Chapter 29

Wen Zhixu was already far from calm and composed. Jian Shichu’s single sentence was like pouring oil on the flames—her eyelashes trembled slightly as her racing heartbeat forcibly shoved fragments of that night into her mind.

A blush bloomed on her face, impossible to tell if it was the alcohol rising or because the other woman was too close, her heaving breaths brushing across Wen Zhixu’s cheek.

Wen Zhixu tried to push her away. “Let go.”

Her voice trembled, her earlobes turning red along with it. She even started wondering if she’d said anything she shouldn’t have.

Jian Shichu didn’t budge an inch and didn’t answer her.

Wen Zhixu pressed on. “What did you want me to find you for?”

“Don’t feel like saying anymore. Anyway, you didn’t come looking for me.” Jian Shichu drawled her response.

Wen Zhixu stared at her abruptly, her expression smoothing into calm. “You didn’t pick up when I called the next day.”

Wen Zhixu had called—right after seeing the note. She wanted to ask Jian Shichu what exactly was going on.

“It only rang once. Who knows if you butt-dialed.” Jian Shichu’s tone was airy. She didn’t let go, her hand still gripping Wen Zhixu’s waist.

Wen Zhixu’s gaze flicked downward. “Your building’s elevator has shitty signal.”

“You came looking for me?” Jian Shichu’s brows furrowed faintly. She asked in a gentle tone tinged with surprise, her hand slipping into her pocket.

Wen Zhixu’s eyes were still shrouded in a thin veil of composure. “I did. You weren’t home, and you didn’t pick up.”

Jian Shichu listened to her answer while lowering her gaze to her phone. In the dim light, the screen’s glow cast shadows across her features, lending her an air of exceptional poise.

She dialed Wen Zhixu’s number and put it on speaker, holding the phone up halfway while watching her.

After the electronic female voice announced the line was busy, Wen Zhixu froze solid. Her gaze slowly shifted to Jian Shichu’s face.

Jian Shichu sucked in a sharp breath and locked her phone screen. “So tell me—how was I supposed to reply?”

Wen Zhixu fell silent. She’d been pissed at Jian Shichu back at the dinner table and had straight-up blacklisted her, then forgotten all about it later.

Jian Shichu tilted her head slightly to look at her, asking slowly, “Remember now?”

“Remember what?” Wen Zhixu feigned calm. “I don’t recall.”

Wen Zhixu’s eyelids fluttered as she looked at her. Soft light fell gently on Jian Shichu’s face—her light makeup made her look like a seductive temptress from the mortal realm.

“Did you drink that night too?”

Jian Shichu replied breezily, “Nope.”

“You didn’t drink, so how could something like that happen…” Wen Zhixu’s tone was accusatory, but the words caught in her throat, too hard to spit out.

Jian Shichu didn’t get mad. Instead, she drew a faint breath. “You kissed me first.”

Wen Zhixu went rigid at the words. Jian Shichu was so close, the fresh fragrance of her hair tugging her back into those memories. Words failed her; she had no comeback.

“I forgot.” Wen Zhixu turned her head away gently.

A stifled frustration had been building in Jian Shichu’s chest. She said slowly, “Let me help you remember—how you kissed me.”

“What?” Wen Zhixu whipped her head back to stare.

Jian Shichu’s hand slid from her waist to the back of her head. She leaned in slightly and kissed her.

Wen Zhixu didn’t react in time. The other’s hot breath landed, and her heart skipped a beat. That enveloping tenderness ground her down bit by bit.

Devoured by her scent, she felt weak all over. Wen Zhixu didn’t resist—her eyelashes fluttered in that instant as she realized Jian Shichu was pulling her waist in tighter and tighter.

Her mind blanked out, like a feather trailing over her spine and sending tingles racing through her—like a faint electric current creeping over every inch of her body. Kissed senseless, she forgot to fight back and instinctively wanted to close her eyes.

Jian Shichu’s tentative shallow kisses picked up on Wen Zhixu’s chaotic breathing. No response. She licked lightly, savoring slowly, tasting the soft, fragrant hint of wine. Like she was luring her in, letting waves crash over her reason.

The moment she tried to slip her tongue in to probe, Wen Zhixu snapped back to her senses and shoved at her with both hands.

That momentary compliance yanked back by logic—Wen Zhixu didn’t push hard, but it was enough to create distance. Her face burned red, the corners of her eyes holding onto that lingering shyness.

She glared at Jian Shichu with anger. “What the hell are you doing!”

Jian Shichu didn’t reply. The air went still. She melted into the shadows, the light blurring her outline. This corner was deserted—no one would spot whatever they were tussling over here.

Wen Zhixu felt her phone buzzing in her pocket but ignored it. The wind blew her hair across her face as she stared at Jian Shichu, waiting for an answer.

Jian Shichu heard it too. Her footsteps drew slowly closer. “Remember now? So how do we settle this?”

The conversation snapped back to square one. Wen Zhixu’s fire fizzled out, her rare haughtiness swallowed by the dark.

“We’re both adults. And it’s not like you were the one who lost out.” Wen Zhixu’s voice hitched as she turned her head away, refusing to look.

Jian Shichu couldn’t hold back a curve of her lips. “What if I want you to take responsibility?”

“What kind of joke is that?” Wen Zhixu’s voice shook. “Let’s just pretend nothing happened.”

Jian Shichu eyed her slowly. To Wen Zhixu, the words really did sound like a joke—her attitude mirrored exactly what Wen Zhixu had said in the conference room earlier that day.

They stood locked in stalemate. Wen Zhixu turned sideways into the wind, softening her tone. “So what do you want to do?”

Jian Shichu smiled slowly, then gently clasped her wrist and led her outward. “I’m hungry. Let me think it over properly.”

Wen Zhixu’s steps faltered into a spin as she got tugged straight to the garage. Jian Shichu hadn’t touched a drop of alcohol—she buckled her seatbelt and fired up the car.

“Where to?” Wen Zhixu asked.

“Nanping Nanhu Park.” Jian Shichu glanced at the rearview mirror.

—

Near Nanping Nanhu Park was an old neighborhood planted with plenty of huangjue trees—the most beautiful sight in early summer. Wen Zhixu had come at the wrong time and missed the romantic carpet of fallen leaves.

Most folks at this hour were out for barbecue. Jian Shichu led her to a barbecue joint, and they picked seats outside, right up against a massive tree.

The shop’s inner and outer walls were plastered with old newspapers, now yellowing with age.

Chongqing and Beihai weren’t alike at all—no common ground whatsoever. But the two of them sitting shoulder to shoulder was a kind of answer to that story from years ago.

Jian Shichu opened a drink as usual and slid it over. The night breeze turned chilly, lifting strands of her chestnut hair. Unwittingly, Wen Zhixu’s gaze landed on Jian Shichu’s face.

Jian Shichu happened to be looking right at her and smiled. “What’re you staring at me for?”

“Nothing.” Wen Zhixu replied slowly, sipping through the straw. The few drinks from the banquet seemed to have burned off any buzz.

Jian Shichu poured hot water into a bowl to rinse the chopsticks.

Wen Zhixu asked out of the blue, “Why’d you open a restaurant?”

She’d pondered asking Jian Shichu that question countless times. The restaurant in Fog Condensing on the Window was so much like hers, while the one halfway up the hill felt more like an ideal.

“Then why, after your first book, did you write Fog Condensing on the Window?” Jian Shichu lifted her eyelids to glance at her, firing back a question.

Wen Zhixu wasn’t great at straight balls. She set down the can, her gaze fixed dead-center on the table where a plate of peanuts sat.

Before she could answer, the food arrived.

The boss bustled over with plates. Sizzling, oil-dripping meat skewers rested on oil-blotting paper; he plunked the barbecue onto the table’s mini grill, and the green onions burst with fragrance into the air.

As he turned to leave, he asked the pair, “Cut the tofu skins and dried tofu?”

The barbecue spot laced with local dialect—right then, Wen Zhixu felt like she got the essence of everyday street life.

Jian Shichu checked with Wen Zhixu, who signaled you decide.

“No need,” she replied.

Truth be told, Jian Shichu never used dialect around her usually. Working the restaurant honed her accent-switching skills seamless.

“What’re you looking at?” Jian Shichu asked, passing her the chopsticks before grabbing a thin bamboo skewer and setting it on her plate.

Wen Zhixu’s eyes had followed the boss. He’d barely stepped inside when the boss lady’s big voice laid into him for dawdling.

But he grinned and took it in stride, zero anger. So that’s what she’d been mulling—how to describe this city.

Wen Zhixu snapped back. “Nothing. Pretty interesting.”

“Hm?” Jian Shichu’s chopsticks pinched at the green onions.

“The dialect.”

“For the new book?” Jian Shichu went about her business unhurriedly, replying without looking up.

Wen Zhixu had mentioned it in her interview today—the new book was about Mountain City, so it had to be. Maybe the dialect was her first spark of inspiration.

“Yeah, the new book,” Wen Zhixu said.

Her eyes dropped after the words. She poked at the food in her bowl with her chopsticks. Whenever books came up between her and Jian Shichu, a weird feeling always crept in—her chest would ache with something uncomfortable.

Jian Shichu scooped some fried rice into her bowl. “What’s the story?”

“No outline yet. City life, street vibes.” Wen Zhixu spooned at the rice grains.

The rough outline she’d planned before Chongqing got scrapped after arriving. She figured it couldn’t carry the hazy allure of Fog City.

Jian Shichu’s tone turned subtly pointed. “Want to date someone new? Wasn’t that how you wrote your last bestseller?”

Wen Zhixu paused, her throat tightening amid the shock as her cheekbones moved slowly without making a sound.

Those words had been said deliberately by Jian Shichu. It was obvious that the events from back then were a knot, and the other party would only think she had been used as material once.

After a long silence, Wen Zhixu looked up and asked her, “Do you dare?”

The moment she counter-asked, Jian Shichu’s hand stopped. Her breathing clearly slowed, and the emotions in her eyes suddenly shifted, as if she hadn’t expected Wen Zhixu to respond to her like this.

The Wen Zhixu in her memories wasn’t like this. Perhaps in the past, they had pursued flowers and the moon, but now they understood water and mirrors.

In the cold wind, Jian Shichu laughed softly while looking at her. She still hadn’t answered.

Wen Zhixu breathed lightly and said, “It’s all in the past……. From now on, neither of us will mention it…….”

“Let’s date. This time, I’ll dump you.” Jian Shichu agreed immediately.

They were both speaking in a joking tone. In any case, Wen Zhixu didn’t take it seriously. The phone on the table vibrated once. Wen Zhixu didn’t respond to Jian Shichu. She set down her spoon and swiped open the phone.

Two messages from the same person—one from an hour ago, and one just sent. The instant Wen Zhixu saw the messages, her hand trembled. Every word felt like a branding iron seared onto her heart.

【I’m just in Chongqing. Let’s meet up.】