Chapter 5

Hospitals at night were always eerily quiet. There weren’t many people in the corridors; instead, you might spot someone curled up asleep on a bench in the flower beds outside.

When Wen Zhixu was in elementary school, her dad accidentally gave her peanut milk to drink, and she ended up rushing to the hospital before even making it to school. That hospitalization became the trigger for her parents’ divorce.

In her memories, her mom seemed to have been enduring ever since she could understand things—enduring life, enduring this imperfect love. Divorce didn’t need an excuse; it only needed a decision, the resolve to force herself out of that stagnant life.

Wen Zhixu was on an IV drip. She hadn’t eaten much, so there weren’t any major issues. She couldn’t touch peanuts—not even a single bite. She was alone in the ward, and the lights outside the window were extinguishing one by one in orderly fashion.

Jian Shichu sat beside her, her hand resting on her knee as she asked, “Feeling any better?” She remembered Wen Zhixu was allergic to peanuts. Every time they ate out before, she would check the menu.

She remembered everything, but their reunion had still gone awry. People change; there weren’t that many novel-like tropes to rekindle old flames. Besides, they had already cut things off cleanly back then.

“You should head back first. It’s pretty late.” Wen Zhixu picked up her phone with her left hand. The screen lit up: 11:30.

In Chongqing, that wasn’t late at all. The nightlife didn’t need extravagance to make people forget their trivial worries.

Jian Shichu didn’t respond to her. She stood up, pushed the chair back, and said, “I’ll wait for you outside.”

Wen Zhixu didn’t say anything either. Since their reunion, her normal routine seemed to have been disrupted.

Jian Shichu leaned back in a chair in the corridor. A nurse came over with meds, her clicking footsteps breaking the silence, mingled with the rustle of the plastic bag.

“Her stomach hasn’t been great lately. After stopping the stomach meds, add this antihistamine to take together,” the female nurse said as she lifted the bag and showed her the green box.

Jian Shichu stood to take it and acknowledged. She clutched the plastic bag, watching the nurse enter the ward. Leaning against the wall, she let out a faint sigh.

Those things she thought she’d let go of would burst forth in an instant. The other person didn’t need to do anything or say anything. It was like the rose she’d planted herself—even if it no longer belonged to her, she couldn’t let it go.

There was even a sense of guilt extending from it, gripping her heart tightly. The suffocating feeling left her speechless, but clearly, it had been Wen Zhixu who gave up on her first.

Wen Zhixu came out pressing on the back of her hand. “Let’s go. I’ll send you back first.”

Jian Shichu’s tone was a bit heavy. “I’ll send you.” She never said much; over these five years, she seemed even more steady—and distant.

In the end, Jian Shichu drove Wen Zhixu all the way home. She parked in the garage and learned where Wen Zhixu lived, escorting her all the way upstairs.

Jian Shichu glanced up at the door number but didn’t say a word, just standing behind Wen Zhixu like that.

Wen Zhixu hesitated before saying, “I’m fine. The allergy isn’t severe. Should I head to your restaurant tomorrow morning?”

“Give me your phone.” Jian Shichu looked at her. Being a bit taller than Wen Zhixu, her gaze naturally lowered.

Wen Zhixu paused for a second. She pushed the plastic bag up her wrist and was about to pull out her phone when Jian Shichu’s arm suddenly wrapped around her waist, slipping into her pocket with natural speed. She pressed the power button and held it out for her to unlock.

Wen Zhixu didn’t have facial recognition enabled. She held the phone upright, glanced at Jian Shichu to make sure she wouldn’t see, then quickly entered the password.

The unlock sound chimed, and Jian Shichu took it back, dialed a number, then hung up. “My number. Eight in the morning.”

“Okay.” Wen Zhixu only said one word. She’d promised to be Jian Shichu’s driver and wouldn’t go back on her word. “Drive safe.”

Jian Shichu pressed the elevator button. Seeing Wen Zhixu still hadn’t gone inside, she turned to gaze at her. “Get some rest early.” Jian Shichu seemed to hesitate, as if that wasn’t what she’d originally wanted to say.

Wen Zhixu nodded.

The elevator light slowly projected out, gradually drawing Jian Shichu from the dim corridor into the brightness. At the same time, Wen Zhixu went inside.

—

That night, under the effect of the meds, Wen Zhixu slept soundly. She didn’t dream. The bedroom curtains had been playing a movie all night.

In the morning, she wasn’t woken by an alarm but by the faint voices from the movie—much like the comfortable feeling of dozing off in class back in the day, surrounded by ambient sounds.

After getting up, she had a habit of drinking warm water first. Wen Zhixu hadn’t ingested much peanut, so it wasn’t serious, but she still followed the doctor’s orders and took her meds.

Her rented apartment was on a higher floor. Chongqing’s mornings always had a layer of thin mist in the sky, dissipating like blue smoke as the sun rose.

Wen Zhixu leaned against the table, cup in hand. Current time: 6:50.

She’d gone to bed early last night and hadn’t checked her phone. The crew had pulled her into a group chat, named after her book Fog Condensing on the Window. It included screenwriters, the director, actors—over a dozen people in total.

There was another large group for the entire crew’s staff, with confidential announcements. Actors weren’t in it, only assistants.

The group had some announcements. The director had shown her the script before. This crew had switched directors half a year ago. Wen Zhixu hadn’t paid much attention. She scrolled through the chat; it was all proper talk.

Sipping warm water, wrist lax, the last message in the group was an emoji from Tang Qin—a little bunny that looked just like her. She thought of yesterday’s recording incident.

She’d gradually gotten used to the online chatter and usually didn’t look, but that didn’t mean she wanted to get dragged into the drama.

Her hair ends still bore the marks of last night’s sleep. Wen Zhixu scrolled her phone, then went back to the big group to check the announcements again—this was her second time, her gaze slow and serious.

She set the remaining half cup of water on the table, turned off her phone, grabbed some clothes, and headed to the bathroom. After showering and applying light makeup, she went out.

She was heading straight to Jian Shichu’s restaurant. Jian Shichu hadn’t given her the address but had sent a morning text saying to meet there for breakfast. They hadn’t even added each other on WeChat.

Leaving early didn’t prevent traffic jams, but she made it on time. The suddenly rising temperature had sweat beading on her forehead.

Jian Shichu’s restaurant usually opened at ten, but with the recent renovations, the hours had been adjusted. She hated noise, so the employees were handling the work.

The eight o’clock sun was already fiercely hot. Two years ago, she’d moved out from home to a place closer to the restaurant.

The basic layout was done; the rest were minor details. She stood under the awning. There was a mirror under the green shade outside, and Xiao Yang was rinsing it with a hose before aiming it upstairs.

“Doudou, does Mom think that spot should be changed to match the original book’s description?”

Jian Shichu felt a pat on her shoulder. Turning, she saw her mom coming out with her bag. Wang Yun smiled as she looked around.

Jian Shichu followed her gesture and said, “Mom, I remember the original book focuses more on details than the environment. Besides, my place is small.” Jian Shichu draped an arm around Wang Yun’s shoulders.

Wang Yun thought it made sense and suddenly smiled. “Have you read the book?”

The smile on Jian Shichu’s face stiffened. She slowly withdrew her hand, took a light breath, raised a brow, and nodded in acknowledgment.

“Huh?” Wang Yun seemed to remember something. She studied Jian Shichu’s expression sideways. “Mom remembers the original author, Wen Zhixu, graduated from the same university as you.”

“Uh, yeah.” Jian Shichu replied flatly. “Classmates.” She didn’t explain further. She hadn’t told her family about dating Wen Zhixu in college—they were both young back then.

Wang Yun said, “I don’t think you’ve mentioned her before. That book she wrote in college was great. Several big hits now blew up because of those roles.” Her tone was light. Half a year ago, when taking on this drama, Wang Yun had read the original carefully.

Adapting novels to film was tricky with content changes. Fog Condensing on the Window revolved 60-70% around a restaurant, about girls starting their first venture and reconciling with life’s hardships.

Jian Shichu’s restaurant fit perfectly, so after checking it out, Wang Yun set it as the filming location.

Wang Yun didn’t stay long. After glancing at Jian Shichu and giving a few instructions, she left.

Jian Shichu stood there, watching Wang Yun’s back. She heard the click of high heels on the wooden boards as Wang Yun sidestepped Xiao Yang, who was back with breakfast.

Xiao Yang’s hands were full, the paper bags rustling as he set them on the small table nearest Jian Shichu. Panting, he said, “So hard to get. Impossible. Good thing I went early. What kind of bread has such a long line?”

Jian Shichu took a breath to calm herself. A few loose strands had fallen from her hair tied back, swaying in the breeze now and then.

“Doudou-jie, the porridge is ready. Serve it out?” The girl from the shop called her that on purpose, emphasizing Jian Shichu’s childhood nickname.

Jian Shichu pursed her lips and turned to her, arms loosely crossed, standing idly in the morning light. She neither spoke nor got mad.

Xiao Yang burst out laughing. “That’s a taboo. Can’t call her that, haha.” He busied himself unpacking. The rose-pink paper bag’s logo was dusted with gold powder, glaring in the sunlight.

Jian Shichu said evenly, “Put it inside. Don’t take it out.” As she spoke, she glanced outside. Spotting Wen Zhixu’s figure, she immediately turned and headed into the restaurant, pretending not to see.

Wen Zhixu caught sight of Jian Shichu entering the restaurant. She quickened her pace—the second hand on her watch was about to complete another lap; she’d be late.

The cicadas had risen early and were now testing people’s tolerance for noise. Midsummer had its own agenda—no matter how much they buzzed and fussed, the tough days were only this stretch.

Wen Zhixu nodded in greeting to Xiao Yang at the door before striding inside. With the AC on, it wasn’t so stifling in there.

Jian Shichu said, “Sit down. Eat first.”

Wen Zhixu set her bag on a chair and pulled out the one next to it. Inside the black tray was millet porridge, translucent and goose-yellow, nestled in the bowl.

She took special care to avoid the table corner. After smoothing back her long hair, she inadvertently noticed that today’s table corner was covered, padded with a layer of coffee-colored soft paper.

“Bring your medicine?” Jian Shichu poured her some hot water. Peering through the steam, she looked up at Wen Zhixu, her gaze shifting along with Wen Zhixu’s to the table corner.

Wen Zhixu snapped back to attention and nodded. “I brought it.” She didn’t mind the question—Jian Shichu was naturally thoughtful, always considering customers and kids alike. A fine piece of jade would shine no matter where it was placed.

Jian Shichu sat down across from her. “Remember to take your medicine after you eat.” Her tone didn’t feel like a deliberate reminder.

Wen Zhixu nodded again. She wasn’t much of a talker and barely exchanged words with Jian Shichu, not even bothering with verbal acknowledgments.

Jian Shichu set her cup down by her bowl. Hearing no response, she glanced at her, took a steadying breath, and said, “Wen Zhixu, look at me.”