Chapter 28

The night view along Beibin Road was mild and solemn. The wind from the Jialing River would be even gentler in autumn. By the time they were in the car, the sky had gradually darkened. The last time Wen Zhixu went to the Grand Theatre with Jian Shichu, she had seen the opposite shore.

At night, lights flickered everywhere. Hongyadong on the opposite shore was captured by the slowly rising brightness, with shimmering water waves silently carrying boats.

Wen Zhixu couldn’t describe the feeling of Beibin Road or put the Qiansimen Grand Bridge into words, but she remembered that this had been part of her plans once.

She sent a message to Song Yi, but got no reply.

When they arrived at the banquet venue, Wen Zhixu and An Ran entered together. The staff led them to the innermost area.

“I just called President Song, but her phone was off. Probably out of battery,” An Ran said naturally, linking arms with Wen Zhixu.

Wen Zhixu nodded. The hall was decorated with balloons. Banquet setups were all pretty much the same unless it was a very special occasion that called for elaborate arrangements.

The lights were blue-tinted. Wen Zhixu found her seat and sat down. Her gaze quickly noticed a man across the table.

He sat there with his fingers interlaced on the table, steady as Mount Tai, striking a negotiating pose. He nodded in greeting when their eyes met.

Wen Zhixu stared at the man’s suit, confirming he was the one who’d been in front of her at the convenience store earlier that day when she bought water.

The seat beside her was empty. Her phone vibrated, and she looked down.

A flash of disappointment appeared in her eyes. It wasn’t a reply from Jian Shichu. The contact name “Mom” made her heart tense.

[Mom: Are you coming back for Mid-Autumn?]

Wen Zhixu stared at the message, her finger hovering over the screen, her pupils filled with the WeChat interface.

She hadn’t even sent “Coming back” yet when another message popped up.

[Mom: Try to come early. Have you added Xiao Wu?]

Wen Zhixu hit send on her reply.

[Mom: Aunt Cai has asked several times. Mom didn’t know what to say.]

Seeing this, Wen Zhxu replied with “Mm.”

She went back to the friend request interface, looked at the verification message from a few days ago, and tapped “Accept.”

She felt her left hand being nudged. She turned off her phone and looked sideways.

An Ran leaned in close, lifting her eyelids and tilting her chin, whispering, “Someone at the table across is taking your picture.”

Wen Zhixu looked over. The two men seemed guilty, standing and turning sideways to pretend to chat, their eyes glancing over now and then. Their phones slowly lowered along with the motion.

She didn’t say anything. She didn’t want to know why they were taking her picture, nor did she want to go over and confront them. She just hummed in acknowledgment.

That was how she was—these things didn’t stir any emotions in her. Getting angry would only make others feel like they’d won.

Wen Zhixu picked up her water glass and took a sip. An Ran held her elbow and said, “Xiao Xu, look. The social interactions at this banquet seem like they’re for a deeper understanding of the TV drama’s market needs, but actually, the drama’s investors are here today. President Song is expanding business for her team.”

Wen Zhixu glanced around. The main creators had arrived one after another and were seated at another table. Song Yi was a top figure in the industry. Using this internal promo event to expand business made sense, especially with Wang Yun’s connections—Xu Ting had to give face.

“Does she drink?” Wen Zhixu asked, as if pondering or just making casual conversation.

The gentle piano music matched the current atmosphere perfectly. Song Yi had a soft demeanor with a decisive edge; handling such occasions was probably routine for her.

An Ran whispered, “I think President Song can’t hold her liquor. I’ve heard she always brings her assistant wherever she goes to block drinks for her.”

“But she probably won’t drink today. This banquet is her setup, and everyone knows it. She won’t drink herself.”

Wen Zhixu was listening to this when her eyes lowered.

She held her water glass with one hand and asked, “Why do you say that?”

“She can’t hold her liquor. When she drinks too much, she loses control and says whatever’s on her mind,” An Ran said, as if recalling something.

Wen Zhixu’s finger twitched. The fingertip gripping the glass seemed to break out in a thin sheen of sweat. Alcohol was a harmful thing.

They hadn’t chatted for long when Song Yi and Jian Shichu arrived. Wang Yun was at the opposite table with the investors. Most banquets left you hungry.

Wen Zhixu looked toward the entrance. Song Yi greeted people, her hand lightly on Jian Shichu’s arm as she walked over in high heels to say hello.

The seat next to her was empty. Without looking, she felt a shadow pass over her plate. In her peripheral vision, Jian Shichu had just reached her side.

Wang Yun across the table glanced at them, and the atmosphere seemed to grow subtly tense. The man sitting opposite stood to greet Song Yi.

Wen Zhixu felt less tense when she saw Song Yi. She finished her water and stood up.

“I have something to ask you,” Jian Shichu said.

Wen Zhixu didn’t look at her as she picked up her phone. “Didn’t you already ask today? And I already answered.”

“That doesn’t count.”

Wen Zhixu glanced at her but said nothing, sidestepping her.

Jian Shichu froze in place, the rest of her words stuck in her throat. An Ran’s gaze had been on them the whole time, but she turned away, pretending not to see.

She wandered around a few times and ate a piece of small cake. She wasn’t used to these occasions—wandering without purpose always felt out of place.

Of course, Jian Shichu seemed to run into an acquaintance and got pulled into a chat about something—she didn’t know what. Then her figure vanished again.

Starting from when the man at the opposite table started talking to Song Yi, he stuck to her like glue. He seemed gentlemanly, but his eyes had that sleazy vibe.

After Song Yi had two glasses of wine.

Wen Zhixu walked over, her gaze calm. “President Song.”

The man picked up a wine glass from the table and offered it to Wen Zhixu with a sip of a smile. “Miss Wen, hello.”

Wen Zhixu nodded, politely declining. “Sorry, I don’t drink.”

Song Yi’s face was flushed. Once the conversation got going, there was always a reason to drink, impossible to shake off or dodge—like gum stuck to your shoe.

The man said nothing more and turned to Song Yi. “Miss Song, let’s write off what happened before. Don’t take it to heart. I’ll talk to President Zeng.”

As he spoke, he poured her another glass. Song Yi seemed to know Wen Zhixu had come to find her and pulled her to her side, closer to herself, almost shielding her behind.

“Thanks for the trouble.”

The words were faint, devoid of warmth, like a trained professional tone.

The glass rim paused at her red lips. Song Yi furrowed her brows and slowly swallowed the wine.

“No need to be polite. Is your mother feeling better?”

The man naturally refilled her glass, as if she had to drink every one. Wen Zhixu figured it out after hearing just a few sentences.

She intercepted the glass before he could hand it over.

She knew the reason: Song Yi lost control when she was drunk and would say whatever was on her mind.

“Sorry, President Song can’t drink anymore.” Wen Zhixu met his gaze, eyed the pocket of his suit, gripped Song Yi’s wrist, and pulled her back.

You had to give him a way out in a scene like this—couldn’t make a scene. She clinked her glass against his and tossed it back.

The alcohol hit her throat, making her heart shudder. She set the glass down and said to the man, “I need to talk business with President Song.”

Her tone stayed flat throughout. Song Yi watched her the whole time. Wen Zhixu lived up to her name—a gentle, soft type of girl.

Girls like this didn’t need to fake weakness; a little bullying would make them cry. You wanted to see her cry, but once she did, it hurt so much you couldn’t even bear to say harsh words.

Jian Shichu stood not far away. Her calm expression grew darker and darker, then she let out a self-mocking dry laugh under the azure light.

The spot where she stood formed a special boundary with her surroundings—thoroughly cold.

After Wen Zhixu got involved, several more people came over to surround Song Yi— this boss, that exec. Everyone who came to greet seemed to require a drink, sandwiching Wen Zhixu in the middle.

Of course, Song Yi definitely wouldn’t let Wen Zhixu block for her, but Wen Zhixu stubbornly kept her from touching alcohol—for reasons unknown.

“Are you okay?” Song Yi patted her shoulder and asked.

Wen Zhixu asked, “When does this end? I have something to talk to you about.”

“Did An Ran give you my number?” Song Yi asked, leaning on the railing. There was a rooftop terrace outside the hall with a direct view of Hongyadong across the river.

Wen Zhixu sat in a chair, fanned by a bit of hot wind, her face full of alcohol flush. The wine’s aftereffects were strong, but not enough to overwhelm her reason yet.

She knew her limit; she was still fine for now. The lights brushed her hair, and her eyes drooped from the sting.

“No, it’s on your business card,” Wen Zhixu said, looking at her.

Song Yi’s brow furrowed, then she remembered her card. It wasn’t strange.

Song Yi was silent for a moment before saying, “I actually have something to talk to you about too.”

“I’ll go first.” Wen Zhixu cut her off.

Her volume rose a bit. Song Yi felt puzzled—Wen Zhixu’s behavior wasn’t normal. But the sudden pitch-up, paired with her half-closed eyes, was the alcohol talking.

Wen Zhixu propped her head with her hand, gaze distant. “I…” She couldn’t get it out; she was brewing her words.

Song Yi tilted her head with a smile. “You’re acting a bit strange.” Just as she said it and turned toward the river, Wen Zhixu suddenly gripped her wrist through her suit.

“I was drunk that night. I don’t really remember what happened between us, but I don’t want to bring it up again.” Wen Zhixu let go of her and gazed into the distance.

The balloons on the railing hadn’t stuck; they drifted over lazily, hovered between the two of them, then bounced away.

Song Yi looked up in confusion and spotted Jian Shichu standing ahead, her face expressionless as she quietly watched them.

Clearly, those words had fallen entirely on her ears.

Song Yi slowly withdrew her hand, as if mustering her strength amid the guilt. Her eyes shifted to Wen Zhixu, strands of hair caught on her glasses. She said nothing.

Wen Zhixu propped her head on her hand, her gaze softening imperceptibly. She let out a breath and turned to Song Yi, pulling a business card from her pocket and setting it on the table.

“You left a note. I hesitated about whether to find you and clear things up. I don’t want any entanglements—it’s all in the past now. So, neither of us needs to keep that night in mind.” She slid the business card slowly toward her and stood up.

Its four corners were creased, with a crumpled sticky note beside it.

After saying all this, Wen Zhixu waited for Song Yi’s response. Her breathing grew tense, each exhale pressing against the most fragile spot in her heart.

Through Song Yi’s glasses, she seemed to glimpse a figure standing steadily right behind her. Wen Zhixu turned to face her squarely.

The instant she saw Jian Shichu, she was abruptly dragged into endless darkness, caught completely off guard—but the other woman wasn’t. Jian Shichu approached without a word.

She took hold of her hand, giving her no chance to speak, and led her straight to a corner of the rooftop. Wen Zhixu’s steps nearly faltered, struggling to keep pace.

Guilt made Wen Zhixu’s legs go weak. The hot breeze sweeping over her face only heightened her anxiety; at one point, she desperately wanted to crawl into a hole in the ground.

Her foot pressed down on the corner’s ground lights, allowing only slivers of light to seep out through the gaps. Jian Shichu didn’t release her grip. When she tried to pull away, a hand clamped onto her waist.

Wen Zhixu had no idea how to begin, how to even speak. She couldn’t muster any defiance—a bizarre feeling, like she’d been caught cheating.

The shadow in Jian Shichu’s eyes softened just a touch. She let out a soft sigh, laced with a hint of pleasure. Her half-lidded gaze flickered with smoldering fire as she asked, “Couldn’t see clearly that night?”