Chapter 97: Jialuo

At the end of the year, everyone busied themselves without prior coordination, whether due to work or all sorts of other trivial matters piling up.

Chu Susu’s job involved dealing with clients, so when she got busy, it was even more terrifying—she barely had her feet touch the ground.

The date Han Yao had mentioned for the class reunion wasn’t very accurate; it was a busy period for everyone. After negotiations, it was set for Christmas Eve, which was a Saturday.

The problem was, Chu Susu had already booked a restaurant with Han Xuan in advance, planning to have Western food together.

Canceling a pre-planned arrangement didn’t sound great, but since graduating from high school, her classmates hadn’t gathered again.

The few friends she was close with back then had all left the Imperial Capital afterward, scattered to the four winds, only keeping in touch via WeChat.

Missing this opportunity would really be a pity.

In the end, Chu Susu decided on a compromise, pushing back the dinner time with Han Xuan a bit.

“Sorry, I have to have lunch with them first, then I’ll come find you afterward,” she said with a hint of apology. “But after that, we can go look at the night scenery.”

Around Christmas, many malls and plazas were decorated with a great festive atmosphere, not only featuring tall Christmas trees but also loads of decorations and scenes nearby for people to take photos and check in.

Since this holiday was prime time for couples to show up, the malls had put on plenty of events too—should be quite fun overall.

Actually, pairing it with such scenery, taking a boat to enjoy the views would be pretty nice, but unfortunately, the Imperial Capital wasn’t a coastal city, and Chu Susu was too swamped lately to run off elsewhere—a bit regrettable.

She could only wait until they had time later to go check out Magic City with Han Xuan.

Han Xuan wasn’t upset about the sudden change in plans and just smiled gently as always: “Mm, sure, no problem.”

She even considerately suggested, “If you’re too busy and can’t make it in time, we could celebrate New Year’s Eve together instead.”

“How could we do that?” Chu Susu shook her head in denial without even thinking.

In fact, the schedule was indeed a bit tight—lunch with classmates in the northwest of the Imperial Capital, then rushing back to the southeast side in the evening, which meant crossing the entire city. It wasn’t a small hassle.

But since she’d promised Han Xuan, she had to follow through.

Moreover, deep down, Chu Susu wanted to spend it with her too.

She wasn’t someone with much sense of ritual; in the past on days like this, she’d either go out with friends or stay home alone doing other things—rarely even remembering it was a holiday with special meaning.

But the moment she saw Han Xuan, Chu Susu couldn’t help but think: If not spending it with me, what would Han Xuan do?

Probably just staying alone in her studio, continuing to work on those unfinished oil paintings.

Chu Susu recalled that phrase she’d seen online before: When you like someone, you can’t help but feel sorry for them.

Even if the other person was a perfectly capable, normal adult, you’d worry if they could take care of themselves, if they were dressed warmly, if they were eating enough.

Even if they were just sitting there quietly doing nothing, if you liked them, you’d involuntarily feel a pang of heartache for them.

Chu Susu had thought about it for a long time; sometimes, she really did feel that way toward Han Xuan.

Even though Han Xuan had a bumpy family background, she’d lived healthily and smoothly up to now. Yet Chu Susu couldn’t stop worrying—knowing Han Xuan’s personality wasn’t great at dealing with people, she fretted that Han Xuan might feel lonely without company.

Then, in a daze, Chu Susu wondered: Could Han Xuan feel the same way about me?

She wouldn’t even mention how many meals Han Xuan had cooked for her; when staying over at her place, Han Xuan was always so attentive, taking on all the housework proactively.

Could it be… that she was “heart aching” for me too?

Whatever. Thinking this far, Chu Susu felt ashamed of her own thoughts.

Why overthink it? She’d find out on New Year’s Eve.

But there was one thing Chu Susu hadn’t anticipated.

She’d planned the entire date itinerary, even scripting her lines carefully, but she hadn’t foreseen—

That her relationship with Han Xuan would undergo an irreversible change before then.

The day of the class reunion was overcast, the usually clear sky devoid of sunlight, all blocked behind thick clouds.

When Chu Susu drove out, she felt inexplicably restless for no reason.

Especially when she reached a familiar intersection and found traffic inexplicably jammed, cars backed up at the light unable to move for ages.

The delay dragged on a bit long—so long that drivers started poking their heads out to exchange info.

Soon, someone couldn’t stand it and got out to check, returning after five minutes to explain to everyone: “There was a car accident up ahead. Really gruesome.”

Everyone was shocked: “Ah, a car accident? How did that happen?!”

According to that driver, it wasn’t two cars colliding; one car had lost control for some reason and slammed into the sidewalk nearby.

And there had been quite a few pedestrians passing by right then, unable to dodge in time—the consequences were imaginable.

“Drunk driving, probably,” everyone shook their heads and sighed. “What a sin!”

Even without seeing it herself, Chu Susu felt a chill in her heart. For some reason, closing her eyes conjured an image of a streak of crimson on the road.

And someone lying limp beside the car, motionless.

In the face of life and death, all words were powerless. Chu Susu didn’t join the discussions; once the police arrived to clear the traffic, she took another route straight to her destination.

Because of this delay, Chu Susu was late. She’d already told her classmates not to wait for her, so she sat in her car without rushing up, instead searching online news to see what had happened with that accident.

Something so shocking, happening in the Imperial Capital, naturally hit Weibo hot search quickly.

Chu Susu didn’t dare click on that video—its thumbnail alone screamed oppressiveness—and just skimmed the reports. After reading, she breathed a sigh of relief.

Fortunately, the text descriptions all said “injured,” and the injuries didn’t seem too severe; no one died on the spot.

As long as they were still alive, there was hope for recovery.

The shopping building in front of her had a big hotpot restaurant sign hanging high, bright red and very festive.

She glanced at it, her low mood lifting a bit. Just as she was about to get out and go upstairs, her phone rang.

Caller ID: “Qiao Qian.” She was finally reaching out proactively!

Chu Susu quickly picked up: “Hello, Qiao Qian?”

“It’s me, Susu.” Qiao Qian’s voice sounded fairly calm.

Chu Susu’s tone carried a bit of displeasure, mixed with plenty of concern and urgency: “Where have you been hiding these past days? Do you know how worried we’ve all been about you?”

Qiao Qian didn’t refute, just softly “mm”-ed: “Sorry for making you all worry.”

“Where are you right now? How are things? Have the usury lenders threatened you?”

Qiao Qian answered softly: “Don’t worry, I’m fine and safe. Really sorry for only contacting you now.”

From her tone, Chu Susu sensed something off—it wasn’t like the lively Qiao Qian they usually hung out with.

No longer chattering happily about fun things, but apologizing in a deadened, ashen way.

As if this were a final goodbye.

Chu Susu’s unease resurfaced, and she immediately frowned, pressing: “Where are you? I’ll come find you.”

“No rush. I still have some things to handle right now; I’ll contact Le’er and the others too. Let’s meet up tonight. I have some words for you—it won’t take long, just ten minutes.”

“Are you really okay right now?”

“Mm, really.”

Qiao Qian fluently gave an address—it was a place they used to frequent for meals: “Come find me here tonight, okay? I’ll tell you the exact time later.”

Chu Susu pondered for a moment, thinking that since Qiao Qian was reaching out voluntarily, she probably wouldn’t go radio silent again afterward. So she convinced herself to suppress that ominous feeling: “Alright, anyway, whatever it is, tell me anytime.”

“Mm, okay, bye-bye.”

“Bye-bye.”

Before hanging up, Qiao Qian said one last extremely soft sentence:

“Thank you, Susu.”

By the time Chu Susu went upstairs, the hotpot had already been going for a while.

Seeing her late, everyone teased and laughed: “What’s up? Putting on airs?”

It was a rare classmate gathering, so Chu Susu didn’t want to bring up the car accident and spoil the mood. She just smiled without rebutting.

There weren’t many students in their high school year; just two or three hundred per grade. Subtracting those out of town or unable to make it… only about thirty or forty showed up today.

Back in school, Chu Susu had been close with a few girls; they’d even made a little WeChat group to chat whenever.

So naturally, after arriving, she sat at their table.

The rising steam and spicy aroma of the hotpot let Chu Susu temporarily set aside her heavy mood, chatting and laughing with her high school classmates.

As they talked, the topic inevitably turned to her.

Chu Susu had been pretty flamboyant back in school, so all these classmates knew exactly about her sexual orientation.

With the three people around her on good terms with her, no one would inappropriately bring up topics like “husband” or “having kids.” Instead, they all winked and asked about her girlfriend.

Chu Susu gave a vague response without answering directly. “I have a date tonight.”

“Oh…” The girls immediately understood with unspoken agreement and began teasing her. “Christmas Eve—something good must be coming soon.”

The person sitting next to Chu Susu was called Chu Yuanxi. Back when they were in school, they were best friends—the kind who climbed over the walls to skip class together, copied each other’s homework, and even had families who knew one another.

After graduation, they didn’t stay in touch much and rarely met, but even so, their relationship never changed. After all, some bonds don’t need words to maintain.

Amid the bustling noise, Chu Susu sized up Chu Yuanxi’s face and suddenly let out a “tsk.”

Staring at the pretty face before her, she inexplicably recalled Han Xuan’s essay. Come to think of it, Chu Yuanxi pretty much fit those conditions: good-looking, decent grades, and a senior…

“…What are you doing?” This gaze gave Chu Yuanxi goosebumps all over. She raised a brow and asked.

“Nothing.”

Chu Susu naturally didn’t think the person Han Xuan was talking about was her—the odds were too low. But since it had come to mind, she casually asked, “Do you know if there’s someone like this at our school?”

She described those conditions and traits.

“Too vague, no clue. Plus, the people I know, you pretty much know too, right?” Chu Yuanxi thought for a moment and answered, somewhat puzzled. “You looking for this person?”

“Not really looking, just asking around.”

“What’s up?”

Since she asked, Chu Susu didn’t hide it. “Do you know Han Yao?”

This question made Chu Yuanxi immediately furrow her brows, her expression turning strange. “Of course.”

Chu Susu added, “Do you know her little sister? A few grades below us.”

“…”

Chu Yuanxi fell silent for a moment, her expression growing even more baffled. Only after a long pause did she speak.

“You mean Han Xuan?” Her tone was full of disbelief.

Chu Susu was even more surprised than her. “You know her?”

Chu Yuanxi blinked, completely bewildered. “What are you even talking about? How could I not know her?”

“You’re three grades above her—how do you know her? Are you close with Han Yao or something?”

“…Let me tell you, Eldest Miss Chu Susu, have you lost your memory or gone dumb?”

Chu Yuanxi tilted her head slightly, asking incredulously, “Back in school, wasn’t Han Xuan your little tag-along?”