After thinking it over several times, Jian Shichu still stood up and headed home. She wasn’t at ease leaving Wen Zhixu like this. Angry as she was, she hadn’t uttered the word “break up,” so she couldn’t just let it become real.
Before leaving, Xiao Yang had told her to talk it out properly with Wen Zhixu. Jian Shichu’s agreement was half-hearted; she was already mulling over how to broach the topic.
She got home at nine.
Jian Shichu hesitated at the door. The moment she opened it, the house was dark, the window half-open, a sudden draft blowing through.
“Xiao Xu?” Jian Shichu frowned slightly and called out.
The lights flicked on; the house was spotless. After changing her shoes, she headed to the bedroom. Even with the bedroom light on, there was still no sign of anyone. Wen Zhixu’s notebook sat on the desk, the marker pen neatly placed in its holder.
At that moment, a vague unease crept over her. Her chest heaved as she darted back to the living room. There, on the coffee table, was a note from Wen Zhixu—a pale pink sticky note.
Her gaze fell on the row of words, and Jian Shichu’s hand trembled uncontrollably.
[I headed back to Suzhou first. I thought about a lot last night. You’re right—we really do need to cool off for a bit. I couldn’t send a message, so I left this note for you.]
The stifled frustration in Jian Shichu’s heart deepened. She held back a breath, pulled her phone from her pocket, found Wen Zhixu’s number—and paused when her finger hovered over it.
She stared at the contact name, hesitating. What would she even say if she called?
Should she ask why Wen Zhixu had left without telling her? Or say she was looking for her?
After three minutes of hesitation, Jian Shichu finally pressed the call button.
Meanwhile, in a bar in Hangzhou, Wen Zhixu sat in the corner, the pounding EDM splitting her head. As the flashing lights swept over her eyes, she instinctively shielded them with the back of her hand.
Gao Xin came over from the pool table, surrounded by her friends. The last time Wen Zhixu had been to a place like this was years ago, when she was a screenwriter on the Ru Shi crew—some actor had suggested they go out for fun.
They had dragged her along. She wasn’t used to the noise; even the outside world felt too clamorous to her on normal days.
Gao Xin had brought her out to unwind. Their impromptu group had called over a few friends—some were up on stage, others playing dice.
She stuck out like a sore thumb, her gaze trailing after Gao Xin.
Gao Xin leaned back, flicking her lighter; smoke curled up from the tip of her nose. A bottle of mineral water sat in front of Wen Zhixu.
“Xiao Xu, come play for a bit!” Gao Xin yelled right in her ear.
Wen Zhixu didn’t catch it clearly and frowned, leaning in closer. On the second repeat, she got it.
She shook her head with a faint smile. Her phone, sitting off to the side, vibrated nonstop—but she didn’t notice.
At that moment, Jian Shichu had finished one call and followed up with several more.
Gao Xin tucked her hair behind her ear, leaned down to pick up her glass, and swirled it slowly without drinking. Glancing at Wen Zhixu, she noticed the phone lighting up beside her.
She gave a chin nudge to point it out. Wen Zhixu turned her head; in the dim light, the contact name on the screen was glaringly obvious. It felt like her heart had been hammered.
Her hand shook as she picked up the phone. Gao Xin leaned back, crossing her legs to one side to give her room to pass.
Wen Zhixu sidestepped and headed out with the phone, only to bump headfirst into a man’s back. She nodded an apology, clutching her forehead, and slipped into the bathroom.
The bathroom was quieter, though the thumping EDM still seeped in from outside.
She was a little nervous as she slid to answer, slowly bringing the phone to her ear without speaking.
Jian Shichu’s side was dead silent. The moment it connected, she said, “Why aren’t you picking up? Don’t you know…”
Before she could finish, she noticed the background noise on Wen Zhixu’s end. A furrow creased her brow.
Hearing those words, Wen Zhixu broke down crying. She pressed her back against the door to stifle the sound, managing only a soft “mm” and a sniffle.
“Know what?” Wen Zhixu asked, forcing her breathing steady.
“Where are you?”
Wen Zhixu let out a heavy sigh. “Hangzhou.”
“I mean specifically.” There was no anger in Jian Shichu’s voice—just the gentle tone she always used on their calls.
Before Wen Zhixu could respond, the partition wall shook violently, as if something heavy had slammed against it. Then came coquettish moans and urgent breaths from the next stall over.
The rhythmic thuds against the partition made her face flush red in an instant. Jian Shichu heard it too.
“Xiao Xu, where exactly are you?” Jian Shichu asked again.
Wen Zhixu opened her mouth to speak, but the sounds from next door grew louder. She lowered her voice. “I’m in a bar bathroom.”
Hearing that, Jian Shichu sank powerlessly onto the sofa. The pent-up frustration in her chest surged out with her breath.
“Have you been drinking?”
Tears still clung to Wen Zhixu’s face. She wiped them away with her index finger. “No.” Her voice was thick with grievance.
Jian Shichu said, “Don’t hang up. Wait until you’re home.”
From then on, Wen Zhixu really listened and kept the call going. She pulled her earphones from her pocket, plugged them in, and slipped one into her left ear before leaving the bathroom.
The moment she stepped out, the people from the next stall emerged too—the girl’s arm flushed bright red under the lights. Wen Zhixu didn’t spare them another glance and returned to her seat to find Gao Xin.
After crying it out in the bathroom, it was obvious to Gao Xin. She handed Wen Zhixu a tissue. “Want to head back?”
Wen Zhixu nodded. Gao Xin patted her shoulder, signaling her to wait.
Gao Xin grabbed her glass, clinked it with her friends in farewell, downed the rest, and then led Wen Zhixu out.
Gao Xin was quite a bit older than her, divorced early with no kids. She lived freely— a sharp, capable career woman by day, queen of the nightlife after hours.
She embodied an extreme contrast. Why the divorce? Gao Xin never said, and Wen Zhixu wasn’t the type to pry.
Gao Xin wasn’t drunk, though her cheeks were flushed as she gazed out the window.
“Xiao Xu, feeling better?” She turned her head.
Wen Zhixu still had the earphone in, phone tucked in her pocket; she was still on the call with Jian Shichu, but neither had spoken.
Wen Zhixu just hummed, then asked, “Are you drunk?”
“Nah, this is nothing. If you’re ever down in the future, just go out and have some fun. Life’s short—why dwell on the unhappy stuff? There’s all kinds out there. What type do you like? I’ll find some for you. Pick whoever.”
Even the cab driver glanced at Wen Zhixu in the rearview mirror. Wen Zhixu felt awkward, unsure how to respond.
Gao Xin pressed on. “Oh, right—there’s this hot lesbian bar. Wanna check it out? For real, play for one night and you’ll forget all about it. If one night’s not enough, do a few more.”
Jian Shichu, sitting on her sofa, went dark in the face instantly.
Wen Zhixu didn’t reply at first. Then she heard a cough through the earphone.
She pondered how to respond, silent for three seconds before looking up. “I’ve never been to one.”
Just then, the phone beeped. Wen Zhixu’s brows knit tight. Gao Xin kept going: “Never? Wanna go? I’ll take you—young people need to play more.”
Wen Zhixu saw the call had ended. She tried calling back, only to hear that the other party had powered off.
That hit her hard with disappointment. It felt like the person who used to dote on her and indulge her had grown tired. Even if they made up, things wouldn’t be the same as before.
There was this underlying sense of loss—not anyone’s fault, just something she couldn’t adapt to right now.
Wen Zhixu tapped out a text:
[Don’t call. Let’s cool off.]
Jian Shichu hadn’t heard Wen Zhixu’s reply. When the line went silent, she looked down to see her phone had died. She went to the bedroom, grabbed the charger, and powered it on.
Less than ten minutes later, she saw the message. Any urge to call back vanished. She didn’t reply, just flung the phone onto the sofa.
Gao Xin nudged Wen Zhixu’s arm. Wen Zhixu snapped back to attention, staring blankly at her.
“So, wanna go? I’ll book a spot right now. I went once—it’s pretty good.”
Wen Zhixu replied flatly, “I want to rest. I’m tired.”
Gao Xin didn’t push. She nodded slowly, her breath laced with smoke and booze. Wen Zhixu was clearly the obedient, quiet type.
That awkwardness around bar scenes reminded her of her younger self.
—
She’d had drinks the night before, but the next day at the radio station for script review, Gao Xin was up even earlier. Everything was being planned by Han Ye.
Han Ye knew exactly how to map out her path forward. Handing her book to him was the most reassuring choice—Wen Zhixu didn’t have to worry about a thing; he always knew what suited her best.
And from that night on, Jian Shichu really stopped calling. In her spare time from work, she started thinking about what they should do next.
January 14th.
It had been a week since she cut off contact with Jian Shichu, and the radio show she participated in had become a hot topic on Weibo.
Her book fans loved every single one of her responses. Wen Zhixu, who hadn’t produced a new work in two years, had everyone eagerly anticipating her next book.
During this time, it felt like she had gone back to a few years ago—the years after she broke up with Jian Shichu—reliving the same experiences all over again.
She kept flipping through that phone she hadn’t changed, and that Moments feed full of their shared details. Jian Shichu hadn’t deleted anything; she had kept it all intact.
It was as if she hadn’t taken anything away either, like there was a tacit understanding giving this relationship a chance—a chance to mend the broken mirror and reunite.
That day, Han Ye suggested everyone get together for a meal. Wen Zhixu had booked a ticket back to Suzhou that evening, and Wen Ru was waiting at home for her to come back for the New Year.
Even after a fight, she still had to go home.
And on this day, two people from the old Jiuqu Magazine crew showed up—one from legal affairs, and the other, just like Gao Xin, a former editor.
