Chapter 8

Wen Zhixu was driving, with Jian Shichu in the passenger seat. The two hadn’t spoken a word since they left. Bai Xue hadn’t been able to stop Jian Shichu and was still thinking about inviting her to dinner with Ni You that evening.

Ni You’s move had been too impulsive. At first, Bai Xue thought the previous confession hadn’t been formal enough, and Jian Shichu had always been like a cold, unyielding stone that couldn’t be warmed.

So she helped Ni You plan to try again, but it had backfired. Jian Shichu still refused, and the reason had nothing to do with anything else. If she didn’t like it, she wouldn’t waste time—this was something Jian Shichu had told her years ago.

The car sped up. Jian Shichu didn’t say where to go and just told her to drive wherever. Wen Zhixu set the navigation to the restaurant.

Jian Shichu was scrolling on her phone when a WeChat notification popped up at the top of the screen. She tapped it—it was a message from Ni You.

【Sorry, I was too impulsive. I hope you don’t mind.】

She didn’t reply at first, exited, then tapped back in. Her fingers tapped on the keyboard: 【I do mind. We can’t even be friends anymore.】

After sending, Jian Shichu turned off the screen without waiting for a reply and looked out the window, her expression calm and indifferent. Wen Zhixu noticed the whole sequence.

Trees lined both sides, planted with phoenix trees. On Jixing Road in Yubei, Xiexin Chunshantai had roadside parking. Jian Shichu had been here once at the end of last autumn, with golden leaves carpeting the ground, peaceful under the lens.

Wen Zhixu didn’t have the habit of playing music in the car, making the atmosphere inside mysteriously tense. Jian Shichu’s phone WeChat notification chimed several times.

“I’ll get off up ahead.” Jian Shichu propped her head on her hand and spoke leisurely.

Wen Zhixu said, “I’ll get off. I’ll give you the keys, and in a few days, just park the car in the garage.” Wen Zhixu’s voice was soft and gentle.

Jian Shichu still looked straight ahead. “I knew it. Words spoken are never counted.” She was very calm— that morning, Wen Zhixu had promised her she wouldn’t go back on her word.

As soon as she finished speaking, her body lurched forward from Wen Zhixu’s sudden braking, her heart involuntarily racing. There was temporary roadside parking here, and few people around.

Jian Shichu dropped her hand and looked at her. Closing her eyes to steady her heartbeat, she took a long breath. “Wen Zhixu, do you know how dangerous that was!?”

Wen Zhixu didn’t speak. After parking, she took out the keys, tossed them on the seat, opened the door, and stepped out.

Jian Shichu unbuckled her seatbelt and chased after her, grabbing Wen Zhixu’s arm in a flash. But Wen Zhixu stopped, unflinching, and yanked her hand free.

“Have you had enough fun? Jian Shichu, how old are you?” Wen Zhixu, at the end of her patience, spoke with anger. “I’m not interested in your childish games.”

Jian Shichu was momentarily speechless, using all her strength to suppress her emotions before lowering her gaze to look at Wen Zhixu.

Wen Zhixu lowered her tone and took a light breath. “Can I take this as you deliberately making things difficult for me? The crew is shooting at your restaurant—I can’t avoid it for work. But privately, I don’t want any more contact between us. This is the last bit of dignity. You didn’t need to drag me to watch someone confess to you, only for you to reject them. Even the lines are exactly the same as what you said back then. Isn’t it? Do you think I’d care about that?”

Wen Zhixu’s voice trembled as she said this. She’d figured it all out that morning from the address in the group chat. Jian Shichu looked at her slowly, as if taking in every word seriously.

At first, Wen Zhixu really hadn’t wanted to go in—it was Jian Shichu who’d insisted on dragging her to watch the show. It was inevitable she’d misunderstand. As for why it was the same, kids this age all used the same clichéd lines for confessions.

Speckled light pierced through the gaps, landing at Wen Zhixu’s feet without easing the stifling heat. Chongqing’s summers were always like a steamer.

Jian Shichu spoke faintly. “If you didn’t care, why say so much?”

Wen Zhixu’s heart skipped a beat. As her chest heaved, she slowed her breathing to calm herself. The other’s indifferent tone pressed on her, amplifying the cowardice in her heart.

Suddenly, it was as if Jian Shichu had awakened her. Wen Zhixu pressed her fingertips into her palm. A car whizzed by, breaking the silence, and she looked to the other side as the passing sedan lifted her hair.

“If you didn’t do this, would I have to say it?” Wen Zhixu steadied her emotions, trying to speak to Jian Shichu in the calmest tone possible.

She couldn’t think of any other excuse to defend Jian Shichu. On the surface, running into it that afternoon could be called a coincidence, but her original intent had clearly been not to go in. This incident between her and Jian Shichu should serve as the reason to draw a clear line.

Jian Shichu looked at her and asked, “Do you regret it?” She finally asked this question, without explaining anything about Ni You today.

As she asked, she stared straight at Wen Zhixu, quietly initiating a standoff, even her breathing lightened.

This question completely shattered Wen Zhixu’s inner defenses. Her throat felt blocked by scorching air, making her uncomfortable.

Jian Shichu watched her with an air of nonchalance throughout. The dusk softened her face, but Wen Zhixu could still feel the chill in her eyes.

Wen Zhixu gave no answer and turned her body away, no longer looking at her.

Jian Shichu let out a short, self-mocking laugh, her eyes seeming to redden for an instant, though no tears fell.

“Fine, I get it.” Jian Shichu didn’t get an answer and didn’t press further. She grabbed her bag and left without looking back at Wen Zhixu. The biggest difference from back then was that she wouldn’t beg desperately and make a fool of herself anymore.

Wen Zhixu glanced at her retreating back, slowly unclenching her fingers that had been digging into her palm.

She sat in the driver’s seat for a long time after getting back in the car without starting it, her wrist resting on the steering wheel, her mind replaying Jian Shichu’s words from just now.

—

Wen Zhixu didn’t head home until nightfall. The door clicked open. The window was still ajar, and the night breeze carried lingering heat mixed with humidity, blurring her vision.

When the room light came on, Wen Zhixu sat on the sofa and let out a long breath. She couldn’t stop thinking about that afternoon.

She didn’t think Jian Shichu would wait for her forever or hold a grudge about what happened back then. Her reappearance wasn’t fair to others, and Jian Shichu wasn’t the type to stand still.

Wen Zhixu leaned back as her phone vibrated. She swiped it open for a glance. The crew group had set a time, which clashed with the class reunion her class monitor had messaged about.

The reunion was on the 23rd. She didn’t have to attend the crew’s opening ceremony—the first scene was at Jian Shichu’s restaurant, and she had the reunion that evening too.

Wen Zhixu felt dizzy from it all. She pressed the voice key to reply: Okay, I’ll try to get there early.

The class monitor had been messaging her sporadically lately, sharing bits of life, but Wen Zhixu wasn’t one for casual chit-chat.

As she scrolled down, she saw a message from Wang Yun. After confirming Wang Yun’s relationship with Jian Shichu, seeing that blue landscape profile picture made her heart ache even more.

Before Wen Zhixu could tap the file, a call popped up at the top of the screen. Her heart jolted, and after hesitating for a few seconds, she swiped to answer.

“Mom, I just got back.” Wen Zhixu responded softly. Wen Mom had the chief editor’s contact info—even if Wen Zhixu didn’t say anything, she’d know her recent whereabouts.

Wen Mom’s tone was always stern, even more so over the phone without any warmth. “Xiao Xu, are you settling in okay?”

This concern lacked much warmth. Hearing it, Wen Zhixu’s eyes reddened. She sat up straight, and as she lowered her head, the sourness spread through her chest to her nose.

Wen Mom noticed something off in her voice and changed her tone. “Caught a cold? If you’re sick, no spicy food—your stomach’s weak, so eat on time.”

Wen Zhixu took a deep breath, wiped the teardrop from her nose, her lashes soaked in tears. “I didn’t catch a cold.”

“Good, no cold then. Come home next month—take a leave from the crew, say it’s family business.”

Wen Mom had married late and was now retired at home. This was the first time Wen Zhixu had moved out to live in Chongqing, feeling like she’d escaped some restraints.

Wen Zhixu glanced at the medicine bottles on the cabinet by the dining table, shrouded in darkness. She hadn’t turned on the light.

Wen Zhixu asked, choking up, “Mom, is something wrong?” Her tone was probing. As she spoke, tears bent her lashes at the roots, dripping onto her fingernail.

Wen Mom went silent first, then after a while, her voice came through. “Yes. Do you remember Aunt Cai, who used to visit us often when you were little? She…”

“I know, I’m not thinking about it now.” Wen Zhixu cut her off immediately.

Wen Zhixu breathed in the scorching air, her heart aching fiercely. Words reached her lips several times but wouldn’t come out—she’d never been one for explanations.

“I’ve met the person. The young man’s quite handsome. You’re working away from home; you need to sort out your own matters. These past two years, you’ve been talking less and less. Whatever requirements you have, just say them, and I’ll find someone who fits.”

Wen Zhixu kept her head down, watching tears pool over her fingernail one by one. She kept taking deep breaths to steady herself.

Wen Zhixu thought of Jian Shichu’s words—this suffocating feeling made it hard to breathe. “Mom, do you regret it?” After speaking, her nose burned, forcing more tears out.

Silence again on the other end, longer this time. Wen Zhixu checked the screen before Wen Mom’s voice came through the receiver. “No regrets. Come back next month. Whether it happens or not, we can talk then. At least come meet him—I haven’t hidden your situation.”

“I don’t want to.” Wen Zhixu’s three words were feeble, her tone so soft it was almost inaudible, forced out on a breath that trapped her in the deep sea, without even the courage to open her eyes.

She didn’t get a response from Wen Mama before the call was abruptly hung up—that was Wen Mom’s way of laying down harsh words. Wen Zhixu sat there in a daze, clutching her phone with her wrist hanging limp, not daring to cry out loud. She held it in until her entire body trembled, slumping against the sofa onto the floor, letting the wind tousle her hair and stick it to the tear tracks on her face.