Bland?
The word made Chu Susu slowly lock her phone screen and cast a cold, icy gaze over. In her mind, she mocked: Was Kong Zhizhen using this word to describe Han Xuan?
Even judging purely by appearances, it did seem that way.
After all, Han Xuan had a refined and delicate look—neither flashy nor glamorous. Her brows and eyes exuded an air of pure innocence and harmlessness, bland as a bowl of plain noodles.
Not the type of stunning beauty that left a deep impression at first glance, but comfortable and pleasant to look at over time.
But Chu Susu knew Kong Zhizhen was dead wrong. After all, Han Xuan was far more than what she appeared on the surface.
—Eyes reflecting the purple clouds filling the sky, misty vapors swirling within. Thick bangs parted by the wind, revealing a smooth forehead and those sharp, unveiled eyes. In the span of a flick of the fingers, she could take a life.
Fearsome, yet impossible to look away from, all while softly calling her name.
Chu Susu was the only one who had witnessed such a scene.
On top of that, Kong Zhizhen’s attitude rubbed her the wrong way.
Were they that close? On what grounds did this woman just barge in and point fingers? And even if she really was bland, so what? Different strokes for different folks—she just happened to like this gentle, harmless type.
Chu Susu turned to Kong Zhizhen, her expression impeccably polite. “Want to grab some drinks from the self-serve station?”
Her temper wasn’t the best. If it were anyone else, she would’ve snapped already. But that earlier comment had come via WeChat from Kong Zhizhen, and Han Xuan had been focused on grilling the meat without seeing it.
So Chu Susu had no intention of calling it out publicly, lest Han Xuan overhear others’ opinions of her and feel down.
Better for her to address it privately.
“Sure.” Kong Zhizhen agreed readily.
Chu Susu turned her head and asked Han Xuan warmly, “What do you want to drink? I’ll get it for you.”
“Half a cup of milk is fine. Thanks, Susu.”
As Han Xuan answered, she clipped up the grilled meat, cut it into small pieces, and evenly distributed them into the three plates, seemingly oblivious to what had just happened.
The two walked one after the other toward the self-serve drink machine. Kong Zhizhen was just about to say something when Chu Susu beat her to it. “What did you mean by that earlier?”
Her voice was soft, but her bright face showed no warmth—cold as frost.
They happened to pass through a dimly lit spot. Kong Zhizhen blinked, mouth slightly agape. “Ah, you’re mad?”
“I thought not casually judging someone you just met was basic etiquette.” Chu Susu said coolly, pulling two cups from under the counter. “What Han Xuan is like has nothing to do with anyone else.”
The milk had just run out. The server apologized and said to wait a minute for a fresh batch.
The two stood by the machine, waiting briefly.
Hearing this, Kong Zhizhen seemed to realize her rudeness and apologized straightforwardly again. “Sorry, I must’ve lost my head earlier to say that. But…”
“But what?”
“But I really was blinded by jealousy, you know? Otherwise, why would I say something like that?”
Kong Zhizhen sighed, her cat-eye manicured nails brushing her face, sparkling brightly.
“I believe in fate a lot. Last time at the music festival, and now this—we’ve run into each other twice. I feel like we must be pretty fated. So I was thinking of asking you out again… but you already had company.”
Her tone carried a hint of grievance.
“How far along are you two? You don’t look like you’re dating yet, right? Otherwise, you’d have told me earlier that was your girlfriend.”
She wasn’t wrong on that point. Since they weren’t girlfriends yet, the introduction had only been by name.
Chu Susu didn’t refute it, just lifted her eyes to her. “Regardless, that’s no excuse for what you said. And I do have company—I can’t accept your invitation.”
Kong Zhizhen nodded in dejected acknowledgment. “I figured. But honestly, I never imagined you’d go for a girl like a little lamb.”
Be it looks or personality, she and Han Xuan were polar opposites—one reserved and subtle, the other confident and unrestrained. It was normal they couldn’t understand each other.
“No matter why you said it, it made me unhappy. So… Miss Kong, why don’t you go back and eat with your friends after this.”
Chu Susu spoke decisively—it was a notification, not a discussion. No room left for salvaging.
Kong Zhizhen showed a disappointed look.
“Alright, sorry.” But in moments, she composed herself and looked squarely at Chu Susu. “Then I won’t bother you anymore later, but can you answer one question?”
Just then, the server arrived with a large tub of fresh milk, pouring it gurgling into the machine.
“What question?”
“If you didn’t have company and weren’t on your period, would you say yes to me?”
Chu Susu filled half a cup with milk and shook her head without turning back. “Sorry, that’s not a hypothetical I can entertain.”
“…Alright, I get it.”
But Chu Susu thought there was one thing she could be sure of.
If Han Xuan had propositioned her for a 419 on their first meeting, she might’ve said yes.
After all, that was her favorite face.
Provided Han Xuan topped—otherwise, no deal.
As they carried the drinks back, Chu Susu noticed full plates of meat piled in front of both her and Kong Zhizhen.
“Why’d it take so long?” Han Xuan lifted her sparkling eyes and asked.
Chu Susu simply explained that the machine had been out of milk, then shot Kong Zhizhen a “time to leave” look.
But the other woman helplessly pointed her chopsticks at her plate—meaning Han Xuan had grilled so much, she couldn’t just leave without eating any, right?
“Thanks for grilling so much for me.” Kong Zhizhen said through a mouthful, mumbling unclearly. “Let me treat you both to this meal.”
Chu Susu was about to say “no need” when Kong Zhizhen waved her fork as if anticipating it. “No need to be polite—we’re all friends, right?”
At the same time, her phone screen lit up again.
Kong Zhizhen: “Just consider it my apology for earlier. Don’t take it to heart.”
Han Xuan smiled too, unexpectedly not refusing. Instead, she gently tugged Chu Susu’s sleeve. “Since Miss Kong insists, shall we let her?”
She had just taken a sip of milk, a shiny white rim lingering on her lips like a kid sneaking adult makeup—unexpectedly adorable.
“…Mm.”
Seeing this, Chu Susu didn’t push back further, or it’d seem deliberate.
Han Xuan set down her chopsticks after a few bites, her appetite apparently small. She stopped grilling too and finally started eating.
“Right, when did you and Susu meet, Miss Kong?”
“Just a few months ago—normal.” Kong Zhizhen said casually. “And you two?”
“Not long.” Han Xuan smiled faintly, without specifics.
“How’d you meet?”
“We’re colleagues.”
Kong Zhizhen “oh”ed. “That’s nice then—you get to see each other every day.”
Watching the two chat again—not super engaged, but trading words back and forth—stirred an inexplicable feeling in Chu Susu.
For some reason, she felt it wasn’t good to let Kong Zhizhen stick around longer.
Maybe it was because of that “Hunter” incident today making her a bit sensitive.
Chu Susu was just about to subtly kick Kong Zhizhen under the table with her booted foot to signal her to leave when she kicked empty air.
—Because Kong Zhizhen’s chair suddenly toppled backward without warning. Before anyone could react, she fell flat on her back, sprawled awkwardly on the floor, her skirt nearly flipping up.
“Ah!”
She let out a pained cry. A passing server panicked, set down what they were holding, and hurried to help her up. “Miss, are you okay?”
“My foot…”
Kong Zhizhen’s face twisted in pain as she hissed, clearly hurt bad. “My foot—I can’t move it at all now.”
Flat shoes might not have been so bad, but with heels, it was easy to twist—and this was a full-on tumble.
The commotion was huge. Her friends at the other table dropped their utensils and rushed over.
Instantly, their table was surrounded, packed tight.
“What happened? Tripped on flat ground?” a friend asked anxiously. “Where? Ankle or ligament?”
Kong Zhizhen’s brows knotted like twisted dough. “I don’t know—it just hurts like hell.”
Everyone had seen clearly: Han Xuan and Chu Susu at the table were some distance away—no one had touched her.
But how does someone just fall while sitting there doing nothing?
One of her friends righted the chair and inspected it closely. “Looks like one of the legs snapped.”
The nearby servers crowding over were stunned. They knew a young girl like Kong Zhizhen wouldn’t weigh enough to break a chair—it had to be a fault with the restaurant’s furniture. Full liability on the house.
Who knew how much compensation it’d cost? The on-duty staff might even have to cover losses for not spotting the bad leg…
And with all these guests watching, if someone filmed and posted online, it’d blow up worse.
“Sorry, miss.”
The servers were as anxious as ants on a hot pan. Some pulled out their phones to call the manager, while others hurriedly bowed to Kong Zhizhen in apology. “We’ll send you to the hospital right now. We’re very close to People’s Hospital here.”
The top priority was still getting her to the hospital. As long as she was fine, everyone would be okay.
With so many of them, they swiftly and efficiently helped Kong Zhizhen away.
She didn’t have time for a proper goodbye with Chu Susu and Han Xuan, only managing a bitter smile and a wave at them before heading out.
A long moment passed, and the surroundings fell empty and silent once more.
—
Throughout everything that had just happened, Han Xuan had watched on with a calm expression the entire time, showing no real fluctuations or changes.
Now, she placed the ingredients back on the grill, carefully flipping them over before putting some perfectly tender slices of meat into Chu Susu’s plate.
“How come you’re not eating?”
Han Xuan pursed her lips in a smile. Seeing that she hadn’t touched it, she asked, “Is the pork belly a bit greasy? Then let me eat it. I’ll grill some beef for you later.”
Clang! The silver chopsticks suddenly clattered against the edge of the plate, making a sharp sound.
Chu Susu fell silent for a moment. A trace of uncertainty and doubt flickered in her upturned eyes, invisibly pushing Han Xuan a little further away.
“Is it you?” she asked gravely.
The red at the corner of her eye seemed to frost over in that instant, abruptly carving a chasm between them—not too far, yet not too close.
“Hm?” Han Xuan softly countered. “What do you mean, ‘it is me’?”
“Kong Zhizhen’s chair.”
