretly smoked in this emergency stairwell before. It was already filled with an unpleasant smell, but the oolong tea-flavored vapor made it a bit fresher.
She asked with an amused smile, “You can’t forgive yourself?”
For no reason at all, Xia Zilu felt a pang of panic under her gaze. But she quickly remembered that before coming here, her best friend had specially warned her not to lose her composure, or she’d make a fool of herself in front of Chu Susu again.
“Of… of course!”
Chu Susu nodded and stood up. “Perfect, I can’t forgive you either. So no matter what you say today, I’ll just treat it as farting.”
She could tell the dejection on Xia Zilu’s face wasn’t fake, but even if it was dejection, it was because this incident had directly led to their breakup, not because of any guilt toward Pipi.
Some people never reflect on their own mistakes.
The photos were scattered all over the floor. Chu Susu didn’t even glance back, as if she hadn’t encountered Xia Zilu at all today, and just walked away.
Xia Zilu hurriedly reached out to grab her sleeve but caught nothing—her palm held only air.
She had come to drive a wedge between her and Han Xuan, which should have felt satisfying. So why did she feel even more upset right now?
Xia Zilu stood alone in the emergency stairwell, head bowed and tears falling. Her best friend’s encouraging words kept echoing in her mind.
It was fine. At least the photos had worked.
Since Han Xuan had been caught in those photos, she couldn’t possibly avoid slipping up. As long as Chu Susu grew suspicious of Han Xuan, she would definitely spot the obvious flaws.
She crouched down, picking up the photos one by one and stuffing them back into the envelope.
Chu Susu reunited with Han Xuan in the screening hall.
It turned out that with so many people earlier, they’d accidentally gotten separated. It had taken her a while to squeeze her way back in.
“Sorry.” Han Xuan apologized softly, her left hand touching her eyepatch as if it hurt a little. “The signal’s too weak; I can’t send the WeChat message.”
“What’s wrong? Are your eyes hurting?”
“It’s fine.”
Chu Susu glanced at her a couple more times, seeming like she wanted to say something, but in the end, she said nothing. She just stared at the black collar with lace edging on Han Xuan’s outfit, which hugged her fair neck so closely that the veins beneath her skin were clearly visible.
The spot where the hickey had appeared was now completely normal, as if it had never been there.
“What’s wrong?” Han Xuan felt shy under her stare and lowered her head slightly. “Is there something on my face?”
Chu Susu pursed her lips. “No, let’s keep watching.”
There were still many works in the exhibition worth appreciating, but from then on, the two became unusually silent. Han Xuan wasn’t talkative to begin with and only occasionally commented on a painting or two. Chu Susu just listened without offering her own opinions.
She was thinking about the photos Xia Zilu had brought.
Though she’d dismissed it all as “farting,” humans were creatures who believed what they saw with their own eyes. When evidence was laid out before her, even knowing what Xia Zilu was after, she couldn’t help but feel a slight shift in her perception of Han Xuan.
Was Han Xuan really that kind of person? She didn’t seem like it. Would a girl who was kept by someone need to go out looking for a job, even working part-time at a pet shop during holidays?
Her sugar daddy would have to be awfully stingy—not at all like someone who could afford a Porsche.
Moreover, when Han Xuan had lived at her place, that cautious, living-under-someone-else’s-roof demeanor wasn’t acted; it was clearly from real experience.
Chu Susu asked herself: Even if Han Xuan really had that kind of past, would she mind?
Not at all. After all, it was in the past. Her own romantic history was far richer than Han Xuan’s, so she didn’t care what had happened before.
Besides, they were just friends right now; she had no need to meddle so much. That could wait until their relationship progressed further.
The only thing Chu Susu cared about was that on National Day, Han Xuan had gone out to meet that woman, and that evening, the mark had appeared on her neck.
Then Han Xuan had told her it was from being bumped by the new Tibetan Mastiff at the pet shop. But was it really that coincidental?
A bump wound and a sucked hickey were very different, but the video wasn’t clear, and Chu Susu hadn’t had a chance to examine it closely.
The one thing she couldn’t tolerate was deception.
She didn’t want Han Xuan to have lied about this.
Right after Chu Susu left the emergency stairwell, Xia Zilu sent the digital versions of the photos to her email.
Li Le’er worked at a photography studio and knew a thing or two about photo editing, plus she was trustworthy. Chu Susu forwarded them to her casually and asked her to check if they’d been tampered with using software.
In just that short time, Chu Susu’s phone vibrated.
Li Le’er: “I was editing photos anyway, so I checked them for you. All originals.”
She’d only seen Han Xuan from afar once before and took a while to recognize her from the front-facing shot. “This is… your little lamb? And who’s the one driving the Porsche?”
This had to be some major gossip!
Chu Susu didn’t explain much and just replied briefly that she’d tell her later, then put her phone away.
A moment later, out of the blue, she asked, “Are you going to keep doing that part-time job at the pet shop afterward?”
Han Xuan’s train of thought while looking at the paintings was interrupted, but she didn’t get upset. She just thought for a moment. “Mm… probably.”
“Is the hourly pay there good?”
“It’s not about the money. I just genuinely like small animals.”
Indeed, the salary from their company was decent enough—pretty good for a fresh graduate.
If it were for extra income, there was no need for that kind of part-time work. For Han Xuan, something like drawing or graphic design would be much easier.
“Isn’t it tiring?”
“It’s okay.” Han Xuan smiled faintly. “Why the sudden question?”
“Nothing, I just suddenly remembered how you got injured by a pet last time. It seems really tough.”
Han Xuan let out an “oh.” “That? I almost forgot if you didn’t mention it. It’s nothing; the little Tibetan Mastiff was just too playful. It’s all better now.”
She said it so casually and naturally that Chu Susu almost believed her.
If not for the gust of wind that happened to blow as they left the exhibition hall, lifting Han Xuan’s long hair and revealing the skin at the back of her neck, she probably really would have believed it.
On that porcelain-white skin, right at the edge covered by her collar, there was another red mark.
This time, Chu Susu saw it clearly. It wasn’t bruising from a collision but the result of being pinched or sucked, causing subcutaneous bleeding.
The wind passed quickly, and Han Xuan smoothed her hair back down with her hand. Her silky, waterfall-like locks draped down once more.
“Want to grab some food?” She turned back with a smile, her eyes curving happily. “It’s still early…”
“No.”
Hearing such a firm refusal, Han Xuan’s eyes flashed with surprise. “Do you have plans later?”
“Yeah, I need to head back to the company to handle some stuff.”
“I can wait for you…”
Chu Susu reached out and patted her head, her voice gentle but her attitude resolute. “No need. I’ll probably be having a group dinner with the project team. Next time, okay?”
The sparkle in Han Xuan’s eyes faded instantly. She bit her lip, paused, then softly said, “Okay.”
“See you later.”
“Mm, okay. Bye.”
Han Xuan watched Chu Susu’s departing back with her exposed right eye, her expression pensive. She stood at the street corner for a bit, lost in thought.
Adults’ rejections were always silent. From that day on, Chu Susu became “busy.”
Han Xuan still brought her lunch every day at work, and she accepted it without fail. But whenever the other tried to probe or invite her out, she always had some excuse to decline.
“Sorry, got a meeting today.”
“Ah… I’ve already made plans.”
She did say yes occasionally, but the atmosphere between them had clearly changed from before.
It felt like they’d taken a step back, becoming more like ordinary friends.
Chu Susu didn’t mention the whole ordeal in their little group chat, only telling Li Le’er, who had helped verify the photos.
Li Le’er was shocked after hearing it all. “So she lied to you?”
Chu Susu: “Probably.”
Li Le’er: “I just don’t think the little lamb is that kind of person. Who still goes to work if they’re kept? Why don’t you just take the photos and ask her directly?”
Chu Susu: “No need.”
Perhaps because of that face, no matter what, she couldn’t bring herself to dislike Han Xuan or want to fall out with her.
Chu Susu hadn’t been through her circumstances, so she couldn’t judge her stance or choices.
She could confront Han Xuan with the photos, but what result would that bring? Humiliating this girl who’d suffered hardships since childhood?
No matter what Han Xuan had done, it probably wasn’t entirely by choice.
After all, some things simply couldn’t be faked—for instance, Han Xuan’s cautious and tentative attitude toward her, just like a child desperately trying to please an adult.
Deceiving her was probably just a way to keep Chu Susu from seeing the side of herself she didn’t want to reveal.
Meanwhile, tensions within the project team were growing ever tighter.
Ever since that robbery, Jack had become increasingly volatile, erupting in anger from time to time. He no longer resorted to passive-aggressive barbs but pointed right at people’s noses and berated them outright, leaving the interns in tears every single day.
But his outbursts changed nothing—the reality was that Rebecca was relying more and more on Chu Susu, and his title as the person in charge was starting to feel like an empty formality.
Take right now, for example: they needed to attend a small local media press conference, and the person Rebecca chose to bring along was Chu Susu, not him.
As the two of them headed downstairs together toward the company parking lot, Chu Susu could hear the other woman’s phone ringing nonstop.
For some reason, the ringtone seemed to have been switched back to another default one.
Rebecca silenced it without even glancing at the screen, then looked up and continued chatting amiably with Chu Susu about the matters ahead.
But her words suddenly caught in her throat, her eyes locking straight ahead.
Not far away stood a man, leaning against the door of a car as he fiddled with his phone.
And that car was Rebecca’s.
