Chapter 37: A Hopeless Romantic

A Hopeless Romantic.

“So, Chief Editor Xu, you live in this neighborhood too?”

Xu Yan nodded.

After the shock wore off, Chen Yi remembered the first time Xu Yan had driven her home. She had stopped the car right at the neighborhood gate. Back then, Chen Yi hadn’t realized that “dropping her off on the way” meant they lived in the same complex. So Xu Yan had known where she lived—and that they were neighbors—all along?

And yet, she’d never said a word this whole time!

Was this one of those unspoken workplace taboos?

Chen Yi didn’t get it, but she respected it. Xu Yan’s personal life was her own business, and if she didn’t want to share, Chen Yi had no business prying.

“Chief Editor Xu, are you here to buy candles too?”

“Sort of.”

The vague answer left Chen Yi baffled.

She let out an awkward laugh. “Haha, what a coincidence. Want to go together?”

Xu Yan agreed and followed her toward the supermarket. The night streets were hushed; the landscaping lights in the neighborhood had all winked out from the blackout, plunging everything into quiet darkness. Now and then, a pedestrian shuffled past, their phone flashlight cutting through the gloom.

It wasn’t a long walk to the supermarket, but it felt endless to Chen Yi. What decent employee went strolling through the dark with their boss in the middle of the night? Xu Yan walked beside her, and though Chen Yi wasn’t normally scared of the dark, a nervous chill started to creep in.

At last, they reached the entrance—and found a massive sign taped to the door.

【Candles Sold Out】

Chen Yi: “……”

She turned to Xu Yan.

In the faint light, Xu Yan’s features were indistinct, softened by the night into a rare calm gentleness Chen Yi had never seen before.

“Chief Editor Xu, still buying?”

“How do you buy when they’re sold out?”

“Oh—” Chen Yi paused to think. “Then let me walk you back to your building first. I’ll head out after.”

“Where to?”

Chen Yi thought the question came out of nowhere. Why did she care? But there was nothing to hide, so she laid it out.

“I figured I’d scout a café or something, charge my phone outside.”

“I’ll come with you.”

Chen Yi: “No, no, no need, Chief Editor Xu!”

Xu Yan fixed her gaze on Chen Yi.

Chen Yi hated that look—direct and unflinching, laced with unmistakable intent and authority. Her head throbbed as she raked a hand through her hair, trying once more to politely decline. “Really, it’s fine. It’s late, pitch-black, power outage—way too much hassle.”

“No hassle.” Xu Yan said simply, “Let’s go.”

Just like that, she’d decided.

Standing behind her, Chen Yi seethed at empty air, throwing impotent punches. Xu Yan glanced back; Chen Yi froze mid-swing and switched to a casual stretch.

“Keep up,” Xu Yan said.

Chen Yi plastered on a smile. “Sure thing.” The moment Xu Yan turned away, she stuck out her tongue and pulled a face before jogging to catch up, her expression smooth and serene once more.

Chen Yi recalled a café by the river nearby. She hoped they had backup power and headed there first. Chasing a spark of hope in the darkness beat hunkering down at home in misery.

No such luck.

The whole area around the café was shrouded in black, the power banks by the door long since looted.

“Sigh.” Others had trickled in with the same idea, only to groan and grumble at the sight. “Total waste of time.”

Xu Yan glanced at Chen Yi, expecting the same frustration etched on her face.

But Chen Yi wasn’t focused on the letdown. She had her head tilted back, gazing at the sky. In the dim glow, her cheeks held a quiet tenderness.

Xu Yan followed her line of sight.

“Beautiful, right?” Chen Yi said with a smile. “Haven’t seen a city night sky like this in forever.”

The stars were sparse, nothing like the dense blanket over mountains or deserts—just scattered points, keeping a peaceful distance as they studded the heavens.

What captivated Chen Yi most was the hazy moon.

For the first time, she beheld clouds parting to reveal moonlight.

It was odd, really.

She’d lived more than twenty years with the moon as a constant companion. Yet only on this unexpected night did she truly taste the essence of that ancient poem: “Persevere until the clouds part to reveal the moon.”

A veil of thin mist drifted slowly aside on the breeze, unveiling the moon’s pristine glow—like a lustrous pearl.

“Not a total loss, then.” Chen Yi shoved her hands in her pockets, shrugged, and drew a deep breath. “At least we got to see the moon.”

“Ah! Chief Editor Xu! Look over there!”

In the grassy riverside park not far from the café, a string of warm yellow fairy lights flickered to life. Cheap little things, a buck or two a strand, draped between trees to form a glowing circle.

Inside, someone had set up a pint-sized camping table and chairs. Others clutched guitars and ukuleles.

Chen Yi itched to check it out, but Xu Yan was right there.

She turned to say something—and caught a glimpse of unguarded softness on Xu Yan’s face, raw and fleeting. Her eyes brimmed with unexpected depth, like the sea at sunset, awash in orange.

Chen Yi went still.

In the next instant, Xu Yan’s expression snapped back to its usual office armor: cool, detached, commanding.

“Go on.” Xu Yan lifted her chin toward the lights.

Chen Yi grinned. “Okay!” She bounded over without a second thought, chatting up the group and asking what was up.

That’s when she got it.

“Chief Editor Xu!” Chen Yi waved her over. “They’re the café staff!”

After the outage, they’d figured customers might show up disappointed, so they hauled everything outside. Spotting the impromptu night camp might lift a few spirits.

More people drifted in. With the chill in the air, the staff handed out folding camp chairs and hot water to the growing crowd. Out came the portable speakers and mics, guitar strumming accompaniment. The night took on a cozy, leisurely warmth.

A bit later, a staffer rallied everyone for a game.

“Here’s the deal: Everyone shares something they’ve done that no one else here has. If it’s unique, everyone else loses a life. You start with five—like your fingers. Fold them all, and it’s punishment time.”

They produced a mug of fresh-squeezed lemon juice spiked with coffee and a jumble of random spices.

“Loser chugs this!”

Chen Yi eyed the murky concoction and shuddered.

The vibe ignited; everyone egged each other on.

The guitarist went first.

“I once chased an ex-girlfriend to another city—and caught her cheating.”

Her coworkers howled. “Dude, that’s savage! You’d spill that to win?!”

Chen Yi couldn’t even muster a chuckle. She’d never dated, much less lived soap-opera drama. She quietly folded one finger.

A glance at Xu Yan—her hand perfectly straight.

Chen Yi: ……

？？？？？

Hold up!!!

Her first thought: Should she pretend she hadn’t heard? Tomorrow at the office, she’d be the one who knew Chief Editor Xu’s buried secrets. Would Xu Yan silence her for good?

The guitarist gawked at Xu Yan, double-checking. “Exactly like that—ex-girlfriend, not boyfriend.”

“I know,” Xu Yan said.

Chen Yi’s mind short-circuited.

Xu Yan liked girls too?!

Did she know too much…? Could she still bolt?

No escape now. Chen Yi sat frozen, already sweating bullets.

Next up: “I once downed a whole case of beer by myself!”

Chen Yi barely registered her own turn, whipping her head toward Xu Yan. Relief—her finger folded too.

Good.

She didn’t want the game unearthing more intel no lowly subordinate should possess.

The next two rounds were dating tales too. Chen Yi folded four fingers, down to her last life. She was dazed.

Then it was Xu Yan’s turn.

Chen Yi shot her a pitiful glance.

“Boss, have mercy—I wanna live to clock in tomorrow.”

That potion-looking sludge? Hard pass.

“It’s fine,” Xu Yan said. “I’ll give you the day off.”

Chen Yi’s gut twisted.

She sensed Xu Yan was about to drop something outrageous—something she herself had lived through.

A few beats of silence, then Xu Yan spoke softly: “I had a crush on someone for over three years.”

The crowd erupted.

A group of players, along with Chen Yi, suffered a total wipeout.

Chen Yi pulled a pitiful face as she joined the other losing teammates. They each took a sip from that cup of “potion.” Just one sip was enough to make her want to hurl.

Chen Yi thought to herself that her boss Xu Yan showed not even a shred of sympathy for her subordinates. Then she pondered further: she never would have imagined it. Not in a million years.

The infamous Female Demon Head of the fashion world—the Chief Editor Xu whom everyone at the magazine feared—was actually a hopeless romantic.

The ex-girlfriend she’d mentioned and this secret crush of hers… they had to be the same person, right? If they were, Chen Yi could only say that Xu Yan had it rough.

Out of pity for how miserable Xu Yan was, Chen Yi decided not to hold that awful “potion” against her.

“You okay?” Xu Yan walked over, her concern plain to see. To Chen Yi, though, it felt no more sincere than a weasel giving New Year’s respects to a chicken.

“I’m fine.” Chen Yi forced a smile onto her face.

As they spoke, the lights along the riverbank flickered on one by one.

The power was back.

“That’s great!” Chen Yi perked up. She clutched her dead phone, burning with eagerness to get home, and turned to Xu Yan. “Chief Editor Xu! I’ve got an emergency! I need to head home first. Can you make it back on your own?”

Xu Yan nodded.

“Then take care of yourself!” Chen Yi called out her farewell before dashing off toward home.

Xu Yan watched her retreating figure, her gaze lowering as she pulled out her phone. The Miracle icon was still glowing; the game’s interface kept running steadily in the background.

Just before the blackout, Xu Yan had heard Chen Yi’s words loud and clear.

“I got a fever.”

But to Xu Yan, this connection had never been some fleeting “fever.” It was a long, relentless “river.”

Not a burst of sudden heat, but an enduring current that never ceased.

To Chen Yi, encountering Fade—becoming obsessed with her, developing real feelings—was nothing more than a shooting star of infatuation. Blame it on hormones and dopamine for the instant attraction. It had come on so abruptly, so fiercely, that it might burn out just as quickly.

Xu Yan had seen it all before. Plenty of people took an interest in her appearance, her career, her achievements. But it never lasted; the spark always cooled.

Xu Yan was different.

She had always stood right behind Fade, watching herself wade deeper into the river step by step, feeling the sharp pebbles beneath her feet. One more step ahead, and it might be an abyss, a roaring waterfall—or a bed of shattered glass. She knew all this full well… and yet she pressed on anyway. That was the first sign of losing control.

She wasn’t satisfied with that, either. She was a terrible person like that, determined to drag Chen Yi down into the river alongside her.

Fall for her. Get addicted. Xu Yan would seize that fleeting shooting star of emotion and weave it into an invisible net, trapping Chen Yi with no way out. She would make Chen Yi fall truly, deeply in love with her. That was her resolve.