Chapter 60

The sales assistant had already brought out the wedding dress ahead of time. When she realized the two knew each other, the smile on her face stiffened for a second, and her gaze darted toward the wedding dress. “Mr. Wu, the wedding dress you ordered—do you want to check it over again?”

“Try it on. Treat it as a gift. If it doesn’t fit, we can alter it.” Wu Yang looked at Wen Zhixu, still wearing that bland, inscrutable expression.

Wen Zhixu met his gaze without a hint of timidity, her breathing faintly cool. “No need. How did you know I wanted to buy this wedding dress?”

Wu Yang spread his hands, shrugging his shoulders as he averted his eyes. “I like photography. The photo turned out great—this wedding dress suits you perfectly.”

Wen Zhixu reacted lightning-fast, immediately recalling the photo the photographer had taken that day. That photo had circulated online for a bit. This wedding dress must be the one Wu Yang had ordered after seeing it.

“You can’t deprive me of my right to show some courtesy. My previous approaches weren’t appropriate and led to misunderstandings. This is my apology. If you like the wedding dress, try it on—we’ll alter it to your measurements.” Wu Yang slipped his hands into his pockets.

Wen Zhixu calmly glanced toward the wedding dress. Under the lights, the diamond buckle at the waist still sparkled, but somehow, it had lost its luster to her eyes.

She said, “Courtesy requires willingness on both sides. If I’m not taking it seriously, then stay away from me. I suddenly don’t like this wedding dress anymore.”

Wen Zhixu gripped her bag strap tightly, nodded to the sales assistant, and strode straight for the door. Her steps held no hesitation, and she didn’t glance back.

That flicker of anticipation soured in an instant. Before Wen Zhixu reached the door, Wu Yang chased after her. “Miss Wen, I don’t do things more than three times. I had no time today in Chongqing for my business trip. If not for picking up this wedding dress, I’d be in a meeting right now.”

“So?” Wen Zhixu turned to look at him. “Should I be grateful to you? Don’t bother me.”

After dropping those words, as the cold wind pierced her chest, Wen Zhixu’s mood plummeted entirely. She lowered her head and messaged the sales assistant:

[Sorry, I’ll come back to pick a wedding dress when I have time.]

After exiting the WeChat interface, Wen Zhixu found the photo in her album and hit delete. Seeing it gone, she let out a breath of relief into the wind.

Some beautiful things were only meant for a single glance. Whether they suited or could be taken home all came down to fate.

Wen Zhixu wandered into a bookstore, browsing halfheartedly. She bought two bestselling books lately. At checkout, her phone pinged with a message.

[Jian Shichu: Where are you?]

Wen Zhixu glanced at it, paid up, spun her phone in her palm, and slung the paper bag over her wrist.

[Wen Zhixu: I’m at the bookstore.]

After sending that, the reply was just “mm.” The single character felt off, though she couldn’t say why.

She spent the walk home steadying her mood. The moment the elevator doors opened, she let her breath settle heavily in her chest.

The door lock clicked, and Wen Zhixu peered inside. The house was serene, the quiet space laced with an odd atmosphere.

Jian Shichu wasn’t home—she figured she must be at the restaurant. She headed straight to the bedroom to keep working on her manuscript.

The afternoon passed in eerie calm, so still it felt unnatural. No messages came through on her phone. During a break, as she scrolled Weibo, she clicked into that photographer’s profile again.

That post had racked up tons of likes. It was this photo that had drained the color from the wedding dress. Mood shaped perception; now, it didn’t look all that impressive.

Wen Zhixu messaged Jian Shichu again, asking when she’d be back. Half an hour had passed since she sent it.

Even when swamped, she never took more than half an hour to reply. Today, though, the message sat unanswered—the last one sent.

Wen Zhixu called. It didn’t hang up, but no one picked up.

Unease started creeping in. She threw on a coat and headed to the restaurant—Jian Shichu’s place was right nearby.

By the time she arrived, customers filled both the dining area and outdoors. The crew shooting scenes there had put the place on the map; this was just a trickle now, but once the drama aired, crowds would flock.

She’d even rented the adjacent open lot, planning to expand outdoors after the New Year.

Xiao Yang wiped his hands on his apron. Spotting Wen Zhixu, he broke into a grin and hurried over. “Sister Xiao Xu, what’ll you have?”

Wen Zhixu stood in the doorway. “Is Jian Shichu here?”

Xiao Yang stepped aside, peering inside. “Nah, Doudou-jie didn’t come in today. Everything okay?”

“She didn’t pick up my call. I thought she might be here.” Wen Zhixu’s unease deepened.

Xiao Yang caught the anxiety in her brows right away. “Don’t worry—I’ll call Mid-Mountain Restaurant. She might just be tied up.”

He fished his phone from his pocket and, dialing, ushered Wen Zhixu aside to clear the way for customers.

“Hello, Sister Huan? Is Doudou-jie there?”

—

Xiao Yang’s voice blended with the background music as he plugged his other ear with a finger.

—

“Oh, got it. Sister Xiao Xu called and she didn’t pick up.”

—

He said just a couple lines before hanging, tapped the screen, and turned to Wen Zhixu. “Sister Xiao Xu, no worries—she’s at Mid-Mountain Restaurant.”

Wen Zhixu let out a breath of relief and thanked him. He was busy, so she didn’t linger. As she left the restaurant, she tried calling Jian Shichu again.

Same result—no answer.

Maybe she was too swamped to reply. Wen Zhixu wasn’t used to it, though Jian Shichu had never ghosted her like this before. Red lanterns hung from roadside greenery; as dusk fell, the air carried a New Year tang.

Her unease dragged on till 10 p.m. When she called again, Jian Shichu’s phone was off.

No clue when it happened, and she still hadn’t come home.

Calling the restaurant got her the line that Jian Shichu had turned in for the night. She slept poorly that night, restless.

What had happened? She had no idea. Sensitive and suspicious by nature, Wen Zhixu figured either something went down and Jian Shichu kept it from her…

At first light, she flagged a taxi curbside.

The drive was slower than usual—thick fog turned the road ahead to white blur. En route to mid-mountain, she redialed Jian Shichu. Still off.

Mid-Mountain had just opened; the cleaner was wiping down glass, lobby lights aglow. Spotting Wen Zhixu, they greeted her.

She glanced upstairs. “Where’s Jian Shichu?”

“Boss is up top—just got up.”

“Thanks, Auntie.” Wen Zhixu’s eyes fixed on the stairs, her thanks clipped as she jogged up to Jian Shichu’s room, hand trailing the railing.

The door stood ajar, room dark inside, warm air wafting out. Wen Zhixu pushed forward, nudging it open with her elbow; inertia swung it slowly shut behind. Jian Shichu leaned her lower back against the desk off to the side, phone screen glowing with the boot-up interface. White light etched her face, making her seem utterly detached from the world.

Wen Zhixu’s panting broke the quiet, but she didn’t so much as glance up—eyes locked on the phone.

“What happened?” Her footsteps shattered the silence.

Jian Shichu still wouldn’t look at her, fatigue plain on her face. Freshly showered, the scent of body wash hung clear even from half a meter away.

The stonewalling furrowed Wen Zhixu’s brows bit by bit. Finally, she pressed: “What’s wrong? Say something.”

Only then did Jian Shichu glance over languidly. “Say what?”

A staffer passed by, cradling a flower pot, and peeked cautiously inside. Jian Shichu’s gaze flicked to the door. “Close it.”

The staffer mumbled agreement, freed a hand, and pressed the handle shut. The click hardened the tension—like the crack of a starting pistol.

Wen Zhixu sensed the shift, breathing steady as she glanced at the door. “What’s really going on?”

Jian Shichu’s sharp inhale cut the air, her lower back still braced against the desk. “Xiao Xu, remember how I’ve told you more than once: whatever it is, tell me. I’ll listen properly. Was I not clear enough for you to get it?”

Her face stayed cool and detached, voice flat even confronting Wen Zhixu.

“What do you mean?” Mist filmed Wen Zhixu’s eyes.

“I’m talking myself into hearing your side.” Jian Shichu slid her finger slowly across the phone screen. “Last chance: where were you yesterday?”

Wen Zhixu’s chest heaved—she got it in a heartbeat. “Wedding dress store.”

“Why not say so when I asked yesterday?”

“You followed me?”

The accusation halted Jian Shichu’s hand. She stared, then let out a self-mocking laugh. “Yeah, I followed you. That how you see it?”

“How have I wronged you? I didn’t tell you for a reason—but why follow me?” Anger edged Wen Zhixu’s voice, new to her tone.

“Afraid I’d find out?” Jian Shichu shifted her right foot back, peeling away from the desk. In the thickening air, her eyes rimmed red.

“I’ve been dying to know what you really want. If this is your thing, then why come back at all?”

Wen Zhixu’s hand was trembling. Jian Shichu’s words stabbed into her heart bit by bit. Wen Zhixu had never seen her like this and involuntarily turned her head away. “I ran into him at the bridal shop. I didn’t know it was him who bought that wedding dress…”

“Wen Zhixu, is it just this one thing?” Jian Shichu interrupted her. “Back in Hangzhou, he showed up at your house early in the morning. Those photos from when you were kids were well-preserved. When he gave them to you, didn’t you accept them?”

Wen Zhixu’s heart suddenly skipped a beat. Flashes of Tang Yuan’s house played through her mind like a revolving lantern. She still remembered the clump of mud at auntie’s doorstep—the color was just like the one on the soles of Jian Shichu’s feet.

At this thought, Wen Zhixu suddenly felt awful, her breathing turning rapid. She had to slow it down, and her eyes reddened.

“I’ve told you, if there’s something to say, just tell me directly. You know exactly what I’m talking about, but have you ever mentioned even half a word? Hm?”

Wen Zhixu looked at her. “What’s so strange about the photos? I don’t remember things from when I was a kid that clearly.”

Jian Shichu let out a dry laugh. “I tried to convince myself to hear your explanation. I’ve hinted at it to you so many times, including yesterday when I asked. Even if you’d said just one word, I would’ve pretended nothing happened and asked nothing more. You could’ve brushed me off casually—no problem, I’d have made excuses for you. But you didn’t.”

“I told you there’s a reason. What happened in Hangzhou is in the past. What do I need to explain? My mom knows his family—we took photos as kids. Besides, that wedding dress…” Wen Zhixu hurriedly continued.

“Let’s break up first.”

The words came out light and airy, but in that instant, the tears in Wen Zhixu’s eyes spilled over. Her entire body shook as she stared at Jian Shichu in disbelief.

Jian Shichu, eyes red-rimmed, glanced faintly at the tears streaking her face. “Why are you crying? Isn’t cutting ties what you’ve always dreamed of? Are you leaving, or should I?”

Wen Zhixu stood frozen, not budging an inch.

After a three-second standoff, Jian Shichu shoved her chair back—the screech shattered the impasse. She turned to leave, but Wen Zhixu spun around and hugged her from behind.

“I was wrong. Please hear me out, okay? It’s not like that.” Wen Zhixu’s voice trembled, her arms tightening as if afraid the other would slip away.

“Don’t break up. I don’t want to leave you.” Wen Zhixu’s whole body trembled faintly.

When Jian Shichu looked down at Wen Zhixu’s hands, a tear accidentally dripped onto the back of Wen Zhixu’s hand. Just as she’d told herself—as long as it was Wen Zhixu, she would soften.

The words pierced her most vulnerable spot like a steel needle. Jian Shichu softened her breathing. “I don’t want to hear it right now. I need to calm down.”

She touched Wen Zhixu’s hand and gently pried the arms from around her waist. Her heart felt so heavy, so heavy.

It was the first time Jian Shichu didn’t look back, the first time she didn’t turn to wipe the tears from Wen Zhixu’s face. Wen Zhixu watched the door close, her body hollowed out and drained of strength. Propping herself against the chair back, she cried until she could scarcely catch her breath.