Because it was New Year’s Eve that night, and Lin Zixi didn’t have a home of her own in this city, she booked a table at the hotel for their New Year’s Eve dinner.
Following tradition, after driving back from the town, Lin Zixi took Ye Can to freshen up. Once they had changed into new clothes, she brought her along to the dinner.
During the meal, Lin Zixi snapped a few photos of Ye Can and sent them to her current manager, providing material to run the official Weibo account. Then, she and Ye Can dug in heartily. After dinner, Lin Zixi held Ye Can’s hand as they went downstairs, put on masks, and strolled along the street below the hotel.
When her mother was still alive, Lin Zixi had actually lived in the city with her. After her mother passed away, she moved to the small district with her aunt. But when it came time for high school, Lin Zixi had gotten in with top scores and returned.
More than a decade had passed, and the city had changed a great deal. Yet some things remained unchanged—and there were plenty of them. Take that long alley turned food street, for example. Even after more than ten years, it was still a landmark attraction, a must-visit spot for out-of-town tourists.
In Lin Zixi’s memory, that street was always bustling no matter the time. Delicious snacks everywhere, aromas wafting through every corner—it was enough to make anyone linger.
But for Lin Zixi, the alley held more memories of sweltering summers drenched in sweat, freezing winters that chapped her hands, and shop owners who were kind, hardworking, and just a little bit cheap.
She led Ye Can to the food street, navigating it like a pro to every spot with the best eats, buying her a pile of goodies.
Ye Can carried bags full of food in both hands, munching on skewers as she walked and mumbling to Lin Zixi, “It’s been so many years since you came back—how do you still know exactly where to find the good stuff?”
Lin Zixi smiled. “Because the shops that last here mostly don’t lose money. Sticking around long-term means it’s a profitable business. These families have been in the trade for generations—rarely any changes over ten or twenty years. So places like this change the least.”
Ye Can let out an “oh” and asked, “But the way you say it… you used to come here a lot, right?”
Lin Zixi nodded. “Yeah, pretty often. Whenever I had time, I’d come.”
Ye Can was a bit curious. “Why? Weren’t you super poor back then, with no money?”
Lin Zixi sighed, hands behind her back as she kept pace with Ye Can, speaking earnestly, “Exactly because we were poor, that’s why I had to work part-time.”
Ye Can paused mid-step and turned to size her up. “Part-time? Don’t high schoolers focus on studies? How’d you end up working? Were things so bad you couldn’t even afford school?”
Lin Zixi gave a small laugh, her expression tinged with wistful nostalgia. “It wasn’t that bad—no, we weren’t so poor I couldn’t go to school. The state gives subsidies for orphans who’ve lost both parents. School barely cost me anything. But for some reason, I always felt like I was short on cash.”
She shoved her hands into her pockets and reflected, “I was young back then. I always thought I’d leave this place someday, so I wanted to save up a ton of money.”
Lin Zixi looked at Ye Can and smiled at her. “Don’t let how I am now fool you—I used to be obsessed with money. I hated spending it on anything, worked my ass off to earn it, earn it, earn it… Then at twenty-five, I realized my life felt totally pointless.”
“I wasn’t spending anything, had all that money piled up, and no idea what to do with it. So I started donating to orphanages.” She paused, explaining to Ye Can, “Call it giving back to society, proof that my life wasn’t a waste.”
Lin Zixi had left home at eighteen, and eleven years had passed since. All those past events flashed vividly before her now, stirring a sigh from deep within.
Ye Can stopped walking, standing in a corner of the street with her back to the light as she gazed at Lin Zixi. Behind her bustled passersby: couples holding hands, families huddled together bickering, groups of young people arm-in-arm radiating youthful energy. The noise felt like the clamor of the entire world crammed into this deep, crowded alley.
Ye Can held her candied hawthorns and gulped one down whole before hurriedly saying to Lin Zixi, “How is your life a waste? Earning money isn’t meaningless—you’ve been making your own life better, haven’t you?”
“Making your life better—that’s the meaning.”
It was so strange. A person who always claimed life had no meaning was now comforting someone who’d been striving to live, telling her all that effort and hardship was worthwhile. It felt utterly bizarre.
Lin Zixi glanced at the brilliant lights behind Ye Can, then tilted her head up to her strikingly pale face in the dim glow. “You have to understand—every stage of life brings its own confusion.”
“Back then, I was lost, not knowing what to do, like I was trudging through an endless journey, utterly exhausted.”
Ye Can gazed at her quietly and summed it up. “The path you walked was full of thorns. Feeling tired after getting through it is normal.”
Lin Zixi nodded and smiled at her. “You’re right. That’s exactly it.”
She spun half a circle in place, took a step forward into the bright streetlight, and said, “But Ye Can, do you know?”
Ye Can followed behind, eyeing her back in confusion. “Know what?”
Lin Zixi looked up at the dazzling lights overhead and said softly, “That first night I saw you, it was like all the fog buried in my heart let out a sweet sigh.”
She reached out, standing on tiptoe as if to grasp the beam of light shining down on her. Amid the daze, Lin Zixi seemed to see that persistent dream image—a king in royal robes, long hair unbound, sitting on the bed’s edge and pinching the glowing wick.
In a haze, Lin Zixi remembered her face in her mind. She turned her head and murmured to Ye Can without thinking, “I feel like I’ve been waiting for you forever. If only you’d come sooner.”
Ye Can felt those words were familiar. She stared at Lin Zixi’s face, the brilliant lights reflecting in her eyes like roaring flames.
Ye Can paused, then said to her, “You always express love in such weird ways.”
Lin Zixi came to a sudden realization. “Oh, so you think this is love?”
Ye Can huffed, hugging her candied hawthorns as she walked past Lin Zixi, smugly declaring, “What else could it be? Just say you’ve been waiting for me all along, earning all that money just to support me. No need to beat around the bush or make it so awkward.”
Lin Zixi caught up, mercilessly teasing, “As awkward as you?”
Ye Can stopped and turned, annoyed. “What do you mean by that?”
Lin Zixi teased her on purpose, smiling gently and faintly. “Whatever you mean.”
Ye Can huffed lightly, displeased. “Lin Zixi, you’re so annoying.”
Ye Can turned away with her snacks in hand. Lin Zixi smiled, reached out to tug her sleeve, and said with a laugh, “It’s okay. I don’t mind you being annoying.”
The two bantered as they made their way through the street to the crowded square, where the noisy crowd began the countdown together.
“Ten…”
“Nine…”
“Eight…”
…
“Three…”
“Two…”
“One!”
As the massive cheer died down, fireworks erupted on the square’s screen, revealing the big characters: “Happy New Year.”
Ye Can, arms full of snacks and holding Lin Zixi’s hand, stood on the crowd’s edge, watching coldly as they embraced and kissed in the festive vibe. People are so shallow, she thought. Always expressing joy and affection in such simple ways.
Just then, Lin Zixi pulled off her mask and leaned close to Ye Can’s ear, whispering softly, “Can-Can, Happy New Year.”
Rarely hearing the nickname, Ye Can turned in surprise to look at Lin Zixi. Lin Zixi reached out, tugged down her mask, and smiled tenderly at her. “Wanna kiss?”
Ye Can gazed into Lin Zixi’s eyes full of warmth. The next moment, she tilted her head and pressed her lips to hers.
As their lips and tongues met, Ye Can tasted something sweet and fragrant. She couldn’t help but reach out, grip Lin Zixi’s neck, and kiss her more fiercely. Once she fully captured her, Ye Can sighed inwardly: Turns out I’m pretty shallow too. Such simple pleasures are so satisfying.
When the kiss ended, Ye Can released Lin Zixi and pulled her toward the hotel. “I think we should head back to bed now.”
Lin Zixi leaned into her embrace, laughing helplessly. “You really are full of dirty thoughts.”
Ye Can filed that line away—and that night, no matter how Lin Zixi begged, she had no intention of stopping.
She held grudges, so Lin Zixi paid the price by staying cooped up in the room all day.
Over the next few days, Lin Zixi took Ye Can all around the city. They visited her old schools and homes, the streets where she’d picked up empty water bottles, and sampled all the best foods.
After several days of fun, the Spring Festival holiday ended. Ye Can and Lin Zixi flew back to the set and finished filming the remaining scenes for Dongshan Chronicles.
In early March, Dongshan Chronicles wrapped completely. The crew’s official account started posting frequently, sharing material featuring Meng Zhiqiu, Jiang Yue, and others.
When the official trailer dropped, audiences realized just how star-studded the cast was.
The powerhouse lineup and aggressive promotion gave Dongshan Chronicles buzz even before airing.
During this time, paparazzi stalked the leads relentlessly—especially Ye Can and Meng Zhiqiu, who were often seen together for post-production dubbing, sparking lesbian rumors.
But none of that concerned Ye Can. She just focused on work, waiting each day to go home with Lin Zixi.
In the blink of an eye, July arrived—the peak of summer, and the summer slot kicked off.
On July 14th—Valentine’s Day—Dongshan Chronicles premiered on Polar Bear TV and Kiwi Video at 8 PM sharp.
That night, Dongshan Chronicles dominated Weibo with five trending topics in an instant. From there, it exploded in popularity, and Ye Can shot to fame overnight.
