What?
Chu Susu almost doubted her own ears—was she hearing things? But Chu Yuanxi was right beside her, so that was impossible.
She couldn’t help showing a bewildered expression. “What are you talking about?”
“…Ha?”
“I mean what you just said. What do you mean Han Xuan is my little follower? Explain it clearly.”
Chu Yuanxi looked utterly puzzled. “Isn’t it just the literal meaning? What’s there to explain? What’s wrong with you anyway?”
“I should be asking you that!”
The two of them raised their voices a little, which to outsiders looked like things were heating up. It drew gazes from several nearby classmates.
“Nothing to see here, just ignore them.” A classmate who knew the pair well waved it off casually. “These two have been like this since school—they bicker over nothing, but it’s always fine in the end. Don’t mind them, keep eating.”
The others finally looked away.
But Chu Susu had no attention to spare for that. Chu Yuanxi’s words hit her like a stone dropped into a stream, kicking up massive waves and throwing her heart into chaos.
“Come out with me for a sec,” she said in a low voice. “Let’s talk.”
There was a milk tea vending area outside the hotpot shop, much quieter. Without giving Chu Yuanxi a chance to argue, Chu Susu dragged her over there.
The moment they sat down, she blurted out, “What do you mean Han Xuan is my little follower?”
Chu Yuanxi’s little head was filled with giant question marks. She still had no idea why the other girl was so shocked. “…?”
She reached out and touched Chu Susu’s forehead. “Are you running a fever or something? Can’t understand Chinese anymore?”
Chu Susu slapped her hand away, her face full of anger and a hint of anxiety. “You’re not messing with me, are you? This isn’t funny at all.”
But even as she said it, doubt flickered in her heart. She knew Chu Yuanxi well—she wouldn’t just spout baseless nonsense out of nowhere.
“You really don’t remember?”
Chu Yuanxi didn’t get mad. She slowly withdrew her hand, looking thoughtful, then began explaining patiently. “I’m not joking. Back in school, everyone knew you had a little follower.”
She had transferred into their high school in the second semester of sophomore year, and she’d witnessed it firsthand right away.
No matter where Chu Susu went, there was always this skinny, short, utterly unremarkable little shadow trailing behind her, timidly calling her “Susu” or “Senior Sister.”
Sometimes, when Chu Yuanxi was doing homework with Chu Susu, the kid would silently tag along, quiet as a mouse, barely daring to look anyone in the eye.
Chu Yuanxi even shared a bunch of incredibly specific details. “So why are you asking me like that? There’s no way you’ve forgotten all about it.”
The flood of information left Chu Susu frozen in place. She subconsciously lowered her head slightly, her eyes fixed on the table between them as the stark white overwhelmed her thoughts.
Was it her memory that was wrong, or was Chu Yuanxi just talking nonsense?
“…Are you sure the person you’re talking about is Han Xuan?”
Her heart pounded like a drum. Her fingers flew across her phone screen as she pulled up a few photos and spread them out in front of Chu Yuanxi.
“Is it her?” Her voice was dry and raspy, repeating herself for confirmation. “This person?”
The name “Han Xuan” wasn’t exactly rare—there were tons of people online with the same name. Could Chu Yuanxi have mixed it up?
That desperate hope for an explanation spread through her heart. Chu Susu was practically praying inside that Chu Yuanxi would confirm her own speculation.
How could she have known Han Xuan over a decade ago, with the other girl as her “little follower”? Their first meeting was clearly in that dimly lit bar!
But after taking the phone and scrutinizing the screen for a moment, Chu Yuanxi gave a firm denial to that wish:
“Not a case of same name—it’s her.”
She zoomed in on the photo and pointed. “She looks different at first glance compared to back then, but her facial features are mostly the same. Just her skin’s a lot whiter now.”
“And the key traits haven’t changed—like the shape of her eyes, her face… and this.”
Chu Yuanxi pointed to the corner of the photo, where Han Xuan’s brushes and sketchbook were visible in front of her.
“Back when we were doing homework together, she didn’t have as much junior high homework, so she’d sit there drawing. Gotta say, she had real talent—I remember it clearly.”
“…Drawing?”
“Yeah. She’d whip out a portrait in under ten minutes. Her whole sketchbook was full of doodles.”
It was rare to see someone so obsessed with drawing in real life, so Chu Yuanxi would sometimes glance at Han Xuan’s open sketchbook too.
“If she’s still into drawing now, then it all lines up perfectly. No doubt—it’s the same person.” Chu Yuanxi thought for a moment. “But… you really don’t remember her?”
Chu Susu tugged at the corner of her mouth, dazed by the sudden revelation. Her emotions churned in a messy tangle as she forced a stiff smile.
“If I told you,” she said softly, “that in my memory, I only met her for the first time a few months ago—would you believe me?”
Chu Yuanxi shot it down immediately. “Impossible.”
Her speech slowed. “Besides, back then, it seemed like you and her…”
She said it quietly, but Chu Susu—whose mind was already in total disarray—didn’t catch it. She shot to her feet and turned. “Wait here for me, okay? I’ll be right back.”
She hurried back into the hotpot shop and plopped down in her seat.
The others looked surprised. “Where’s Yuanxi? Did you two actually fight?”
“No.” Chu Susu forced her expression to look somewhat normal. “Can I ask you guys something? Do you remember Han Yao? She didn’t come today.”
They exchanged glances. “Of course. You were just asking about her on WeChat not long ago—we all remember. What’s up?”
“…Right.” In her haste, Chu Susu had almost forgotten that. “Do you know about her little sister?”
The question made the girls pause in thought. One of them recalled, “Yeah, I heard from a coworker—there’s a rumor in the industry that Fucheng has an illegitimate daughter. But no one’s ever seen her.”
“You’ve never seen her?”
“Of course not. Who do you think I am?” The girl sighed. “I’m no bigwig. I don’t know the dirty secrets of those wealthy clans.”
“Have you ever heard the name ‘Han Xuan’?”
They all looked at each other and shook their heads. “Nope.”
“Never heard of her.”
“Hey, same surname as Han—could she be that illegitimate daughter?”
Someone caught on. They’d all been in the workforce for a few years, with more or less dealings with Fucheng or its subsidiaries, so they were always hungry for elite family gossip. “Susu, did you hear something? Spill the tea!”
Under their gazes, Chu Susu felt a chill sweep over her, like she’d fallen into an ice cave.
“Nothing.” She moved her lips, at a loss for words. “Nothing at all.”
Then, under their puzzled stares, she abruptly stood up again.
“What’s wrong, Susu?” they asked with concern. “Your face looks awful. You okay?”
But Chu Susu just choked up, saying nothing.
She fled back to the milk tea area like she was running for her life and looked toward Chu Yuanxi, who was staring at her. Her face was deathly pale.
“What the hell is wrong with you?” Chu Yuanxi frowned. “You’ve been acting all weird since earlier. What happened?”
Leaning against the edge of the chair back, Chu Susu felt the world spinning, her mind a foggy mess, not even sure what she was thinking anymore.
“I…” she said woodenly, “I really only met Han Xuan for the first time a few months ago. I just went back and asked the others—no one remembers her.”
Chu Yuanxi naturally shook her head in rebuttal. “That can’t be…”
“Let me finish. You pretty much stopped coming to school in the second half of your senior year, right? Am I correct?”
A lot of seniors got school approval to study at home full-time—no more attending classes, just private tutoring.
“Yeah.”
“There you go,” Chu Susu murmured.
It all made sense now.
Why only Chu Yuanxi remembered Han Xuan? Because out of everyone in their class, she was the only one absent from school during that time.
How had she not realized what was going on?
Assuming Chu Susu had indeed known Han Xuan back then—
If Han Xuan had, for whatever reason, erased everyone’s memories of her right around senior year, she’d have missed Chu Yuanxi.
The mall’s heating was cranked up high, every inch of skin warm and toasty, but Chu Susu felt ice-cold from her fingertips straight to her heart.
A faint headache crept in. Unconsciously, she pressed her knuckles to her temple.
The moment Chu Yuanxi said “little follower,” it was like an invisible key unlocked a long-sealed door in Chu Susu’s mind, letting a torrent of past memories pour out.
Vague fragments and scenes flashed before her eyes—times shrouded in mist finally parting to reveal the truth.
“…You okay?”
Chu Yuanxi watched her pained expression. Though still clueless, she softened her tone to avoid agitating her further. “What is it?”
She leaned in with concern, but froze the instant the other girl looked up.
Because Chu Susu’s eyes were already brimming with tears, on the verge of spilling over in the next moment.
But she didn’t cry, nor did she answer Chu Yuanxi’s question. Instead, she first wiped her face messily, not caring if it might smear dirt on herself.
Then, with slightly trembling hands, she unlocked her phone and dialed a number from her contacts.
She had to see Han Xuan right now.
“Du… du…”
Unfortunately, no one picked up the call, and the WeChat message she sent got no reply.
“Hey, don’t just stay silent.” Chu Yuanxi saw her complexion worsening and couldn’t help saying, “What on earth happened?”
In her impression, the other party had always been dauntless toward both heaven and earth—how could she show such a fragile demeanor now?
Chu Susu gripped her phone tightly and shook her head.
“Something urgent came up, and I need to head out.” She said, “Please help me apologize to the other classmates.”
She didn’t know where Han Xuan was right now, but she knew Han Yao’s home address.
It was a desperate remedy in desperate times, but Chu Susu’s sole thought was that she needed someone at this moment to unravel all these clouds of doubt.
She recalled Han Yao’s familiar tone when they met in Jiang City.
“We’re old classmates, yet you don’t remember me at all?”
“Don’t you feel like I treat you like one of our own?”
“I know you’re great at games—teach me, will you?”
…
Yet before this, her impression of Han Yao had been a complete blank.
So everything had traces to follow from the very beginning.
