That dream she was unwilling to mention to anyone, treating it only as a hallucination—her university girlfriend, bearing Han Xuan’s face, had carefully given her an identical pair of rings.
And now, it was right there on the Han Xuan in front of her.
This coincidence left Chu Susu momentarily unable to distinguish reality from dream. She stared blankly for a moment before asking, “Is this your ring?”
The words had barely left her mouth when she realized it was a stupid question. It was already on Han Xuan’s finger—whose else could it be?
So Chu Susu changed her tack. “Newly bought?”
Those hands that held brushes for painting had always been clean and unadorned by any accessories.
Han Xuan smiled at that, slowly turning the ring on her finger. Sunlight from the window glinted off its silver edge, casting a dazzling gleam. “Not new. It’s been a few years.”
“I never saw you wearing it before.”
“I’ve worn it once or twice occasionally,” Han Xuan said. “But it’s a small detail—you wouldn’t have noticed.”
Her tone was perfectly natural. Chu Susu thought about it and couldn’t help but let go of her doubts.
They said dreams were projections of the subconscious. Though she hadn’t noticed Han Xuan wearing this ring before, maybe her subconscious had played tricks in the dream?
But why had she imagined Han Xuan like that… similar to reality, yet not quite.
The plot was absurd, but it felt extraordinarily real—be it the dream heroine’s way of speaking and acting, or her appearance, they were all spot-on.
Chu Susu soon thought of another detail that convinced her. In the dream, Han Xuan’s eyes were brown, no different from an ordinary person’s.
But Han Xuan’s eyes were either their natural purple or covered by colored contacts—they were never brown.
Just like now. Chu Susu glanced at her eyes and saw pure, unblemished black. The contacts seemed to block out most of her emotions too.
“What’s wrong?” Han Xuan asked with some concern. “You look a bit distracted.”
Chu Susu naturally wouldn’t tell her about the dream—that would make her seem like a pervert. She smoothly changed the subject. “Nothing, just thinking about some things.”
“What things?”
“About Rebecca…”
Though the rumors had spread among colleagues and Han Xuan had probably heard them already, this was still the office. To avoid being overheard, Chu Susu was cautious and skipped Rebecca’s gossip, only mentioning summit matters.
“This summit she’s taking me to has me a bit uneasy,” Chu Susu sighed. This was true, with no pretense. “I just feel like I might not be up to it.”
She had squeezed in time during the meeting to check the materials Rebecca sent. They were in a field she’d never touched, with zero experience—and now she had to help Rebecca prepare a speech.
Time was tight; it was undoubtedly a tough job.
“Do you want to back out?” Han Xuan listened attentively and asked. “I imagine plenty of people are eyeing this opportunity. If you give it up voluntarily, there won’t be a shortage of replacements.”
“Of course not.”
Chu Susu was resolute, without a hint of hesitation. “I’m going.”
Han Xuan stared at her expression, blinked, then suddenly burst out laughing with a “pfft.”
Her reaction sparked an inexplicable embarrassment in Chu Susu. She suddenly felt her earlier words sounded a bit silly and muttered, “What’s so funny…”
“Nothing.” Han Xuan reined in her smile and said earnestly, “Facing difficulties head-on is admirable.”
“It’s not that ‘admirable’…”
“Come on, eat before it gets cold.”
—
The two chatted on, their conversation occasionally laced with laughter. With the office door closed, unless someone got too close, it was hard to hear clearly.
It was lunchtime now—everyone was either eating in the conference room or heading out for takeout—so no one passed by. Thus, no one noticed Rebecca leaning against the door, pressing her ear close to catch every word they said.
“Hmm…”
No one knew why Rebecca was eavesdropping on this idle chit-chat with no real substance. In any case, she pondered thoughtfully for a moment, her expression giving nothing away.
Before they finished lunch, she quietly slipped away, undetected by anyone that she’d been at Chu Susu’s office door.
—
Time flew by, and only two days remained before the summit.
Chu Susu actually didn’t like business trips. She had a little dog at home, and she worried about leaving it or boarding it at a pet shop or with friends.
Fortunately, she rarely traveled for work—less than once a year. This summit was just an unexpected task.
And Han Xuan was around too.
Not long ago, Han Xuan had passed her probation period with a nice pay bump, so she quit her weekend pet shop gig. The burden had lightened considerably.
This time, she offered to look after Pipi for Chu Susu, even suggesting bringing it back to her own place.
This piqued Chu Susu’s interest. Han Xuan had been to her place several times, but she’d never visited Han Xuan’s. She couldn’t help feeling curious.
Jokingly, she said, “When can I come over to your place for a free meal?”
Surprisingly, the usually agreeable Han Xuan demurred politely. “In a bit.”
“Hm? Why?”
“I’ve done some new oil paintings lately. The place is a mess while I figure out placement,” Han Xuan explained. “Come once it’s sorted.”
“Oil paintings? The big kind?”
Han Xuan smiled faintly. “Yeah, a few half-human height and full-human height ones. Some are half-finished; I’m agonizing over the coloring. I have a bit of OCD about this stuff.”
An art student’s obsession—Chu Susu got it and didn’t push. “Alright, next time then.”
—
The night before departure, Han Xuan took Pipi and its dog food home after work. While Chu Susu was packing at home, she suddenly got a video call.
It was a teary Li Le’er.
Chu Susu was used to her dramatic antics, so her reaction wasn’t big. “What now?”
Li Le’er didn’t speak, just wept profusely at the phone screen.
Chu Susu looked closely and realized something was off. Li Le’er usually fake-cried exaggeratedly, but now the tears were real, streaming nonstop.
“What exactly happened?”
After relentless questioning, Li Le’er finally sniffled out, “Just now, Zhou Xiaoying confessed to me, waaah, what do I do?!”
?!
That was shocking news indeed.
The group had hung out for years, and though Chu Susu had long noticed Zhou Xiaoying’s interest in Li Le’er, she hadn’t expected an actual confession.
After all, Li Le’er was as straight as they come. Loving her would lead nowhere.
“Just now?” Chu Susu asked puzzledly. “Under what circumstances?”
Li Le’er stared at her for a moment, then unusually shrewdly pieced it together. She gnashed her teeth. “You’re not surprised at all why she’d like me—you knew all along, didn’t you!”
“…” It was true; Chu Susu couldn’t deny it and stuck out her tongue. “But she confessed, so why are you crying?”
At that, Li Le’er grew even more upset, tears and snot flowing freely, image be damned. “She’s one of my best friends! If your best friend confessed to you, wouldn’t you be freaked out?”
Chu Susu paused. “You and Xiaoying are my best friends.”
Of course, there were a few close classmates from school—still dear to her heart, though they rarely talked now.
“…” Hearing that, Li Le’er shuddered in horror and abruptly stopped crying. “Don’t come near me—go find your Han Xuan! We would never confess to you.”
“…Even bawling your eyes out, you still ship CP?”
Through Li Le’er’s chaotic, chicken-flying-dog-jumping recounting, Chu Susu pieced together the story.
Li Le’er was a total face-con and flirt. Handsome guys made her legs weak. Lately, she’d met a guy things were going well with—almost official. But right then, Zhou Xiaoying confessed.
She said she couldn’t bear watching her date other guys without doing anything, so she laid her feelings bare.
Of course, she didn’t force Li Le’er to reciprocate—just expressed her heart.
Now Li Le’er was the troubled one. Stunned for ages, unable to accept her best friend had a crush on her, she rushed to seek advice from another good friend.
“What can you do?” Chu Susu sighed. “If you’re not into Xiaoying that way, just reject her straight up.”
Li Le’er pouted. “What if we can’t even be friends anymore?”
“You can’t agree just to keep the friendship—that’d be dishonest.”
“Right.” Li Le’er clutched her head and wailed. “I just don’t want to lose my good friend, waaah.”
No one else could advise on this; she had to sort it out herself.
Luckily, after crying it out, she calmed down. “Do you and Han Xuan ever worry about this? Once you confess, you might not stay friends.”
“Probably not,” Chu Susu said. “I quite like her. And I feel… she kinda likes me too.”
Some words couldn’t be hidden even if unspoken—they showed in the eyes.
“…You’re so narcissistic!”
“Just stating facts.”
Actually, before Li Le’er brought up “confession” as the standard couple procedure, Chu Susu hadn’t even thought in that direction.
How to put it—Han Xuan was different from ordinary people, after all, so her relationship with her, Chu Susu could never consider with common sense.
For instance, in a normal romance, if someone didn’t reply to messages for a day, one side would definitely get upset. But if it was the weakened Han Xuan after the full moon, it suddenly seemed perfectly reasonable.
…Though they hadn’t reached the dating stage yet. It would take a bit more time.
While lost in thought, Li Le’er suddenly cried out, then covered her face. “Fuck, fuck!!! So you two have already… wuu, the clown is actually me.”
“What did you say?” Chu Susu was baffled.
Li Le’er took a moment to calm down before extending a finger and jabbing hard at the screen. “Aiya! Right beside you!”
Chu Susu had been packing her luggage, sitting on the floor for the video call. Hearing this, she looked down—and her face instantly changed.
If not for the phone capturing it, she wouldn’t have noticed at all. Tucked away in the hidden corner under the bed was half a torn-open condom wrapper.
As if someone had forgotten to clean up the blind spot.
