This guy is super lazy, didn’t leave a single thing behind.
SpongeBob who’s afraid of water【Bio】: People need four hugs a day just to survive 0.0.
–
On the night of Valentine’s Day, February 14th, Cui Qijin tapped open her phone screen. Chengdu’s weather forecast for the day read: cloudy in the daytime, overcast at night.
By meteorological standards, cloudy skies fell somewhere between clear and overcast, with cloud cover ranging from forty to eighty percent. Anything more than that got classified as overcast.
It was Cui Qijin’s twenty-sixth birthday. It felt as if the daytime clouds had parted, only to gather again that night into something thicker, more chaotic.
This night was overcast.
Up until this overcast night, she had known Ran Yan and Chen Wenran for eight years, and Chi Buyu for eleven.
This was the first time she had ever mentioned her romantic history to these three. The first time she had pushed those clouds aside.
Suddenly, she wanted to check Sandy’s social feed.
She wondered how the signboard at Love Weather Forecast Tavern would phrase today’s forecast.
But she didn’t get the chance to look.
“Ordinary Friends” reached its finale once more, and the Bluetooth speaker switched to the Twins belting out a song she didn’t recognize. The Brazilian turtle trying to escape its glass tank had flipped onto its back in a spectacular flop and couldn’t right itself for the moment. Chen Wenran swallowed the last candied orange segment and locked eyes with Ran Yan for a long beat before letting out a sharp, explosive screech.
“Holy crap, you’ve actually dated someone?!”
Cui Qijin slowly lifted her eyelids.
Before her rippled the abundant blue waves, and across the table sat Chi Buyu.
She couldn’t quite read Chi Buyu’s expression.
She only caught the unusually dazed look in those pale, hazy pupils tonight, and how those lashes trembled as they dropped the instant Chi Buyu noticed her gaze. Then Chi Buyu snatched the glass to her right and chugged a mouthful.
It looked like disbelief, through and through.
Even after that gulp, Chi Buyu took another, leaving a sheen of water on her lips and her mouth pressed into a straight line. Until Ran Yan grabbed her wrist to stop her, offering a friendly reminder.
“Hey, Shuishui, wrong glass. That’s the Baileys I just mixed.”
“Huh?”
Chi Buyu set the glass down in a daze. She peered at the milky liquid inside, stared for a half-second, rubbed the rim with her fingertip, pursed her lips, and muttered,
“Oh yeah, my bad. Got the wrong one.”
She moved to hand it back to Ran Yan, but smacked her lips instead. “Kinda tasty, though. Sweet, like milk tea.”
“I added a splash of oolong tea. If you want it, it’s yours—I haven’t tried it yet anyway.”
Ran Yan spoke up, then picked up the glass to check the level just to be sure. Not much left, so she topped it off with more oolong tea before handing it back contentedly, adding,
“But your tolerance sucks, so go easy.”
Sucks was putting it mildly.
Cui Qijin thought. Baileys was a liqueur meant for mixing with drinks anyway, and diluting it further with oolong tea should keep the alcohol content low. It probably wouldn’t hit like that legendary one-shot Irish Mist from the other night.
Chi Buyu nodded agreeably, like a clever capybara. Here’s hoping she wouldn’t turn into a drunken one.
Snap—
Chen Wenran snapped her fingers right in front of Cui Qijin’s face.
Cui Qijin glanced at Chen Wenran and heard the lingering incredulity in her voice.
“You’ve seriously dated? You? Cui Qijin? You’ve been preaching solo life for how long? You’ve seriously dated?”
The spotlight swung back to Cui Qijin.
She rose smoothly, circled around the table to face away from the trio, switched off the blue ambient light, and flicked on a warm yellow pendant lamp—not too harsh, not too dim.
Then she stepped over to the fish tank, righted the upside-down Brazilian turtle, and returned to her seat at the table.
The whole process was unhurried. At the end, she remarked offhandedly,
“Is that so weird?”
She didn’t look at Chi Buyu, but she knew Chi Buyu was watching her. Maybe with the same shock as Ran Yan and Chen Wenran, or perhaps the disorientation of night blindness readjusting to the light—or just Chi Buyu’s default mode:
Slow to react, straightforward, with a habit of staring right into people’s eyes while they talked.
“Of course it’s weird!”
Chen Wenran burst out. “We’ve known each other seven or eight years at least, right? Back in the day, you’d clam up whenever we talked about this stuff. If we hadn’t all busted out in UNO tonight, were you planning to stay zipped forever while the three of us spilled our hearts out over our love disasters?”
“Come on, spill. What happened?”
Of the three, Chen Wenran was by far the most floored. Ran Yan got over her surprise quicker and busied herself telling Chi Buyu to sip slower, squeezing in a jab at Chen Wenran during a pause.
“You’re that curious—did you have a crush on Cui Qijin back in the day or what?”
Chen Wenran bared her teeth in a grimace. “Pfft, no way. It’s different, okay? Me and Cui Qijin roomed together all four years of college, and after graduation we’ve been through thick and thin. She never breathed a word to me. Doesn’t that seem off?”
Ran Yan opened her mouth to fire back. But Chen Wenran barreled on at warp speed. “What if Shuishui just now told you her online fling had more drama after? What would you say?”
“No way!”
Chi Buyu jumped in with a shout, her cheeks flushed rosy. “You two argue all you want, but why drag me into it?”
Ran Yan had nothing left to say. “What a mess!”
Chen Wenran cupped her fists in apology to Chi Buyu. “Just a hypothetical, that’s all.”
She wheeled back to Cui Qijin. “So, what went down with that relationship of yours?”
Cui Qijin figured she ought to glance at Chi Buyu right about now—a perfectly natural glance. So she did. And found Chi Buyu gazing right back at her, pretty flushed patches blooming across her cheeks and the bridge of her nose.
The blue ambient light was off.
But Chi Buyu’s gaze still slipped away like an elusive tropical fish—impossible to catch, impossible to dodge.
Not until they both looked away.
Cui Qijin tilted her chin up and shuffled the truth-or-dare card she’d pulled back into the deck. “Beat me first.”
Chen Wenran rolled up her sleeves, striking the pose of a squad leader rallying her operatives.
“Just you wait! Tonight, we’re wiping the floor with you!”
Such boasts rarely came true. Tonight was no exception. Cui Qijin didn’t lose a single round after that. Chen Wenran, on the other hand, lost till her eyes went bloodshot, spilling every detail of her romantic escapades and kiss history from that truth-or-dare deck. She even belted out the full Good Man Song on the spot in a nasal clip.
They lost track of the rounds. Finally, the loser throne changed hands, and Chen Wenran let out a villainous cackle. She gritted her teeth, scheming advice for Chi Buyu across from Cui Qijin.
Chi Buyu wrinkled her nose, taking occasional sips of Baileys. She probably thought it made her cool-headed, like some battle-manga heroine unleashing her ultimate move with a drink.
Her subtle flush turned into a genuine tipsy glow. Cui Qijin played her final card. Chi Buyu scowled at her lousy hand, slammed it down, scattering cards everywhere, took a swig of Baileys, and drew a dare from the punishment pile—
“Call your first love and tell her—Gunalala Dark God—woo-hula-hoo—Dark Magic Transformation!”
Ran Yan read it aloud, pursing her lips. “At least it’s not some gross Baradadada crap.”
Chen Wenran hadn’t gotten another peep out of Cui Qijin all night and was losing steam. She pinched a card and glanced. “This isn’t embarrassing enough?”
“Better than rekindling old flames.” Ran Yan eyed Chi Buyu. “You don’t even have her number anymore, right?”
Chi Buyu cradled what remained of her Baileys, the flush creeping further across her face. She squinted and said, “Nope.”
“Then skip it.” Cui Qijin chimed in helpfully. “It’s the last round anyway—”
“But I have her QQ!”
Maybe the Baileys had gone to her head, but Chi Buyu cut her off eagerly. She wobbled crookedly to the bar counter, rummaged in the wrist bag she’d brought over, and after a moment produced a triumphant ding from thin air. Out came an ancient phone.
The warm yellow light pooled like molten fruit juice all around. Cui Qijin made out an outdated iPhone model. Suddenly, she wanted to snatch Chi Buyu’s Baileys and down it herself.
Ran Yan asked, “What’s that?” Chen Wenran went, “Whoa.”
Chi Buyu was still by the counter, hadn’t come back. She waved the phone and swayed on her feet, unsteady as she said,
“My old phone. My cousin dug it up a couple days ago. Was gonna recycle it today anyway…”
As she spoke, she jammed the side power button. After a few seconds, under the faint glow of the screen, her lashes fluttered. She spoke slowly.
“It’s on.”
Chen Wenran crowded in for the show. “A ten-year-old phone still boots up?”
Ran Yan, uncharacteristically, tagged along. “QQ still logged in after all this time?”
In a blink, Cui Qijin was the only one left at the table.
She realized her arms had been crossed for ages and unfolded them on instinct. She picked up her phone, confirmed it was on silent.
Then she sat up straight as ever, her back pressing into the chair through her sweater. As if that would seal out even a whisper of draft.
“Even if you call now, she might not be using that QQ anymore.” Cui Qijin said coolly.
The counter light was dimmer than here. She watched Chi Buyu squint at the shattered screen, searching laboriously. Cui Qijin figured after all these years, Chi Buyu wouldn’t have the patience for a busted old relic like that.
Then Chi Buyu piped up out of nowhere. “Found it!”
Chen Wenran egged her on. “Hit send!”
Ran Yan offered a saner plan. “It’s QQ— just message her. Less chance she’ll think it’s a hacker and that you’re not trying to rekindle anything.”
Chi Buyu nodded. Her fingers slid across the cracked screen. This dare clearly didn’t faze her one bit.
Half a minute later.
Cui Qijin kept her arms crossed, watching the three of them huddle together looking sneaky. She felt perfectly calm. She had no intention of joining their silly game, and she wasn’t even sure if Chi Buyu had finished sending that QQ message.
Just then, Chen Wenran suddenly glanced over and reminded her, “Cui Qijin, your phone keeps lighting up. Looks like someone’s calling you.”
Cui Qijin relaxed the tense muscles along her back against the chair.
She nodded slightly and said, “Got it.” For a moment, she didn’t check who was calling. She picked up her phone and walked to the balcony by the floor-to-ceiling window, where she saw it was an unfamiliar number.
Valentine’s night wasn’t much different from any other—just more clouds in the sky, blocking out even more. She calmly pressed the answer button. Then a particularly bright voice burst from the other end.
“Balala energy—”
In a daze, she heard someone downstairs shouting very fittingly for Valentine’s Day, “Baby, give me one more chance!” Followed by a mysterious “pop,” as if the radio waves and real space had connected in a duet. In that instant, she instinctively turned around—
“Happy birthday!!”
Suddenly, three beaming faces popped up from under the wooden bar counter, clamoring together in unison.
Her vision was dim at that moment. She first spotted the two and six candles flickering, then saw Chi Buyu grinning mischievously behind them, carefully holding a cream cake shaped like Loopy;
Ran Yan paused for half a beat before crouching down again to pull out a birthday hat;
Chen Wenran still clutched the lighter she hadn’t had time to put away. When she saw Cui Qijin, she hurriedly hid her hands behind her back, pretending nothing had happened.
The Bluetooth speaker suddenly switched to Twins’ “Happy Birthday,” accompanied by three somewhat off-key voices singing along…
