Chapter 3: White Tulip Part 2

Miao Zhu wasn’t one to kill the mood.

“I ate a full dinner; we can have the cake as a midnight snack later.” She set the bag on her lap. “Where to now?”

“The studio; some friends are still there.” Sheng Xingran started the car.

So she’d come straight from hanging out with friends.

Miao Zhu cracked the window for air.

If there was a gathering, they didn’t have to schedule the movie for tonight.

Sheng Xingran’s studio was in the old town district, surrounded by dated residential buildings. As she put it, the place was full of everyday human vibe, giving her plenty of creative inspiration.

Miao Zhu climbed the damp outdoor metal stairs, and Sheng Xingran took her hand, warning, “Watch your step; it’s slippery.”

Miao Zhu let her lead, and they went up to the second floor.

The studio spanned over two hundred square meters indoors, with only a small rest room and bathroom partitioned off; the rest was open space, plus a larger outdoor terrace—very spacious and free-flowing.

At a glance, seven or eight people filled the space. The lights were dimmed; someone had a projector on, half-reclining on a single sofa watching a show, others sat under wall lamps playing cards. Barbecue scent wafted in from the terrace; with the rain stopped, someone had fired up the outdoor grill.

“Xingran, told you you’d be late for the movie!”

“Got an earful, huh?”

“Movie got skipped, so you brought Miao Zhu back to make up for it?”

Sheng Xingran’s friends mostly knew Miao Zhu and teased them in unison for skipping the cinema and returning to the studio.

“We wouldn’t fight over something so minor.” Sheng Xingran led Miao Zhu to the terrace. “Ignore them.”

The terrace had a ring of decorative fairy lights. Sheng Xingran sat Miao Zhu in a rattan chair and picked out some grilled meat and veggie skewers for her: “Try them; not sure if they’re edible, the way they grilled them.”

“…………Speechless!” came a retort from the grill, clearly having overheard Sheng Xingran’s absurd critique.

Miao Zhu smiled faintly. Someone inside called Sheng Xingran’s name, saying something about a malfunction. Sheng Xingran gestured to Miao Zhu: “Sit tight; I’ll check it out.”

Miao Zhu agreed.

She really hadn’t eaten dinner, and the skewers looked appetizing; she nibbled, and they tasted good.

“Woke up? You only slept half an hour; weren’t you super tired?”

“Hungry woke me; came to see what’s edible.”

The studio’s rest room had a short bed where Sheng Xingran occasionally napped when painting wore her out.

Miao Zhu glanced at the girls: the first speaker was familiar, Sheng Xingran’s study abroad alum everyone called Li Zi; the other had trendy purple-gray Paris dye on her hair—new friend, probably.

The girl approached, paused, sat beside Miao Zhu, and pointed at her plate: “That looks good; mind if I try?”

Miao Zhu said go ahead.

But the girl didn’t move, just eyed Miao Zhu up and down: “They all say you and Xingran are super close. She’s only ever been good to you all these years—are you her girlfriend?”

Miao Zhu blinked slowly, then turned to look: “So?”

She had a casual allure. The girl hesitated a few seconds before lifting her chin like a proud peacock: “If you’re not her girlfriend, you wouldn’t mind me pursuing her, right?”

More than just this pretty girl had asked Miao Zhu that.

During their study abroad, schools far apart and classes busy, at some point a girl named Bianca started appearing around Sheng Xingran.

One day, Mu Shanyi passed through their city on a business trip and, at Ni Xiaoying’s request, brought them handmade winter gloves. If time allowed, Mu Shanyi offered to treat them to dinner.

Sheng Xingran said she’d pick up Miao Zhu for it, but at the appointed time, she didn’t show. When Miao Zhu called, Bianca answered and asked her that question.

“Not at all,” Miao Zhu had replied then.

Before hanging up, Miao Zhu heard Bianca excitedly tell Sheng Xingran, “Baby, I won, so you’re mine tonight.”

Sheng Xingran’s light laugh followed.

Even for Mu Shanyi’s invitation, Sheng Xingran hadn’t shown up.

Miao Zhu shut off her phone and stopped trying to reach her. The no-contact lasted about ten days before Sheng Xingran reappeared as if nothing happened, and Bianca vanished too.

Now history repeated, but Miao Zhu gave a different answer: “If you want to pursue her, that’s between you two. Ask her if she minds.”

The girl hit a soft wall and stormed inside to pester Sheng Xingran.

Li Zi and Xiao Kui, squatting by the grill, had watched the whole thing and exchanged bewildered looks.

Miao Zhu pulled out her phone, fingertips tapping the screen lightly.

Sheng Xingran guessed from the girl’s words that something unpleasant had gone down with Miao Zhu and came out to find her.

One standing, one seated, Miao Zhu looked up with curved brows and smiling eyes: “Didn’t cause you trouble, did I?”

Sheng Xingran stared at her without speaking.

Miao Zhu said, “I should head home.”

Sheng Xingran offered, “I’ll drive you.”

“Sure, to downstairs is fine.” Miao Zhu held up her phone screen for Sheng Xingran to see; she’d already booked a ride on the app.

Miao Ling had once questioned whether it was Sheng Xingran who hadn’t figured it out or her who hadn’t tried hard enough. Truth was, neither.

Together in a foreign land, those seven years of companionship and mutual reliance were indelible.

But deep down, they both knew their relationship couldn’t advance further.

Besides rehearsing orchestra pieces, she also had to prep for the Nature Museum candlelight concert; Miao Zhu’s next two days were packed.

The candlelight concert went off without a hitch on Thursday evening. This anniversary event wasn’t open to the public, with limited seating.

The venue lit solely by staggered candelabras, notes weaving with the flickering flames—romantic, intoxicating atmosphere.

The concert ended perfectly, and Miao Zhu received a florist delivery of tulips.

Green stems, pure white buds not yet bloomed—fresh and elegant.

Miao Zhu checked the small card nestled among the flowers.

“Wonderful evening”

No signature.

Miao Zhu had a pretty good guess who it was from.

On the way home, Jiang Jingjing sent photos. She’d been Miao Zhu and Xie Dasu’s assistant that night, snapping a bunch. Miao Zhu picked a few, including the tulip bouquet, and posted them to her Moments.

Interactions poured in. Before bed, Miao Zhu checked and saw Sheng Xingran’s comment: “Where was the performance?”

A question mark popped into Miao Zhu’s head.

The tulips weren’t from Sheng Xingran?

Miao Zhu was just about to set her phone aside when the page prompted a new interaction.

She looked at the profile picture of Green Plains Snow Mountain.

Mu Shanyi had liked her Moments post from tonight.