Chapter 14

The private room seemed like it had been tuned by God into slow motion. A cool breeze slipped through a gap, slowly pouring into the room, making everyone suddenly realize just how suffocating the secondhand smoke was.

Jian Shichu’s hair was tied back, and after getting caught in the rain, it somehow gave off a fragile vibe. But her expression was like that of a supermodel on the runway, steadily landing on Wen Zhixu.

When everyone saw Jian Shichu, their first reaction was actually to look at Wen Zhixu. As the organizer, Zhang Yuan stepped forward to greet her, not forgetting to pull out two tissues.

“It’s pouring outside, huh.” Zhang Yuan used this as his opener. “Come sit, we haven’t started yet.”

Jian Shichu had received Zhang Yuan’s friend request on the day Wen Zhixu arrived at the restaurant, but she’d vaguely agreed to this during their time at the Grand Theatre.

Still, she had no interest in this kind of gathering. Jian Shichu kept her jacket open as she sat down, leaning back against the chair.

Little Pepper glanced between the two of them and suddenly smiled. “Your ex is here too—didn’t think to freshen up a bit before coming?”

This was deliberately aimed at Jian Shichu. Back in school, Jian Shichu didn’t mingle much with classmates, and neither did Wen Zhixu, though she was better about it and occasionally joined group meals.

But after they started dating, it was like they became outsiders to the group. Actually, that happened in other classes too—once you were in a relationship, you drifted away from the collective.

Jian Shichu didn’t say a word. In the past, she would’ve fired back without hesitation. She wasn’t one to be trifled with, which was why everyone thought she was rebellious, arrogant, and untouchable.

Wen Zhixu subconsciously gripped the hem of her clothes, her eyes flicking to the black umbrella by the door. The glass in front of her had just been filled with alcohol, and for some reason, her mouth felt dry. Jian Shichu wasn’t avoiding her gaze even in this setting.

She awkwardly gripped her glass, swallowing as she took a sip. The alcohol flooded her taste buds, and she pressed her lips together without taking another.

The straight liquor burned her stomach. She used to never touch the stuff, but gradually got used to the taste—being a little tipsy was her most relaxed state.

Wen Zhixu thought the topic had died, but not everyone brought their brain with them. Maybe Little Pepper figured high-end drama wasn’t worth wasting on a class reunion.

They didn’t like it when a nobody turned into the center of attention with some comeback story. That trope was overdone; it only belonged in fiction.

Little Pepper’s smile surfaced after she saw Wen Zhixu’s glass. She asked lightly with a grin, “Xiao Xu, how’s that author Peanut doing? You’re in the scene—tell us about it.”

Wen Zhixu couldn’t even remember. She lightly released her bitten lower lip. “I don’t remember her. That was high school stuff, just online friends.”

“So you do know her?”

Everyone looked eager for gossip. After Wen Zhixu blew up, people dug up her early history, and Peanut hadn’t published any short stories since Wen Zhixu’s last piece.

Wen Zhixu nodded. “Yeah, I know her.”

“If you know her, then why plagiarize her work?” Little Pepper pressed on, looking all smug like some spoiled rich housewife gossiping—it came off petty for an adult.

Wen Zhixu didn’t respond at first, then quietly said, “I didn’t plagiarize.”

Jian Shichu watched quietly. Everyone’s interest in the topic was like finding out a celeb had a secret lovechild.

“Hey, does your family not have internet?” Jian Shichu said unhurriedly, arms crossed as she shifted in her seat, slowly lifting her eyes to Little Pepper.

Her calm, steady tone grew heavier with her exhaled breath, oppressing the whole room.

Jian Shichu continued, “Peanut herself never came out saying she plagiarized. Plus, the lawsuit against the rumormongers back then was won. How are there still stragglers in real life? Spreading rumors has legal consequences, you know.”

“I’m spreading rumors? Everyone online says it. I’m just repeating what’s out there…” Little Pepper shot back up to that point.

Zhang Yuan smelled the gunpowder and immediately cut in, pulling Little Pepper back to her seat. “Alright, alright. It’s a nice gathering—don’t take the jokes too far. Let’s talk about something else.”

Wen Zhixu looked at Jian Shichu. It had been a year after their breakup when these old scandals got dragged out to smear her again.

Her chest ached, the sourness from the alcohol on her tongue seeping into her brain, her back growing cold.

Jian Shichu seemed to have gained the upper hand in this skirmish. She uncrossed her arms, sitting up straight, and glanced at Wen Zhixu as she picked up her chopsticks.

Their eyes met, making Wen Zhixu even more tense. Zhang Yuan was coaxing Little Pepper—that nickname came from her fiery temper.

Little Pepper couldn’t swallow the slight. As Zhang Yuan was about to return to his seat, she tsked and shot at Jian Shichu, “Not surprised she got dumped…”

“That’s enough.” Wen Zhixu cut her off immediately. The atmosphere froze solid. Jian Shichu’s brow twitched as she looked at her, waiting for what came next.

Wen Zhixu stood up, the chair scraping backward with a screech. She slowly turned to Jian Shichu and said, “Let’s go.”

“Hey? Xiao Xu, don’t be mad.” Zhang Yuan seemed panicked. The classmates nearby stood too, trying to calm her.

Zhang Yuan even shot glares at the others. “We finally got everyone together—don’t overdo the jokes.”

Besides the locals, some were in town on business; getting a full table was no easy feat.

Wen Zhixu grabbed her bag with no intention of staying. Aside from Zhang Yuan, she had no contact info for anyone there and never would again.

The room filled with the sound of chairs scraping the floor. As Wen Zhixu passed Jian Shichu’s side, Jian Shichu stood up too.

She gripped Jian Shichu’s wrist. Jian Shichu glanced back at the crowd, her eyes lazy and loose, seemingly in a good mood.

Zhang Yuan followed Wen Zhixu. Murmurs started up in the room, and only when the door closed did Wen Zhixu feel the noise around her ears quiet down a bit.

Zhang Yuan circled in front of Wen Zhixu to block her, his movements reeking of booze. “Sorry, Xiao Xu. I didn’t arrange things well.”

By then, Wen Zhixu had let go of Jian Shichu’s wrist. She looked at Zhang Yuan. “I have something to do. You guys eat first.”

Zhang Yuan hadn’t expected things to escalate like this. He sighed, not knowing what to say next.

“Move.” Jian Shichu raised a brow at the black leather shoes on his feet, still dusted with cigarette ash.

Jian Shichu’s arm slowly wrapped around Wen Zhixu, her wrist casually resting on Wen Zhixu’s shoulder as she stared down Zhang Yuan. “Hm?”

Zhang Yuan stepped aside, ignoring Jian Shichu. His voice brushed past her. “Xiao Xu, let me treat you to dinner alone another day. Don’t take it to heart—she’s always had a mouth with no filter since college.”

Wen Zhixu glanced sideways at Jian Shichu’s wrist on her shoulder. “I’m heading out.”

Wen Zhixu knew full well this dinner had gone south, but it wasn’t Zhang Yuan’s fault. From today on, she’d never see these people again.

In the elevator, Jian Shichu still hadn’t let go of Wen Zhixu. It was empty, and the ads weren’t too loud.

When it hit the eighth floor, people got on—mostly couples from the mid-to-upper floors with the hotel. They both stepped back, silent.

Wen Zhixu glanced sideways at the newcomers. Jian Shichu seemed to notice, turning to meet her gaze with a relaxed look.

Wen Zhixu averted her eyes. As soon as the doors opened, she stepped out first, causing Jian Shichu’s hand to slide off her shoulder.

“Thanks.” Wen Zhixu’s tone was flat. The AC wind seemed laced with unease.

Jian Shichu was wearing her jacket; the dried stains looked like intentional designs. The gray camisole underneath faintly showed the straps on her shoulders.

The more casually Jian Shichu dressed, the stronger her effortless vibe. She asked, “How are you gonna thank me?”

“What do you want to eat? My treat.”

“Fish,” Jian Shichu replied.

Wen Zhixu paused for a second. Seeing the curve at Jian Shichu’s lips, she realized it was on purpose. She relented. “Alright, let’s go.”

She hadn’t eaten fish in years—not since breaking up with Jian Shichu. Back when they were at Beihai, there was a Bullfrog and Fish Restaurant outside Jian Shichu’s apartment that had been open forever.

The Bullfrog and Fish in Beihai wasn’t spicy, more numbing. They’d gone tons of times. Jian Shichu wasn’t great at eating fish, so she’d always helped pick out the bones.

Old stories always resurfaced in the bustle of the city, everyone replaying the same scenes. Some secrets were just meant to stay buried forever.

Evening, 8 PM

Guanyinqiao was still bustling. Jiujie nearby had tons of food spots, roadside boutiques, and of course, plenty of bars—young people loved gathering here.

Bouquets for 9.9 yuan, little carts forming a makeshift market. Wen Zhixu spotted a tarot stall, the lady boss in a black robe for effect.

She’d never been here before. It felt like another side of Chongqing.

The Bullfrog and Fish Restaurant was up past Jiujie, through a little alley. Evening traffic on Jiujie was jammed. After getting out of the car, Jian Shichu led the way.

After a bit, Jian Shichu stopped. The narrow lane had just one streetlamp, its dim light evenly tracing her outline. She turned. “Phone? Call and ask.”

“Ask what?” Wen Zhixu frowned but pulled out her phone anyway.

“Ask for directions. I don’t know the way.”

Wen Zhixu did as told, finding the number in an orange app and calling. A scooter zipped by on the road with a roar, ears ringing as the call connected.

Wen Zhixu raised her voice over the scooter’s echo. “Hello, I’d like to ask about your exact location.”

A burst of dialect came through the receiver—fast and bold. The voice was rough, mixed with noise.

Wen Zhixu’s face was deathly pale. She could understand Chongqing dialect, but only when the other person spoke clearly and in a quiet environment.

Jian Shichu tilted her head slightly, her pupils observing the subtle changes in Wen Zhixu’s expression. Then, with a faint smile, she took Wen Zhixu’s phone and held it to her ear.

She just watched as Jian Shichu communicated with the other party. The Chongqing dialect gave her an indescribable feeling, but she could use Jian Shichu to describe what Chongqing was like.

After hanging up, Jian Shichu handed the phone back to her. “Let’s go.”

“What did she just say?” Wen Zhixu asked.

“She said to turn left and get off at the clinic after seeing the steps.” Jian Shichu repeated it once in Chongqing dialect.

This time, Wen Zhixu understood. She let out a soft “mm,” but then her phone vibrated, pulling her attention away. Ke Yixuan’s name appeared on the still-lit screen.

Ke Yixuan: [Teacher Wen, are you free right now?]