The cool air in the lobby kept the heat wave outside at bay. Midway through, Jian Shichu handed a ticket to Wen Zhixu. It had been a long time since Wen Zhixu had seen a stage play. Truth be told, she wasn’t really interested—time had worn away such inclinations in her.
“I’ll just wait for you outside.” Wen Zhixu glanced at the ticket. It was for the afternoon show, but she knew Jian Shichu’s friend was about to arrive. No matter where she stood, she always carried an air of quiet desolation.
Jian Shichu looked at her and paused for a few seconds before saying, “If you don’t like it, we can leave midway.” She didn’t like forcing others; she never had that fearless confidence, not back then and not now.
Wen Zhixu was just about to speak when she heard someone calling Jian Shichu’s name from ahead. She looked in the direction of the voice—it wasn’t crisp and pleasant; the Chongqing dialect had a flavor she couldn’t quite capture in words.
Bai Xue looked stunning when she smiled, her features like a hexagonal snowflake, her fair skin accented just right without heavy makeup.
Bai Xue wasn’t surprised to see Wen Zhixu there—Jian Shichu had given her a heads-up in advance.
“You’re dawdling so much, we’re gonna be late.” Bai Xue complained to Jian Shichu while raising a hand with a smile to greet Wen Zhixu.
She handled both effortlessly, a casual ease most people couldn’t mimic. Her red dress was flashy, giving off a vibe of wielding beauty like a weapon.
Jian Shichu asked, “Isn’t it the afternoon show? Why the rush?”
Bai Xue let out a dry laugh, reining it in quickly, and brushed it off verbally: “Fine, you’re right.” She turned her head to look at Wen Zhixu. “Hi, I’m Bai Xue.”
Wen Zhixu wasn’t much of a talker and seemed soft-tempered, but she handled social situations with poise and grace. Ever since her book became a bestseller, she’d had to attend events outside.
“Hi, I’m Wen Zhixu.” She reached out and lightly clasped the tips of Bai Xue’s fingers—a formal introduction that felt like a necessary procedure.
She had heard of Bai Xue before; the name was easy to remember. Five years ago, Jian Shichu had mentioned her, though she hadn’t shared those childhood fairy tales. But that didn’t stop Jian Shichu from talking about her.
Bai Xue’s expression remained calm upon hearing her name, like a still lake without a ripple, her upturned red lips unchanging. Instead, she generously complimented, “Nice name, and you’re pretty too.”
No sooner had she finished praising her than Jian Shichu turned to look at Bai Xue, her eyes softening a bit, as if agreeing. Wen Zhixu’s mother worked in the government—Jian Shichu had only heard about it once from Wen Zhixu, nothing more.
That upbringing had made Wen Zhixu strictly mannered; no matter where she was, her inherent poise and lack of inferiority or arrogance shone through her demeanor.
She liked this version of Wen Zhixu—liked her so much that even during their breakup, she had begged in a low voice.
Bai Xue didn’t know about Wen Zhixu and her relationship; Jian Shichu had never mentioned that story from a few years ago. Everyone just knew she had a romance that hadn’t ended perfectly.
While waiting, Wen Zhixu went to the bathroom. Jian Shichu was replying to messages on her phone—several were from the shop. Bai Xue nudged her with an elbow, and Jian Shichu accidentally sent an emoji. Her face showed no annoyance; she calmly withdrew it.
Bai Xue leaned in and asked, “How come I’ve never seen Xiao Xu before? Just met her?”
“University classmate,” Jian Shichu replied, her thumb slowly sliding across the screen.
Bai Xue’s eyes fixed there, her expression relaxing as she said, “Never heard you mention her. What does she do?”
“Writer.”
Bai Xue was surprised. “A writer?” Her brows furrowed slightly as she pondered, piecing things together. A few seconds later, she leaned in again to ask more.
Jian Shichu cut her off preemptively: “How’s the blind date thing? Did you ditch it?” She steered the topic to Bai Xue, who didn’t notice a thing.
“Not great,” Bai Xue said casually. “Feels like the old days, constant nagging. Better to come out—family stops making a fuss.”
Bai Xue sighed, nudging Jian Shichu’s arm again. “Hey, how’d you tell Aunt Wang when you came out?” She tsked. “But I think my mom heard something from your mom and suspects.”
“I’d advise you: think it through before coming out, best when you’re single. It’s for your own good,” Jian Shichu said, withdrawing another message and typing 【Sorry, hit the wrong one】 in the chat box.
Jian Shichu had come out just a few years after graduating university. She had thought it through thoroughly. That year wasn’t peaceful—it dragged on for over half a year. Wang Yun, who worked in entertainment, accepted it quickly, but Jian Shichu’s dad, the old professor with traditional views, didn’t call her for months.
Bai Xue was different from Jian Shichu; her family was in business. They were childhood friends, but their elders’ mindsets were worlds apart. She could imagine if she went home tomorrow and said it, she’d be kicked out by evening—maybe even have a shaman over for rituals.
“Let’s not talk about this.” Bai Xue felt a headache coming on, rubbing her temple with her index finger. Just then, Wen Zhixu returned.
Wen Zhixu had always liked long skirts; back in university, that’s what she wore most. When she sat, her hand smoothed down the skirt’s hem to keep her posture elegant.
Trained from childhood to be proper, Wen Zhixu’s temperament was naturally softer. It was only after meeting Jian Shichu that she let loose a bit for a couple of years.
She hadn’t been back long before it was time. Wen Zhixu followed Jian Shichu inside. At the entrance, a staff member handed Jian Shichu a bouquet.
They asked her to pass it to the actors at the end. Before Jian Shichu could respond, Bai Xue agreed outright, and the bunch of red roses naturally ended up in Jian Shichu’s hands.
Jian Shichu had chosen seats in the middle. It wasn’t a large stage play; the hall was small. Jian Shichu still couldn’t figure out why Bai Xue had insisted on watching.
She and Wen Zhixu had just sat down when the curtain hadn’t risen yet, the four corner lights still on. Bai Xue’s seat was right behind them.
The bouquet felt cumbersome, so Jian Shichu placed it on the empty seat beside her—luckily, no one was sitting there.
“Do you watch stage plays often?” Wen Zhixu asked, turning her head.
Jian Shichu was silent for a moment before saying, “Not really.” Aside from the one short story of Wen Zhixu’s that had been adapted into a stage play, which she had watched, she rarely saw them.
Once the audience was seated, the four corner lights dimmed, leaving only the starlight in nearby eyes and faint outlines visible.
The stage play Green Vine was adapted from a foreign animation, telling the story of the naive girl Bella who enters a fantastical forest and opens a magic mirror. Wen Zhixu loved animations—even now, she still watched them.
When idle, she’d play cartoons, and even just the sound brought an intangible sense of healing.
A beam of light projected on stage, carrying dust particles as the curtain rose. Wen Zhixu watched intently. The actor was curled up, head between knees. As the music swelled, the figure slowly lifted her head.
The exaggerated makeup covered her original youthfulness. When those glowing eyes appeared, Wen Zhixu froze—it was Ni You on stage!
So Jian Shichu was here to watch Ni You perform. Wen Zhixu slowed her breathing. She didn’t look at Jian Shichu’s expression. Right now, she just felt a thin frost forming in her heart.
It wasn’t the panicked, breathless discomfort of turmoil; it was more like after letting go, everyone had turned into her shadow, forcing Wen Zhixu to evade.
Jian Shichu glanced at the stage for three seconds, then shifted her gaze to Bai Xue. A chill flickered in her eyes, making Bai Xue flush.
“What a coincidence, huh? It’s already started, might as well watch. We can grab dinner after,” Bai Xue said, afraid Jian Shichu would leave. She grabbed Jian Shichu’s collar, half-squatting behind her.
Jian Shichu glanced back without a word, but it was enough to send a chill down Bai Xue’s spine. Seeing she wasn’t leaving, Bai Xue squatted back to her seat.
The music shifted from initial somberness to lively with the dialogue. Wen Zhixu watched attentively—not just Ni You, but the play that healed her inner gloom.
The two-hour stage play ended while she was lost in thought. The actors took their curtain call. Ni You’s eyes stayed on Jian Shichu.
Wen Zhixu felt like she was the white moonlight from a novel who should have vanished without a trace, while Ni You was the romantic female lead of this city.
The other woman didn’t know about her and Jian Shichu’s relationship. Was this right? Wen Zhixu’s upbringing constantly reminded her: once the play ended, she shouldn’t have any more ties with Jian Shichu.
Ni You didn’t exit the stage; she stood in the center, staring at Jian Shichu. The surrounding gazes dominoed, all crashing toward Jian Shichu like an avalanche.
“The flowers—send them up,” Bai Xue leaned forward again, whispering in Jian Shichu’s ear as a reminder.
Jian Shichu’s fingers hung by her knee. The scene hung in silence for five seconds. She just stared at Ni You without standing, not even glancing at the flowers beside her.
Finally, the awkwardness couldn’t hold forever. Ni You started to look embarrassed. Only then did Jian Shichu stand, grab the flowers, and head out—sidestepping Wen Zhixu.
Wen Zhixu stared at her. Jian Shichu’s shadow passed over her feet. Jian Shichu paused on the steps, bent to tie her shoelace, and handed the flowers to a staff member with her other hand, signaling them to pass it up.
From the moment that bouquet appeared, things weren’t so simple. Jian Shichu had many ways to refuse someone—like her shoelace not coming undone by accident.
Ni You had come prepared, probably coordinating with the troupe beforehand. There was a burst of static from the microphone, then Ni You called out to Jian Shichu.
“Although you’ve rejected me once, I still want to give it a try.” Ni You gazed toward the bottom of the steps with full anticipation. She wouldn’t feel embarrassed just because Jian Shichu hadn’t personally handed over the flowers.
They had also been fearless in their youth. As the one who took the initiative, there was no way to let go easily. Jian Shichu’s steps halted.
Wen Zhixu simply watched quietly. No matter what decision Jian Shichu made now, she was nothing but an outsider.
Ni You said, “I know you’ve told me you have no intention of dating right now, but I’m not in a hurry. The tarot cards say my birthday is my lucky day. It was too rushed before—this time, I want to leave it to metaphysics to decide. Jian Shichu, if you’re willing to try with me, I think you’ll like me.” Ni You’s voice trembled slightly in this public setting.
The entire audience was watching Jian Shichu. Strangely enough, no one had brought children today; everyone present was young.
Wen Zhixu stopped listening. Her gaze shifted from Jian Shichu to the center of the stage. Ni You was so sincere, like Bella trapped in the magic mirror, leaping forward in a desperate bid for a hundred flowers to bloom.
Everyone held their breath, waiting for Jian Shichu’s response. Jian Shichu glanced at Wen Zhixu. That line Ni You had just said—”I think you’ll like me”—
Was exactly the same as what she had once said to Wen Zhixu, word for word. Jian Shichu took a deep breath and turned to look at Ni You, remaining as calm as ever.
“I’m sorry.”
Jian Shichu gave those three words and nothing more. While Ni You was still dazed, she had already headed outside, fleeing the place in a hurry.
