Chapter 50

“Is she from Chongqing? I’ve forgotten, but the mailing address was in Chongqing.” The arc at Gao Xin’s lips stretched a bit longer as she leaned forward to pick up her cup and take a sip.

Wen Zhixu fell silent and didn’t continue the conversation. Just as before, she had chatted a lot with Peanut online, but they never delved into real-life privacy. Back then, being young, she had some guard up on the internet and naturally didn’t know more details.

There was a feeling like they were passing travelers in each other’s lives, trekking through mountains and rivers across the world, ultimately leaving behind only a name.

Seeing her expression, Han Ye asked, “Are you looking for her for something?”

Wen Zhixu smiled faintly and shook her head. “No, just an old friend I haven’t contacted in a long time. Just asking around.”

Gao Xin kept a polite smile on her face. “‘Jiuqu’ magazine shut down years ago, so it’s probably impossible to find Peanut. She used a pen name, after all.”

“No worries.” Wen Zhixu zoned out for a second.

Han Ye said, “Yeah, not easy to find.” His tone rose and fell with a sigh.

It wasn’t like she had to find her—maybe the other side had forgotten too. Wen Zhixu’s knuckles slowly regained warmth. She felt her phone vibrate in her pocket and lowered her head to press the side button. Jian Shichu had replied to her WeChat.

[I woke up.]

“Xiao Xu, didn’t you just ask me what my plans are?” Han Ye glanced at Gao Xin.

Wen Zhixu put her phone back in her pocket and looked up at Han Ye.

“The online literature market has good prospects right now, so Gao Xin and I are planning to collaborate on a literature website, and offline, we’ll start a small publishing house to combine with it. Xiao Xu, we’ve known each other for a while, so I’ll be straightforward and not beat around the bush. With your fame, you could have better development. I’d like to invite you to be one of the co-founders of this startup project. Think it over.”

Han Ye had hit the nail on the head at this moment. Whether he was sincerely inviting Wen Zhixu to collaborate was clear from his attitude.

He laid out his purpose in the most concise and direct way, skipping details to get straight to the point. Wen Zhixu’s gaze shifted from Gao Xin’s face to Han Ye’s.

After a pause, Wen Zhixu said, “It’s a good idea. I need some time to think it over properly.”

“Xiao Xu, tell me any concerns you have, and we’ll talk it out.” Han Ye spoke up, drawing looks from people at nearby tables.

Gao Xin, sitting beside her, said, “Xiao Xu, with your fame and our experience, we can expand your works into multimedia. Beyond adaptations and merchandise, we can create even more commercial value. So it’s not just a literature website—it can broaden your path too.”

Gao Xin had an advisory tone, but it tasted like capitalist persuasion centered on self-interest.

Wen Zhixu naturally understood that her original content could bring readers and authors to the site.

“That’s not what I mean. Your idea is great. Do you have any initial plans? Like, which city?” Wen Zhixu asked.

Han Ye shifted sideways, his laptop bag on his lap. “Beijing, Shanghai, Chengdu, Nanjing, Hangzhou. I did some research on the literature market—take a look.”

Gao Xin moved the cup on the table aside, steadying the laptop on the surface.

They hadn’t even left their jobs yet, but the preparations were thorough. It seemed Han Ye’s decision to go solo wasn’t a whim, and with Gao Xin’s ample experience, it felt like a powerhouse alliance.

“Here, take a look.” Han Ye turned the laptop toward her. “Beijing has a relatively developed cultural and creative industry, with lots of publishing houses and literary events. Policy support and industry talent are concentrated, but competition is fierce too…”

“No, Brother Han.” Wen Zhixu interrupted at this point. “I still need to consider it.”

Surprise flickered between Han Ye’s brows, but he recovered in a second. “No problem, no problem. Take your time to think. If you’re interested, I’ll send you this file.”

“Okay, thanks.” Wen Zhixu had considered starting her own literature website after her contract ended, but this opportunity had come too suddenly, and she couldn’t process or balance it right away.

It was ten-thirty when they left the café.

Before parting, Han Ye told her to think it over carefully. She added WeChat with him and Gao Xin.

As soon as she got in the taxi, Han Ye sent over the file, along with a message saying to take her time and not rush.

Wen Zhixu replied to Jian Shichu on WeChat. Outside the hotel, she bought a few bottles of water at the convenience store and saw hot soy milk, so she got a cup. As the automatic door opened and closed, cold wind poured down her neck.

The gum at the checkout counter was still endorsed by Ke Yixuan. Her phone vibrated two or three times, but Wen Zhixu didn’t hang up while paying.

With the paper bag hooked on her wrist, leaving a thin red mark, and amid another electronic “Welcome back next time,” Wen Zhixu held her phone with one hand, swiped it open, and put it to her ear.

She walked while lifting her hand to catch it as it slipped into her palm. It was a call from Tang Yuan.

—

No need, I’m heading back to Chongqing tomorrow.

—

Yeah, I’ll tell her.

—

The call was short. By the time Wen Zhixu entered the elevator, it had ended. Tang Yuan had suggested grabbing a meal together—what was the purpose or meaning behind that meal?

Wen Zhixu couldn’t think of one, and he couldn’t say, so naturally, they wouldn’t share a table.

The room had the heater on. As the door swung open, warm air hit her ear, providing slight relief. In the next second, Jian Shichu pulled her inside, her hand naturally cupping Wen Zhixu’s cheek.

“You’re so cold.”

Wen Zhixu looked at her and nodded. “It’s a bit cold outside. Have you had breakfast?” Right after saying it, she spotted the remnants of breakfast in the room.

“I got you some soy milk.” Wen Zhixu lifted the bag a bit.

Jian Shichu set the stuff aside and pressed the back of her hand to Wen Zhixu’s face. “Drink it later.”

The pores invaded by cold air gradually warmed. Jian Shichu’s thin clothes carried warmth too—nice and toasty.

“What do you want for lunch?” Wen Zhixu walked to the sofa, unbuttoning her coat to take it off and hang it on the rack.

Jian Shichu sat beside her. “I’m not picky. Easy to please.” She took a sip of the soy milk—it was still hot—and set it on the corner of the table.

Wen Zhixu smiled teasingly. “Good, Doudou is so obedient.”

She reached out to pat Jian Shichu’s head. Jian Shichu’s face darkened in that instant, and she took a deep breath, looking at Wen Zhixu with a mix of exasperation and amusement.

“Where am I obedient?” Jian Shichu tilted her head to look at her, fingers tapping her knee leisurely. Her rising tone always carried an intriguing vibe.

Wen Zhixu thought for a moment. “Obedient everywhere. Why’d they give you this nickname?”

Jian Shichu pondered before answering, “Mom said it’s because I loved eating peanuts as a kid and couldn’t pronounce it properly, just ‘doudou.'” She stopped there, as if realizing it sounded odd to say it out loud. She looked at Wen Zhixu again, and the topic snapped back with that expression.

But Wen Zhixu could guess the rest even if she didn’t say.

So probably, as a kid, her speech wasn’t clear, and she could only say “doudou,” so that’s how the name stuck.

Kids are like that when learning to talk.

Jian Shichu watched her, elbow propped back on the armrest in a casual pose, but her expression betrayed her nonchalance.

Wen Zhixu didn’t follow up on that, noticing instead the bit about loving peanuts.

“I’ve never seen you eat peanuts.”

“Grew out of it. Besides, you’re allergic, so I don’t want to touch them anyway.” Jian Shichu said it casually.

Wen Zhixu’s eyes softened, a sour feeling in her heart. She’d never seen Jian Shichu eat peanuts, before or after they started dating.

Back when she was young, she’d chased a fleeting thrill, thinking she could balance or grasp this love. Now she realized achieving balance in a relationship was hard. No matter what she did, it felt like she could never match what the other gave.

Thinking this, she looked up at Jian Shichu and met her gaze. She instinctively averted her eyes, and those thoughts scattered, sealed away like dissipating smoke.

Jian Shichu could pick up on any little mood from Wen Zhixu. After a glance, she toyed with the ends of Wen Zhixu’s hair and asked, “What did he talk to you about today?”

The warm air carried a faint fragrance, subtly filling her nose.

“About the contract expiring.” Wen Zhixu didn’t elaborate.

“Ruyi Publishing House’s marketing isn’t great. Are you planning to renew?” Jian Shichu had been following Wen Zhixu’s updates these years.

Wen Zhixu said, “No renewal. Never planned to.”

Jian Shichu twirled her hair, listening quietly. Then Wen Zhixu turned to her. “Want to sleep more? We went to bed too late last night.”

They’d gone to sleep at two a.m. Jian Shichu didn’t look tired, but she still worried she’d overdo it.

Jian Shichu lifted her eyelids, gazing lazily at her. Her hand slowed, and she asked lightly, “If I sleep, what will you do?”

“I’ll sleep with you.” Wen Zhixu’s brows drew together, as if asking her opinion.

Jian Shichu suddenly smiled. As she let go of the hair, she asked slowly, “So, do you want me to sleep the meaty way or the veggie way?”

Wen Zhixu’s lips and brows suddenly changed color. These words felt like they had been skinned raw, without a shred of subtlety and laced with a teasing edge. Every time Jian Shichu opened her mouth, she precisely blocked all the drafts Wen Zhixu had prepared in her mind.

“What are you saying?” The instant Wen Zhixu stood up, Jian Shichu gripped her wrist. A warm sensation spread from her wrist, and she was pulled by the other toward the bed.

Her hair was flung forward from behind her ear as her back pressed into the quilt. The wrinkles and friction sounds filled the air along with her startled breaths. Jian Shichu made no other moves, her knees landing on either side as she looked down at her.

Only after Wen Zhixu regained her composure did Jian Shichu lean down to kiss her. Her lips brushed lightly at first, pecking a few times before her tongue tip swept over her teeth and delved inside, pouring a unique measure of favoritism into the kiss.

Mastering the perfect sense of restraint, she guided it to the side. Wen Zhixu’s resolve crumbled after just two or three seconds. She gulped down air in small breaths, her eyelids drooping involuntarily.

Hot, surging breaths drilled into her ear. After a few seconds, she heard Jian Shichu’s voice.

“Go wash your hands.” Her voice carried a hint of laughter as she rose from atop her.

The words left Wen Zhixu stunned. The corners of her eyes flushed red as she stared blankly at the ceiling, murmuring dazedly, “Then wait for me.”