After a moment’s thought, she sent Tang Lian the name and details of a private restaurant she remembered—one with great reviews and a nice atmosphere—asking for her opinion.
Tang Lian replied almost instantly, dodging the suggestion entirely. She cut straight to the chase.
【What does Big Sister want to eat most? I’ll go eat whatever Big Sister wants.】
The response caught Nan Qi off guard.
She reminded her: 【You’re the star today.】
Tang Lian: 【(Matchstick figure shaking head jpg.) In my book, Big Sister’s always the star.】
Nan Qi: “…” A faint tingle spread through her heart, struck by the odd sensation. Her toes curled, itching to redecorate the office floor.
No matter how many times Tang Lian hit her with that straightforward enthusiasm—always openly voicing her admiration—Nan Qi still found it hard to handle. She could never quite respond smoothly.
Tang Lian was worlds apart from the suitors she’d encountered before.
This time, too, she froze, silent for a long while before starting to consider what she wanted to eat.
Truth be told, she suddenly craved all sorts of street food. Those little roadside stalls always hid the city’s deepest flavors. Every bite was like opening a door to surprise—it was the perfect cure for a bad mood.
She shared her thoughts with Tang Lian, who agreed enthusiastically. They set a meetup at Tongdu Snack Street in the city center.
Nan Qi found herself looking forward to the end of the workday.
She arrived at Tongdu Snack Street early, coordinating with Tang Lian to meet at the subway exit.
She called her, and the line connected instantly. Tang Lian’s voice brimmed with excitement amid a noisy backdrop.
She shouted her name over the din: “Nan Qi! I see your car! Big Sister got here super early too, huh?” She let out a soft, mischievous laugh that traveled through the phone straight into Nan Qi’s ear, making it tingle.
Nan Qi touched her ear self-consciously and replied in a low voice: “Mm.”
Tang Lian didn’t mind her curtness.
“Don’t move! I’ll come to you.”
Nan Qi could hear the quickened breaths in her footsteps as she approached, so she parked the car and waited.
Two minutes later, someone knocked on the passenger-side window.
Nan Qi turned toward the sound, rolled down the window, and suddenly a bright, captivating face appeared. Before she could fully take in Tang Lian’s features, a plump, fragrant plum blossom cupcake pressed against her lips.
“Fresh out of the oven! I got one—it’s sweet milky flavor. Try it quick.”
The milky aroma wafted straight to Nan Qi’s nose. Intrigued by the description, her mouth watered. She parted her lips carefully, avoiding Tang Lian’s slender fingers, and took a bite of the cupcake, savoring it slowly.
The creamy sweetness burst across her tongue, delighting her taste buds. Nan Qi’s features softened, the usual sharpness in her brow easing away. She looked gentler now, drawing others in, tempting them to draw close and touch.
Her expression said it all.
The feeding mission had scored a triumphant first victory—and Tang Lian was even happier than Nan Qi.
Nan Qi’s attention shifted fully to Tang Lian, and she noticed something strikingly different. This was a whole new look she’d never seen before.
Her dark hair had been dyed a dreamy grape purple that shimmered in the night lights. She wore a black beret hat adorned with tiny rhinestones, secured with a hairpin. Her deep-toned dress was intricate and elaborate, evoking an elegant noble young lady from a medieval magical family—seductive and alluring. She had appeared before Nan Qi like that, her gaze intense and affectionate, brimming with undisguised fondness.
The scene overlapped with that rainy night. Nan Qi could almost hear the gears of fate turning with a faint click.
That night, too, Tang Lian had leaned toward the car window. Nan Qi had rolled it down, and she’d asked to borrow an umbrella—along with a way to contact her.
She hadn’t given it then. No one could have imagined that one day, they’d meet up at Linxi’s famous snack street.
Nan Qi turned off the engine and got out of the car. She pointed out the change: “You… dyed your hair?”
“Yep!”
Tang Lian twirled the ends around her finger before letting go. The thick strands floated in a fluffy arc through the air. She spun in front of Nan Qi, showing off the new color. “What do you think, Big Sister? Pretty?”
Her eyes sparkled like a starry sky.
“Very pretty,” Nan Qi affirmed sincerely.
As Tang Lian spun, her skirt flared out in graceful curves. The design featured heavy embroidery, with layers upon layers cascading like a sea of flowers. Standing amid them, Tang Lian outshone every rare bloom.
Hearing the praise, Tang Lian beamed—if she had a tail, it would be wagging furiously, circling Nan Qi and rubbing against her to mark her scent.
She curved her lips and studied Nan Qi’s face with keen interest. “Next time, let me dye yours. With a face like Big Sister’s—so perfect—and such fair skin, any color would suit you. Platinum blonde would look amazing.”
She had a knack for spotting Nan Qi’s strengths in the smallest details and praising her naturally.
In her eyes, there wasn’t a single flaw in Nan Qi.
Well, almost.
The one imperfection: Nan Qi still wasn’t her girlfriend.
For a fleeting moment, Nan Qi was tempted. Then she thought of her job and hesitated. “My work won’t let me dye it something so bold.”
“Big Sister, life is all about trying new things—exploring your endless possibilities.”
“One-time hair dye? Ever heard of it? We can pick a day off. I’ll dye it for you, and one wash later, it’s back to normal.” Tang Lian wheedled encouragingly.
“I’ll think about it.”
Nan Qi tabled the idea for now.
“Let’s eat first. There’s a stall with amazing Jinyun flatbread.”
Tang Lian followed alongside her, a touch dejected. She glanced down at their shadows merging together and got playful. While stealing glances at Nan Qi’s profile, she reached out her pinky to hook Nan Qi’s shadow, moving her finger in sync with its sway.
After several tries, she hooked it successfully.
Now their shadows strolled hand in hand down the street, just like a couple in the honeymoon phase—stuck together every second.
Even if it was just an illusion, it was enough to make her heart race.
Linxi was an open-minded city, embracing all sorts of trendy subcultures. Young people in every style of outfit dotted the streets, so Tang Lian’s getup didn’t stand out. But with her stunning looks and perfect proportions, she drew eyes effortlessly in the bustling city center. Passersby mistook her for a street-style model or cosplayer, craning their necks to watch and wondering which anime character she was portraying.
In just a few minutes, Nan Qi had already spotted dozens of people weaving through the crowd with clumsy acting, sidling up to Tang Lian either deliberately or under the pretense of accident—pretending to drop something, or abruptly bending down to untie and retie perfectly good shoelaces. Their tactics were utterly contemptible.
Nan Qi took it all in. She had no idea what Tang Lian was up to; she showed not the slightest reaction to these people’s over-the-top antics.
Nan Qi wasn’t pleased. She stayed vigilant against the passersby’s subtle moves, and whenever anyone edged too close, she immediately tugged Tang Lian’s arm, pulling her tight against her own side to thwart them.
This happened several times in a row, yet Tang Lian carried on as if nothing were amiss. Nan Qi finally lost her patience. Her tone sharpened as she came to an abrupt halt. “Tang Lian, what on earth are you doing?”
“Huh?” Tang Lian turned her head slowly, baffled by Nan Qi’s sudden anger. She was still lost in her regret, her pinky finger held extended just as before. She’d been working hard to match Nan Qi’s stride, determined not to let their shadows’ couple-like hand-holding break apart. She’d succeeded the whole way and was reveling in it when Nan Qi herself interrupted.
The disappointment and regret were plain on Tang Lian’s face. The moment Nan Qi met her eyes, her own anger deflated by half. Tracing Tang Lian’s wistful gaze, Nan Qi realized what she’d been striving for all along. Even the last of her irritation fizzled out.
One of Nan Qi’s ears flushed faintly red. With a sigh, she extended half an arm toward Tang Lian—the invitation plain as day.
Tang Lian blinked, surprised and delighted. Hesitantly, she laid her hand in Nan Qi’s palm. “Like this? Holding hands?”
Nan Qi swatted her hand away briskly, shooting her an exasperated glance. She wasn’t counting on Tang Lian to figure it out herself.
Gently, Nan Qi took Tang Lian’s wrist and guided her fingers onto her arm, then drew out her sleeve for Tang Lian to grasp.
Nan Qi’s gaze fixed on the deep night shadows ahead, avoiding Tang Lian’s eyes, her voice taut. “Hold this instead. Too many people around—it’ll keep us from getting separated.”
Tang Lian clutched it tightly at once.
This was the first time Nan Qi had taken the initiative, reason be damned. The significance was immense.
Tang Lian beamed with joy. “I won’t let go all night.”
Nan Qi: “…Do whatever you want.”
Better her clinging close than those leering strangers ogling Tang Lian’s beauty.
Together, they queued half an hour at a bustling shop for Jinyun flatbread. They devoured cotton candy, fried potato towers, cheese sticks, takoyaki, ice cream… all the indulgences no one would touch for a proper meal.
Humans possess this inexplicable gift: one stomach for snacks, another for sweets, yet another for rice and noodles. They coexist in perfect harmony, never overlapping.
Their final street food stop was a local favorite: fried stinky tofu.
As they ordered, the vendor asked about toppings.
Nan Qi rattled off the order smoothly. “Two portions of stinky tofu. One without cilantro but extra spicy, one with spicy, and all other toppings.”
She finished and shifted to the pickup line, but Tang Lian didn’t budge.
Nan Qi’s sleeve tugged insistently. She turned to find Tang Lian staring at her in confusion.
“Who doesn’t eat cilantro?”
Tang Lian hadn’t even shared her own tastes yet, but Nan Qi had ordered two portions—one whose flavor was obvious without asking.
The question came plain and direct, no sugarcoating.
Nan Qi opened her mouth to reply but froze.
The one who hated cilantro wasn’t here.
It was pure muscle memory, her body recalling the habit and her subconscious dictating the order.
“Sorry, let me get you a new one.” Nan Qi’s apology carried genuine guilt as she carefully inquired about Tang Lian’s preferences, eager to make amends.
“With extra, of course.”
Tang Lian crossed her arms over her chest, lifting her chin in haughty pride. She had no intention of stooping to her rival’s tastes; she would be one of a kind. “Got it? I love cilantro. Obsessively. The kind where I order a whole plate just to blanch it in hotpot like greens.”
“If I had my way, everyone who hates it would be out there farming it.” She tacked on the joke.
Nan Qi’s lips curved in a smile. She repeated Tang Lian’s order back to her, word for word.
Tang Lian was utterly different from Bo Ranying in every conceivable way, with scarcely any overlap.
For the first time, Nan Qi committed another person’s habits to memory—ones that weren’t Bo Ranying’s.
“I like cilantro too.”
“If we’re sharing hotpot someday, we can get two plates to blanch.”
“Sounds great!”
“Should I take that as Big Sister inviting me?”
Tang Lian’s prickly demeanor vanished in a heartbeat, replaced by a clingy, triumphant little fox as she seized Nan Qi’s sleeve once more.
