Chapter 61: Late Night, 11 PM

Wen Zhixu was at home. Jian Shichu had left the Mid-Mountain Restaurant that morning and hadn’t come back either—she couldn’t find her anywhere. The living room lights were off, the fog blocked outside the glass windows, with hazy lights occasionally visible within it.

Wen Zhixu sat on the floor, her back against the edge of the sofa, the bottom of her phone right up against her knees. Tears dripped down bit by bit along the back of her hand.

Her fingers moved very slowly across the screen. The first three messages had lingered there since eight in the morning.

【Where are you?】

【Don’t do this, let’s talk nicely, don’t do this】

【I won’t do it again next time】

After those three, every message she sent turned into an exclamation mark. Jian Shichu had told her she wanted some quiet time and asked her not to send any more.

Wen Zhixu explained slowly, typing word by word on the screen. Even though they wouldn’t send and just turned into exclamation marks, she still typed slowly.

The phone vibrated several times—it was a message from Ruyi’s editor, asking if she’d mailed out the contract for the new book.

Wen Zhixu’s contract had expired, so Ruyi had sent her a new authorization contract for the new book to sign.

After exiting the WeChat interface, she rested her cheek against her knees. Her pants were soaked with tears. She held back from crying out loud, but her shoulders trembled uncontrollably.

She sniffled and let out a heavy, slow breath, hoping it would make her feel a little better. The phone interface chimed with an electronic tone: the other party was currently on a call.

She couldn’t hold it together anymore. Her tear-reddened eyes could barely hold onto her trembling lashes.

In these dozen or so hours, Wen Zhixu had sorted through every word Jian Shichu had said—she wasn’t joking around. Jian Shichu was exactly that kind of person.

She wouldn’t ask any questions. If told, she would listen carefully and believe unconditionally.

It had been the same the year they broke up. Begging her for an explanation in the cold wind, but back then, she hadn’t said a single word. Now, she wanted to explain, but message after message stayed stuck between them, unsent.

Wen Zhixu had realized her feelings that year because her roommate was having a birthday. She wasn’t very sociable, but things were harmonious with the girls in the dorm, and there were no conflicts.

At that time, she and Jian Shichu were still at the friends stage, their dynamic somewhere between friends and something more, but not quite lovers.

When her sexual orientation wasn’t clear yet, Wen Zhixu couldn’t read Jian Shichu’s intentions and didn’t quite understand if this was like or just how girls were with each other.

It was a weekend, and her roommate had picked a lamb spine hotpot place. While picking out a gift at the mall, Wen Zhixu ultimately chose a scarf.

The scarf was a light pink, an unobtrusive and clean shade. After checking out, just before leaving the mall, she glanced toward a candy store entrance.

A three-meter-tall clown doll held a balloon flower, its smile drawing her inside. The dazzling array of candies gave off a non-cloying sweet scent, like the erasers from childhood, finger-sized and lying in the glass case.

Wen Zhixu bought the green grape flavor ones, shaped like little green grapes, packed in a kraft paper bag. She folded it neatly and stuffed it into her backpack before leaving the mall.

Her roommate wasn’t just inviting the dorm girls—there were a few guys from other schools too. When everyone sat around the table, Wen Zhixu was still the quiet one.

She listened attentively to others, seeming sociable, but that meant she couldn’t avoid downing the passed-around drinks. Everyone was letting loose that day.

With her poor tolerance, she was dizzy after less than a bottle. Later, Jian Shichu got a call and came to pick her up.

That day in Beihai, there was no snow. It was dry and cold all around, bare branches rustling in the wind. That year, the hottest topic on Weibo was the female celebrity who’d won the Green Lotus Award for her role in a TV adaptation of a novel, turning things around against the odds. Almost every TV in every household was playing that drama.

The wind sobered her up from the alcohol. They took the nearest shortcut, a small street outside the apartment with hardly anyone around.

Wen Zhixu pulled the candy out of her backpack: “Bought this for you.”

Under the streetlight, Jian Shichu’s gaze was especially gentle. She looked at her on the verge of smiling, took it, and tore it open: “Candy.”

“Yeah, candy.” Wen Zhixu’s eyes held a layer of drunken haze.

Jian Shichu popped one into her mouth. They stood under the streetlight, hair swaying in the wind.

Jian Shichu frowned slightly: “A bit sour. How’d you think of giving me candy?” She bit down and crushed the candy after asking.

“Saw it and bought it. Don’t you have some at home?” Wen Zhixu said. “It’s just weird—I only see you buy them, never eat them.”

Hearing this, Jian Shichu just smiled without replying. Her shoes scraped the ground as they walked unhurriedly. Wen Zhixu was a bit out of breath after drinking.

“Want me to carry you on my back?” Jian Shichu supported her, her hand inadvertently brushing Wen Zhixu’s exposed wrist.

Wen Zhixu instinctively pulled back, slowly looking up at Jian Shichu. Her face flushed then, heart starting to race under the alcohol’s push.

Jian Shichu furrowed her brows slightly: “What’s wrong?”

Her tone was the usual gentle one.

Probably wrestling with her thoughts, Wen Zhixu paused before looking up again. Her subtle breaths formed wisps of white mist around her nose tip.

Wen Zhixu said: “I’ve been wanting to confirm something lately.”

“What?”

“The way you pull me feels different from when Li Li pulls me.”

Jian Shichu smiled: “How’s it different?”

“Can’t put it into words, just different.”

Jian Shichu exhaled slowly and unhurriedly, her expression changing amid a slow smile. Then she asked: “So, do you prefer Li Li holding you, or me?”

Wen Zhixu’s ears turned red at once. Her throat bobbed, and she stepped forward, closing the distance between them.

She said: “You. I’m trying to figure out what’s different.”

“How are you going to confirm it?” Jian Shichu asked with a smile.

“Are you someone’s first kiss?” Wen Zhixu asked a very direct question, her voice trembling as she spoke.

Jian Shichu’s brows lifted: “Hm?”

“If not, do you mind if I try? If yes, then forget it.” Wen Zhixu finished.

Jian Shichu immediately replied: “I don’t mind.”

She didn’t answer yes or no, just stood there looking at Wen Zhixu, her eyes reflecting the streetlight’s faint glow and Wen Zhixu herself.

Wen Zhixu was tough-talking when speaking, but panicked when it came to doing it. A full minute passed between them.

That minute felt very long. As she tilted her head up slightly, she lowered her eyes again—this was her first step.

Even if she backed out right then and never brought it up again, Jian Shichu wouldn’t touch her. That’s why, later on, when asked if Jian Shichu had turned her, she refuted it without hesitation.

“If you don’t hurry, I might regret it later.” Jian Shichu’s gaze fell on her nose tip, close but one step short.

Wen Zhixu lightly closed her eyes and leaned in. The moment their lips touched, her whole body went numb, a sour yet wonderful feeling exploding in her heart.

She couldn’t remember what a first kiss felt like—she remembered it tasted like green grapes. The reason she’d bought the candy was probably to remember that flavor.

No technique at all, just pressing together. Less than three seconds in, her waist was held by the other. When Jian Shichu responded, she instantly couldn’t breathe.

The entanglement in the cold wind wasn’t dramatic—just the green awkwardness of that year. She lost track of time, only remembering that the kiss felt really long, but very short after they parted.

Alcohol flushed her cheeks, restraint stirring her budding feelings—that was the thrill of a heartbeat. Jian Shichu asked: “Figured it out?”

Wen Zhixu didn’t answer right away and didn’t push Jian Shichu away either. She just said: “I don’t know.”

“Then be with me. Date me. I really like you. Want to give it a try? Maybe you’ll like me too.”

From then on, Jian Shichu couldn’t hide it anymore. They didn’t have some grand confession scene—even the light that day was a bit dim.

A cat meowed several times in the alley. When Wen Zhixu heard those words, she felt joy, her heart pounding uncontrollably. If it were anyone else, no; only Jian Shichu could get that reaction from her.

“Then… let’s try it.”

When she said that, she probably already liked her.

Back then, she just hadn’t realized it. She didn’t mind Jian Shichu from the start, from when they first met. This person gave her a very familiar feeling.

Actually, every time she recalled this story, Wen Zhixu thought about it often. After the breakup, she’d buy all sorts of flavored candies—except green grape.

Jian Shichu had never liked candy from the beginning, so later she’d just buy some green grape ones to keep at home.

Wen Zhixu dialed all night, redialing the unconnected phone over and over. The charging cable lay beside her. When tired, she’d sleep on the carpet; when awake, she’d keep calling.

Repeating this meaningless process that the other side couldn’t even see. Every time she cried, her eyes turned red, until the next morning when they were swollen.

When she woke, the house was silent, and her phone showed nothing.

Jian Shichu was avoiding her, wouldn’t come home, wouldn’t go to places she knew. If she said she wanted quiet time, then she definitely was alone.

Wen Zhixu’s eyes ached. She didn’t even dare think Jian Shichu’s name. Her body felt hollowed out, without a shred of strength.

After a simple shower, she put on a mask, grabbed the file bag, and went to the entryway to change shoes. The drink she’d bought yesterday was still in the plastic bag on the edge of the cabinet, liable to fall if not careful.

She glanced at it but didn’t take it out—she wasn’t in the mood to put it in the fridge.

Wen Zhixu didn’t go through the front gate. The delivery station in the neighborhood was right outside Building 2, and she headed there straight from the garage.

There were people buying smokes at the delivery station counter. Wen Zhixu kept her head down, her voice muffled, her breath hot against her mask.

“Scan the code to place your order first.” The boss slapped the QR code onto the freezer.

Wen Zhixu pulled out her phone to scan it. With a beep, the interface popped up. After a few quick taps, she handed the document pouch to the boss.

“Got any candy?”

The boss was packing up her parcel. He glanced at her, his gaze lingering on her red, swollen eyes for a few seconds before he turned sideways, jerking his chin behind her. “Back there. Take your pick.”

Wen Zhixu turned and scanned the shelves, finally selecting a box of hard candies—all one flavor, pink packaging, peach taste.

She was already at the door when the Alipay notification chimed. One hand clutching the candy box, the other firing off a reply to her editor’s message.

[Sent out.]

She copied the tracking number and sent that over too.

Even after all that, she still couldn’t give up. She tapped open the phone dialer once more. Before the electronic tone could even ring, her tears spilled over uncontrollably in the cold wind.

It wasn’t until she was inside the door that she finally dared to press the phone to her ear. The lock clicked open, and Wen Zhixu drew in a heavy breath.

She stood in the entryway, steadying herself, hooking her mask down with a finger. From the corner of her eye, she spotted the cooling tea on the shoe cabinet, crushed under a plastic bag. Her chest heaved violently. Without even changing shoes, she bolted into the bedroom.

The room was still deathly quiet, utterly unchanged. She scanned it once over before dashing back out, yanking the door shut behind her on the way.

Jian Shichu had come back.