Chapter 46

When Old Mrs. Tang said those words, Wen Zhixu had just started high school. She mentioned it in a joking tone, but later Wen Zhixu remembered it because it felt like the only promise left between her and her grandma.

Yet fulfilling this promise required three incense sticks.

In early November, Chongqing was shrouded in drizzling rain, with thick fog blanketing the entire city. It was much colder up on Mid-Mountain than in the downtown area. Jian Shichu was at the Mid-Mountain Restaurant early in the morning; her flight was at seven-thirty, and she would pick up Wen Zhixu first.

Tang Yuan was on a different flight and wouldn’t arrive in Hangzhou until noon.

Xiao Yang had finished filming his drama and gone on a trip. After coming back, he started helping out at Mid-Mountain. The restaurant had just hired two new employees, both fresh university graduates.

The back kitchen staff was new too—it wasn’t like they were deliberately overhauling the team. Resignations always came in waves.

The tearoom had the heater on, and the clock on the wall ticked to one o’clock. Xiao Yang knocked on the door before entering. “Doudou-jie, time for lunch.”

Jian Shichu’s eyes were still on the sheet in her hand. “Come here and close the door.”

Xiao Yang acknowledged and gently shut the door.

“Something wrong?” Xiao Yang stood half a meter away from Jian Shichu, his gaze lightly falling on the financial statement.

The Mid-Mountain Restaurant’s finances weren’t complicated—after all, they only had one table of guests per day, and reservations required booking the whole place. The bulk of the expenses were in the kitchen.

“This accounting doesn’t add up.” Jian Shichu tossed what was in her hand onto the table. She pondered for a moment, then turned and leaned against the edge of the desk.

Xiao Yang followed her over, picked up the sheet, and scanned it. The pages were densely packed with records of the shop’s expenditures and income—too much to take in at a glance, and everything seemed reasonable at first.

Procurement and accounting had been fine for over a year with no issues. Jian Shichu didn’t check often, but when she did suddenly audit, problems would surface.

Xiao Yang said, “I see the ingredients and fruits cost a bit more than in September, and there’s that toilet renovation part. Guests have high standards for fruit quality now.”

Even so, there were still plenty of unreasonable spots. A closer look at the financial statement revealed big problems, especially going back a few months.

“You investigate this. I have to head out of town for something and will deal with it when I get back.” That was all Jian Shichu said.

She trusted Xiao Yang a lot—not just because he’d been with her for so long, but his character was well-known to everyone.

Not to mention anything else, he handled procurement without a single issue, and all the invoices from the past year were perfectly preserved.

It was different at Mid-Mountain. The restaurant’s procurement was handled by a relative’s kid, introduced by her aunt during Chinese New Year. She trusted that area completely—if trust was broken there, there’d be no second chance.

“Doudou-jie, I’ll have it sorted before you get back.” Xiao Yang followed behind her as they headed downstairs.

Suddenly, they heard the clatter of dishes and bowls, followed by harsh noises and commotion, then the screech of chairs being dragged. The sounds told her something was off.

Footsteps hurriedly approached her direction. Before she could pick up speed, the person was already in front of her. “Bad news, Doudou-jie! The store manager and Feng-ge from the kitchen got into a fight—there’s blood everywhere.”

“What happened? Why’d they fight?” Xiao Yang asked before Jian Shichu could speak.

Jian Shichu didn’t ask questions and quickened her pace toward the kitchen. One issue hadn’t even settled before another arose—these things were giving her a headache.

The Mid-Mountain Restaurant had always been harmonious, but new hires always needed a settling-in period. Relationships between people formed through inexplicable processes, and whether that bond turned into an icy blade or a rope drawing them closer, no one could predict.

When Jian Shichu saw Feng-ge squatting on the ground clutching his split-open forehead, she was startled in that previous second—blood seeping out bit by bit through his fingers.

The other guy wasn’t faring much better either. He pressed his tongue against his cheek, saliva mixed with blood, and spat a mouthful into the trash bin.

The store manager had a sullen temper—you didn’t want to rile up someone like that. Once he lost it, he didn’t recognize anyone. After spitting out that saliva, a “Fuck” burst from his lips.

He grabbed a nearby stool and lunged forward, but the employees reacted fast, tackling his waist and dragging him back. At that, Feng-ge wasn’t having it—like he’d suffered a huge loss—and he snatched up a broom to swing at them.

Xiao Yang rushed forward to grab it, plunging the scene back into chaos.

“Stop it!” Jian Shichu’s voice wasn’t loud, but both sides were too heated to reason with. Anyone could lose control in the moment.

Even with her voice, the broom still solidly whacked another employee in the back.

Jian Shichu suppressed her anger. “Call 120.”

The ambulance picked them up halfway down the mountain. Jian Shichu got the full story: They had been having a meeting in the private room, everything harmonious and serious. There was a table of guests that evening who hadn’t ordered, so the kitchen was to prepare whatever.

Thus, the store manager decided to discuss it with the chefs together—the service at Mid-Mountain had to be the best.

Now with all this mess, the guests were big shots and it was their first time. They were referred by a regular, who was Song Yi’s client. As Jian Shichu listened, she gradually fell silent.

“Doudou-jie, isn’t your flight at seven? Hurry up and go—I’ll handle this.” Xiao Yang said it while helping set the dining table.

Mid-Mountain only took one table of guests and had just one private room, laid out to feel like a family banquet. The current plan was to move to the main hall and redecorate. But they needed to communicate well with the guests.

Jian Shichu asked, “When do the guests arrive?”

“Six o’clock,” Xiao Yang replied.

“Give me the phone.”

…

Wen Zhixu checked the time and left home. There were two missed calls from Jian Shichu—her phone had been on silent, so she hadn’t noticed.

There were also two WeChats from Jian Shichu. Seeing the content, Wen Zhixu was a bit stunned and instinctively called back.

[The shop has something come up last minute. I’ll come find you tomorrow morning.]

[I’ll have Xiao Yang take you to the airport. He’s almost there.]

After three rings, a car pulled up in front of her. The passenger window rolled down, and Xiao Yang leaned out halfway to wave.

He got out of the car. Wen Zhixu hung up since the call hadn’t connected yet. Her suitcase was small, just packed with personal clothes and an outer coat.

She wouldn’t stay long in Hangzhou this time—two days at most. Tang Yuan would pick her up at the airport.

“What happened at the shop?” Wen Zhixu asked.

Xiao Yang put her suitcase in the trunk. “Xiao-Xu-jie, get in the car first.”

The cold wind stung her face, making it dry and sore. She sat in the back seat and asked again, “What exactly is going on?”

As Xiao Yang started the car, he replied, “It’s not a big deal. Just a table of guests came, so Doudou-jie has to host them.”

He didn’t say more, just watched the road ahead as the car slowly drove off. The car air freshener smelled cloying, and with the heater on, it made her feel dizzy.

Wen Zhixu observed Xiao Yang’s expression and saw nothing unusual. She took out her phone and sent Jian Shichu a WeChat.

[I’ll pick you up at the airport tomorrow.]

Just as she sent it, Jian Shichu called. There was some background noise in the electronic tone. Before Wen Zhixu spoke, she caught Xiao Yang’s eyes in the rearview mirror.

“Did you see the message I just sent?” Wen Zhixu asked.

“Yeah, I saw it. Sorry, I can’t make it today.”

Her tone carried helplessness. Jian Shichu was always considerate of her feelings, but that very care made Wen Zhixu feel a bit distant.

Wen Zhixu said, “It’s fine. I’ll pick you up tomorrow morning.”

She felt no emotional turbulence about it—she understood. Tantrums were for kids. Everyone had sudden emergencies, and the most comfortable state for two people together was mutual understanding.

They ended with a “Be safe on the road.” After hanging up, Jian Shichu even sent her an emoji.

As Xiao Yang drove, he said, “Xiao-Xu-jie, how’s your new book going?”

“I’ve started writing,” Wen Zhixu replied, putting her phone down without closing the chat—just locking the screen.

“So fast? When will it be done?” Xiao Yang tried chatting with Wen Zhixu to make the ride to the airport less boring.

Wen Zhixu looked out the window. “If I finish, probably around May next year.”

A book required quality and endless revisions. By now, readers’ expectations for Wen Zhixu were higher and higher. Breaking through others was simple, but surpassing herself was a tough process.

“Xiao Yang, how long have you been with Jian Shichu?”

“A long time. Doudou-jie is great, and I can’t bear to leave. The restaurant’s been open as long as I’ve been here. These years, I’ve always thought Doudou-jie is kinda weird. The business isn’t great, not much money to make, but she insists on keeping it open.”

Xiao Yang’s words carried a sense of world-weariness. In that moment, he seemed like a storyteller summing up a tale in a few phrases.

Wen Zhixu didn’t respond. She sat quietly—that line was hard to pick up. What to say? The story of Fog Condensing on the Window, or something about that offhand remark from five years ago?

Wen Zhixu tucked her chin into her scarf, silently watching the shadow on her phone screen.

Xiao Yang glanced at her again. “I said too much—sorry, Xiao-Xu-jie. I mean, Doudou-jie lives freely, very detached.”

“It’s fine, I get what you mean, and you’re absolutely right.” Wen Zhixu looked up with a faint smile.

Affectionate people were hard to come by, and Jian Shichu happened to be just such a person. As the car drove forward, its speed gradually slowed while passing by the school.

“Back when I was in school, I got bullied everywhere. Sigh, I did everything—writing homework for others and all that.” Xiao Yang’s gaze fixed on the scenery outside the window as he rummaged for topics to chat with Wen Zhixu about.

“I got picked on when I was little too, but it’s all in the past now.” Wen Zhixu even felt like smiling a little when she thought back on it—probably because those experiences hadn’t left much of a mark on her.

Xiao Yang’s mouth was like a faucet that wouldn’t shut off; once he latched onto a topic, he just kept going.

“So everyone has stories like that. Once, when Sister Bai Xue had too much to drink, she even mentioned that Doudou-jie got hit with verbal bullying back in junior high or whenever it was.”

Wen Zhixu’s gaze abruptly shifted from the window to the front seat, landing squarely on the steering wheel. Jian Shichu never gave her the impression of being someone who could be bullied.

No matter who it happened to, it just wouldn’t be Jian Shichu.

When she heard this, it touched her heart, because the other woman had never brought up any of it—not even a single word in the two years they’d been together.

Perhaps because those things were already behind her.

Xiao Yang didn’t hear a response from Wen Zhixu, so he went on: “It’s all in the past. Not everyone remembers their childhood stuff. Doudou-jie has a temper, but she doesn’t fly off the handle. Who could bully her anyway?”

Xiao Yang nailed the description perfectly: she had a temper but kept it in check, staying emotionally steady even when pissed off. Every word she fired back was spot-on, leaving the other person speechless.

How did someone even develop that kind of poise? It was damn hard to learn—and impossible to truly master.

Wen Zhixu listened right up to that point.