Chen Wenran didn’t take the three hundred and twenty-five yuan. Instead, before leaving, she hauled away every last mango from Cui Qijin’s apartment as payment. This left Cui Qijin with no choice but to head downstairs and buy more.
Tonight, Love Adrift Street wasn’t all that different.
Except for the bigger crowd.
Cui Qijin spotted the Record Store Boss at the barbecue stall. The woman was holding two skewers of potato skins, chomping away without a care for her image right there on the roadside. When she saw Cui Qijin, she stuck out her leg to block her path and asked,
“So, how’d it go? Did she like the record?”
Cui Qijin didn’t stand on ceremony. She stepped right over the outstretched leg with zero hesitation and replied offhandedly, “I don’t know.”
With that, she headed toward True Heart Big Mango without waiting for a response. Behind her, she heard the Record Store Boss bellow at the top of her lungs,
“Then go ask her, you dummy!”
?
Cui Qijin figured the Record Store Boss must have way too much time on her hands. She was agonizing over after-sales service for every single record she sold.
Probably because business was so slow.
And who was the dummy here?
The word made Cui Qijin frown.
It left her in a sour mood, so she was extra picky when selecting mangoes. None of them looked quite right.
The Mango Store was packed tonight, too—people crowding in one after another, like ants scurrying inside to escape the rain, milling around the vibrant display of fruits.
Cui Qijin scanned the neatly arranged mangoes with a listless expression. Her shoulder got bumped by one of those ants—not hard, so she didn’t pay it much mind. She reached for the mango that had caught her eye and unexpectedly brushed against a slender, cool hand.
It was the back of the hand.
Skin met skin—cool, yet soft. Cui Qijin pulled her hand back first. Then came a hurried apology by her ear,
“Sorry! Sorry!”
Her back stiffened instantly. The next second, the person who’d bumped into her yanked their hand away in flustered confusion, letting out a faint, puzzled “Huh?”
They both looked at each other.
Their gazes collided amid the cloying scent of tropical fruits.
Then darted away just as suddenly.
Like two ants in a fender-bender, they panicked and averted their eyes, fumbling awkwardly in the same direction.
Yet neither left right away.
After the clumsy collision, they lingered in place, circling nearby, completely disoriented.
Cui Qijin touched her parched throat and instinctively glanced toward the door—only to meet what seemed like Chi Buyu’s sneaking peek.
Or maybe not.
Either way, she immediately looked away, even turning her body halfway to face the mangoes on one side and the full wall of apples and bananas on the other. For the moment, all she could do was stand there in a daze.
Chi Buyu whipped around with a sharp “whoosh,” standing especially rigidly with her back to Cui Qijin, silent as could be.
They became two mute ants.
After what felt like forever, Cui Qijin spoke first. She thought she glimpsed the Record Store Boss’s shadow amid the shifting crowd, and like grasping a lifeline, the words tumbled out,
“Did you like it?”
She instantly regretted it, jaw clenching. Hadn’t that just confirmed she was the dummy?
“Wha… what?”
Chi Buyu clearly hadn’t caught the sudden question. She sounded utterly bewildered. “The mango?”
“It could be the mango.” Cui Qijin saw the Record Store Boss approaching.
An “oh” came from Chi Buyu behind her. She hemmed and hawed for a good while before saying,
“It’s pretty good.”
“Then…”
Cui Qijin didn’t even finish the sentence. She watched a hand reach past her, grab that mango, and drop it into a bag.
Then the mango thief revealed herself—the ever-idle Record Store Boss, who took one look at their awkward stances and doubled over laughing. She quipped,
“You two putting on a back-to-back air hug routine in a fruit store?”
Cui Qijin said nothing.
Chi Buyu said nothing.
The Record Store Boss shot them a weird look, hugged herself against the frosty vibe, grabbed her bag of mangoes, and walked off.
Leaving just the two back-to-back ants.
The jostling, chattering humans shoved them this way and that, and they’d lost the same mango in the chaos.
Maybe the Boss’s jab had hit a little too close to home. Chi Buyu turned around slowly and, out of nowhere, murmured softly,
“It’s kinda funny, actually.”
Cui Qijin glanced at her, turned as well, and lowered her head. She started picking mangoes with earnest focus.
“It’s alright.”
“I think it’s funny.”
“It’s decent.”
“I think it’s funny.”
“…You a broken record?”
“I think it’s funny.”
“Fine, yeah, it’s funny.”
Cui Qijin had no choice but to concede.
Chi Buyu finally looked a bit pleased, lifting her chin ever so slightly and letting out a tiny “hmph.”
Cui Qijin picked out a mango and glanced at Chi Buyu.
They stood in the mango section, the lights bathed in warm mango-yellow glow. She could see Chi Buyu’s cheeks puffed out faintly, round and childlike.
She adjusted her own framed glasses. Moments later, Chi Buyu did the same.
Then Chi Buyu seemed to remember something. Her fingers twitched back suddenly, and she hurriedly pulled out her phone with one hand and lipstick with the other. She started to apply it but paused to glance at Cui Qijin.
Cui Qijin discreetly looked away.
She focused intently on selecting mangoes.
When her bag was nearly overflowing, she heard Chi Buyu say awkwardly,
“Done.”
Cui Qijin replied, “Okay.”
She eyed her own bag, stuffed full of mangoes. Time to check out.
But in a moment of hesitation, she grabbed a fresh plastic bag instead. Just as she went to open it, a “whoosh” sounded from Chi Buyu’s side.
Chi Buyu was puffing out her cheeks to inflate a new plastic bag.
Her lips were freshly rouged, plump and vivid—like a lively kissing fish.
The kissing fish noticed Cui Qijin’s stare and deliberately shook the bag, then shot her a fierce glare.
“What ya starin’ at!”
Cui Qijin averted her eyes.
The next second, she burst out laughing at the bag in her own hands, for no reason at all.
“What ya laughin’ at!”
Chi Buyu snapped again, sounding extra fierce.
“Whoosh-whoosh-whoosh~”
Cui Qijin couldn’t stop giggling.
“You’re still laughing!”
Chi Buyu sounded genuinely mad, but right after her scolding, she couldn’t hold it in. She let out a “pfft,” stifled it, then an even bigger “pfft.”
Pfft-pfft, like blowing bubbles.
Once the laughter subsided, she deliberately elbowed Cui Qijin—lightly, just a tingly nudge.
One laugh from Cui Qijin, one nudge from Chi Buyu.
Cui Qijin hadn’t laughed like this in days.
How did this happen?
When she was alone these past few days, she’d felt like she was drowning—utterly miserable, as if the sky had collapsed beyond her eyelids, her body filled with sorrow the moment she opened her eyes.
But the instant she bumped into Chi Buyu, she turned into a sulky kid again.
Like nothing that happened really mattered all that much.
“These past few days…”
Cui Qijin trailed off halfway, annoyed at herself. This probably wasn’t the right moment.
Chi Buyu’s nudges gradually stopped.
After a long pause, Cui Qijin saw her pick out a mango, drop it in her bag, and say slowly,
“Chen Wenran mentioned you haven’t been going to work these days?”
Cui Qijin tacitly agreed.
“It’s just a downtime period.”
Chi Buyu “oh”-ed. “She also said you’re not cleaning the house, just holing up on the balcony watching TV—one hand with a mango, the other with a beer. Like some retired lonely old widow.”
“Don’t buy her nonsense,” Cui Qijin said. Chen Wenran was exaggerating. “She even suggested I play the pity card with you. Said you’re a softie who scans QR codes for roadside beggars, so you’d forgive me if I tugged at your heartstrings.”
“I’m warning you!” Chi Buyu stressed, clearly displeased. “I’m not that easy to soften up.”
Cui Qijin looked at Chi Buyu without speaking. To Ran Yan and Chen Wenran, they probably looked like bickering kids. But Cui Qijin didn’t want to brush it off with laughs. She noticed Chi Buyu still hadn’t called her by name.
Chi Buyu was angry.
But…
Chi Buyu probably had no clue how to stay mad at someone for long.
Chi Buyu was the dummy.
At the thought, Chi Buyu huffed through her nose.
“You sure love telling it straight, huh?”
“Lying’s not good.”
It was a lesson Cui He had taught her—one that actually came in handy sometimes.
Chi Buyu hefted her two brimming bags of mangoes and stared at Cui Qijin for a good while.
“So, did you play pitiful or not?”
Cui Qijin glanced at herself.
Slippers thrown on haphazardly, baggy jacket over pajamas, unwashed face, high-prescription glasses perched on her nose, messy hair clipped back with a shark clip, lips bloodless from days of skipped meals…
Was she supposed to admit she hadn’t meant to play pitiful—that she’d just genuinely wrecked herself these past days?
And was it even that pitiful?
“Yeah.”
Cui Qijin answered without thinking, then calmly picked up her own two bags of mangoes. She’d lied, and she’d apologize to herself later.
“Really?”
Chi Buyu didn’t doubt her honesty. She puffed her cheeks.
“It’s what you deserved, but you schemed against me. Watch out, or I might get mad.”
With that, she grabbed her bags and headed to checkout. The two strings on her hood bobbed back and forth—she seemed truly peeved about the scheming.
Cui Qijin hesitated, then followed with her own bags.
Behind them loomed the half-empty mango display, depleted from the rush. A latecomer grumbled, “Why’re the mangoes selling out so fast tonight?”
They checked out.
Stepping out of True Heart Big Mango onto the bustling Love Adrift Street. Or maybe it was her imagination, but tonight felt especially chaotic—like their own tangled-up hearts.
They were about to go their separate ways.
Cui Qijin hesitated for the first time. She couldn’t quite gauge Chi Buyu’s attitude right now, nor was she sure if following her rashly would only make Chi Buyu even angrier.
If only it were right after the college entrance exams. Then they would just be two kids in the throes of puberty, acting on impulse without a second thought. They might run into a film crew shooting at the street corner, turn into a pair of ridiculous tropical fish, have a heated argument, make up, or simply call it quits.
Adults were always second-guessing themselves, afraid that one misstep would lead to a cascade of mistakes.
“Chi Buyu.”
But before Chi Buyu could turn and leave Love Adrift Street, Cui Qijin called out to her anyway.
